“What? Who is she?” Harriet asked, unable to keep the desperation out of her tone.
“Lady Delonge. She’s a widow. She’s … well. You see,” Philippa said, gesturing toward the woman with her champagne. Harriet did see. Lady Delonge was practically draping herself across Alexander, laughing a littletoohard. The dance had ended—surely they didn’t still need to be touching?
“Perhaps we ought to take a turn about the room?” Harriet suggested, needing distance from him. Distraction. Sisterhood.
As they walked, Harriet mostly asked after Caroline and Frances to see if her sister knew any more than she did. Unfortunately, Philippa was similarly isolated from their sisters by the presence of their father.
“I’ve only had one letter from them. Caro says everything is fine. But I know him to be desperate for money. He’s come around a few times, although Matthews runs him off, the dear,” she said, referring to her beloved stable master. After a slight pause, she admitted with uncharacteristic solemnity, “I haven’t any money anyway.”
Harriet stopped short. “You haven’t?”
Philippa’s sly smile had already reappeared, which would have reassured anyone who knew her less well. It frightened Harriet more than anything.
“The estate, you know. Oh, it’s all tied up after Reginald’s third cousin, you know the one who was in the Indies? Apparently, he went and died last month on the way over. Awful inconvenient.It’s reverting to the crown. Likely to be divvied up among Prinny’s friends, or given to some war hero. Perhaps they’ll leave me a small plot. No one quite knows what to do with me. Or if they do, they won’t tell me. I’m a bit stuck at the moment. None of it is mine, but nor is it anyone else’s.” Philippa thrust her champagne—never lemonade—up in an ironic cheer.
“Philippa, what can I do? I’m sure Lord Alexander can help.” And the odd thing was, shewassure of it.
“Oh, there’s nothing to be done. I wouldn’t let you anyway. One of those god-awful situations where the only action one can take is a bath.” Philippa smiled at her and then looked across the room at a particularly handsome man. Turning to Harriet she winked once again. “Or a lover.”
At that, Philippa unlinked her arm and set off, swanning across the crush of people, parting the crowd with her presence. When Harriet looked up to seek out Alexander, she found him hanging on every word that came out of a quite severe-looking woman’s mouth. Harriet winced. She hardly needed more proof of how much he enjoyed ladies’ company.
Unfortunately, he looked up then and met her gaze, and with a full lemonade glass and no dancing prospects, she had no reason not to reunite with her husband. Thus, she dutifully did.
As she arrived in the circle, she happened upon something almost miraculous in its rarity: a woman Alexander could not charm. It only took a moment’s observation to recognize the signs, but here she was, an immune party.
Barely able to suppress her excitement at meeting such a woman, Harriet sidled up to the small group, her lips twitching in excitement.
“Lady Holden, Lord Holden, here she is! May I introduce my wife, Lady Alexander?” He sounded like an anxious schoolboy. Whowerethese people who had him on his best behavior?
“Lovely to meet you,” Harriet said, dipping into a curtsy in front of the couple. Alexander’s behavior was only dwarfed in peculiarity by the idea of these two people being married to one another. The man was not unattractive for an older gentleman, and he had an easy, open face, dominated by a mustache Harriet would have requested he shave off had she been his wife. Lady Holden appeared to be at least his age if not a touch older, and she seemed even more severe up close. If her husband had the appearance of an affable sheepdog, she brought to mind a raven.
“My dear,” Alexander began, an endearment he’d never used before, “Lord Holden is a business partner of mine. We’ve been looking at some land together. I was just telling Lady Holden about you.” His eyes held a plea, although for what, she could only guess. Fortunately, Harriet was quite practiced at playing along.
“You’ve said so much about Lord and Lady Holden, what a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” Harriet said, hoping she wasn’t too far off the mark.
“I was telling them, my dear, how sorry we were not to be married in a church here in London.” Alexander’s eyes widened and his head nodded along, as if Harriet needed clues that she was meant to corroborate his story.
“Oh yes,” Harriet said, adopting his tone of deep regret, without missing a beat, “Lord Alexander had had his heart set on St. James; however … well. I don’t wish to speak out of turn—I do hope you’ll forgive me—but my father was rather ill earlier this month and we weren’t certain he would make it much longer. Thus, we made the horrid decision to elope. It was his dearest wish to see us wed before he passed.”
“Oh my,” Lord Holden said, clearly affected by the tale.
“I hadn’t heard your father had died,” Lady Holden said, rather snootily.
Bloody hell.
“By the grace of Our Lord he recovered, actually,” Harriet said, solemnly. “Some say our marriage was what gave him the hope to continue on.” She hoped the detail hadn’t gone too far overboard, although if they were as devotional as she suspected, she didn’t think they’d find it unlikely. Besides, what good was an absent father for if not to use in a lie occasionally? It was not like he’d encounter the Holdens in some grand ballroom and contradict her.
“We were so fortunate, grace be to God. It had been so soon after the passing of Lady Alexander’s beloved spaniel,” Alexander added, gazing at her over Lady Holden’s head with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I didn’t know if she could take another loss.”
“Oh no,” Lady Holden cried, losing all her previous iciness. “I just lost my beloved Alvin last spring. It’s the greatest loss imaginable. They really do become part of the family, don’t they? Lord Holden can attest. I barely got out of bed for months after my Alvie died. What was her name?”
“Lexicon,” Harriet said. Noticing the quizzical look on the Holdens’ faces, she added, “Lexi for short. I was ever so fond of her. You see, Alexander gave her to me years ago when we began courting.”
“Oh, Lawrence!” Lady Holden gushed, overcome with enough emotion to use her husband’s first name. “Isn’t that just the sweetest story you’ve ever heard?”
The man, like his wife, seemed to be genuinely moved by the tale. Harriet couldn’t imagine why, but perhaps that was because she knew there was no dog and no courting and no loving father.
“You know, I’ll admit I had my concerns when my husband began conducting business with Lord Alexander,” Lady Holden shared with Harriet, as if Alexander were not also present in the conversation. “With all his philandering.”
