“What are you talking about? What liaison?” Lord William asked in a less than convincing voice. Did he take him for a fool?
“I am not interested in the nature of your relationship with Harriet, assuming you both use discretion,” Greydon said. “I am just trying to discern the truth.”
Lord William rose from the settee. “What truth?” he asked. “Truth is subjective.”
“Not to me. There is only one truth, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Walking over to the drink cart, Lord William poured himself a generous helping of brandy. He picked up the glass and took a sip. Finally, he spoke. “If you must know, Phineas was not pleased with my relationship with his wife.”
“That is hardly a surprise,” Greydon mocked.
Lord William harrumphed. “I did not intend to start a relationship with Harriet,” he revealed. “It just happened.”
“I daresay you allowed it to happen.”
“I am not blind. Harriet is a beautiful young woman and Phineas just neglected her needs. What would you have me do?”
Greydon shook his head. “It is generally frowned upon to seduce your friend’s wife.”
“Regardless, everything was going well until Phineas asked Harriet for a divorce,” Lord William said. “I couldn’t be with a woman when her husband was petitioning for divorce. Just think of the scandal it could cause for me.”
“How noble of you,” Greydon remarked dryly.
“I ended things with her, right then and there, but Harriet refused to accept that. She pleaded with me to stay and she promised she would convince Phineas not to proceed with the divorce.”
“Did she say how she was going to do that?”
“I didn’t ask, and she didn’t say, but I assumed she would just reason with him,” Lord William replied.
Greydon’s mind was racing. Would Harriet have been so desperate to keep Lord William as her lover that she would murder Phineas to keep him from divorcing her? It was definitely a possibility that he needed to explore.
Lord William tossed back the rest of his drink. As he placed the glass down, he asked, “Is this inquisition over?”
“You may go.”
Lord William dropped into a flamboyant bow. “Thank you, my lord,” he mocked.
The silence was deafening as Enid sat at the dining table with her father and mother. Her father, to his credit, had not insulted her once. But he wasn’t talking to her either. She wasn’t sure which side of her father she preferred.
She wanted to believe that her father was willing to change, but she had her doubts. She could see the hostility in his eyes when he looked at her, but that all melted away when he looked at Marigold. She wanted to do what was best for her child, but could she endure the tongue lashings from her father that would undoubtably come?
As a footman removed her plate, Osborne stepped into the dining room and announced, “Pardon the interruption, but Lord Rushcliffe has asked for a moment of Lady Enid’s time. He said it was of the utmost importance.”
Her father flicked his wrist. “Send him away. We are eating dinner.”
“Wait,” Enid said as she placed her white linen napkin onto the table. “I wish to speak to him.”
“We are eating dinner as a family,” her father stated with annoyance in his voice.
Were they, Enid wondered. After all, her father had hardly said a word to her all evening. “We are almost done anyways,” she pressed. “I will only be a moment.”
Her father opened his mouth to no doubt object but his mother spoke first. “Let her go, George,” she encouraged.
“She is ruining our pleasant dinner,” her father muttered.
Her mother smiled. “It is Enid’s loss if she does not get dessert.”
“Regardless, I asked her to stay away from Lord Rushcliffe,” her father said.
