Lord Rushcliffe moved to sit on the edge of his seat. “What your late husband did was wrong, but you should not give up so easily.”
“Give up? Is that what you think I am doing?” Enid asked with a shake of her head. “No, I am protecting myself, and my daughter. Besides, even if I was foolish enough to dream of marrying, no one would want me.”
“I do believe you are selling yourself short.”
Enid offered him a grateful smile. “You are kind, my lord, but we both know that no sane man would want a ruined woman as his wife. And I have made peace with that.”
Lord Rushcliffe looked as if he had more to say on the subject but Malcolm stepped into the drawing room with Rosamond on his arm.
Malcolm glanced between them. “Are we interrupting something?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Enid said as she sat up straight in her seat. “Lord Rushcliffe and I were just discussing marriage.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her cheeks grow increasingly warm at her misstep.
Her brother’s brow shot up. “You were?”
Enid jumped up from her seat as she rushed to explain. “No, I misspoke,” she said. “We were discussing marriage, but not between us.”
“But you were discussing marriage with someone else?” Malcolm asked.
“No, both of us have no intention of ever marrying,” Enid replied, turning to address Lord Rushcliffe. “Isn’t that right, my lord?”
Lord Rushcliffe had risen when she stood up and he was watching her with an amused look on his face, as if he were holding back laughter. “Yes, quite right, my lady.”
“As you can see,” Enid started, “our discussion about marriage was innocent and purely theoretical.”
Malcolm bobbed his head. “All right,” he said, eyeing her with a bemused look on his face. “I believe you.”
“That is good,” Enid remarked, wishing she could stop speaking. Why was she rattling on?
Fortunately for her, her mother stepped into the room and asked, “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
Enid let out a sigh of relief. With any luck, no one would revisit their previous conversation.
Lord Rushcliffe stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “You handled that nicely,” he said, mirth in his voice.
“A gentleman wouldn’t comment on a lady’s discomfort,” Enid stated as she tried to keep some of her dignity intact.
“I think we can both agree that I do not always act like a gentleman.” He winked at her, and that one move made her knees go weak. She swallowed hard and knew with complete certainty that she was in real trouble with him. Every glance, every smile, confirmed what she already knew- Lord Rushcliffe was a man that she could fall hopelessly in love with.
Greydon pushed in Lady Enid’s chair before he went to claim the seat next to her. Lord and Lady Brentwood sat across from them and Lady Everton sat at the end of the long rectangular table. The footman had just placed their bowls of soup in front of them when Lord Everton stepped into the room.
“My apologies for being late, but I assure you that it couldn’t be helped,” Lord Everton said as he moved to sit at the head of the table.
“No harm done,” Lady Everton graciously responded. “Do you remember Lord Rushcliffe, the son of Lord Pendle?”
“I am acquainted with Lord Pendle. He is a staunch Tory,” Lord Everton said as he went to address Greydon. “Are you a Tory?”
“I am,” Greydon replied.
“Pity,” Lord Everton muttered. “I am surprised that your father allowed you to come to dinner, considering my daughter’s reputation.”
Greydon saw Lady Enid purse her lips at her father’s harsh comment, but she didn’t say anything. “He voiced no concerns,” he lied. His father had voiced many concerns, but he cared little about those. He would associate with who he wanted, when he wanted, and his father couldn’t do anything about that.
Lady Everton interjected, “Perhaps we can speak of something much more pleasurable.”
“What are your thoughts on how Parliament is handling the war?” Lord Everton asked him.
“I do not have an opinion,” Greydon replied.
