“Perhaps she will marry some country squire or other and trouble us no more,” Hayes said.
“She does not trouble me in the least,” Grayson said. “In fact, I had a remarkably fine evening, considering where we were. Miss Farnsworth is everything charming.”
Hayes did not answer his friend. In truth, Miss Farnsworthwascharming now that the sting of his losses to her had begun to fade. Somehow, dancing with her had softened his view.
He’d had more than one thought of unpinning her hair, never more than when he’d led the lady through the steps. He’d found himself unhappy when Grayson came to collect her and wondered if he ought not have taken the dance before supper. After all, what cared he for the loss of sixty pounds? What cared he for anything said about it? It had all begun to seem a bit of nonsense after he’d touched her hand and found himself in such close proximity.
Miss Farnsworth was a beauty and she was clever. He had never imagined that a lady might develop a method or strategy at cards, but she’d admitted as much. Though, she would not reveal her secret and he supposed he’d no right to ask.
It had dawned on him that he’d taken the whole thing so seriously because of his peculiar situation. While most gentlemen played for amusement,heplayed to keep his family afloat. It was a far more serious pastime. She was not to know that, though. And certainly, it was not right to condemn her over her remarkable skill at the game.
His condemnation had slowly transformed itself into admiration, though he could not claim the lady’s own feelings had changed. He assumed she disliked him thoroughly and he knew he had earned it.
“Miss Farnsworth might be just the thing,” Grayson said. “I think myself half in love with her already and one always requires a pleasant girl to while away the season with.”
Hayes stared at his friend. “You do not mean to make Miss Farnsworth your latest flirtation?”
“Why ever not?” Grayson said. He reined his horse in from a trot.
Hayes reined in Horus.
“I turn here,” Grayson said, “I promised old Crackwilder I’d stop in for a port. He was an excellent lieutenant, despite his rather bookish nature. He saved my skin more than once. I’ve vowed never to lose touch with him and he swears he never retires before three.”
Grayson turned his horse and trotted down a side street. Hayes watched him disappear into the shadows and then turned his own horse home.
Until this moment, Grayson’s flirtations had been amusing. Every season, the man homed in on some girl recently arrived to town. Flattery and flirtation were his calling cards, though he never let the thing go too far. The young lady would be overcome with his attentions and the idea that she might find herself a duchess someday. The girl’s mama would be embarrassingly encouraging. Toward the end of the season there would be the inevitable cooling off. The lady would go home with a basket of disappointed hopes and a furious mother riding beside her, though most would say nothing of it to save themselves embarrassment.
Grayson always claimed he liked to be in love or to be challenged, but alas the love and the challenge never made it quite a full season. Therefore, he was scrupulous in his words. No lady he had trifled with could accuse him of declaring himself. No parent could demand that he honor a promise never given.
But Miss Farnsworth!
Hayes paused. WhynotMiss Farnsworth? What was it to him if the lady was so foolish as to come under the sway of Grayson’s rather shallow charms?
After all, it was not as if his friend would actually marry the lady.
But what if, by some miracle, Graysondidmarry the lady? What was that to him? Aside from encouraging the old dukes in their ridiculous pact, why should he concern himself over whether Miss Farnsworth would end disappointed or the next marchioness? He might now find he admired the lady, and there was no use denying her looks, but that was all.
“It is nothing to me,” Hayes said to the empty street. “I only think his friends ought to curtail Grayson’s flirtations. He runs too much risk of being caught at the altar or dueling an enraged brother.”
*
Lily and heraunt had finally departed Lady Catherine’s house. Lily gazed out on the dark streets, thinking of Lord Ashworth.
She was well aware that he’d appeared in so favorable a light that evening because the other gentlemen on hand had not. Well, she supposed Lord Grayson could not be condemned, he’d been all amiability. Though, Lord Grayson did not have… he was not… what was it?
She could not say and, really, there was no use attempting to puzzle it out. Lord Ashworth had made as good an apology as she would ever get and that was the end of it. She very much doubted he would ever again put his name to her card at any of the balls on her calendar. They were all to be much larger and he would have his choice of ladies to squire.
“That was a very pleasant evening,” Mrs. Hemming said. “Lady Catherine and I won handily at whist, as was to be expected. I cannot imagine how Lord and Lady Cavill have played cards these twenty years and yet remain so bad at it—it’s as if they’d never met one another. I suppose you had a tolerable time? Though I admit myself surprised that Lord Ashworth was so eager to dance with you.”
Lily smiled at the thought. “Dear Aunt,” she said, “the very last descriptive I would use for Lord Ashworth is eager.”
“I suppose not,” Mrs. Hemming said. “But then, Lord Grayson seemed terribly genial.”
“That he is,” Lily said. “I suspect he makes a career out of it.”
“You may be right,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I am sure I heard something about a girl with disappointed hopes last season. On the other hand, I find people often are responsible for disappointingthemselves, so one wonders. Are you tired, my dear?”
“Not especially, Aunt. I presume you are not either. Perhaps I could read to you for an hour or so?”
