It still amazed him that she had taken the thing so far. What he’d thought he had been doing was stepping in as a convenient partner for a lady who had a lack of them. Now, he’d found out they’d been preparing to catapult him into a church and rope him to Miss Rightstone forevermore.
It would never be. Miss Rightstone certainly was nother. Lady Isabel might be, though.
Had he not been so interested in Lady Isabel, he would surely have followed Carlson into the duchess’ drawing room and enjoyed her forced thanks for returning her tiara. She would hate to do it and, as she so infrequently did a thing she did not like, it probably would have been entertaining.
Harry had not done that, though. But only out of consideration for Lady Isabel. Not the duchess.
Now, he had relocated himself away from Miss Rightstone in all haste and currently hung round near the coatroom, waiting for Lady Isabel to arrive. He had learned long ago that if one wished to be the first on a lady’s card, one ought to be nearby where she would collect her card. A more unseasoned gentleman might hover round the front doors, but then what? Awkwardly follow the lady to the cloakroom like a footman wishing to relieve her of her coat?
“Vance,” a powerful voice said.
He turned to find Lord Ryland and his lady. “Ryland. Lady Ryland,” he said. They were a fine-looking couple and Harry rather got hope from their union. Ryland had avoided marriage for quite a few seasons, just as he had. Then, it seemed he’d met the one he’d looked for all along and things had moved speedily after that. The same could happen for him, could it not?
“Mr. Vance,” Lady Ryland said, as her lord handed over her coat to a footman and collected her card. “I do hope you plan on attending my husband’s mystery ball this year.”
Lord Ryland had returned to them and handed his lady her card.
“I was surprised to receive the invitation,” Harry said, “as I thought you did not favor attempting to solve a murder, Lady Ryland. The town was abuzz last season with the idea that last year’s activities were changed to riddles to please you.”
“That is correct,” Lord Ryland said.
“I do not favor thinking about a murder at all,” his lady said laughing. “But my lord has been so kind as to remove all mention of violence and mayhem from my notice for three hundred and sixty-four days of the year that I find myself agreeable to hearing of it on one day of the year. That mystery evening does make him happy and so I am happy too.”
Ryland smiled indulgently at his wife.
“Of course I will come, then,” Harry said.
“It is to be a complicated case,” Lord Ryland said.
“It isalwaysa complicated case, at least to me,” Harry said. “Though, I suppose Lady Featherstone will prevail one way or the other.”
Lady Ryland smiled and said, “I do hope it for her, as she enjoys it more than anybody, I think.”
“Ryland,” Harry said, “will you perhaps do me a favor in the seating? Will you sit Lady Isabel Beauford at my table? She is here with the Duchess of Stanbury this season.”
Lord Ryland nodded.
“Did I hear my name spoken?” a distinctive voice said behind him. It was the duchess, and her tone did not sound amused.
Harry turned to find the duchess in question behind him, along with Lady Isabel, who looked positively smashing in a dark blue silk.
The duchess stared hard at him and he wondered if she thought he’d been talking of the theft of the tiara. He had no intention of spreading the tale, but then she did not know him so well as to know his boundaries.
However, he had no intention of revealing what hehadbeen talking about either.
“I was just extolling the superiorities of your recent dinner, Your Grace,” Harry said, hoping Ryland and his marchioness would not give him away.
The duchess nodded, seeming appeased by the notion. “My cook does know what he is about,” she said.
The duchess introduced Lady Isabel to Lord and Lady Ryland with all the grandeur of a foreign diplomat presenting a princess at court. Harry had a feeling that might be for his benefit, a reminder that Lady Isabel was out of his range.
Lady Ryland said, “Lady Isabel, I will call on you, if I may. It seems rather a tradition amongst those of us the society has been kind enough to take in hand. Lady Langley, Lady Gresham, Lady Bertridge, Lady Blackwood, and myself write to each other often and see each other when we can. We are quite the club, and you must join in.”
Lady Isabel nodded and said, “I would be delighted to see you, and it is most kind to think of including me.”
She was all grace, Harry thought. She did not have that giggling or shy mien that so many ladies did when arriving to London for the first time. There was a maturity about her that prevented her from being ruffled.
“If I may, I will retrieve your card, Lady Isabel,” Harry said. This chitchat was pleasant enough, but it was not getting him any closer to his real aim.
