She hadn’t known.
“Ah, Mr Mainwaring.” She nodded regally at the man who had just approached them.
“Lady Fenleigh, you look as charming as ever.” He bowed over her hand. “And Lady Viola! What a pleasure to meet you again. As everyone knows, this is a prodigiously important evening where many politicians are gathered. It promises to be a tremendously interesting evening.”
Viola surprised herself by feeling slightly relieved to see him; however, that did not last long.
He took her hand and held it for a moment longer than was necessary. She gently pulled her hand away and resisted the urge to wipe it on her dress.
“I am to take you to supper,” he told her happily and offered her his arm.
Supper.
Goodness, that was one of the most tedious suppers she had ever experienced in her entire life.
Sebastian, thankfully, was sitting far away from her at the head of the table, next to the host. He was possibly unaware that she was sitting right there at the same table with him. Or if he had seen her, he staunchly ignored her.
Which was just fine, for they had agreed to do just that, had they not? To ignore each other and to pretend they were total strangers whenever they met. To not even make eye contact, not even once, and to avoid, under all circumstances, acknowledging the other’s existence.
Lady Beringbroke touched his sleeve gently and smiled at him, nodding at something he had said. She clearly adored every word that came out of his mouth.
Viola gripped the knife rather harder than was necessary, so it squeaked on the porcelain.
He was leaning back now, listening attentively to his host before responding.
The topic was—how could it be otherwise?—politics.
Some sinking fund, or the precise number of shillings at which foreign wheat ought to be permitted entry. She hardly knew. She hardly cared. The gentlemen grew heated over decimal points while the ladies smiled glassily at their fish.
Mr Mainwaring, however, had followed it all with interest, then turned to Viola to ask, “What is your view, Lady Viola?Surely you must have an opinion on the matter?” He brushed her hand quite by accident.
“Truth be told, I find anything pertaining to politics monstrously dull,” Viola confessed, somewhat louder than intended, right into the silence.
The heads snapped towards her.
There was some snickering.
Sebastian’s mouth hardened, and something flickered across his expression.
Oh, bother. He had clearly heard her. So much for him not noticing her.
Viola flushed and buried her face in her wineglass. Well, it couldn’t be helped.
But Mr Mainwaring was visibly dismayed. “But Lady Viola, how could you not find it of profound interest to debate about the precise price threshold at which foreign corn should be permitted into the country? Let me tell you, things are as follows: as everyone knows…” And then he went off again, expounding at length about a topic she cared little about.
She suppressed a yawn. She nodded at appropriate intervals and wondered whether it would be a terrible breach of etiquette if she were to kick off her slippers since they pinched something dreadful.
After supper, when the gentlemen retreated, leaving the ladies to their tea, she slipped out to the lady’s room.
Just at that moment, the door to the billiard room, where the gentlemen were gathered, opened, and a gentleman emerged.
Viola suppressed a groan.
Peregrine.
If she hurried, maybe he wouldn’t see her. She had almost reached the door to the lady’s retirement room when she heard rapid footsteps behind her.
“Viola. A word.”
