Page 53 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

Florence glanced at him with a frosty expression. What was that about?

Eloise clapped her hands together in a gesture of delight. ‘Oh, I know just the thing. I am holding an at-home on Monday. Everyone will be there. I will send my footman round with an invitation, shall I?’

‘That is very kind of you,’ Florence said stiffly, before he could open his mouth. ‘I will check my diary and we will be delighted, unless we have a prior engagement.’

‘Oh, my dear,’ Eloise twittered, ‘Break it if you do. All the ladies in our circle are dying to meet Graydon’s new bride. It would be such a shame to miss the opportunity. All the old friends will be there, Graydon. Do come.’

Florence glanced at him, her expression bleak. ‘It would be a shame for you not to see all your friends, I suppose.’

And there it was—the net drawn tight and his wife caught. A typical tactic from Eloise. Why had he not been able to see it before? Because he had been too busy basking in the glow of her approval. He’d been an idiot. However, it really would be a chance for Florence to meet others of his friends, and an opportunity to show her off in prime style also.

He smiled at Florence. ‘Let us see what engagements we have next Monday, shall we?’

‘Do not tease, Graydon. I shall expect you,’ Eloise said, wagging a finger. ‘I must be off or I will be late for my appointment with my modiste.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘I will give you her name, if you wish.’ She dipped her head and hurried off.

‘How kind of her,’ Florence murmured.

Graydon ground his teeth, holding back a curse. He had thought to make Eloise realise how wrong she had been about him, but she seemed to be intent on drawing him back into her circle along with his wife. Was it kindness for old times’ sake or something else?

‘Perhaps you should drive now,’ Florence said. ‘We are not far from the gate. I should not like to take your horses into traffic, not until I am more confident.’

Her change of focus came as a relief. He feared she might be about to question him about Eloise’s odd behaviour, her over-familiarity, and he did not want to have to answer in front of a servant. Especially not about wanting to prove to Eloise that she had made the wrong decision in turning down his offer.

They switched seats and Stuart leaped up behind. ‘Rider,’ Stuart said. ‘Look out behind.’

Graydon looked over his shoulder. ‘Hah. It’s Redfern.’ He waited for him to pass and slow up, which he did with a flourish of his whip and a fancy pirouette by his horse.

Florence’s jaw dropped.

‘Always the show-off, Redfern,’ Graydon said, grinning at him. ‘Florence, meet George Redfern, a very old friend of mine who should have joined the circus at a young age but instead works at a bank.’

Redfern tipped his hat. ‘A pleasure, Lady Blackdown. I’m glad to see someone has finally taken this ne’er-do-well in hand.’

The banter between the two men was as surprising as it was fun. And, while no one could describe his friend as handsome or even passably good looking, indeed quite the opposite, there was a warm twinkle in his pair of bright-blue eyes that beguiled.

‘I am pleased to meet you,’ Florence said, and meant it. He was bringing out a side of her husband she had not seen before. Or perhaps that had only been hinted at before. There had been the odd spark of amusement, and the last night…

She pushed the thoughts aside. They only made her feel all hot and strange—embarrassment, no doubt.

Redfern took her outstretched hand, fully in control of what was clearly a spirited animal.

‘Shall I see you at Fanny’s ball tomorrow?’ Redfern asked.

‘Lord and Lady Fanshaw,’ Graydon explained at her enquiring glance. ‘Yes, we have accepted the invitation.’

‘Then may I have the honour of a waltz, Lady Blackdown?’

Graydon made an odd sound in his throat, a sort of growl.

Redfern laughed. ‘Only one, Gray, I promise you. If I don’t ask now, I won’t get a look in, you know that. There will be far too many handsome chaps hanging around your wife the moment they see her.’

Charmed by his flattery delivered with such a cheerful grin, not to mention those startlingly beautiful blue eyes, she could not help but smile. ‘I should be delighted to waltz with you, Mr Redfern.’

‘Call me, George. Gray and I are such good old friends, you know.’

‘George it is. And I am Florence to my friends.’

He looked so pleased, she really did think she had acquired a friend.