Page 60 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

An angelic smile lit his face. ‘Thank you for indulging me.’

A large man approached them. It was hard to make out his face, with his back to the lights, but Florence knew him instantly. Her heart seemed to give a little hop at the thought that he had come seeking her. Foolish heart; she knew better. She forced her voice to be calm and friendly.

‘Graydon. Allow me to introduce you to Viscount Olden.’

Graydon bowed. He seemed stiff and disapproving, for some reason.

‘Lord Olden, this is my husband, Lord Blackdown.’

Olden held out his hand. ‘A pleasure.’

A delicate, rather small man, the viscount looked almost like a child beside her husband.

‘Likewise,’ Graydon said. He held out her shawl. ‘Mother asked that I bring this in case you felt chilly.’

‘How kind of you.’

Viscount Olden looked crushed. ‘Oh, my lady. I apologise. I should have thought to ask you if you needed a shawl before we left the ballroom. We gentlemen have our coats, but you ladies… Well, you know what I mean.’

Graydon gave him a narrowed-eyed stare and seemed to relax.

‘It is no matter,’ Florence said, wondering at Graydon’s reaction. ‘And I have it now, so no harm done.’

Graydon turned to face the house. ‘Impressive.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Olden sounded pleased. ‘M’mother thought it too ostentatious.’ He waved a delicate hand. ‘There will be fireworks later—not nearly as artistic, and horribly noisy. Well, you must excuse me; Mother says I must mix and mingle, so I will leave you in your husband’s tender care, Lady Blackdown.’

‘Thank you,’ Graydon said, sounding amused. ‘I will take good care of her.’

Olden disappeared into the crowd closer to the house and they followed at a more leisurely pace. ‘You know,’ Graydon said softly, ‘You really should not go wandering around in the dark with men you do not know.’

‘He is the duke’s son. How could I refuse? And besides, it is hardly dark out here with all these lights.’

‘No harm done,’ he said carefully, as if forcing himself to keep calm. ‘But you need to take care here in London. A reputation is a fragile thing, and easily ruined.’

She stifled a sigh. A married woman was supposed to listen to her husband. ‘Very well. I will take more care in future.’ And then she could not resist. ‘Perhaps you need to take more care about what the gossips are saying.’

He stiffened and stopped walking to look down at her. ‘What are they saying?’

Uncomfortable that she had let a flash of annoyance betray her feelings, she shrugged. ‘According to Mr Aldrich, people have noticed that you couldn’t wait to renew your friendship with Lady Standish. You certainly seem to enjoy dancing with her.’

His mouth tightened. ‘As I said before, she is an old friend. To give her the cut direct would have started worse gossip.’

‘Will we go to her at-home?’

He looked away and started walking again. ‘Of course. To decline would be an unforgivable snub and would not do your reputation any good at all. People would think you were jealous.’

She was jealous. The lady had seemed very comfortable in his arms and had had an expression on her face as if she’d won first prize for baking at the village fair. Except she was no village matron and it hadn’t only been delight on her face. Lady Standish had looked triumphant—as if she’d won the best prize of all.

What could Florence say—don’t embarrass me? Don’t dance with the woman you used to hold in affection? How laughable. A woman was supposed to turn a blind eye to such matters and hope that her husband didn’t flaunt his affaires de coeur in her face. She had only herself to blame. She had told him he could, when they had made their rules. She hadn’t expected to feel a pang of jealousy. Not when their marriage had been a convenient way of solving both of their problems.

She needed to stop focussing on her husband and start planning for her sisters’ futures. First, Primrose would come out next season, and two years later she would present Iris. That was where she needed to expend her thoughts.

They re-entered the ballroom. The floor was crowded with people undertaking a spirited Sir Roger de Coverly.

‘Would you like to join a set?’ Graydon asked, searching for a spot for them.

Lady Standish, who was partnered with his friend George, glanced in their direction. Their set was a couple short.