Page 66 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

‘His father went to school with my father. They kept in touch.’

He nodded. The Ralsteads had always been political intriguers. It was likely the reason they hadn’t wanted Graydon for a son-in-law: not well enough connected.

Or he hadn’t been. Now, it was a different story.

‘Graydon, I must—’

‘I need a day or so more to arrange things, Eloise. I do not have the money you need sitting in my desk drawer.’

Her face paled. ‘When?’

‘I’ll let you know.’

George joined them, looking from one to the other. ‘Is ought amiss?’

Eloise gave a huff of anger and flounced away.

George snagged a sherry from the butler’s passing tray.

‘You’ll have a headache the size of a mountain on that stuff,’ Graydon said. He’d taken a glass but it was far too sweet for his taste.

His wife, meanwhile, was exactly the right amount of sweetness. Now where had that thought come from? No one would call Florence sweet—calm, yes, pragmatic definitely, but sweet? Not unless one talked to her and listened to her when she wasn’t on her guard.

He liked that he knew that about her. Few other people saw beneath the plump figure and the sharp mind.

Lady Liverpool had joined her husband talking to Lord Swann, and Florence was now speaking with the Pratt sisters and that Aldrich fellow. The damned man seemed to pop up everywhere. The ladies seemed to dote on him too. He never saw him approach them but he had at least three hanging off his every word.

He gritted his teeth as Florence laughed at something the man said. He rarely saw her laugh. The fellow must be exceedingly entertaining.

George moved to stand between him and the sight of his wife. ‘Are you able to help her?’

‘Who? Oh, you mean Eloise. How the hell did she manage to get into such hot water?’

George glanced around to make sure they were not overheard. ‘Her husband has been ill for years. Was ill when they married. She used to come up to town alone. She got mixed up with a fast set. I tried to warn her off, but she was so damned unhappy in that marriage, there was no talking to her. I went with her to some of those places; damnably bad all round if you ask me. It would not have happened had you stayed.’

‘You cannot lay the blame at my door, surely?’ Graydon said, appalled by the vehemence in his friend’s voice.

‘She was in love with you. She would have listened.’

Graydon no longer believed she had ever loved him. When she’d realised he had no money, she’d looked elsewhere. ‘She accepted another man’s proposal. What could I have done?’

‘Found other ways to keep her happy.’

Graydon was appalled. ‘Not a chance.’

‘I would have, if she had cared for me. She is out of her mind with worry. You have to help her.’

He didn’t have to do anything. But he would, for old times’ sake, nothing more.

When he’d been little more than a youth, he had placed her on a pedestal. When he’d been in her orbit he’d been so mad for her, he’d scarcely been able to think, let alone see her as a person. Looking back, he realised that she’d had him and all the others in her court dancing to her tune without a care for their feelings as long as she got what she wanted: their adoration.

He no longer cared what she thought of him. He didn’t need to prove anything. She was in the past. The realisation was like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

‘My word,’ Lady Swann said, joining them. ‘You gentleman are looking fierce. I was beginning to think you might resort to fisticuffs.’

Graydon felt his cheeks redden.

George grinned. ‘Nothing of the sort. Talking about the chances of a horse next week. As you may guess, we are of opposite opinions.’