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“I couldn’t tell you,” said Michael cheerfully. “Sounds like Gwendoline has got herself a man. She’s the baby of the family, so it’s a bit soon, perhaps, but it’s also not my business if she wants to rush into things. I’ve already been scolded once for interfering with a sister’s courtship, so I’ll keep out of it.”

Despite not knowing her, despite not even having been introduced, Ernest found himself flaring up with protective anger for the woman. “You never got on with your sister Gwendoline, did you?”

“Firecracker, that one. She always has to be right. She can never consider another person’s opinion for a single minute,” said Michael ominously, his own temper clearly flaring. “You know there was one time, when she was seven—”

“I imagine she holds a grudge too,” Ernest said dryly.

His friend did not spot the trap. “All I know is that my shin has never been the same after that croquet mallet.”

It was all Ernest could do not to roll his eyes. “Fine, that one is Miss Gwendoline, and she’s just gotten engaged. Who is this Marquess of Ravenshurst?”

“Blowed if I know,” Michael said cheerfully. “I, uh… Well, I’ve found myself a tad distracted the last few months. Which reminds me, Phylis will be expecting me home any moment.”

Ernest’s pulse skipped a beat as dread poured through him. “What the devil do you mean, ‘expect you home’?”

“Well, we are married, old chap,” his friend said reasonably. “She does like to see me every now and then.”

“I thought you lived here! I thought…” And though Ernest desperately attempted to remember when Michael had ever said such a thing, he could not think of it. Still, it had been a reasonable assumption, one made all the more reasonable when Michael had so casually revealed he was master of the house as the current viscount. A sinking feeling enveloped him. “Do you mean to say that I’m staying with your parents and your sisters…and not you?”

Michael blinked. “Why the devil would I live with my parents now that I’m married? And don’t tell me it’s the viscount’s house—my father is still alive, and I’m hardly going to demand my parents leave. No, Phylis is waiting for me on the Dreamer. That’s our ship.”

Oh, this was going from bad to worse. Surely, it was awkward enough that Ernest was intruding on a family celebration, as one of the daughters of the house had announced her engagement—but now he was supposed to stay here without his friend?

Thank God he was only going to be here a week.

“Let me point out the rest of the family before I go,” Michael said jovially.

Ernest’s jaw tightened. “You’re not about to leave this very moment, are—”

“So that’s my father, the one standing by the fireplace with graying temples and a look of puzzlement,” said Michael, nodding his head toward the older man. “And the woman seated in the armchair with the embroidery—”

“Your mother,” Ernest said, discomfort rising. “But you don’t have to go right away, surely?”

“The woman standing in the room surprising us all with this engagement, that’s Gwen. Gwendoline. Miss Gwendoline to you, I suppose, when her last remaining unwed sister is around,” Michael said with a sigh. “She’s a brute. The one by the pianoforte, that’s Teddy—blast, Miss Chance to you, I would guess.”

It was all Ernest could do not to laugh. “You know how the rules of Society work just as well as I do.”

“Yes, well, Society!” Michael threw his hands up in the air—a gesture that in any other setting would have caused notice.

It did not here. Ernest could not help but detect that the entire Chance family had their attention fixed on Miss Chance—Miss Gwendoline Chance—and her clearly unexpected announcement.

Which was fascinating in and of itself.

“On that sofa over there, barely keeping their hands off each other and making me want to punch the man, are Reeny and her husband, Wilfred,” continued Michael. “The Duke and Duchess of Aynor now.”

“‘Wilfred’? ‘The Duke of Aynor’?” Ernest vaguely recollected the name. “So that must be…?”

“That’s Jessica, and her husband, Llyne. And yes, I suppose he’s a good sort,” said Michael with a sigh. “Even if he did pick her off a list.”

‘Pick her off a list’? What sort of family was this?

“And with that, I must be off,” his friend said cheerfully. “I’m sure I’ll see you at luncheon tomorrow—”

“Michael!”

“—and I can introduce you to the wife, Captain Seaton,” continued Michael blithely, ignoring Ernest’s hiss.

“‘Seaton’?”