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Placing his glass down, Oliver pressed, “And he just invited you to this meeting?”
“He did.”
“When is it?” Oliver inquired.
“In five days.”
“I believe I would like to attend,” Oliver said, hoping it was the lead he was looking for.
A smile came to Follett’s lips. “I knew I could count on you.”
Haskett made a clucking noise with his tongue. “I suppose I’m in, too.”
“I’m not,” Booth said. “My father would stop my allowance if he ever discovered that I attended a meeting with radical views. He is a staunch Tory.”
“We don’t know if this is a radical group,” Follett remarked. “It is just a place for people like us to express our views more freely.”
Booth shook his head. “I am going to pass, but I wish you all luck.”
Follett glanced down at the cards in his hand. “We need to hurry and finish this hand,” he said. “I want to go collect my dance from Lady Isabella.”
“Lady Isabella?” Booth repeated with a whistle. “How did you accomplish that feat?”
“It was relatively simple,” Follett explained, smirking. “I just asked her for a dance, and she accepted.”
“Ingenious idea,” Haskett declared.
Oliver chuckled. “You are all fools.”
As they continued to banter back and forth, Oliver kept a smile on his face, but he was processing the information that Follett had told them. He didn’t want his friends mixed up with a radical group, but he needed to see if this meeting had any anti-monarch rhetoric.
Chapter Four
“You turned himdown?!” Mary exclaimed. “Are you mad?”
Emmeline pressed her lips together at her lady’s maid’s disapproval. “Lord Oliver is a rakehell. His exploits are legendary amongst theton.”
“But he isn’t the duke,” Mary pressed.
“I know, but I couldn’t tie him down,” she replied. “It would have been entirely unfair to him, especially since I believe it was out of pity.”
Mary gave her an exasperated look. “Whyever would that matter?”
“I don’t want a marriage based upon pity.”
“Of course not,” Mary replied, lifting her brow. “Instead, you would prefer to marry an eighty-year-old man who still retains a mistress across Town.”
Emmeline walked over to her bed and dropped onto it. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “I turned him down, and I have no doubt that he is relieved by my refusal.”
“Why do you say that?”
“After I refused him, he stormed off and spent his evening in the card room.”
Mary walked over and sat down next to her. “Were you watching him?”
“Perhaps.”
“Lord Oliver may not be perfect, but he would have treated you kindly,” Mary remarked.
