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Chapter 16
“Yet another dinner party,” Peter said with a sigh as he adjusted his jacket and snapped his glance to the mirror. “I imagine you won’t do anything to further your commitment to the beautiful Charlotte.”
Jeffrey delivered a sinister grin. “The girl is much too bright for such an arrangement. One shouldn’t court her in traditional manners.”
“I see,” Peter said. “How might one court Charlotte, then?”
“Are you interested in courting her yourself?”
“How dare you! I’m a happily married man,” Peter returned.
Jeffrey’s grin widened as Peter rollicked with embarrassment.
“Of course. You were joking,” Peter said, returning his gaze to the mirror. “I do hope that Charlotte’s sense of humour can keep up with yours.”
“You’ve reached your quota in terms of times you’re allowed to mention her,” Jeffrey said.
“Oh. So when she’s here, am I meant to avoid all contact with her, so as not to affect my quota?”
“I think that would benefit all involved,” Jeffrey said.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“It’s wretched, isn’t it?”
“But luckily for you, my wife is terribly pleased with the number of dinner parties I’ve requested as of late. She so missed society when we first had our children. She’s brightened up and seems to exist eternally in a good mood. I’ve missed this version of her.” Peter finalized his adjustment and turned towards the door the very moment a knock rang out from the foyer. “That seems to be our first guest! I wonder who it might be.”
Jeffrey sauntered after his friend. Once in the corridor, they watched as the butler greeted their first guests: Margorie and Louisa, both dear friends of Charlotte’s. Margorie had hung around with Jeffrey in his earlier days. He’d always liked her. She’d been bright and quick with a laugh, eternally witty and seemingly uninterested in marriage and children.
This had been wonderful for Jeffrey at the time, as he hadn’t had much interest in those sorts of things, either. He’d heard tell about her divorce, the devastation of it, and he ached for her. Divorce seemed to be a sort of death sentence for women, especially women of a certain age. At twenty-eight, he wasn’t sure anyone would still have her.
That moment, however, another knock rang out through the foyer. The butler opened it to reveal Harry Hawkins, a man Jeffrey had once worked with in the years before his father and brother’s deaths. Jeffrey’s lips lifted into a smile, but Harry’s eyes held only Margorie’s.
“Margorie! I hadn’t any idea you’d be here tonight.”
Peter staggered back, seemingly shocked that the pair knew one another.
“Harry …” Margorie’s cheeks brightened to pink.
“Marvellous to see you again,” Harry affirmed.
They held one another gaze for a bit too long until Louisa cleared her throat.
“Thank you again for the invitation to your home,” she articulated to Peter.
“Of course. Shall we all commune in the garden?” Peter asked. “My wife will be downstairs shortly. You know how women are as they prepare themselves.”
“All too well,” Louisa chimed in.
Jeffrey hung back, watching as Margorie eased down the corridor and glanced sideways towards Harry. Harry’s own hand flickered across Margorie’s lower back—an act that they both assuredly felt had been hidden from view.
After so long outside of society, Jeffrey’s heart burned with delight at the secrecy, the desire that simmered beneath the surface of nearly every encounter. How he’d missed it: the ways people fell in love with one another; how people found ways to cast these furtive glances, to lend insight to their inner emotional worlds.
Once in the garden, one of the staff members of Peter’s estate brought Jeffrey a glass of Scotch, seemingly accustomed to his habits. This, too, was a bizarre notion for Jeffrey. He thanked her and lifted the glass towards his friend. Peter delivered a final, sterling joke towards his other guests, then cut back across the garden to Jeffrey.
“Have the others frightened you so? Is this why you lurk towards one side?” Peter asked under his breath. “Or do you simply find everyone else to be a waste of energy compared to the beautiful Charlotte?”
Jeffrey allowed the Scotch to swirl across his tongue. “Am I being altogether too boring for your party, Pete?”
