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“I haven’t spoken to her since that day. But I think that’s what she would want.”
Catherine had declared her disgust for the man she had been made to marry by her parents. She didn’t want to do it, but she had no choice. Derrick had been aware that a marriage was in the works, but Catherine had dismissed it all until the morning of the wedding. And then she’d had the nerve to say they could carry on their affair once she was married as she was never getting into the same bed as the old man.
Derrick had done a lot of things with women, but he drew the line at bedding a woman who was married or about to be. His ladies were always unmarried and available, and he had thought Catherine was the same.
“Surely, you should be able to tell her,” Randall insisted. “If you do end up seeing her, and she brings it up again, you should be able to say no.”
“That’s easier said than done, Randall.”
“How is that so?”
Derrick grimaced. “I hate to admit it, but Catherine is a weakness. One that I can’t afford to succumb to. Why else am I running away from her whenever she’s close by?”
Randall grunted. “I never thought I’d see the day when you were running away from a woman. Except your mother, that is.”
“And there are times when I hate you.”
“I know.” Randall looked around the tree again. “They’re out of sight now. Are we making a run for it, or are we going to pretend we didn’t see them?”
“We’re going to carry on with our walk and leave the park.” Derrick stepped out onto the path, adjusting his hat and dusting down his coat. “I could do with a drink after that.”
“So could I. Especially after we had to go jumping into bushes to hide from a former flame of yours.” Randall twirled his cane as he started walking again. “Let’s go. And I think we will both have large brandies.”
That sounded very appropriate.
Chapter 2
“You know,” Lady Diane Mansford said across the table, her focus completely on Madeline, “you really shouldn’t go out of the house in your condition. What if something happened and you ended up hurting the baby?”
Madeline gave a small smile, her expression saying she was getting fed up with her grandmother’s questioning.
“Grandma, it’s absolutely fine. The doctor said not to put stress on my body, but a walk isn’t going to hurt.”
“Even so, what if you trip and land on your belly? What if you get knocked into? What then?”
Ellie frowned at the old woman. From the moment her great-aunt had come downstairs—swept downstairs, more like—she had been badgering Madeline over her pregnancy. Even when everyone else managed to distract her, she just wouldn’t stop. And Ellie could tell it was upsetting Madeline.
Seated beside his wife, Matthew put a hand over his wife’s and gave Lady Mansford a placid look. “My wife and I have had this discussion already, ma’am,” he said coolly. “I trust that she is going to do the right thing.”
Lady Mansford sniffed. “I don’t know about that, young man,” she said haughtily. “Why, in my day—”
“Anyway,” Emma cut in quickly before the old woman started on another tirade, fixing her attention on Ellie, “are you looking forward to your first ball of the Season? Lady Yaxley knows how to throw a good party. Not too busy, and very enjoyable.”
Ellie managed a smile. “I’m sure it will be an evening to remember,” she said quietly.
If she was being honest, she wasn’t really looking forward to it. Even though she was glad to be catching up with her cousins, Madeline looking very loved-up and happy with her husband, Ellie couldn’t stop thinking about her father. She really wanted to be back with him, looking after him while he tried to get better. London was too far away.
“I’m certainly looking forward to it,” Regina declared across the table. “I haven’t been to a ball for a while, and I remember them being gay and full of life.”
“What are balls in London like?” Dorothea asked, looking at Emma. “What’s the music like?”
“The music is quite expressive. We have a wide array of composers, and if the right orchestra is playing a particular piece,” Emma nodded as she reached for her wine glass, “it’s absolutely perfect. You don’t get many good orchestras in London.”
“Well, you do,” Matthew chimed in, “but there are so many social engagements going on at one time that there is too much to do. Someone has to fill in the gaps.”
“Music.” Lady Mansford snorted. “Music is for the deprived masses. How can anyone call that culture?”
Emma arched an eyebrow at Ellie, who had to fight back a giggle. Only a short while ago, when Regina was playing the piano, Lady Mansford had been gushing over how beautifully she had played and that she could have everyone at her feet. Now she was complaining about how bad it was. It was like every time someone talked about a topic with warmth, the woman just complained and made it sound like a bad thing.
