A Secret Affair

had she herself married. Her choice of husband had seemed disastrous at the time. But the marriage had survived and apparently flourished.

Constantine relaxed and enjoyed dinner. The food was good, the company and conversation congenial. Until they retired to the drawing room afterward with an hour or so to kill before they must leave for the ball, he did not even suspect that there had perhaps been an ulterior motive in inviting him.

“Cassandra and I went to call on Kate this morning,” Margaret remarked as Cassandra poured the tea. “Nessie came with us too. Kate is in a delicate way again after all this time. Did you know, Constantine? She is both delighted and queasy in the mornings. She told us about the pleasant evening she and Jasper spent at the theater yesterday.”

Ah, Constantine thought.

“I did not know about her condition,” he said. “I daresay they are both pleased.”

They had got to talking about him during the morning visit, he would wager. He waited for them to say it.

“We got to talking about you,” Margaret said.

“Me?” he said, all amazement. “Am I to feel flattered?”

“You are in your thirties,” Margaret said.

Hmm. What angle were they going to take with this? They could hardly come right out and scold him for taking the Duchess of Dunbarton as a mistress, could they? As genteel ladies, they could not admit to knowing any such thing, or even suspecting it.

Margaret was doing the talking, of course. Cassandra was busier than she need have been with the teapot. Stephen and Sherry were trying to look as though they thought this was just another harmless topic of conversation.

“Yes, well,” Constantine said with a sigh, “the powers that be will not allow one to remain in one’s twenties for longer than ten years, Margaret. It is really quite unobliging of them.”

They all laughed, even Margaret, but she was undeterred from her purpose, whatever it might be.

“We all agreed, Constantine,” she said, “that you ought to be considering marriage. You are our cousin, and—”

“Second cousin,” he said. “Second cousin-in-law to Cassandra.”

“He is in his charming mood, Meg,” Cassandra said. “As opposed to his brooding mood. He is determined to take nothing seriously.”

Stephen sipped his tea. Constantine exchanged a blank-eyed stare with Sherry.

“I take the idea of marriage very seriously indeed,” he assured them. “Especially my own. And more especially when it is being suggested to me by a deputation of my female relatives. This is a deputation, I gather? Is there any lady you particularly wish me to consider?”

Margaret opened her mouth and shut it again. Cassandra merely smiled. The gentlemen both sipped their tea.

“Or anyone you particularly wish me not to consider?” he suggested.

Cassandra laughed outright.

“I told you he would instantly know what this was all about, Meg,” she said. “But really, Con, all we want is your happiness. I have been a member of this family for only a year—less, actually—but I too want to see you happy.”

“Beware a happily married woman,” he said. “She will scheme and plot to force everyone else to be happy too.”

Stephen grinned and Sherry chuckled.

“And there is something wrong with that?” Margaret asked, visibly bristling. She was looking at Sherry.

“Katherine saw the way the wind blew at the theater last evening, did she?” Constantine asked. “And did not approve of what she saw? And you all concurred with her opinion this morning? It would be interesting to know if Vanessa did too.”

“You have a favorite almost every year, Constantine,” Margaret said as she sat back in her chair, her cup and saucer in hand. “They have all been pleasant ladies. I particularly liked Mrs. Hunter the year Duncan and I met and married.”

Her cheeks would probably bloom with a thousand roses if he asked her to explain exactly what she meant by favorite, Constantine thought.

“I liked her too, Margaret,” he said. “That was why she was my favorite that year. But I hope you are not about to ask me to consider her as a bride. She married Lord Lund two summers ago.”

“And presented him with an heir last year, I believe,” Sherry said. “You are wise not to go pining after her, Con.”

Margaret gave him an indignant look.

“The Duchess of Dunbarton is beautiful,” she said. “No one can dispute that. She draws all eyes wherever she goes, and it is more than just her beauty that does it. She is really quite fascinating.”

“I hear a but in your voice,” Constantine said.

Cassandra took over.

“Kate was of the opinion that the duchess has decided to make you her favorite, Con,” she said. “And what the duchess wants, apparently, she usually gets. But she is said to be fickle in her preferences. Next week or the week after it is likely to be someone else.”

She was looking decidedly uncomfortable and turned her head to frown at Stephen, who was grinning at her.

“She does indeed have a reputation for being somewhat fast, Constantine,” Margaret said. “And I believe it is well deserved.”

What would they say, he wondered, if he told them that the duchess had been a virgin until a little more than a week ago, and that she had lost that virginity courtesy of himself?

“And you are afraid I will end up hurt and brokenhearted if I succumb to her wiles this week and perhaps next?” he asked. “I will be no match at all for someone of the duchess’s, ah, experience? Even though I am frequently said to be the devil himself? I am touched at your concern.”

He was feeling vastly amused.

“Oh, dear,” Cassandra said, setting down her cup and saucer with a clatter. “This was not how we planned to approach the subject, was it, Meg? Kate will be quite vexed with us. Of course you can cope with her grace if she should become your, er, favorite, Con. Indeed, I daresay there are people warning her against becoming involved with you. What we intended to say, or to hint or suggest, purely out of filial fondness for you, you must understand, is that perhaps it is time you turned your attention away from mere flirtation and toward matrimony. You are extremely eligible. And really very handsome indeed, though I am not sure that is quite the correct word to describe you. You draw admiring eyes wherever you go—just as the duchess does.”

“We have rather made a mess of things, Constantine,” Margaret admitted. “We meant to oh-so-subtly nudge your thoughts in the direction of marriage rather than … Well.”

“Perhaps,” Sherry suggested, “we ought to talk about tomorrow’s weather, my love. Or last week’s. Or next month’s.”

She smiled and then laughed aloud with what sounded like genuine amusement.

“May we forget about the last five minutes and start again?” she asked.

“Heaven forbid,” Sherry and Stephen said in unison.

“What I want to know,” Constantine said, “is what Vanessa had to say about all this.”

Vanessa, the middle sister, had been a warm friend of his until she married Elliott, now Duke of Moreland. Then, in trying to get at Elliott in the asinine, somewhat childish way in which he had tended to conduct their long-standing quarrel in those days, he had inadvertently—but quite predictably—hurt and humiliated her, and she had been barely civil to him since.

It had not been his finest moment. In fact, it had easily been one of his worst. He