Lady Eve's Indiscretion

suggesting either a severe tic or an attempt to indicate some sort of shared confidence.

“Perhaps the ladies would rather we save the race talk for the clubs?”

“The ladies would indeed,” Louisa said. “Sit you down, Deene, and do the pretty. Mr. Trottenham was just leaving.” She gave a pointed look at the clock, while Eve, who had said nothing, busied herself pouring tea, which Deene most assuredly did not want.

“Leaving?” Trottenham’s eyebrows jiggled around. “Suppose I ought, but first I must ask Lady Eve to join me at the fashionable hour for a drive around The Ring. It’s a beautiful day, and I’ve a spanking pair of bays to show off.”

Deene accepted his cup of tea with good grace. “Afraid she’s not in a position to oblige, Trottenham, at least not today.” He smiled over at Eve, who blinked once then smiled back.

Looking just a bit like Louisa when she did.

“Sorry, Mr. Trottenham.” She did not sound sorry to Deene. “His lordship has spoken for my time today.”

Trottenham’s smile dimmed then regained its strength. “Tomorrow, then?”

Jenny spoke up. “We’re supposed to attend that Venetian breakfast with Her Grace tomorrow.”

“And the next day is His Grace’s birthday. Couldn’t possibly wander off on such an occasion as that,” Louisa volunteered. “Why don’t I see you out, Mr. Trottenham, and you can tell me where you found these bays.”

She rose and took him by the arm, leaving a small silence after her departure, in which Deene spared a moment to pity poor Trottenham.

“I have an appointment at the modiste,” Lady Jenny said, getting to her feet. “Lucas, I’m sure you’ll excuse me.”

She swanned off, leaving Eve sitting before the tea tray and Deene wondering what had just happened. “Did you tell them I’ve a preference for leeks?”

“I did not, but I cannot vouch for the queer starts my sisters take. Does this mean we must drive out?”

He studied her, noting slight shadows under her eyes and a pallor beneath the peaches and cream of her complexion. He hadn’t truly intended the offer, but neither was he exactly unwilling to make good on it.

“Not if you don’t want to. My horse can develop a loose shoe. You can come down with another megrim.”

She grimaced. “I never pretend I have one if I don’t—it’s tempting fate too badly. Are you going to drink your tea?”

“No.” He set the cup and saucer down, feeling vaguely irritated to see her looking pale and peaked. “What’s troubling you, Eve Windham?”

She was silent for a moment, while Deene became aware the library door was closed and there were strawberries on the tray before her. He lifted his gaze from the damned fruit on the tray and clapped his eyes on the lady, which did not do much to stem the useless thoughts proximity to Eve Windham seemed to arouse… provoke, rather.

“I don’t believe in dissembling on general principles.” She glanced out the window to the gardens struggling to advance against a season when the nights were still chilly. “I suppose I can drive out with you.”

“As flattering as your enthusiasm for my company is, I will still oblige you with a turn in the park. Do you need to change?”

He certainly had not intended to spend an hour or two tooling around Hyde Park with Eve Windham, except His Grace’s words echoed in Deene’s head: ask the Windham sisters about the social scene. Any former cavalry officer understood the benefit of sound intelligence.

Eve would know all the debutantes and the climbers, the ambitious mamas and the young girls politely described as high-strung. Abruptly, this little turn in the park loomed like a fine idea, despite any wayward notions Deene’s male parts might be taking.

“I can go as I am, but I must fetch a wrap.” As she rose, she picked up a strawberry and bit into it, leaving Deene to realize that no matter what they discussed, this little trip around The Ring would be a long drive indeed.

Probably for them both.

* * *

As her husband settled onto the coach seat beside her, Esther, Duchess of Moreland, tucked her hand into his.

“Husband, I must ask you something.”

His smile was the embodiment of patience. “If you’re going to quiz me on my habits at the club, I can tell you I’ve been very circumspect in my drinking. There’s nothing more pathetic than some old lord passed out in his chair, droplets of wine staining his linen, yesterday’s copy of the Times crumpled in his lap. You’d think such an example would scare the young fellows into sobriety.”

“It’s about the young fellows I wanted to ask you.”

Beside her, Esther could feel her husband waiting. The patience they had with each other was only one of the blessings reaped from thirty-odd years of marriage.

“Are you meddling a bit, Percival, by having Deene over to the house as often as you do?”

He didn’t immediately break into remonstrations and protests, which suggested the question had been timely.

“He’d do, Esther. Evie bristles when he’s about, but Jenny might suit him.”

“She bristles?”

They shared a look, part humor, part despair, before His Grace spoke. “I’ve not had Deene’s finances looked into yet, if that’s what you’re asking. I like the man, and I recall all too well what it was like when the title befell us.”

He always referred to it like that: the title befell us, not just him. Our duchy, not simply his dukedom. He was not an arrogant husband, though he could be a very arrogant duke—which Esther did not regard in any way as a fault.

“You think Deene needs a wife, then?”

He patted her hand, a slow stroking gesture that likely soothed him as much as it did her. “The fellow in need of a wife is probably the last fellow to realize his predicament, to wit, your dear and adoring husband in a younger incarnation. Deene’s antecedents did not set a sanguine example in this regard. I’ve encouraged him to choose wisely.”

“You refer to our sons when you allude to fellows not knowing they needed wives.”

This merited her another smile, one hinting of mischief. “With regard to wise choices, of course I do. They take after their papa in this. If Deene were to seek to join our family, Esther, would you approve the match?”

She needed a moment to consider her answer. To better facilitate her cogitation, she laid her head on His Grace’s shoulder.

“He was very kind to Evie when she needed help the other night.”

“Ahh.”

In that simple expostulation, Esther understood that her husband divined the direction of her thoughts.

“Our perpetual darling.” His Grace sighed and put an arm around Her Grace’s shoulders. “The proposals have slowed to a trickle, but I’m thinking Tridelphius Trottenham is coming to the sticking point.”

“He will not do.”

“Of course not. Evie always engages the affections of fellows who are perfectly acceptable in any role save that of husband. She has a genius for it.”

They didn’t need to say more on that topic. Eve had her reasons, of which they were all too aware.

Esther again took her husband’s hand in hers. “She’ll get her courage back, Husband. She’s a Windham. She just hasn’t met the right fellow yet.”

His Grace maintained a diplomatic silence, which Esther was wise enough—married enough—to comprehend did not signal agreement.

* * *

The day wasn’t exactly warm, but it was sunny. Still, with a stiff breeze resulting from Deene’s horses being at the trot, Eve felt chilled.

And this had to be the reason why she sat a little closer to Deene than was strictly, absolutely proper.