Lady Forrester’s laugh had an edge. “Freedom cannot be found in marriage, Lady Cornelia. Rather the opposite.”
While wondering what kind of marriage Lady Forrester had endured, Nellie said, “Amelia looks content enough.”
“One might hope so. Her handsome husband was obliged to marry her when facing bankruptcy.”
Nellie frowned, not wishing to be drawn into nasty gossip, especially with the lady in question on the other side of the room.
Arabella leaned forward with that look of a conspirator that Nellie so disliked. “I have been told there is a wager in the betting book at Whites that Brixton will take a mistress before the end of the Season. He is shopping for one.”
Across the room, Lady Brixton chatted brightly to Mrs. Bainbridge. She smiled in agreement with something the other lady had said, her light brown curls bobbing. Might she be happy and madly in love? She found herself hoping Arabella was wrong.
Nellie put her coffee cup on a footman’s tray. “Inadvisable to believe all you hear, surely.”
“Men are untrustworthy creatures, Lady Cornelia,” she said with a warning lift of her brow.
“Some women are also, Lady Forrester,” Nellie said, relieved when the door opened, and the men entered.
Charles appeared. Nellie’s heart gave a thump when he moved with easy grace into the room.
Lady Forrester rose from the sofa with a gracious nod. She joined acquaintances gathered at the other end of the room.
Beyond his slight bow to the widow, Nellie was pleased to see Charles’s gaze did not follow her. He cast Nellie a lazy smile and joined her on the sofa. She liked his smell, citrus soap, starched linens, and cigar smoke. When he reached forward to take a glass of wine from a footman, his muscled thigh touched hers before he tactfully edged away.
“There’s to be no dancing tonight?” he asked after the last strains of the concerto faded, and the musicians consulted their music sheets.
“Not until the ball.”
“Pity.” His eyes swept over her face.
Something sensual and heated lay behind that one word. Her imagination took flight, and she was suddenly too warm. She struggled to find an innocuous topic to discuss. “On your final evening with us, Mrs. Bosworth is to perform Tornami a vagheggiar from Handel’s Alicina.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “A lady with a remarkably large voice and a figure of equal stature.”
Nellie smothered a laugh, smiling back at him. She enjoyed his subtle wit.
He glanced up at the portrait of her paternal grandmother over the fireplace.
“My grandmother, Elizabeth,” she explained, eager for a distraction. Dressed in the fashion of the last century, her grandmother’s large creamy bosom was on display in the low-cut purple gown. Known to be a beauty, she wore the family sapphires, her blonde hair dressed high with feathers.
“You take after her,” he said. “Your eyes are a similar color and shape.” He studied her, then looked again at the portrait. “And her chin, perhaps. She looks to be a lady with firm opinions.”
Was that condemnation? She raised an eyebrow.
His eyes widened. “Don’t glare at me. It was a compliment.”
Was it? Men did not like opinionated women. “I can’t say if I do resemble her. She died when I was a young child, but I’ve always admired her. She was a lady with varied interests.”
“How so?”
“She was a friend of the Duchess of Devonshire and a member of her literary circle.”
“Indeed.”
Did he disapprove? She would be proud to be favorably compared to her grandmother. But before she could discover what his opinion was, the guests drifted to the library, where the card tables had been set up.
She and Charles were soon inveigled into a game of whist, and there was no further opportunity that evening for them to converse.
Most of the next morning, her father and Charles were holed up in his study. In the afternoon, Alice joined Nellie, Marian, and Charles on the terrace.
“Your Grace, I should like to introduce my sister, Alice, to you,” Nellie said.
Charles bowed. “How do you do, Alice.”
“Your Grace.” Rising from a pretty curtsey, Alice blinked up at him. “No one mentioned how tall you are.”
Nellie stiffened. Her sister was so unpredictable. What would she do or say next?
Charles laughed. “I hesitate to ask in what manner I was described to you, Lady Alice.”
“You weren’t described to me at all. No one ever bothers to tell me much,” Alice said frankly. “Are you good with a bow and arrow, Your Grace?”
“I consider myself tolerable. I have been warned that you excel at the sport.”
“I practice a lot. I have not much to amuse me while waiting for my Come-out.”
“I quite understand,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “Life does tend to drag when you’re waiting for something important to happen.”
“And after you make your debut, it speeds up far too much,” Marian said in a dry tone.
They made their way to the far lawn, a wide swathe of green ringed by elms, where the archery targets had been set up. Guests stood about with their bows, chatting.
“Really, Alice,” Marian said. “You have your music and French lessons, not to mention dancing and riding. You are hard-pressed to find a moment to read as I know you like to do.”
“That is true,” Alice said thoughtfully. “Although I have been enjoying a very interesting book, The Castle of Wolfenbach, and it is ever so exciting.”
“My goodness! That was one of mine,” Marian said. “I doubt you should be reading it. It sent chills down my spine. It’s a wonder you can sleep.”
“Oh, no.” Alice shrugged. “I am made of sterner stuff.”
Charles’s amused gaze met Nellie’s.
“You have the honor, Lady Alice,” he said when it was their turn.
Stepping forward, Alice withdrew an arrow from her quiver. She took aim, her blonde head close to the bowstring with her eyes fixed on the target. The arrow flew straight and true and found its mark dead center of the bull’s eye.
“Good shot, Alice,” Nellie cried.
Marian smiled at Alice. “Remarkable.”
“I see your reputation is well earned, Lady Alice.” Charles turned to Nellie. “I believe
