A Secret Affair

“She is Lady Merton now, ma’am,” he said. “And I certainly appreciate the value of my prize.”

“Good man,” she said. “You have made the correct answer. And Lord Montford. Looking really quite … tamed. Lady Montford is to be commended.”

And she offered him her hand.

“Not at all, ma’am,” Monty said, gri

“I am glad to hear it,” she said, “though that is not quite what a little bird once told me. And Mr. Huxtable. How do you do?”

She looked at him almost with disdain, though she arched the look from beneath her eyelashes and somewhat spoiled the effect—if she had indeed intended disdain, that was. She did not offer him her hand.

“Very well indeed, Duchess, I thank you,” he said. “And all the better for having seen that you are back in town this year.”

“Flatterer,” she said, making a dismissive gesture with her ringed hand. She turned to her silent companion. “Babs, may I have the pleasure of presenting the Earl of Merton, Baron Montford, and Mr. Huxtable? Miss Leavensworth, gentlemen, is my dearest friend in the world. She has been kind enough to come and stay with me for a while before returning home to marry the vicar of the village where we grew up.”

Miss Leavensworth was tall and thin with a long, Nordic face, slightly protruding upper teeth, and fair hair. She was not an unhandsome woman.

She curtsied. They all bowed from the saddle.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Leavensworth,” Stephen said. “Are the nuptials to be soon?”

“In August, my lord,” she said. “But in the meantime I hope to see as many places of interest in London as I can. All the museums and galleries, anyway.”

The duchess was looking his horse over, Constantine could see. And then his top-boots. And then his thighs. And then … his face. She raised her eyebrows when she found him staring directly back at her.

“We must move on, Babs,” she said. “I fear we are blocking the path, and these gentlemen are holding up traffic. They are so very … large.”

And she turned and processed onward toward the next wave of admirers come to greet her and welcome her back to town.

“Goodness me,” Monty murmured. “There goes one very dangerous lady. And she has just been let off the leash.”

“Her friend seems very sensible,” Stephen said.

“It would seem,” Constantine said, “that only titled gentlemen are to be granted the great honor of kissing her hand.”

“I would not lose any sleep over that, if I were you, Con,” Monty said. “Perhaps it is only untitled gentlemen who are favored with a leisurely toe-to-head scrutiny instead of a hand.”

“Or maybe one should make that unmarried gentlemen, Monty,” Stephen said. “Perhaps the lady fancies you, Con.”

“But perhaps I do not fancy the lady,” Constantine said. “It has never been my ambition to share a mistress with half the ton.”

“Hmm,” Monty said. “Do you think that is what Dunbarton did, poor devil? Though, speaking of which, he apparently had one devil of a reputation as a dangerous character when he was a young man. He never looked like a cuckold after his marriage, did he? He always looked more like the cat who had climbed right into the cream bowl to bask and bathe there while he lapped it up.”

“I have just thought of something,” Stephen said. “It was just last year, maybe even on this very date, and in just this place that I first set eyes upon Cassandra. You were with me, Con. And if memory does not deceive me, Monty, you rode up with Kate while we were looking at her and remarking upon how uncomfortably hot she must be beneath her heavy widow’s weeds.”

“And you went on to live happily ever after with her,” Monty said. He gri

“The sun is not shining,” Constantine said, “and it certainly is not hot. And the duchess is not in heavy mourning. Or walking alone with her companion while no one takes any notice. And I am not looking for a leg shackle, thank you kindly, Monty.”

“But then, Con,” Stephen said, waggling his eyebrows, “neither was I.”

They all chuckled—and then noticed Timothy Hood driving a spanking-new high-perch phaeton drawn by a pair of perfectly matched grays. Their attention was effectively diverted from the widow in white who had looked at him, Constantine realized now that he had had a minute or two to think about it, not so much disdainfully as provocatively.

He really was not interested. He chose his mistresses—and he took one almost every year when he was in town—with an eye to his maximum comfort for the duration of the Season.

There would be no comfort at all in a woman whose daily pastime seemed to be gathering as many adoring men about her as she could—and her ability in that regard was considerable.

He did not dance to any woman’s tune.

Or at the end of any puppet strings.

Certainly not the notorious Duchess of Dunbarton’s.

Chapter 3

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS Barbara was confirmed in her conviction that Ha

Not real lies.

The first happened when the two of them were stepping out of a milliner’s shop on Bond Street late one morning, a footman behind them more than half hidden beneath four large hatboxes. Their intention was to see the boxes safely deposited in their waiting carriage and then proceed to a bakery a little way along the street for refreshments. But as fate would have it, Mr. Huxtable was approaching alone along the pavement. He was still some distance away and might easily have been avoided, especially as he appeared not to have noticed them among the crowd of shoppers. But Ha

He touched the brim of his hat, inclined his head politely, and asked them how they did.

“We have been shopping for hours,” Ha

That part at least seemed like a mere exaggeration to Barbara rather than an out-and-out lie. An hour and a half was longer than just one hour, after all.

“And we are absolutely parched,” Ha

Barbara was a little uncomfortable. Ha

But the big lie was coming up, and Barbara did not see it coming.

Mr. Huxtable responded with the gallantry almost any true gentleman would have shown under the circumstances.

“There is a bakery or a pastry cook not far from here,” he said. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you ladies there and buying you tea?”

And instead of looking grateful or perhaps embarrassed, Ha

“That is extraordinarily kind of you, Mr. Huxtable,” she said, “but we are expecting visitors and must hurry home.”

And the coachman had to gather the ribbons in a hurry, and the footman had to scramble to open the carriage door, and Mr. Huxtable bowed and handed them in.

Ha

“Ha

“One must never appear too eager,” Ha

“But you practically asked him to take us for tea,” Barbara pointed out.

“I remarked on the fact that I was thirsty,” Ha

“Are we expecting visitors?” Barbara asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Ha

She had lied, in other words. Barbara disapproved of lies. But she said nothing. Ha