Counterfeit Countess by Lynne Connolly Page B

modest mourning suit, John assessed him as a relative. After all, would her ladyship dine with a tradesman or a servant? She’d subjected him to her trenchant views on “Trade” before, so he doubted it.
    “Ah, Graywood. Please allow me to introduce you to the estate’s man of business, Mr. Roker.” Right on cue, Mr. Roker bowed low.
    “I hope you don’t object. Mr. Roker came to visit me to discuss my position now the earldom has changed and I took it upon myself to 80 | Lynne Connolly
    invite him to dinner.”
    “This is your home, ma’am, you must feel free to ask whoever you wish to dinner.” Just don’t expect me to attend every one, he added silently.
    Either the countess had wanted to ingratiate the man with him, or Roker had instigated the meeting himself. Rather than wait on John’s pleasure, until after he’d met with his own man, Roker seemed determined to get in first. John disliked being rushed.
    Not a society meal, then. John knew Roker did not work exclusively for the Graywoods and while the earldom had much of his time, he had other accounts he dealt with. While he could not expect an invitation to a society dinner, sharing a meal with the family would be considered acceptable, by all but the highest sticklers. Even the King ate with his doctors. To be honest, he probably had little choice.
    Instinct prickled the hairs at the back of his neck, and John had learned not to ignore that feeling. The times he’d done so, he’d lived to regret it. Even getting on that ship in Canada he’d felt it, and he’d been right. He didn’t like Roker. However, he might prove a good financial manager. He would see what his own agent had to say tomorrow.
    He broke the news during the first course. “I wish to hold a ball to introduce my wife to the people she needs to know,” he said smoothly as he helped himself to parsnips. “Early in the season.”
    Roker’s eyes opened wider, revealing a bloodshot pupil. It didn’t appear that he was a drinker, but he must have had a lot to deal with since John had broken the news of the brothers’ deaths.
    Sleepless nights, then. John felt a little better about the man, if he cared enough to do that. “My lord, I’m not sure that’s wise...”
    “I am. If you could help to arrange it that would save me some trouble.” A polite way of saying, “Do it.” It meant the same thing and politeness cost nothing.
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    “What’s that you say, Graywood?” the dowager said. Probably heard every word. No doubt had ears like a bat’s.
    It annoyed him that he had to bellow from the other end of the table. “Lady Graywood, I wish to hold a ball to present my wife to society. I know you are in mourning, and I do not know if you consider it proper for you to emerge so soon.”
    Louisa perked up, her cheekbones flushing pink and a light sparkling in her previously dull eyes. At twenty-two, she was too old for a come-out, but she still possessed the dew of youth. At twenty-four, her older sister would lose it before long. He found them too shy, too uncomfortable and they needed to rectify that if they were to find husbands. Every time he’d tried to talk to them, they’d stared at him, making their eyes wider. They listened and agreed in a way that made him want to demand that they express opinions of their own.
    Thankfully her ladyship took the bait. “We may have a gathering here. The rooms on this floor will accommodate a considerable number. At Charlotte’s debut we had two hundred in the rooms, and turned away fully a hundred more.”
    “A triumph,” he said. “But do you consider it proper for you to attend?”
    Her ladyship’s eyes sparkled. “As long as the girls wear muted colours and black armbands with no coloured jewellery, for that one night it would be unexceptional. It is your presentation.” Lady Graywood almost cracked a smile. “It would be considered unusual if we did not attend.”
    He knew thath only too well. Society