that’ll put us all to rights. A breath of cold fresh air. You know you’ll enjoy that, Gen.” So saying, he left the morning room to retrieve the invitation.
“I wish I knew why he’s so anxious not to offend Charles,” Imogen said. “I mean, they barely know each other, and even during the engagement they didn’t move in the same circles. One would think he’d steer well clear of Charles instead of cultivating him.”
“One would,” Esther agreed. “But still, you didn’t have to tease him so, Gen. You have every intention of going.”
Her sister smiled ruefully. “You’re right, of course, but sometimes I feel we have a duty to try to get Duncan to look at the world through other people’s eyes occasionally. Are we riding or walking?”
“I fancy the ride,” Esther replied, getting up from her chair. “It’ll only take half an hour.” She went to the door. “I’ll tell Sharpton about our plans to return to London next week.”
Imogen stared down at the jigsaw puzzle, not really taking it in any longer. The prospect of returning to London and behaving with Charles as if nothing had happened was not realistic, however blithely she’d spoken earlier. There would be whispers and nudges, hints and both overt and covert disapproval however they behaved towards each other. Maybe it would be better to stay in the country and hone her strategy for dealing with him in public away from Society’s prying eyes.
But Charles could not leave his practice indefinitely. He had recently been elevated to the position of Queen’s Counsel and as such was in even more demand in the law courts. And she knew he would not leave his chambers for more than a week or two at the most. He loved his work far too much, and she could hardly expect him to stay in the country just so that she could become word-perfect in her public performances in his company.
Were Mrs. Symonds and her child still in the picture? Had Charles been seeing his mistress since Imogen had left London? Of course, since she’d broken off the engagement he was entitled to see whomever he pleased, but Imogen needed to know exactly where the relationship between Charles and his mistress stood before she could even begin to decide how to conduct herself in his company. Aberrations like the previous night’s were not to be thought of without that clarification.
Was she actually considering the possibility of repeating such an aberration?
Oh, the whole thing was impossible, she thought, standing up so abruptly that her knee caught the edge of the low table and the almost finished jigsaw tumbled in a scattered muddle of pieces to the carpet. “ Damn, ” she said out loud, staring down at the jumble. She and Esther had been working on the puzzle for the better part of the week, and now it was in ruins. Damn Charles for being so seductive, so attractive, so witty, so everything she could ever want in a man . . . a lover . . . a husband.
And so damnably infuriating and opinionated and blind about so many things. She dropped to her knees to retrieve the pieces of the puzzle, scrambling around until she was sure she had them all. There was nothing worse than coming to the end of a puzzle and finding pieces missing.
On her way upstairs to change into her riding habit, she bumped into Duncan and his friends in the hall. “We’re bidden at Beringer Manor for twelve thirty, Gen, so we thought we’d start out at noon,” her brother said. He was looking somewhat recovered, and the faint scent of ale on his breath indicated that he’d resorted to the age-old remedy of the hair of the dog. The same miasma of fermented yeast hung around his guests, who, although bleary-eyed still, seemed cheerful enough.
It was just then that the front door opened and Harry Graham came in, stamping frost off his boots. He showed no ill effects of a late night’s drinking: His dark blue eyes were clear, his complexion glowing with health and the brisk cold air. Zoe
“I wish I knew why he’s so anxious not to offend Charles,” Imogen said. “I mean, they barely know each other, and even during the engagement they didn’t move in the same circles. One would think he’d steer well clear of Charles instead of cultivating him.”
“One would,” Esther agreed. “But still, you didn’t have to tease him so, Gen. You have every intention of going.”
Her sister smiled ruefully. “You’re right, of course, but sometimes I feel we have a duty to try to get Duncan to look at the world through other people’s eyes occasionally. Are we riding or walking?”
“I fancy the ride,” Esther replied, getting up from her chair. “It’ll only take half an hour.” She went to the door. “I’ll tell Sharpton about our plans to return to London next week.”
Imogen stared down at the jigsaw puzzle, not really taking it in any longer. The prospect of returning to London and behaving with Charles as if nothing had happened was not realistic, however blithely she’d spoken earlier. There would be whispers and nudges, hints and both overt and covert disapproval however they behaved towards each other. Maybe it would be better to stay in the country and hone her strategy for dealing with him in public away from Society’s prying eyes.
But Charles could not leave his practice indefinitely. He had recently been elevated to the position of Queen’s Counsel and as such was in even more demand in the law courts. And she knew he would not leave his chambers for more than a week or two at the most. He loved his work far too much, and she could hardly expect him to stay in the country just so that she could become word-perfect in her public performances in his company.
Were Mrs. Symonds and her child still in the picture? Had Charles been seeing his mistress since Imogen had left London? Of course, since she’d broken off the engagement he was entitled to see whomever he pleased, but Imogen needed to know exactly where the relationship between Charles and his mistress stood before she could even begin to decide how to conduct herself in his company. Aberrations like the previous night’s were not to be thought of without that clarification.
Was she actually considering the possibility of repeating such an aberration?
Oh, the whole thing was impossible, she thought, standing up so abruptly that her knee caught the edge of the low table and the almost finished jigsaw tumbled in a scattered muddle of pieces to the carpet. “ Damn, ” she said out loud, staring down at the jumble. She and Esther had been working on the puzzle for the better part of the week, and now it was in ruins. Damn Charles for being so seductive, so attractive, so witty, so everything she could ever want in a man . . . a lover . . . a husband.
And so damnably infuriating and opinionated and blind about so many things. She dropped to her knees to retrieve the pieces of the puzzle, scrambling around until she was sure she had them all. There was nothing worse than coming to the end of a puzzle and finding pieces missing.
On her way upstairs to change into her riding habit, she bumped into Duncan and his friends in the hall. “We’re bidden at Beringer Manor for twelve thirty, Gen, so we thought we’d start out at noon,” her brother said. He was looking somewhat recovered, and the faint scent of ale on his breath indicated that he’d resorted to the age-old remedy of the hair of the dog. The same miasma of fermented yeast hung around his guests, who, although bleary-eyed still, seemed cheerful enough.
It was just then that the front door opened and Harry Graham came in, stamping frost off his boots. He showed no ill effects of a late night’s drinking: His dark blue eyes were clear, his complexion glowing with health and the brisk cold air. Zoe
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