Miss Foster’s Folly by Alice Gaines Page A

like a jewel in its velvet box. Alone.
    Millie tugged at Juliet’s elbow. “Something wrong?”
    “You’ll think I’m being silly.”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
    Juliet sighed. “I feel sorry for her.”
    “Whatever for?” Lady Mitford said. “She has wealth, beauty, and a title.”
    “She doesn’t have the man she loves.”
    “I suppose she might love him.” Lady Mitford pursed her lips in thought. “I always assumed Derrington was her way up the social ladder.”
    Millie gave Juliet a knowing look. “You’ve turned into a romantic.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Let’s discuss it over tea. I’m parched.” Lady Mitford guided her and Millie into a teashop two doors over.
    The proprietor greeted them. “Ah, my lady. So good to see you again.”
    “A table for three plus hatboxes,” Lady Mitford said.
    “Right this way.” The man showed them to their seats, and they deposited their purchases in a tower on the extra chair.
    Once they’d all sat, Lady Mitford pulled off her gloves.
    “Who was that woman?” Millie asked.
    “Madeline Stuart, the Dowager Countess of Hardaway.”
    “A widow,” Juliet said.
    “Like yourself, Mrs. Marlow. Derrington prefers them—and the occasional adventurous wife. He’s never taken a young woman’s virginity as far as anyone can tell.”
    “So he really is a rake, then,” Millie said.
    “Yes, and a rather talented one,” Lady Mitford said.
    “That requires talent?” Juliet asked.
    A waiter appeared with their tea. From a large tray, he removed the pot, cups, and other accessories. Next to that, he set a plate with cakes and tiny sandwiches. With a tiny bow, he departed again.
    “Thank heaven.” Lady Mitford reached for the pot. “Gossip always makes me thirsty.”
    After serving them all, Lady Mitford sipped her tea and smiled.
    “Lord Derrington’s talent…” Juliet prompted.
    “Ah, yes,” her host said. “He’s as discreet as he is discerning. Very little gets out about his affairs unless the lady decides to talk, as la Stuart did.”
    “Did he break her heart?” Millie asked.
    “That might be a bit strong, but he did disappoint her. It seemed she had ambitions to become a marchioness, and he squashed them.”
    “That seems calculating,” Juliet said.
    “To a romantic or, you’ll pardon my saying, to an American, it would,” Lady Mitford said. “But it’s the way things are done here. Her husband was older than her own father. It wasn’t so much a love match as a business deal. Unfortunately, she didn’t produce an heir before her husband died. The title will go to another male in the family, and she becomes a relative, no more.”
    Oh, for heaven’s sake, why should she keep thinking about that woman? She was an obvious social climber and more successful with men than Juliet could ever hope to become. That sort of woman always settled on her feet like a cat. Juliet wouldn’t do as well if she fell in love with a man. She couldn’t make men jump at the snap of her fingers. In fact, she hardly understood the beasts at all. No, she’d never give her heart, even to a handsome devil with wicked eyes and talented fingers.
    Millie glanced at Lady Mitford over the rim of her teacup. “And the other lovers?”
    “Derrington’s formed various attachments over the years. He’ll escort a lady to the opera or parties for a while, and then they part ways,” Lady Mitford said. “They all had one thing in common, though.”
    Juliet’s jaw clenched in the process of eating a tiny scone. She had to consciously relax it in order to finish chewing and swallow the morsel. “What was that?”
    “A sort of satisfied, well-loved look.” Lady Mitford leaned toward her. “You’ve been married. You know what I mean, I’m sure.”
    She didn’t actually, but she could pretend to. “Of course.”
    “Mitford’s perfectly wonderful in that regard, but I couldn’t help but wonder what put that expression on their faces.” Lady