Miss Winthorpe's Elopement by Christine Merrill Page B

her gaze again, speaking to the room rather than the woman before him. ‘We would, but I believe my wife has other plans.’ There was the subtlestemphasis on ‘we’, to remind Clarissa of the change in status. And then he glanced at Penny, waiting for her to confirm what he had said.
    She tried to imagine herself responding as Clarissa had. She would say something clever, about how divine it would be to spend an evening at table with a woman who her husband held so dear. And there would be the same ironic tone that the others were using, to indicate an undercurrent of flirtation, and proof that she knew what was what. It would anger Adam, but he would admire her fearlessness. And it would enrage Clarissa. Which would be strangely pleasing, for Penny found herself taking an instant dislike to the woman.
    Instead, she replied haltingly, ‘Yes, I fear I am most busy. With my studies. And will be unable to get away.’
    ‘You cannot leave your books.’ Clarissa turned and glanced down at her, then looked back at the others as if Penny’s social ineptitude had been more than confirmed. ‘But you do not mind if Adam comes without you, of course.’ The woman dared her to respond in the negative.
    And here was where she must admit defeat, ceding the field with the battle barely begun. Although why she would feel the need to fight for this, she had no idea.
    Before she could answer, Adam spoke for her. ‘My darling wife would have my best interests at heart, no matter what she might say, for she wishes to see me happy. And since I have already expressed a desire to go to White’s with Tim, she would not think to drag me into mixed society, no matter how pleasant it might befor her.’ He glanced back to his friend. ‘Eight o’clock, then?’
    If Tim was relieved, he did not show it, only smiling in acknowledgement of the plan. And then he smiled at Penny with unexpected warmth. ‘Do not worry, my dear. No gels allowed at White’s. I will keep your new husband on the straight and narrow. As long as you have no objection to cards and whisky.’
    Penny searched again for a clever reply that would not come. ‘Of course, not. Whatever Adam wishes…’
    Clarissa was clearly piqued. ‘It does not do, Penelope, to give a man latitude in these things. It leads them to take one too much for granted.’
    Adam snapped back at her, ‘On the contrary, Clarissa, a man is more likely to give his affection to one who can manage, on occasion, to put the needs of others before her own selfish desires.’ Adam was looking straight into the woman’s eyes for once, and Penny realised, with sickening clarity, why he had been avoiding the contact.
    They were lovers. They had been, or soon would be—it mattered not which. While Adam might smile at the wives of the other men in the room and laugh at their foolishness, he dared not acknowledge Clarissa, for when he looked at her, the guilt was plain in his eyes for all who cared to see.
    After the brief lapse, he looked away from her again, and proceeded to act as though she were not in the room with them.
    Penny looked to the others, watching the silent messages flash between them. Those who were positioned to see Adam’s expression passed the truth to those who could not, with furtive glances and hungry smiles. Only Timothy appeared oblivious to what had happened, his attention absorbed by a volume of Aristotle.
    And then the moment passed, and Adam stepped around Clarissa to stand behind his own wife. ‘I am lucky to have married such a gracious woman, and hope never to take the fact for granted.’
    Penny felt the mortification rising in her, forming a barrier between her and the outside. Was she expected to put her needs so far to the side that she must condone his adultery?
    And then her husband put his hand upon her shoulder, as a gesture of affection and solidarity, and she jumped, as though she had been burned.
    There were more sidelong glances and more wicked smiles. Suddenly