embarrassed by the frank talk, had to chuckle. How could one not appreciate Lady Merrott's sense of humor? Lord knew, Eleanor would not be quite so glib if her husband's name appeared in such a work. It was well known that Lord Merrott had never been that kind to his wife, so no doubt few in the room had any sympathy for the man.
"Let us find out what Mrs. Carson has to say about dear Horace then," Lady Dumont chirped and began flipping through the pages. It was obvious she had several passages marked, whether for her own enjoyment or to read to the group was unclear.
By the time Lady Dumont was done reading— and she did so with much gusto and flair— about the unfortunate Horace, Eleanor was red to the roots of her hair. She laughed with the rest of the ladies at his expense, however. Mrs. Carson was not kind in her descriptions, and Lady Merrott had added her own comments throughout the reading.
The first reading was immediately followed by another concerning Lord Pennington, which was as equally scathing and amusing as the first.
"You should publish your memoirs," Lady Merrott told Lady Dumont coyly, drawing chuckles from some of the other women.
Lady Dumont adopted a look of patently false innocence. "Are you implying I have taken lovers?"
More chuckles. Eleanor glanced around the room. No one else seemed the least bit shocked or uncomfortable with this kind of talk. Was this what being married was like? Did a woman instantly become able to talk and joke about such intimate matters once her vows were said?
No, not once her vows were said. It was sexual experience that made these women able to talk so freely, experience that Eleanor didn't have and wasn't likely to at the rate she was going.
Lady Dumont lifted her blue eyes toward the ceiling, as though in contemplation. "I suppose I could give one or two gentlemen cause for alarm by publishing such a volume."
"One or two!" It was Lydia who made the incredulous outburst. "I believe there would be significantly more than that!"
Lady Dumont only giggled. "Name one."
Lady Dumont was enjoying this, Eleanor realized. She liked the attention. She liked their knowing she'd had a string of lovers— and she'd had many, even when her husband was alive. It made her feel powerful on some level. How odd. What kind of power was there in admitting that your marriage was so awful that you had to seek "companionship" elsewhere? She would think there was more to boast about in a faithful marriage than an unfaithful one.
"Wynthrope Ryland," Lydia crowed.
Eleanor's heart gave a little thump. Brahm's brother? Lady Dumont had an affair with him? But he was younger than she!
Lady Dumont shook her head. Her smile remained that of a cat who had just swallowed a whole nest of canaries, but now that self-satisfied curve turned rueful. "Wynthrope Ryland would not be the least bit uncomfortable by my revealing details of our affair."
"His wife might be," someone remarked. Eleanor couldn't tell who had spoken.
Lady Dumont's expression tightened for a split second. She obviously didn't like Wynthrope's wife. Why? Was she jealous?
"It is best not to interfere with happy marriages," Lady Dumont remarked with surprising sincerity. "It never goes well for the one who does the interfering. But there is one unattached Ryland left, and he is fair game."
Done with little thumps, Eleanor's heart gave a mighty leap as some of the other women murmured their appreciation. Brahm was the only unattached Ryland that she knew of.
"He's in there?" It was Lady Fairchild who asked.
Lady Dumont nodded. "He is."
"But he is here at the party," Phoebe remarked, casting the briefest of glances in Eleanor's direction. "It would not be right."
Lady Dumont didn't miss a beat. "Merrott is here as well, but no one minded hearing about him." She cast a more
"Let us find out what Mrs. Carson has to say about dear Horace then," Lady Dumont chirped and began flipping through the pages. It was obvious she had several passages marked, whether for her own enjoyment or to read to the group was unclear.
By the time Lady Dumont was done reading— and she did so with much gusto and flair— about the unfortunate Horace, Eleanor was red to the roots of her hair. She laughed with the rest of the ladies at his expense, however. Mrs. Carson was not kind in her descriptions, and Lady Merrott had added her own comments throughout the reading.
The first reading was immediately followed by another concerning Lord Pennington, which was as equally scathing and amusing as the first.
"You should publish your memoirs," Lady Merrott told Lady Dumont coyly, drawing chuckles from some of the other women.
Lady Dumont adopted a look of patently false innocence. "Are you implying I have taken lovers?"
More chuckles. Eleanor glanced around the room. No one else seemed the least bit shocked or uncomfortable with this kind of talk. Was this what being married was like? Did a woman instantly become able to talk and joke about such intimate matters once her vows were said?
No, not once her vows were said. It was sexual experience that made these women able to talk so freely, experience that Eleanor didn't have and wasn't likely to at the rate she was going.
Lady Dumont lifted her blue eyes toward the ceiling, as though in contemplation. "I suppose I could give one or two gentlemen cause for alarm by publishing such a volume."
"One or two!" It was Lydia who made the incredulous outburst. "I believe there would be significantly more than that!"
Lady Dumont only giggled. "Name one."
Lady Dumont was enjoying this, Eleanor realized. She liked the attention. She liked their knowing she'd had a string of lovers— and she'd had many, even when her husband was alive. It made her feel powerful on some level. How odd. What kind of power was there in admitting that your marriage was so awful that you had to seek "companionship" elsewhere? She would think there was more to boast about in a faithful marriage than an unfaithful one.
"Wynthrope Ryland," Lydia crowed.
Eleanor's heart gave a little thump. Brahm's brother? Lady Dumont had an affair with him? But he was younger than she!
Lady Dumont shook her head. Her smile remained that of a cat who had just swallowed a whole nest of canaries, but now that self-satisfied curve turned rueful. "Wynthrope Ryland would not be the least bit uncomfortable by my revealing details of our affair."
"His wife might be," someone remarked. Eleanor couldn't tell who had spoken.
Lady Dumont's expression tightened for a split second. She obviously didn't like Wynthrope's wife. Why? Was she jealous?
"It is best not to interfere with happy marriages," Lady Dumont remarked with surprising sincerity. "It never goes well for the one who does the interfering. But there is one unattached Ryland left, and he is fair game."
Done with little thumps, Eleanor's heart gave a mighty leap as some of the other women murmured their appreciation. Brahm was the only unattached Ryland that she knew of.
"He's in there?" It was Lady Fairchild who asked.
Lady Dumont nodded. "He is."
"But he is here at the party," Phoebe remarked, casting the briefest of glances in Eleanor's direction. "It would not be right."
Lady Dumont didn't miss a beat. "Merrott is here as well, but no one minded hearing about him." She cast a more
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