Amanda Scott Read Free Page B

ago, after all, and Lady Sarah’s mama has been dead these nine years and more, so I cannot think how Lady Ophelia might have met her before.” She paused, the infectious grin lighting her face again. “Her Christmas party is going to be something like, I can tell you. Besides Mr. Brummell, Lord Alvanley, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, and a good many others, including the prince and maybe the Duke of York, Lord and Lady Jersey are coming, and Viscount Villiers, as well. And I can tell you, you might have knocked me over with a feather when I heard that, for I would never have expected Lady Ophelia to allow Lady Jersey within shouting distance. They are of an age, of course, and have known each other for many years, but they are not bosom bows. However, Marimorse insisted because Jersey is an old friend of his. I believe they pranced about Almack’s together in their macaroni days. And of course, Lady Ophelia can never stand out against her brother when he makes up his mind to something.”
    “Didn’t they call Lord Jersey the Prince of Macaronis?” Lydia asked, smiling.
    “Indeed, and the signs are all still there, I promise you. He lisps, and when he walks you’d swear he had high heels to his shoes. And I know for a fact that he still carries a lace handkerchief, though he makes do with a quizzing glass in place of a clouded cane these days to punctuate his conversation.”
    Lydia laughingly pointed out that his lordship, having served until recently as the Prince of Wales’s master of horse, was still very influential in royal circles, then asked if Diana required anything more by way of sustenance. When that young lady insisted that she had eaten all she could reasonably hold, Lydia signaled to the footman behind her chair, and he immediately moved to assist Diana. Once she had risen, he stepped back to perform the same office for his mistress. Within minutes the servants had moved in to clear the table, and Lydia was inexorably leading Diana into the drawing room.
    This room, quite the largest one in the house, was decorated in green and gold with modern, Egyptian-style furniture. The outer wall was glazed and in the light of day would present a picturesque view of rolling Wiltshire hills, the nearby woods, and a small lake. At present, the heavy green velvet curtains were drawn, a cheerful fire blazed in the marble fireplace, and Lydia led the way to two deep armchairs placed strategically near enough to the blaze to benefit from its warmth, yet not so near that the chairs’ occupants might become overly warm. Firmly, Lydia pushed her guest into the nearer of the two chairs, taking the other for herself.
    “Now, my dear, I wish you to begin at the beginning. We have seen too little of you since the wedding, since neither Ethelmoor nor I enjoy jauntering about the countryside as you and Andover do, but I had thought matters between the two of you to be marching along nicely. He loves you, Diana, and you love him, so the tales we hear from the rumormongers, despite what I said earlier, have distressed us. And now you say that Andover has actually accused you of being involved with Lord Roderick, a thing I cannot and will not believe of you, and for that matter, a thing I would not have imagined Andover, in his worst temper, believing of you. So, clearly, things have come to a worse pass between you than I had thought.” Lydia rested her elbows on the arm of her chair and propped her chin in her hands, gazing directly at Diana. After a brief silence, she said gently, “Please, dearest, won’t you tell me what on earth can have happened these past months to set the two of you at odds with one another?”

2
    L YDIA’S QUESTION WAS NOT the one Diana had expected to hear. Her thoughts were full of the events of the past few days, but the question forced her to take stock of herself and of her entire relationship with her husband.
    For a moment, just trying to think back so far was disorienting, all the way back to