Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] Read Free

recently returned from France, Mr. Forbes.”
    “Bet the duchess made you buy her a dozen dresses, eh?”
    Mrs. Harbison froze. Meryon made himself relax his fisted hand and hoped it seemed that he could answer the question as easily as any other. “Jack, I am sorry to embarrass you, but Rowena died more than a year ago.” He spoke very quietly, stepping closer to this longtime acquaintance.
    “Oh, my God, Meryon, I am sorry. She was a sweet lady and I am ten times a fool. I must start reading the paper.” Forbes bowed, his expression stricken, as he backed into the crowd.
    “I am so sorry, Meryon.”
    “No apology is necessary, Letty. I expect it.”
    “That no one remembers their manners?” She was annoyed, but then laughed a little. “Of course we have no manners when something
interesting
happens.”
    “What empty lives they lead if my return to the social scene excites more than passing interest.”
    “Duke or not you would be noticed.” She tapped his arm with her fan again, which was as close to flirting as her husband would tolerate. “Tall and good-looking never goes unremarked. But add a dukedom to those good looks and you become as fascinating as …” Mrs. Harbison paused to try to come up with an appropriate example.
    “As fascinating as a three-eyed horse,” Meryon finished for her.
    She laughed out loud and people nearby turned to look at them. Letty Harbison pressed her lips together and swallowed the rest of her laughter. “More fascinating than a gamester on a winning streak.”
    She closed her fan and held out her arm. “Please do invite me to dance, Your Grace. You are the most charming of partners. Is it all that fencing that makes you so elegant when you dance?”
    He led her to the dance floor, well aware that the Harbisons’ ball was not much more than a training ground for the Season’s endless soirees. As he moved through the reel his partners blushed, tripped, and counted the steps out loud, and several would not even look up at him.
    Meryon found if he smiled they grew even more confused, except for the one bolder than the others. With a seductive look she brushed too close. She could not have been more than seventeen, but when they passed again she whispered, “I can make you happy, Your Grace.”
    It said something about his age, or the fact that he had a baby daughter, that his surprise mixed with sympathy for her parents.
    By the time the set ended, and he bowed to Mrs. Harbison one last time, he felt he had done his duty. He said as much to Letty and she nodded. “Yes, any more time on the dance floor would find The Gossips speculating about which young lady has caught your interest.”
    Before he could answer he could see she was distracted by something in the hall.
    “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I must welcome this guest personally. It is her first social event since coming to England after the death of her husband. I’m sure you understand.”
    “Of course.” Meryon bowed. “Thank you for the dance.”
    The orchestra began the next set with a waltz and Meryon watched several couples take to the floor. He added the waltz to the list of a dozen selfish reasons why he missed Rowena. She had liked to dance as much as he did. He had noticed it the night they met. Their delight in dancing together had never faded.
    Grief swamped him without warning. His eyes filled and he knew he must find a quiet spot for a moment. If The Gossips saw his eyes water they would talk about it for days.
    Meryon went down the nearest passage. The sounds of the waltz faded and the air grew less cloying.
    The first door he opened was filled with card players. He raised a hand to the group, but they barely noticed him.
    He found a quiet spot on his second try. The dark room was well aired, with an underlying scent of lemon oil polish, which was all he wanted for company.
    Avoiding the furniture, little more than hulking shapes in the dark, Meryon found a chair near a fire screen that