and disagreed over the paintings of the artist Turner, which Lady Catherine found inexplicable.
‘I prefer the work of Sir Thomas Lawrence. Papa had Mama painted by him and it is very fine. And I like paintings that tell a story.’ She smiled nicely at the footman serving her soup, which earned her points with Avery. ‘But then I like novels and I expect you think that very shocking.’
‘Minerva Press?’ he enquired. ‘Gothic tales of horror and romance?’
‘Of course!’ She laughed, then hastily put her hand to her lips as though anxious her mama would chide her for expressing herself too freely. ‘Do you despise novels, Lord Wykeham?’
‘Certainly not.’ He did not read them himself and the plots of most Gothic tales seemed improbable in the extreme, but he knew perfectly intelligent diplomatic wives who adored them, so he was not going to cross this young lady off his list just because of her tastes in reading.
Avery passed her the rolls and butter and found himself meeting the quizzical gaze of Lady Laura, diagonally across the table from him. Her glance slid from him to Lady Catherine and her mouth curved into a faint smile before she went back to her soup. Had he imagined that burning look with all its agonising emotions a short while ago? It appeared Laura approved of Lady Catherine. Perversely, he began to find the redhead a trifle vapid.
Laura was partnered by Lord Mellham, one of the slightly older bachelors. She looked exquisite, beautifully coiffed, dressed in an amber-silk gown that skimmed lower over her bosom and shoulders than the styles worn by any of the other unmarried girls. And she was wearing coloured gemstones, yellow diamonds, he rather thought. A slightly daring choice for a single lady, just as her rubies had been that night on the terrace, yet her behaviour was perfectly modest and not in the slightest flirtatious.
Avery studied her partner. Mellham kept glancing at the creamy curves displayed so enticingly close to him and seemed a trifle disappointed that he was not receiving more encouragement for his sallies. Soup finished, he put down his spoon and one hand vanished under the table. Avery felt himself stiffen. If Melham was touching her... Laura bit her lower lip, shifted slightly in her chair and whispered something. Mellham grinned and both hands appeared above the table again.
Avery caught Laura’s eye again. She lifted one dark brow and murmured something to Mellham, who went red. Obviously the lady had no need of protection tonight. Avery felt a curious sense of disappointment. Something in him wanted action, would have welcomed violence.
The soup plates were removed, the entrées brought out and Avery turned to his other side to make conversation with Mrs de Witt, the wife of a politician and a notable society hostess. With her he had to make no effort. The conversation flowed with the ease, and at the level, he was familiar with from countless diplomatic receptions. As his inner composure returned he reflected that it was tactful of Godmama not to surround him with unmarried ladies and settled down to enjoy Mrs de Witt’s opinions of the vagaries of various ambassadors.
* * *
Laura turned from Lord Mellham to chat to Mr Bishopstoke, the younger son of an earl and an old acquaintance. This gave her an excellent view of Lord Wykeham’s averted profile as he talked to Mrs de Witt.
‘Lady Birtwell has assembled a very creditable number of guests, considering the Season is still under way,’ Mr Bishopstoke observed.
‘I expect we all need a little rest and, besides, she always gives excellent parties.’
‘I suspect she has another motive than simple entertainment on this occasion.’
Laura, who had just popped a slice of lobster cutlet in her mouth, could only look the question.
‘Lord Wykeham is her godson,’ Bishopstoke murmured. ‘I think she is wife-hunting on his behalf.’
Laura disposed of the lobster in two irritable bites. ‘You mean at his request?’
Bishopstoke nodded. ‘He’s too downy a bird to find himself the victim of a managing old lady’s matrimonial schemes. No doubt he has decided it is time to settle down.’
‘I imagine he is perfectly capable of finding himself a spouse without help. He is not a green youth in need of guidance.’ Was he ever? It was difficult to imagine Avery was once as unsophisticatedly open as Piers had been.
‘He has been out of the country a great deal and can hardly be familiar with the field, shall we say.’
‘The field, as you put it, must be familiar with Lord Wykeham’s standing and reputation, though. They can mark out an eligible bachelor when they see one: titled, wealthy, intelligent, powerful and acceptably good looking. He only has to stand around and the pack will hunt him down, if that is not mixing our metaphors somewhat.’
Mr Bishopstoke gave a snort of laughter. ‘If you find him only acceptable, then the rest of us must surely give up the contest. I have it on the authority of all my sisters that the man is a positive Adonis.’
‘Hmm. Are you not a trifle tactless in discussing Lady Birtwell’s motives with someone who might be one of the field, Bishopstoke?’
‘Would you have him? You will never give any of the rest of us a second’s serious consideration, cruel one.’
‘Oh, poor Bishopstoke! And I never realised you were dying of love for me.’ She spared him a teasing pout and flutter of her lashes before she recalled her determination to be done with such nonsense. ‘I am sure I am too scandalous for Lord Wykeham. Besides, there is a slight problem with his impeccable credentials, is there not?’
‘The child, you mean? Would that matter to you?’
‘No.’ She made a show of considering it. ‘Not if I liked the man.’
‘And you do not even like him?’ Bishopstoke raised an eyebrow. ‘You amaze me, Lady Laura. Wykeham is being held up as a paragon of desirability.’
‘I find him arrogant, manipulative—’
‘Both useful characteristics in his profession, wouldn’t you say? The hauteur to maintain his country’s position and the ability to turn people and events to his will.’
‘Admirable in a diplomat, but not comfortable characteristics in a husband, though.’
‘Aha! Wicked girl, you want a man you can dominate.’
‘Of course. And if I found one that I could, then I would despise him for it. Do you wonder I have not married?’
‘It will have to be a marriage of equals for you then, Lady Laura my dear.’ He raised a glass. ‘Here is to that impossible creature, a man who is your equal.’
Laura forced a smile and touched her glass to his. ‘To a mythical beast, I fear.’
* * *
Lady Birtwell withdrew with the ladies after dessert, leaving the gentlemen in no doubt that they were not to linger over their port and nuts. Laura drifted over to the married ladies, unwilling to join the unmarried ones who, she was certain, would be chattering about the gentlemen and comparing their virtues. Or lack of them.
‘Lady Laura, how pleasant to see you again. Such a sad business, the loss of your parents.’ Lady Herrick patted the sofa next
