have a beautiful home, your grace.”
“Thank you. Did Lady Amanda give you the history lesson when you arrived?”
Lady Amanda sniffed. “Gladys was the one who mentioned that the first Duke of Alvord fought with the Conqueror. She may have neglected to point out, however, that it was his distinguished service at the Battle of Hastings that earned him the duchy.”
“No one distinguishes himself in battle, Lady Amanda.” James said, a new, harsh note in his voice. “War is an ugly, messy business. I’m certain my illustrious ancestor caused untold suffering to the poor wretches he evicted from these lands.”
Lady Amanda frowned. “If I remember correctly, it was not so very long ago that you were anxious to go to war.”
“I know better now.” James took a large swallow of his sherry.
“But don’t you agree that sometimes war is warranted, your grace? To free people from oppression, for example?” Sarah could remember her father and his cronies holding forth about that for hours.
“Yes, surely you can justify curbing that monster Napoleon,” Lady Amanda said.
“I rather think Sarah was referring to the American War of Independence and perhaps our latest contretemps with our former colonies,” James replied. “And yes, I suppose some wars are necessary. But war is rarely a simple matter. Political firebrands like to have a clear rallying cry, but most wars include a lot of simple greed, personal and political. It’s hard to justify any of that when you watch an 18-year-old boy die in your arms or find a sobbing child alone in the wreckage of her village.”
Layton then appeared at the doorway to announce Robbie and Charles.
James smiled, dispelling the bleakness that had tightened his face. “Gentlemen, I was beginning to wonder if you had turned craven.” He moved forward to greet the men, bringing Sarah with him.
“I do think Robbie was tempted, James,” Major Draysmith said. “Good evening, Miss Hamilton.”
“Good evening, Major.”
Major Draysmith crossed the room to speak to the other ladies while Robbie took Sarah’s hand.
“Cousin.” He looked distinctly wary.
“Cousin,” Sarah returned tonelessly.
A dark flush covered his cheeks. “My humble apologies about the confusion last night,” he murmured. “I was drunk, don’t you know. Half-seas over. Never would have made the mistake had I been sober.”
“Perhaps you should limit your drinking.”
“Uh, right.” Robbie looked over at James. “My apologies to you, too, of course.”
“We met the lady you were waiting for,” James said. “She doesn’t look at all like Sarah.”
“No, of course not. Didn’t think she would. I said I wouldn’t have made the mistake if I’d been sober. Nan set the thing up. Said her friend wanted to get established in the business. Uh, where did you happen to meet her?”
“In the inn yard,” James said. “Apparently she encountered Richard first and decided to take the sure thing. She was regretting her decision. He had blackened her eye.”
“Damn. Come to think of it, when I saw him in the common room, he did have a redheaded tart—uh, your pardon, cousin—female with him. They must have ducked into the tap first for a drink before going to the girl’s room.”
“Do you know many prostitutes?” Sarah asked.
“No, of course not.” Robbie ran a finger under his cravat and looked around the room. “It must be time to go into dinner. Where’s your butler, Alvord?”
“Here’s Layton now. Perhaps you would like to take Aunt Gladys in, Robbie?”
“Happy to.” Robbie fled across the room to Lady Gladys. He offered her his right arm and Lady Amanda his left. Major Draysmith escorted Lizzie.
Sarah frowned up at James. “Is Robbie a procurer?” She knew the ton was degenerate, but she would never have thought her own cousin might be a panderer.
“Good God, no. You can stop looking so ill. It really was no more than a misunderstanding.” James put her hand on his sleeve.
“A misunderstanding? I don’t see how anyone can have that kind of misunderstanding.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” He raised his hand slightly when Sarah opened her mouth to pursue the topic. “No, love. We can discuss this if you want, but later. It truly is not a topic my aunt would welcome at her table.”
Sarah sighed. “No, of course not. I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t beg my pardon, Sarah. I hope there will be no topics we can’t discuss—but some things are better said in privacy.” This last was whispered near her ear as he seated her. Her breath caught and an odd little shiver ran down her spine.
The dinner went on for what seemed to Sarah a very long time. She limited herself to just a taste of each course, yet still felt uncomfortably full. She couldn’t help but think she and her father could have lived for weeks on this one meal.
“Robbie, Charles, you’ve just come from town,” Lady Gladys said. “Tell us, please, who else is bringing out girls this Season?”
Robbie had taken an unfortunate mouthful of wine just as Lady Gladys spoke. He choked and reached quickly for his napkin. “Not much in the petticoat line, ma’am. Can’t say I paid much attention.”
“Surely you’ve made note of which mamas to avoid.” Lady Amanda, his neighbor at the table, whacked him on the back.
“Ah, my thanks.” Robbie shifted so Lady Amanda could not get another swing at him. “Well, I think the Barringtons might have a girl coming out.”
Lady Amanda nodded. “No doubt spotted like the last two.”
“And the Amesleys.”
“Walleyed,” Lady Amanda said.
“No, that one came out last Season. This one’s the rabbity-looking girl.”
“Right. Clarinda or Clarabelle or something.” Lady Amanda took a delicate sip of wine. “Of course, the mother’s no beauty. I never could understand how she got Billy Amesley to the altar.”
“I think it might have had something to do with the fact that the Amesleys’ pockets were to let,” Lady Gladys said. “Harriet Drummond was a significant heiress, if you’ll remember, Amanda.”
“True. The gleam of a well-filled coffer has led many a man into the parson’s mousetrap—and as they say, you can’t tell a beauty from a beast once the candles are snuffed.”
It was James’s turn to choke on his wine. “Who says, Lady Amanda?” he asked, a note of laughter in his voice.
“Everyone.” Lady Amanda sniffed. “I’m not a member
