Page 67 of To Have and to Hoax
“Probably hiding from any callers,” Jeremy muttered darkly. “But, er, no, thank you. I just wanted to discuss—er—manly things with him. Probably wouldn’t interest you in the least.”
“Manly things?” Violet inquired dubiously.
“Yes, quite,” Jeremy said with growing enthusiasm. “Not suitable discussion for ladies, in any case.”
“What, precisely, are these ‘manly things’?” Violet asked. “Horses? Mathematics? How to trick your wife into thinking you’re interested in another woman?”
“Er,” Jeremy said.
“Or shall I be more specific?” Violet pressed. “How to trick your wife into thinking you’re interested in another woman because you know perfectly well that she’s not truly ill?”
“Doesn’t this give you a headache?” Jeremy burst out. “I don’t know how you can stand it! I can’t bloody keep track of who knows what about who at what hour of what day.”
Violet and Diana exchanged raised eyebrows at this outburst. “You’re right,” Violet said. Diana looked as if she might fall off her chair at this admission. “It has gotten out of hand. James and I came to a similar conclusion last night, as a matter of fact.” She did not mention that their accord had not lasted long—nor how, precisely, they celebrated their brief reconciliation.
“I quite agree,” Diana said, which Violet thought was a bit rich, considering Diana had been in on this lunatic scheme from the very beginning. “Which is why I say, abandon the sham illness and invite one of these—very willing—gentlemen into your bed.”
“Youdorealize that the man you’re speaking of deceiving is my closest friend, don’t you?” Jeremy asked conversationally.
“I hardly think now is the time for you to try to claim the moral high ground about deceiving a man in his marriage, Willingham,” Diana said witheringly.
“I say,” Jeremy said, and Violet was startled to see that he looked truly angry, a rarity from him. “I would like you to know that I have not once seduced a woman who was happily married, or whose marriage had ever been based on anything other than family connections or money.” He stood abruptly, his cheeks rather flushed with anger. Diana was staring at him with frank astonishment.
“It is quite a different thing,” Jeremy continued, “to speak of deceiving a man who married for love at a ridiculously young age, and then was destined to spend the rest of his life paying for it, all because his wife can’t let go of some wretched argument from years past.”
“I assure you,” Violet said quietly, “I am not the person who is clinging to the past in this relationship. And, for the record—notthat it’s any of your affair—I informed James last night that I still loved him. I believe it is his turn to act, not mine.”
At that moment, Wooton appeared at the door to the library once again and announced, “Lady Emily Turner.”
“I gather you are not the only one skilled at weaseling your way past Wooton, Willingham,” Diana said smugly as Emily appeared in the doorway in a state of some disarray.
This was, of course, all relative—Emily was normally so impeccably put together that even her current state, with one curl slipping from her coiffure to cling to her temple and her skirts the slightest bit rumpled, seemed startling.
Emily blinked at the sight of them gathered before her. “Did I miss an invitation of some sort?”
“Not at all,” Violet said, gesturing her to take a seat with a wave of her hand. “I just seem to be the recipient of any number of unexpected guests this morning. What brings you here so early? Would you like some tea?”
“No, I can’t stay,” Emily said distractedly, twisting her hands. “I left my abigail loitering outside—I told her I just needed to borrow a book, because I suspect she eavesdrops on me and I didn’t wish her to overhear this, but . . . I came to ask . . . well . . .” She trailed off, looking anxiously at Jeremy.
“Willingham, your presence here is decidedly de trop,” Diana said with perhaps more eagerness than the situation called for.
“Diana,” Violet said mildly, “kindly do me the courtesy of allowingmeto be the person to boot guests from my own home.”
Sighing dramatically, Diana desisted; before Violet could say more, however, Emily interjected, “No, perhaps Lord Willingham should stay.” She cast a furtive glance at him. “A gentleman’s opinion might be helpful.”
Both Violet and Diana leaned forward in their chairs at that, and even Jeremy gave Emily a look that was decidedly more alert than his usual expression of amused boredom.
“Lord Julian Belfry,” Emily began, and at the mere uttering of this name Diana leaned so far forward that Violet became concerned she was going to topple out of her chair entirely. Emily paused at this uncharacteristic show of enthusiasm, and Jeremy said, “Pray continue, Lady Emily, before Lady Templeton does herself some sort of grievous injury.”
“Yes, well.” Emily paused again. “He has asked if he might escort me to Lady Wheezle’s Venetian breakfast this week.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Diana wailed, “Of all the breakfasts! Why would he choose the one I’ve not been invited to?”
At the same moment, Jeremy asked, “Who in their right mind would want to attendthat?”
Violet, attempting more diplomacy than either of her friends, merely asked, “Emily, how did this come about?” That was, in truth, the only question she could think to ask. She had certainly noted Belfry’s interest in Emily, and indeed the difference in his casually flirtatious manner toward Diana and his more intent attention toward Emily. But she would not have thought there was anything serious in it; the man had a rather scandalous reputation, and did not seem the sort to escort debutantes to respectable society events.
Emily raised her hands. “I’m not entirely certain! We danced twice last night, and he asked me to take a turn about the room with him—this was after you two had disappeared,” she added, but there was no hint of reproach in her voice. “We were chatting about nothing in particular, and he told me he had just that morning received an invitation to Lady Wheezle’s breakfast, and asked if I should like to attend.”
