Page 71 of Impeccable
The Kirbys also stood.
“We’re so glad you did,” Mrs. Kirby said. “Such a responsible and admirable thing to do. I’ll make sure the hole in our wall is fixed posthaste.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Evie drew on her glove and said goodbye to Bess.
Mrs. Kirby gestured toward the doorway. “I’ll see you out.”
They walked downstairs, and in the entry hall, she whispered, “Mr. Kirby has been promising to fix that hole for months. You must have been so distressed when your dog went missing.”
“My friend’s dog, but yes.” Actually, perhaps Evie ought to stop mentioning her friend at all.
“Yes, your friend. I presume you made him aware of what happened?”
“They are aware, yes.” Evie specifically chose a different pronoun. She wasn’t going to confirm that Ash belonged to a man. In fact, she should have just said “she.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if Bess is increasing following her…interlude with Ash. But I must tell you that Mr. Kirby planned to breed Bess with another greyhound belonging to a friend of his. They’ve an appointment to meet tomorrow.”
“I see. I do hope Mr. Kirby’s plans aren’t ruined by Bess and Ash’s chance encounter.”
Mrs. Kirby waved her hand. “Bah. He’s only himself to blame since he let that hole go unrepaired. In any case, there’s no point fretting about things that are not yet certain. We won’t know if Bess is increasing for some time, and even then, we won’t know if the puppies she carries belong to your—rather your friend’s—dog or our friend’s until they are born.”
It seemed Bess was likely going to have puppies. It was just a question of who the father would be. Evie hoped it would be Ash, though that would probably anger Mr. Kirby. She preferred to think of Bess having puppies with the dog she’d chosen, not the one arranged by Mr. Kirby.
“I do hope you’ll keep me informed. Your Bess is a lovely dog.”
“Thank you. I adore her.” Mrs. Kirby opened the door for Evie.
With a wave, Evie went on her way. Her stomach churned with anxiety as her mind returned to the possibility that someone would discover who she was. This was madness. Even if someone learned she was having an affair with Gregory, that didn’t mean they’d determine her true identity.
Why was she so nervous? She realized she’d been that way the past month, perhaps because of her encounter with Arbuthnot at Witney Court. Since returning to town, she’d mostly kept to her house and the Phoenix Club. She’d even curtailed her shopping a bit, which was her favorite thing to do. And she hadn’t accepted any invitations. She’d attributed it to being busy, but now she acknowledged that she’d been avoiding spaces and events where she might run into him again.
It would be best if she saw Gregory less. They didn’t need to spend every night together. And as much as she wanted to see him—and Ash—in the park today, she’d send a note saying she couldn’t make it. She’d also let him know not to come that night, that she was nervous the neighbors might notice.
He might ask why she would care. It wasn’t unusual for a widow to have a liaison. That didn’t mean she wanted to flaunt it. He would understand.
And if he didn’t… Well, this wasn’t ever going to last forever. Nor was it even supposed to have continued when they returned to London—for precisely this reason. She’d curated a specific life here as patroness of the Phoenix Club.
She wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.
Evie’s note informing him that she would not be meeting him in the park and that he should not visit her for a few nights had formed a ball of tension between Gregory’s shoulder blades. She’d explained why—her concern that they’d be discovered—and he understood. He didn’t particularly want their affair to become public either.
And why was that?
Because it was new to him? Because he cared about her? Because his father would have been horrified that Gregory was having an affair with a widow?
What harm was there in that, really?
None that Gregory could see, except for the fact that others might judge him, and that public scrutiny was something his father had preferred to avoid. Gregory shared that sentiment, likely because he was his father’s son. He didn’t particularly want to be fodder for gossip and innuendo. More importantly, he didn’t want Evie to be.
Gregory walked up the stairs toward the members’ den. Not long after a footman delivered him a glass of port, he contemplated a cozy chair by the fire. However, before he could sit down, Lord Lucien approached him, his gaze amiable but intent.
“Evening, Lord Gregory. I wonder if you might join me in my office.”
“Certainly.” Gregory followed him from the members’ den.
Lord Lucien left his door only slight ajar. “Sit. I’ll just pour myself a glass of something.”
After fetching his drink, Lord Lucien joined him near the fire. “Evie told me about your brother and Lady Witney dining with the Hargroves. I am aware that your sister-in-law is on a crusade to garner an invitation to the club. It seems she is employing every means at her disposal to accomplish her goal.”
