Page 8 of Impeccable
Gregory offered his arm once more. “You don’t regret not taking him? I thought I might still persuade you. He’s awfully sweet.”
“I’m certain he is. However, I have not changed my mind about caring for a pet. I also had an agenda for seeing you this evening,” she said, sparking his curiosity. And making his heart beat a trifle faster.
“I can hardly wait to hear it,” he murmured, quickening their pace so they would get outside faster.
Suddenly, his brother blocked their path. “Care to introduce us?” Clifford asked, his gaze landing on Mrs. Renshaw, and his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly.
Gregory recognized his brother’s reaction. He’d never disguised his interest in attractive women. Indeed, his passion for them had frustrated their father no end. Clifford was married now only because he’d promised his father on his deathbed that he’d do so before the end of the year. That he’d kept that promise had impressed Gregory—and surprised him more than a little.
“Allow me to present Mrs. Renshaw. She’s a guest at Threadbury Hall. Mrs. Renshaw, this is my brother, the Marquess of Witney and his wife, Lady Witney.”
Susan hadn’t stepped in front of them as Clifford had. She surveyed them from beneath hooded lids, her lips pursing slightly as she looked at Mrs. Renshaw.
The widow offered a curtsey to Clifford. “Good evening. I’m pleased to meet you, Lord and Lady Witney.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Clifford said, smiling broadly. “How do you know my brother?” He gave Gregory a look that seemed to ask why he hadn’t been made aware of her.
“We know each other from the Phoenix Club in London,” Mrs. Renshaw responded.
How Gregory hadn’t put that together was astonishing. But then he’d only visited a few times. He’d been there the night his father had suffered his fit.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard of that. Vaguely.” Clifford waved his hand as if the club were inconsequential. Of course, he would think so—he hadn’t been invited to join.
“I’m a patroness there,” Mrs. Renshaw said with a touch of ice. “I’m not surprised you aren’t familiar with it, since you are not a member.” Now she flashed a smile, but it was as cool as her tone.
“I wonder why that is?” Lady Witney asked. “He’s a marquess after all.”
Mrs. Renshaw lifted a shoulder, then looked to Gregory. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes. Pardon us, Clifford.” Gregory guided her around his brother, who finally stepped aside.
They remained silent until they walked outside. Once on the terrace, he felt her relax slightly. “They made you tense,” he observed.
“They are why I wanted to see you tonight.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the doorway. “I was hoping you might ensure they don’t attend the dinner at Threadbury Hall.”
“Won’t your hosts be disappointed?”
“Perhaps. However…” Her mouth tightened in consternation. “I overheard what Lady Witney said the other day on the other side of the hedgerow. I don’t want to subject the Creightons to her.”
Damn. He should have considered that she might have heard Susan’s nonsense. “My apologies for my brother and sister-in-law. They…” What could he say to excuse them? “I would like to offer a reasonable explanation for her behavior, but I fear I cannot. I can ask them not to come, but it may be best if I say nothing.” Susan didn’t even want to go, which he wouldn’t reveal to Mrs. Renshaw. In fact, it might be best if he didn’t go either—perhaps Clifford and Susan would forget all about it. Selfishly, Gregory didn’t want to do that. He wanted to go.
“I see.” She kept her gaze directed to the path in front of them, and he couldn’t tell from her profile what she might be thinking.
Gregory chose his words carefully. “I could try speaking to Clifford, but I’m afraid my brother does what he likes. In some instances, my preferences will only ensure he does the opposite.”
“He’s spiteful, then?”
“On occasion.” When they were children, Clifford had liked to laugh at others’ expense. He still did, but had finally matured enough to realize neither Gregory nor their father appreciated such humor. That didn’t stop him from laughing with his friends or perhaps even his wife, however.
“Then I suppose we must suffer their presence.” Her tone was one of resigned distaste.
“I can promise to intervene if they cause any upset. Would that help?”
“Have you had to do that before?” She arched an elegant brow at him, and the expression stirred him in ways he found almost shocking. They were having a conversation about his irritating brother, and Gregory was moved to passion?
“Not them, no, but they’ve been married less than two months. I’ve sometimes had to usher my brother out of a situation—for his own good, mostly.”
“You sound as if you should be the older brother.”
