Page 36 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
She bobbed her head. “Yes, of course. I can see the advantage to this.”
“If you grow too uncomfortable, we can easily leave and quickly.”
“All right, then. To the park we shall go.”
* * *
The landau was beautiful, black with red trim, pulled by two matching grays. Claire and Beth faced forward, while Westcliffe and Cooper had their backs to the driver. The dog sat on the seat more alert than she’d seen him since her arrival.
Beth could barely sit still. “You will tell me if you see anyone of consequence.”
“Everyone here is of consequence,” Westcliffe assured her.
“Do you think people are wondering who I am?”
Determined to focus on her sister and not herself, Claire squeezed her hand. “I’m sure they are, dear heart.”
“But there are so many people. What can you tell us about them, my lord?”
“I am not one for gossip, but do you see the couple in the white landau with the white horses?”
“The woman with the striking red hair?”
“Yes. That is the Duke and Duchess of Greystone. It is their home we’ll be going to tomorrow night.”
“From a distance they seem nice enough.”
“Until she married the duke, she was a bookkeeper at a gentlemen’s club.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “How scandalous!”
“They are closest to those with questionable pasts. I daresay you’ll see several of them at the ball. Neither the duke nor the duchess tolerates anyone speaking ill of someone within their residence. If it is gossip you seek, Beth, I fear I suggested the wrong ball for us to attend.”
Claire sat there, too stunned to speak. His gaze met hers for the span of a heartbeat. She saw understanding within the dark depths, perhaps even an apology, although that might have simply been her imagination. What she did know was that at the first ball they attended, she might not be the fodder for gossip and speculation that she’d feared. Afterward, certainly, but others around whom scandal stirred would serve as an initial distraction. She could scarcely signify that her husband had suggested that particular ball as a way to spare her some mortification. It was more likely that he was most comfortable with those who created scandal with the ease that he did. But whatever the reason, she was not dreading attending the ball as much as she had been an hour earlier.
A rider on a sleek brown horse approached, and the driver brought the carriage to a halt. Grinning broadly, the Duke of Ainsley swept off his top hat and bowed from the waist. “Countess, a pleasure to see you.”
“You as well, Your Grace.”
“Lady Beth, when did you grow up?” he asked.
“About the same time as you, I suspect,” Beth said, smiling brightly.
Then he turned his attention to his brother. “Westcliffe.”
“Ainsley.”
Claire couldn’t believe the formality between the brothers.
“Cooper, how are you, old boy?” Ainsley reached out and petted the dog with his gloved hand. “Heard Lord Chesney had a litter of pups recently.”
“Wonder how Chesney pulled that miracle off?” Westcliffe said laconically. “He should be studied. It’s not every day a man gives birth to dogs.”
Claire bit back her laughter. Her husband did seem to have an odd sense of humor. It didn’t often show itself, but obviously it lurked.
Ainsley narrowed his eyes at him. “Must you take everything so literally? His collie had them. Cute pups. I was thinking of getting one, but I’m leaning toward a setter.” He looked over at Beth. “Do you like dogs, Lady Beth?”
“Most certainly. Especially the setter.”
