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Henrietta?” Aunt Euphemia asked. His aunt could be like a hound, relentless in her searching, pursuing.
“Henrietta told me she had danced with you in her first season. What happened the night you met her?” Gwyneth asked.
“Did she? Why would she mention that evening?” His face grew red when he remembered what an insufferable ass he had been.
“Did you dance with her at the Wentworth Ball?” His sister was becoming more and more like Euphemia.
“A colleague plagued me through the night, preventing any dancing,” he said.
Gwyneth turned toward Ash when he snorted.
“Don’t tell me neither of you gentlemen danced?”
“Unlike your brother, who was involved with…business, I did speak with Lady Henrietta. And she is a most pleasing lady.” Ash grinned at Cord, baiting him further.
“Henrietta invited us to a soirée next week at Lady Chadwick’s. I’m hoping we can attend,” Gwyneth said.
“Emily Chadwick, I haven’t seen her in age. Cord, will you have time to attend?” his aunt asked.
He smiled at the idea of encountering Henrietta in a crowded soiree, pressed against her soft curves. “It’d be my pleasure to attend.”
When he looked up, all three dinner companions stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Ash coughed into his napkin, barely concealing his laughter. “You surprised us with your enthusiasm to attend a soiree.”
“It isn’t the soiree. It’s the pleasure of escorting the Beaumont ladies.” Three pairs of eyes watched him as if he were the lion at the Tower of London, ready to escape his cage.
“Thank you, Cord.” Gwyneth winked at him. “I’m thrilled we shall attend the Chadwick Soiree.”
Darn the minx. He wasn’t ready to have his privacy scrutinized by his younger sister.
The dinner felt interminable under Aunt Euphemia and Gwyneth’s gaze. There was also something amiss with Ash. He was pensive and restless, not his usual bantering self. He tried to put his friend at ease. “Ash, we’ll take our morning ride tomorrow?”
“Can I join you? It will be like old times, before you both left for the Continent.” Gwyneth turned to Ash and smiled. “I hope you won’t try to outdistance me as in the past. I believe I can keep up now.”
What was the matter with his friend? Ash had such a silly look, as if someone challenged him to parade naked through Mayfair.
“I’ll look forward to the challenge,” Ash said.
“Cordelier, since its family, please forego the port, and let us move to the drawing room.” His aunt rose from her chair and headed to the door. “I’m sure Lord Ashworth wouldn’t mind if I have a few moments of privacy with you.”
Aunt Euphemia knew that neither Cord nor Ash could refuse her directive.
“Gwyneth, please escort Lord Ashworth to the drawing room and summon your maid. Cord and I’ll confer for a few minutes in the library.”
Like a frigate to battle, Aunt Euphemia plowed down the hallway, the feather on her turban blowing like the Union Jack.
Gwyneth gave him a look of understanding when he turned and followed his aunt down the corridor to his library.
Aunt Euphemia seated herself on the settee next to the warm fire. In its soft light, it seemed to Cord that his aunt hadn’t aged a moment from his youth. Aunt Euphemia had always been part of the Rathbourne household when she wasn’t travelling the world.
“Aunt Euphemia, may I offer you a sherry?”
“Brandy, my boy. I need something to take the ache out of these old bones. I can still feel that long damp carriage ride.”
He poured generous drinks for himself and his aunt. Aunt Euphemia wasn’t a teetotaler.
“You truly do look wonderful, Aunt Euphemia, and I’m glad you and Gwyneth are in London.” He handed her the deep golden liquid.
“It feels good to be back at Rathbourne House.” She took a long drink from the cut crystal glass and looked into his eyes. “How are you faring in London?” Direct as always,
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