He ambled off, took Andrew by the shoulder, and guided him away.
Fitz arrived at the rail station to find Helena and Hastings standing together, speaking in that particular push-pull rhythm of theirs. Fitz listened to their exchange of mildly veiled insults with his usual amusement—and a twinge of melancholy. It was a testament to Hastings’s skill and determination that Helena, after all these years, still did not realize he was in love with her. But what good was such love, too proud to make itself known?
He wondered whether the same applied to his wife. Once she had her freedom, would she be too timid to pursue her fellow, to whom she’d remained chastely devoted all these years?
An odd thing, his continued anonymity. She did not make her debut until after she was Lady Fitzhugh, so she could not have been acquainted with many young men before she married. In the intervening years, Fitz had met most of the Graveses’ social set and never once had he come across a man who elicited any reaction in her.
“My goodness, Mrs. Englewood!” Hastings cried. “What an adorable coincidence running into you.”
Fitz was jolted out of his reverie. Isabelle, in a promenade dress of black velvet, appeared at Fitz’s elbow. She shook hands warmly with both Hastings and Helena. “Adorable, yes, coincidence, no. Fitz told me that the duchess is due back this afternoon. I am dying to meet her new husband and see her again—as well as the rest of you. How could I pass the opportunity when I know that everyone will be gathered here?”
Everyone, including Millie.
Had she been anyone else, Fitz would have suspected her of trying to usurp Millie’s place. But Isabelle was a creature of impulses, not wiles. There was no malice to her, nor machinations.
All the same, this was ill done of her. Inserting herself openly into a family occasion—she might as well take out a notice in the papers stating their intention to set up a household together. No matter how romantic a reunion of young lovers, he would still be committing adultery and he preferred to do so discreetly, and not give his wife reasons to think she’d been publicly thrown over.
He was not alone in his reaction. Once Helena and Hastings realized that Isabelle had come deliberately and would remain with them, they both glanced toward the gates of the platform: It was only a matter of time before Millie arrived.
And then they both glanced at Fitz with uncertainty—and more than a little anxiety on Helena’s part—trying to gauge his reaction, to determine whether he approved of Isabelle’s action or whether he shared their unease.
Venetia’s train pulled into the station. She and her husband, the Duke of Lexington, stepped down from the duke’s private rail coach. The two had supplied the bulk of the gossip for the early part of the Season, culminating in an elopement that had shocked everyone, members of their families included. Fitz had guessed more of the reasons behind their sudden marriage than most, but still he’d worried, until the couple had come for a quick visit to London not long ago and he’d seen for himself how happy and relaxed Venetia was in her new marriage. They had then returned to the duke’s estate in the country for the rest of their honeymoon and were only now rejoining Society, beginning with the ball in their honor, hosted by Fitz and Millie—the same night they would consummate their marriage.
Only two days away now.
Helena waved. Venetia waved back, all smiles. The crowd hushed—Venetia was the great beauty of their generation and her appearance often caused awed silences. But as she walked arm in arm with her husband toward her family, the gawkers gradually returned to their own concerns.
Her smile faltered as she saw Isabelle. Perhaps her hand tightened on her husband’s arm also, for the duke bent his head toward her. Fitz could not tell what question he asked, but her answer, judging by the movement of her lips, seemed to be, Everything is fine. I’ll tell you more later.
She was warm and gracious as she greeted Isabelle and introduced her husband. They were all old friends. Isabelle and Hastings had pulled many a prank together when the boys visited the Pelham house. She and Helena had always got on well. And Fitz had learned, from a remark Helena let stray years ago, that in the days leading up to his wedding, Venetia had spent many hours holding Isabelle’s hand as the latter wept and raged against the cruelty of fate.
This, then, should have been a more buoyant reunion. But Isabelle alone brought the delight and the vivacity. She was thrilled for Venetia’s match with the duke. She made hearty digs at Hastings for Helena’s continued scorn of him. She could not wait to be more settled so that she could throw a dinner for the old gang.