Her gaze slid onto Lord Redgrave and Phoebe caught a flicker of malicious satisfaction in her eyes. So, Lady Mansford believed she’d caught the future Marchioness of Ashlund in the middle of a private moment with a man other than the marquess. Phoebe wondered if a scandal would discourage Kiernan MacGregor.
“Phoebe, darling.” Leticia glided past Gaylon and across the room. “It's so good to have you back.” Upon reaching her side, Leticia placed a hand on her shoulder, then bent and kissed her cheek. “Look darlings,” Leticia glanced over her shoulder at her companions, “isn’t she radiant?” She faced Lord Redgrave. “My lord.” She extended a gloved hand, which he graciously grasped and brought to his lips.
“Lady Mansford.” He looked over her hand at Phoebe, amusement twinkling his eyes. He straightened and looked at the other two women, who stood near the door. When they didn’t approach, he strode to them. “Lady Carlton,” he said, as he neared them. He grasped her hand and kissed it as he had Leticia’s. “Miss Smith.” He turned to her and bent over her hand, as well. “It is good of you ladies to visit Miss Wallington on her first day back.”
Phoebe's jaw tightened when Lady Mansford ensconced herself in the chair Alistair had vacated. He offered an arm to each of the other two ladies and escorted them to Phoebe’s side. He released them and looked about the room.
“Ah,” he said, and hurried to Phoebe’s desk. He picked up the chair there, and carried it to the ladies. He placed the chair beside Leticia's chair. “Now.” He again looked thoughtfully around the room.
“By heavens, Redgrave,” Phoebe blurted, “seat them on the settee.”
“Miss Wallington,” he said, his voice brimming with reproof, “the settee is too far from the hearth. There is a definite chill in the air today, and the ladies have just arrived. I strongly advise the four of you stay as close to the fire as possible. Gaylon,” Redgrave’s expression brightened, “be so good as to find another chair for,” he glanced back at Brenda Smith, who still stood, “Miss Smith.”
“Of course, sir,” Gaylon said, and disappeared into the hallway.
“What do you want?” Phoebe demanded of Leticia.
Leticia gave her companions a knowing look, then produced a newspaper clipping from her purse.
“You naughty girl,” Leticia chided, waving the clipping. “Matty, Brenda, and I were quite peeved that you hadn’t uttered a peep about the marquess’ intentions. Isn’t that right ladies?” They murmured agreement and she went on. “You must tell us all about him.” Leticia leaned forward in her chair, expectantly.
There was no mistaking the gleam of excitement in her eyes, but Phoebe noted an underlying trace of malevolent jealousy. “There's nothing to tell,” she said.
“Nothing to tell?” Leticia pouted. “You mean to keep us in suspense?”
“What I mean—” Phoebe stopped when Gaylon reappeared, carrying a wing backed chair. He set the chair next to hers, and Miss Smith sat down.
Phoebe glowered at Lord Redgrave who hovered over them like a mother hen. “Have you nowhere to seat yourself?” she demanded.
“I will do very well standing. Thank you, my dear.”
“My dear, indeed,” she muttered, then looked at Leticia. “There is nothing to say, because the announcement was a mistake.”
Lady Mansford studied the announcement. “No,” she pointed with a gloved finger at the text. “It says right here, His Grace, the Duke of Ashlund, is proud to announce the—”
“I don't care what it says,” Phoebe snapped. "The announcement is incorrect.”
The room fell quiet. Leticia refolded the clipping, creasing each fold with deliberate precision. She placed it inside her reticule, then looked Phoebe in the eye, and said, “He is no child. He must understand the need for discretion. Also, there are your sensitivities.”
Phoebe frowned. “What—"
“A newly married man won't flaunt his dalliances to the world. Never fear,” Leticia patted Phoebe’s knee, “I'm certain his father will take him to task for forgetting he is about to be a married man.”
Phoebe stared. “You think I am denying the engagement because he dallied with some—" Alistair coughed discreetly. She scowled. “This is rubbish.”
“His father married that American woman some years ago,” Leticia said. “I don’t recall even a whisper of infidelity.” She smiled. “Yes, I am correct. His father will take him to task. If Lord Ashlund is half as discreet as his father, you will be a lucky woman. I wager this will be settled in time for the two of you to attend the Halsey soiree.”
Phoebe shot to her feet. “I assure you, Lord Ashlund has not been unfaithful. It would be impossible.”
Leticia made a tsking sound. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, but don't delude yourself as to the nature of the male of our species.”
“Nature of the male of our species?” Phoebe looked helplessly at Alistair.
“Perhaps we should leave Lord Ashlund’s reputation to him?” he offered.
“Indeed,” Phoebe agreed. “Considering he has dragged my repu—”