After Lady Hollingsworth’s rude comment, the conversation could easily have dissolved into bickering and infighting. I was almost more shocked when no one snapped back at the marchioness than that she had behaved so impolitely in the first place, priggish as she was. She was plainly beyond overset if she was willing to break the very rules she clung so tightly to.
Everyone seemed inordinately determined to remain civil, and though I supposed this could have stemmed solely from the same desire I felt to spare Michael’s and Caroline’s feelings, I sensed there was something else holding everyone back, even Miss Remmington. What it could be, I didn’t know, but it cast a different light on the glances that Gage and Michael, and even my sister, continued to send my way. I couldn’t tell whether they were merely uneasy about my continued state of ignorance or if they were afraid of my reaction once the truth was known. But why should my response matter?
I frowned down at my plate and pushed my food around with my fork, having lost all appetite. I could only hope someone would take it upon themselves to remedy the situation following dinner and tell me just what exactly was going on.
After Lady Hollingsworth’s rude outburst, no one seemed eager to talk, except for the lady herself, who, whether out of nerves or anger, proceeded to yammer on about her family and her connections, boring us with her stories. By the time the dessert course was served, I had ceased to really listen, let alone take part in the discussion. Everyone appeared resigned to silence except Michael and Laura, who as hosts seemed to feel responsible for the steady decline of the evening.
“Lady Darby,” Michael proclaimed, pulling me from my solemn reverie. I glanced up to find him smiling at me determinedly while Lady Hollingsworth scowled at the interruption. “I understand your husband, Sir Anthony, served as a surgeon for the army during the war with France,” he said in what I thought was a particularly adept attempt to redirect the conversation from what I believed had last been a rather mind-numbing description from Lady Hollingsworth of her sister’s encounter with an incompetent medical man who was supposed to treat her goiter.
“Why, yes. Early in the war,” I replied, unwilling to expound, even to prevent Lady Hollingsworth from speaking. Sir Anthony’s disparagement of His Majesty’s troops was not worthy of being repeated, no matter the urgency of our current predicament. Especially to a family who, for all intents and purposes, had lost their eldest brother to the war. In any case, my late husband would not have wished to discuss any part of his medical career prior to the surgery he performed to remove a cyst from the then prince regent’s scalp, for which he had received his baronetcy. And I had no wish to discuss it at all.
Prior to receiving his baronetcy, Sir Anthony had not been a lofty enough personage even to walk through the front door of a nobleman’s residence, as everyone knew surgeons entered through the back door like a servant. Only physicians, who were often gentlemen themselves, were allotted that privilege. As a surgeon, even an anatomist, Sir Anthony had not ranked high enough to merit that respect, let alone to marry the granddaughter of a baron, even if he had been friends with Father. His baronetcy had changed all that, and my life, forever. I was not inclined to feel grateful to King George IV for the honor he paid to my late husband.
I could feel Gage’s sharp gaze on me, as if he could read my thoughts. For the first time, I found myself wishing I hadn’t shared so much of my past with him during our investigative partnership two months prior. At the time it had been a necessary evil and brought me surprising comfort when he did not reject me after I allowed him to know so much about me. No one outside my family had been privy to such details. But now it made me feel vulnerable, as if he could probe inside my mind for the truth. Particularly since he would not return the compliment, and instead insisted on remaining as tight-lipped as ever about his past.
I refused to meet his gaze, even though I could feel him silently urging me to.
Michael shifted in his seat at the head of the table. “Will mentioned he’d met Sir Anthony once.” He smiled tightly, but with good humor. “Said he was a bit of a tyrant, but skilled at his profession. Patched up his friend, but not without a great deal of grousing.”
From the looks of the others’ startled reactions, I wasn’t the only one surprised to hear him mention his brother in such a casual manner.
“He told you he met Sir Anthony?” I asked in confusion.
Michael nodded.
A tingling sensation began at the base of my neck and I felt Gage’s eyes intent on my face, but I would not look away from Michael. Somehow knowing that what he said next would change everything. “When he returned from the war?” I pressed for clarification.
He hesitated, and I held my breath waiting for him to speak, as did everyone at the table. He sensed the mood shift, and I could see him consider not saying anything further. My muscles tightened in protest, wanting to force the answer from his lips. Then his gaze met mine warily.
“No. A few weeks ago.”