Page 26 of Secrets of the Heart

“No, of course not.” Lady Belmartin’s eyes twinkled in a sly way that Rachel did not like at all.

Sylvia quickly linked her arm through Rachel’s, firmly pulling her with her as she backed away from the older women. “I fear we must go now. I must introduce Rachel to, um, another friend of mine.”

“Of course, dear.” Lady Belmartin and Lady Montgomery turned back to each other and started in on another hapless vicitim.

“The idea was not to argue with Lady Belmartin but to get information from her,” Sylvia whispered to Rachel. “Thank heavens she did not take it poorly.”

“It’s obvious she knew nothing about Michael,” Rachel replied, still feeling rather heated. “She was much too vague—making little hints like that. If she had actually known something, she would have said it outright.”

“Mmm. Probably,” Sylvia agreed, obviously losing interest. “Well, there you are, then—there is nothing secret in Michael’s past. Oh, look, here comes Perry Overhill.”

Rachel smiled and looked across the floor, where a fashionably dressed gentleman was hurrying toward them. Peregrine Overhill, better known to his friends as Perry, was an amiable soul, not quite portly, but certainly not slender, either, whose beaming round face could be found at almost every social occasion. Although a friend of Michael’s, he had none of Michael’s love of the country, preferring to spend his entire life within the environs of London. He was given to a love of clothes, and though he was not the sort who would follow the extremes of fashion—he never put a bouttoniere the size of a nosegay in his lapel or indulged in pink or puce waistcoats—he would generally be dressed in the forefront of style. His first thought, by his own genial admission, was always for his own comfort, but he was also a firm and loyal friend.

Rachel had met him her first Season, a few weeks before Michael came into her life, and ever since that time Perry had been one of the men who made up the circle of Rachel’s admirers. Any acknowledged Beauty, single or married, worthy of the name had such a retinue. The names and numbers varied. Some were young men truly enamored for the first time; others were older, confirmed bachelors who simply enjoyed the opportunity for light, meaningless flirtation; still others were, in Rachel’s opinion, men who had not the slightest interest in her as a woman but who approved of her style and beauty in a purely esthetic way.

The rules of flirtation were delicate and differed a great deal from the married Beauties to those just making their first debut. A man’s interest in an unmarried young woman was considered serious; with a married woman, the purpose was exactly the opposite. For the woman, her admirers were handy escorts when her husband could not or would not do so. They could be counted upon to make pretty compliments or bring one refreshments or stand up with one for a dance. For the men, much of the appeal lay in being able to do all those things without being measured as husband material by calculating mamas. There was, of course, the possibility of an affair between a married woman and one of her admirers, but such a thing would be conducted in secret, separate from the formalized interaction of a Beauty and her cisibeos.

Perry was a friend of Michael’s and quite fond of Rachel. As he was the only one of her admirers who had remained one of her retinue since her coming out, Rachel was sure that his continued attendance on her sprang more out of Perry’s laziness than from any actual love. Rachel found him comfortable to be with, which was one of the factors that made him her favorite escort. The other was that he had been a good friend of Michael’s for years, which meant that Michael would not have the slightest reason to doubt her intentions. She had been determined all the life of her marriage not to let the slightest hint of scandal attach to any of her actions.

Perry was grinning broadly now as he approached her through the crowd. Despite his love of fashion, there was almost invariably something a trifle off about whatever he wore—buttons done up wrong or a handkerchief tucked haphazardly into a pocket or a hat a trifle askew. Tonight was no exception; his cravat, knotted in an elegant style and pinned with a large pearl, had gotten turned a half inch off center, giving him a lopsided look.

Rachel returned his smile. Perry’s somewhat bumbling ways were part of his charm, as was the boyish aspect of his face, a fact which caused him great despair. His face was round, with apple cheeks, and was usually adorned with a smile.

“Lady Westhampton!” he cried from several feet away and swept her a grand bow. “I had thought the sun was brighter today, and now I know why. It shone because you had returned to the city.”

Rachel chuckled and extended her hand to him. “Perry, you goose, stop posing and come here.”

He came forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips to bestow a light kiss upon it. “Rusticating must agree with you—you look stunning. But London has been dreadfully dull without you.”

“I am sure you found something to amuse you.”

“Poor substitutes for you,” he retorted.

“Can you not even spare a greeting for me, Perry?” Sylvia scolded.

“Lady Montgomery.” He turned slightly toward her to execute another bow. “You are a veritable vision tonight—a, um, star come down from the heavens.”

Sylvia tilted her head to the side. “All right; you have saved yourself with that compliment. I shall forgive the lack of greeting.”

“I need not ask how you have been,” Rachel told him. “You look exceedingly well, despite your supposed boredom.”

He smiled and looked somewhat abashed by the compliment.

“How is Gypsy?” Rachel asked, referring to the ill-tempered, snuffle-nosed pug that was Overhill’s much loved pet.

“He has missed you terribly. I shall have to bring him by to see you.”

Since Rachel had never known the dog to do anything but snap peevishly at her when she approached it, she had serious doubts about Perry’s oft-held claim that Gypsy adored her. But she did not express her reservations, merely smiled and nodded.

“How is Michael?” Perry went on, glancing around. “Did he come with you?”

“Actually, he did escort me to London, but I am afraid that he has left already to return to Westhampton. You know how he is about planting season.”

Perry grimaced. “Yes. Well, I will have to take him to task for leaving without even paying me a visit.”

“Perry…” Rachel began impulsively. “Do you know anything about Michael’s secrets?”

The man goggled at her for a moment in silence. “Secrets?” he asked after a long moment. “Rachel, my dear, what are you talking about?”