Page 61 of The Bridal Quest

Irene shrugged. "Yes, but that affects me only in a peripheral way. Actually, his leaving the house today was a blessing. It gave us more time to deal with the other problems."

Francesca's brows drew together as she studied Irene, and Irene thought she would have pursued the matter, but at that moment they walked through the back door into the hallway and were stopped by the sound of raised voices.

A man's low rumble sounded from behind the closed door of the nearby small drawing room, rising to a loud, "Impossible!"

His words were followed by the sound of a woman's tearful rejoinder, though her more softly spoken words were difficult to understand.

Francesca and Irene glanced at each other uncertainly. It was an awkward situation, and neither was sure whether it would be better to retreat back onto the terrace and wait for an end to the argument or to slip down the hallway as quietly as possible in the hopes that they could get past before the door was opened. For a moment they hung there indecisively as the indistinguishable clash of voices went on.

"No!" the man's voice rang out. There was more rumbling, then, "—don't believe it!"

Irene glanced at her friend and nodded toward the other end of the hall. Francesca nodded, and they hurried forward as silently as they could. They had almost reached the foyer when the door to the drawing room crashed open.

Irene jumped at the noise, whirling around instinctively. A man strode out of the drawing room, glowering. Irene recognized him as Gideon's uncle, Jasper.

Behind him, through the open door, a woman's voice cried, "How do you know? You weren't even here! You had hared off to join the army."

Jasper swung back to the room, biting out, "No, I wasn't here, and I will always regret it! I would have found them and brought them back!"

He turned back to walk away, and for the first time looked up the hall to where Irene and Francesca stood, frozen in embarrassment. He pulled up short.

He let out a soft exclamation under his breath, and for a moment he stood, struggling to gain control of his anger. Finally he let out a sigh and bowed his head toward them. "Ladies. Please forgive me."

Pansy came to the doorway, wringing a handkerchief between her hands. Her eyes were red from crying, tears streaked her face, and she looked even more fragile than normal, as if a good gust of wind would topple her. "Oh!" she gasped when she saw the other women. "Oh, dear."

She brought her handkerchief up to dab at her eyes. "Jasper ..."

"Yes, Mother. I know. Ladies, I apologize for creating a scene."

He half turned back toward Pansy, not quite looking at her as he went on. "Mother, I hope you will forgive me. The news was ... a shock." His lips tightened, and then, as though he could not restrain himself, he added, "But you were wrong."

He looked back to Irene and Francesca, saying, "I never knew a better woman or mother than Cecil's wife. I am certain she did not run away. And she would never have abandoned her child."

With those words, he turned and strode past them out the front door.

His mother tottered into the hall, still dabbing at her tears.

"Jasper ..." When he did not respond, she looked at Francesca and Irene.

"He doesn't understand," she told them mournfully. "He just doesn't realize what a scandal it would have been."

* * * * *

The guests began to arrive the next day, and nearly all of Irene's time was taken up with helping Francesca deal with them, as Gideon's grandmother insisted on keeping to her room despite Lady Odelia's best efforts to make her come down to greet their guests. Lady Teresa did come down to the drawing room, but it was soon apparent that, despite her earlier haughty manner, she was ill-prepared for a party such as this. She knew none of the arrivals, and she seemed somewhat overwhelmed at greeting a large number of blue-blooded guests. She was silent beyond a few commonplaces about the weather, and if asked a question, she quickly referred it to Francesca or Irene.

The first guest to arrive had actually been Gideon's friend. Piers Aldenham. As fair as Gideon was dark, he was slender and elegantly dressed, and when Horroughs, a look of disapproval writ plain upon his narrow features, ushered Piers into the drawing room, Aldenham swept a very creditable bow to the ladies of the house.

"It is an honor to meet you," he said with a winning smile. "As well as a pleasure. I must take my friend Gideon to task. He did not prepare me for the beauty of the ladies I would meet here. I am overwhelmed."

"Nor did he inform us of how smoothly you could talk," Irene replied with a smile, liking his merry grin and his complete lack of self-consciousness. Here was obviously a man who felt at home wherever he was.

"No doubt I wax more eloquent around fair ladies," he told her.

"Piers!" Gideon strode into the drawing room, smiling broadly. "Never tell me you got up early enough to make it here by this hour."

"Gideon!" Piers turned and clapped his friend on the shoulders, shaking the hand Gideon offered him. "I can assure you that I did not. I got in too late yesterday evening to call on you. I went straight to the inn and fell into bed."

"I shall send one of the grooms down to the inn to get your bags."