know.”
“No I didn’t know. I find it hard to believe.”
“Damian wasn’t always so stuffy.” Caro frowned. “Though he was quiet, more reserved than the others. I think he was shy, rather a gentle soul.”
Cynthia stared. “I don’t think I’ve met a man more socially adroit than Windermere.” Or less like a gentle soul , she tactfully refrained from adding.
“Really? I expect he had to be when he decided to make his way in diplomatic service. But I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since he abandoned us. We missed him for a long time.”
He’d abandoned Cynthia too. “From your account of him, Caro, Windermere has changed a good deal. I suppose all young men do as they grow up.”
“Robert didn’t. And Julian is just the same as he ever was. I notice you don’t call him Damian. Even his name is different. When I knew him, Windermere was his father. My mother wanted me to marry him, you know.”
“My husband’s father?”
A peal of laughter set Caro’s curls a flutter. “Not even my mother was insane enough to expect me to wed an old man, even an earl. No, I take that back. If the late Lord Windermere had shown any interest in me, my mother would have been delighted. Luckily I never met him. Damian, or Kendal as he was then, was the most eligible of the quartet. I never wanted anyone but Robert, but I counted Damian a good friend. He was always kind to everyone.”
“Why did their friendship end?”
“Neither Robert not Julian would ever tell me exactly what took place the night of Damian’s twenty-first birthday. That was the beginning. Other things happened and Damian stopped speaking to us. Or perhaps it was the other way around. I know they were both angry and ashamed of themselves, especially Julian. Robert didn’t care so much, but he had me. And I am sorry to tell you, Cynthia, that he was quite addicted to cards and dice and lost a great deal of money before he died. I hope you are rich for it is quite uncomfortable to be living under reduced circumstances.”
“Windermere married me for money,” Cynthia said. “My uncle’s money, not mine.”
“In that case,” Caro said, “I think you should spend some of it on clothing.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I haven’t an iota of tact.”
“I’m not offended. My aunt, who has no taste, chose my gowns. I have been meaning to buy some new ones but I haven’t felt up to it.” Having been cheered and diverted by her visitor, she felt a wave of despondency crush her spirits again.
“Come to dinner tomorrow night,” Caro said. “Several of my set will be there. Oliver, of course. He will almost certainly fall in love with you but you needn’t be alarmed. And Julian. He used to be Damian’s best friend.”
“Julian who?”
“Fortescue, except he just became a duke so now he’s Denford. Isn’t that absurd?”
Cynthia contemplated the ghastly contents of her wardrobe and the fact that she was to dine at the same table as a duke. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Any old rag will do for dinner at Conduit Street. It’s a miracle some of the painters ever remember to put on their breeches. If you buy new dresses you shouldn’t do it on my account, but to please yourself.” Caro gave a throaty chuckle. “An enjoyable party and a new gown may not be worthy replacements for an absent husband, but we must find happiness where we may.”
So little was Cynthia accustomed to pleasing herself that the idea frightened her. Then the notion took hold of her mind with a wicked thrill of anticipation. To perdition with her absent husband, she thought, with a defiance she couldn’t have conceived of three months earlier. He had left her alone while he traveled halfway around the world, and he was going to have to bear the consequences. If she did something he did not like, then he should have been here to tell her his wishes. She wasn’t a mind reader.
“I like the new
“No I didn’t know. I find it hard to believe.”
“Damian wasn’t always so stuffy.” Caro frowned. “Though he was quiet, more reserved than the others. I think he was shy, rather a gentle soul.”
Cynthia stared. “I don’t think I’ve met a man more socially adroit than Windermere.” Or less like a gentle soul , she tactfully refrained from adding.
“Really? I expect he had to be when he decided to make his way in diplomatic service. But I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since he abandoned us. We missed him for a long time.”
He’d abandoned Cynthia too. “From your account of him, Caro, Windermere has changed a good deal. I suppose all young men do as they grow up.”
“Robert didn’t. And Julian is just the same as he ever was. I notice you don’t call him Damian. Even his name is different. When I knew him, Windermere was his father. My mother wanted me to marry him, you know.”
“My husband’s father?”
A peal of laughter set Caro’s curls a flutter. “Not even my mother was insane enough to expect me to wed an old man, even an earl. No, I take that back. If the late Lord Windermere had shown any interest in me, my mother would have been delighted. Luckily I never met him. Damian, or Kendal as he was then, was the most eligible of the quartet. I never wanted anyone but Robert, but I counted Damian a good friend. He was always kind to everyone.”
“Why did their friendship end?”
“Neither Robert not Julian would ever tell me exactly what took place the night of Damian’s twenty-first birthday. That was the beginning. Other things happened and Damian stopped speaking to us. Or perhaps it was the other way around. I know they were both angry and ashamed of themselves, especially Julian. Robert didn’t care so much, but he had me. And I am sorry to tell you, Cynthia, that he was quite addicted to cards and dice and lost a great deal of money before he died. I hope you are rich for it is quite uncomfortable to be living under reduced circumstances.”
“Windermere married me for money,” Cynthia said. “My uncle’s money, not mine.”
“In that case,” Caro said, “I think you should spend some of it on clothing.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I haven’t an iota of tact.”
“I’m not offended. My aunt, who has no taste, chose my gowns. I have been meaning to buy some new ones but I haven’t felt up to it.” Having been cheered and diverted by her visitor, she felt a wave of despondency crush her spirits again.
“Come to dinner tomorrow night,” Caro said. “Several of my set will be there. Oliver, of course. He will almost certainly fall in love with you but you needn’t be alarmed. And Julian. He used to be Damian’s best friend.”
“Julian who?”
“Fortescue, except he just became a duke so now he’s Denford. Isn’t that absurd?”
Cynthia contemplated the ghastly contents of her wardrobe and the fact that she was to dine at the same table as a duke. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Any old rag will do for dinner at Conduit Street. It’s a miracle some of the painters ever remember to put on their breeches. If you buy new dresses you shouldn’t do it on my account, but to please yourself.” Caro gave a throaty chuckle. “An enjoyable party and a new gown may not be worthy replacements for an absent husband, but we must find happiness where we may.”
So little was Cynthia accustomed to pleasing herself that the idea frightened her. Then the notion took hold of her mind with a wicked thrill of anticipation. To perdition with her absent husband, she thought, with a defiance she couldn’t have conceived of three months earlier. He had left her alone while he traveled halfway around the world, and he was going to have to bear the consequences. If she did something he did not like, then he should have been here to tell her his wishes. She wasn’t a mind reader.
“I like the new
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