The Counterfeit Mistress by Madeline Hunter

Buckinghamshire.
    He always tried to be on his best behavior when dining with Ambury. Not because Ambury demanded it. Rather Ambury had married Lady Cassandra Vernham and the new Lady Ambury did not much like her husband’s friend Viscount Kendale. Nor did he much like her, although Ambury’s apparent happiness had softened his views considerably. Not wanting to cause trouble for a friend, he always made an effort to avoid doing the sorts of things that would cause Lady Ambury to complain to her husband long into the night after the party ended.
    The good news this particular night was that Southwaite and his wife Emma would also be there. As for the sixth member of what was to be an intimate meal, Kendale hoped the ladies had not dug up some cousin who needed a husband and who would even put up with him if it meant becoming a viscountess. That would turn what might be an enjoyable few hours among friends into a night from hell.
    He was relieved when he arrived to see that the third woman sitting in the drawing room was Cassandra’s old Aunt Sophie. Colorful, witty, and a little dotty, Lady Sophie Vernham, at over age sixty, was not, he assumed, looking for a husband. Furthermore it was unlikely that his bad behavior would be criticized since Lady Sophie had a reputation for besting him in that area.
    No sooner were the greetings exchanged than Ambury and Southwaite maneuvered him to the far end of the drawing room. Ambury smiled the smile that he normally used when he was up to no good, which was often. Southwaite on the other hand appeared a little sheepish, but determined.
    â€œWe need to warn you about something,” Southwaite said, in the tone of a man who expected trouble for his efforts.
    â€œNot
warn
. How dramatic that sounds.
Inform
,” Ambury said.
    Kendale waited, his gaze on Southwaite, who was more likely to have guessed the correct reaction to this
something
.
    â€œThere will be another member of our party tonight,” Ambury said. “The invitation was given late, after you accepted. I saw no reason to mention it.”
    â€œWho is she?”
    â€œThe she who will join us to balance the table is Southwaite’s sister Lydia. Her presence was required because I found myself at the club yesterday in conversation with Penthurst and decided to ask him to come tonight too.”
    â€œPenthurst?”
    â€œNow, Kendale—”
    â€œYou did not mention it because you knew I would not come. I cannot believe that you have schemed to have me sit at a table with him. I cannot believe that you will offer him the hospitality of your home either.”
    Ambury rolled his eyes, which made Kendale want to punch him. Southwaite spoke lowly, and with sympathy. “He should have mentioned it. I said so, didn’t I, Ambury? However, in his sunny state of mind since his marriage he sees no clouds, even when they are threatening to rain on him. And, let us be honest, the break between us and Penthurst—the evidence mounts that it was not as we thought. Ambury and I have both explained our thinking on this. You, however—”
    You, however, won’t see reason. You are the only holdout, and we decided to reconcile whether you agreed or not. You have been rigid, so we chose to force you to bend.
    He wanted to have it out with them both now, but that would hardly do. Even he knew not to create that kind of scene in a drawing room where three women waited. And, he admitted, while he still held it against the Duke of Penthurst that he had killed one of their friends in a duel, he knew it had indeed not been as they had thought—the why of it, at least—not that the new ambiguity absolved the man.
    Mostly he did not lose his temper or take his leave because the notion of talking to Penthurst tonight held some appeal. With his close ties to the government ministers, there were questions Penthurst might be able to answer as neither Ambury nor Southwaite could. Questions