“Well!” Lady Stanhope fanned herself harder than ever and her face flushed, as it always did at the slightest hint of nervousness or embarrassment or anger. “I never heard of such a thing! A man not sleeping with his wife! It’s—Why, it’s immoral! I’ll take a course with him about this, my dear! I’ll see he doesn’t neglect you any more!”
Amber gave her an amused lazy smile over the top of the screen and bent slightly, stepping into first one petticoat and then another. “Don’t trouble yourself, madame. His Lordship and I like the arrangement as it is. The young men have a great deal of business nowadays, you know—going to theatres and taverns, drinking till midnight and scouring about the streets afterward. It keeps ’em well occupied, I assure you.”
“Oh, but Gerry doesn’t live that kind of life, I’m sure of it! He’s a good quiet boy, you may believe me, madame. If he doesn’t come here it must be he’s of the opinion he isn’t wanted!”
Amber swung about and looked directly at her mother-in-law, her eyes cool and with a malicious slant at the corners. “I’m sure I can’t think where he could have got such a notion as that, madame. What’s o’clock, Nan?”
“Almost half-after-twelve, your Ladyship.”
“Oh, Lord!” Amber stepped out from behind the screen, fully dressed now, and a maid handed her her fan and muff while another came to set the cloak on her shoulders. She picked up her gloves and began pulling them on. “I have a sitting with Mr. Lely at one! I must beg to be excused, madame. Mr. Lely is so furiously in demand he cannot stay a moment for anyone. If I’m late I’ll lose my turn and he has the portrait half done.”
Lady Stanhope got to her feet. “I was just going abroad myself. I’m engaged to dine with Lady Clifford and then we’re going to the play. One never has a moment to oneself in town.” The two countesses started out of the room, walking side by side, followed by Nan and Tansy and Monsieur le Chien. Lucilla gave Amber an arch sidewise glance. “I suppose you knew that Lord Carlton is a guest in the house?”
Amber looked at her sharply. What did she mean by that? Was it possible she had heard gossip about them? But they’d been very discreet—always entering and leaving by their own doors, paying each other no undue attentions in public. Her heart hammering hard, Amber tried to give her an off-hand answer.
“Oh, yes. I know. He’s an old friend of the Earl.”
“I think he’s fascinating! They say every woman at Court is mad in love with him! And have you heard? They say he’s one of my Lady Castlemaine’s lovers—but of course they say that about everyone.” She rambled on, for she always talked as if she had more to say than time would allow, but Amber was conscious only of relief. Evidently she knew nothing—she just wanted to prattle. “But to think of the venturesome life he’s led—soldier-of-fortune, privateer, and now a planter! I’ve heard he’s one of the richest men in England—and of course his family’s most distinguished. It was Marjorie Bruce, you know, who was the mother of the first Stuart King of Scotland, and that’s his family. And his wife, they say, is a great beauty—”
“Everyone’s a great beauty with a portion of ten thousand pound!” snapped Amber.
“Well,” said Lucilla. “He’s a fine person, I vow and swear. He’s everything in the world that I admire.”
Amber bowed to her. “Good-day, madame.”
She walked off, down the stairs, seething inside, furious and hurt. Oh, I can’t stand it! she thought wildly. I can’t stand knowing he’s married to that woman! I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! I hope she dies! Suddenly she stopped, catching her breath. Maybe she will. She began to walk on, her eyes glowing. Maybe she
The next night she and Bruce came home from Whitehall together. He had completed the most urgent part of his business and was beginning to go there in the evenings to gamble and talk. They climbed the stairs, laughing over the current story that Buckingham, still in hiding, had been arrested for rioting in the streets and locked up and then released again without being recognized. Outside her rooms they parted.
“Don’t be long, darling,” she whispered.
She came into her own drawing-room still smiling, but the smile froze unpleasantly as she found Gerald and his mother sitting there, before her fireplace.
“Well!” She swung the door shut.
Gerald got to his feet. He looked wretchedly unhappy and Amber knew that coming here had not been his idea. The Dowager Baroness gave her a languid look over her bare shoulder, then stood up and made just the suggestion of a curtsy. Amber did not return it, but she came on into the room, glancing from one to the other.
