Page 57 of Charming Artemis

She had once heard Adam tell Daphne, “If you faint, I will publicly and irrevocably disown you.” It had been his way of telling her to be brave and strong when her whole world was falling apart. Though the instructions had not been intended for Artemis, she’d taken them to heart. Again and again, she’d chosen to be brave. She’d learned to be strong. She had refused to faint, figuratively or literally.

Rose stepped inside the room. Their interactions were quite casual and friendly when only the two of them were present. But when others were about, Rose defaulted to the expected deference most abigails showed their mistresses.

She dipped a quick curtsey and held Artemis’s gaze.

“Pardon me,” Artemis said to no one in particular, then setting aside her embroidery with an entirely feigned show of reluctance, crossed to the doorway. She dropped her voice to a whisper far less calm than she wished it were. “Please tell me you have come with an excuse for me to escape.”

“Not an excuse,” Rose said. “A bona fide reason. There is something you absolutely must see.”

Rose was not prone to dramatics; that was Artemis’s exclusive domain in their friendship. Her curiosity was decidedly piqued.

They walked side by side from the drawing room and through the house. After a moment, Artemis sorted that they were aiming for the back terrace. The out of doors. She felt some relief. Her expressed enjoyment of nature and sunshine had not been feigned for Sorrel’s sake.

“My uncle pulled me aside with an eagerness he generally keeps hidden,” Rose said. “He told me of a new arrival, and I had to find you.”

A new arrival? “The somethingyou wish me to see is, in fact, a someone?”

Rose nodded. They’d reached the terrace doors at the back of the ballroom. Rose pulled aside the curtains and motioned to a group gathered there. Mater, Artemis recognized, but the gentlemen gathered around her, clearly enjoying a quiet conversation, were not immediately familiar.

She studied them. She was nearly certain one of them was Lord Aldric Benick, uncle to the Duke of Hartley. Another, she felt certain she’d crossed paths with at some point but could not identify. Two of them were absolute strangers. The last, though, she knew the moment she truly looked at him.

He wore a burgundy jacket, tailored to utter perfection, over a waistcoat of paisley silk and trousers expertly fitted in a bold yet perfectly suited shade of dark blue. His hessians were polished to an almost blinding shine. His cravat managed that impressive balance between ostentatious and impressively simple that far too many gentlemen attempted and failed to manage. Even his black armband somehow felt fashionable.

She knew him, though they’d never met. She’d studied him before, though she’d never had the courage to speak to him. He was, in many ways, an idol to her.

This was Mr. Digby Layton, arbiter of fashion, who, if not for Beau Brummel’s pushiness in asserting his inarguably less expert opinions, would have single-handedly directed the evolution of gentlemen’s clothing. He had stood firm in opposition of Brummel’s efforts to entirely eliminate color and flair and pattern from the fashions gentlemen of thetonembraced. Brummel had made a name for himself, but Mr. Layton had actual taste and fashion sense.

“From what my uncle told me,” Rose said, “Mr. Layton and the late earl were the very best of friends. All these gentlemen were. They’ve come in support of the dowager.”

“I’ve married into a family that counts Mr. Digby Layton as a close friend?”Heavens.

Rose nodded with emphasis. “It was Mr. Layton who first suggested my uncle be brought on as the current Lord Lampton’s valet.”

Artemis turned wide eyes on her. “Your uncle knows him? How have you not told me this before?”

Rose held her hand up in a show of innocence. “I only just learned of it today. I assure you, I gave him a thorough scolding for keeping that secret from me.”

Artemis looked back out the windowed doors. Digby Layton. She’d wanted to meet him for so long, but now that an opportunity lay in front of her, she was nervous.

“You must go talk to him,” Rose said, nudging her a bit. “You’ve been given an unforeseen opportunity. Don’t squander it.”

“What would I even say?”

Rose sighed, the sound one of fond annoyance. “You were raised by the Dangerous Duke. If he heard you were afraid to offer a good afternoon to a dandy, he’d toss you in his gibbet.”

“If you faint, I will publicly and irrevocably disown you.”

She steeled her resolve and stepped out onto the terrace. No one spotted her at first. Their conversation continued on.

“How is Raneé finding motherhood?” the dowager asked Lord Aldric.

“Not nearly as enjoyable as her mother is finding grandmotherhood.”

“There are few things so satisfying,” the bespectacled gentleman said, “than the indisputable right to hand a fussy child back to his or her parents.”

The three of them laughed. The other gentlemen were in conversation with each other.

“I do wish the ladies had come,” the dowager said. “I’d love to see them all. And to hear all about everyone’s children and grandchildren. Our families are all growing so quickly.”

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