Page 22 of Private Arrangements
“No, sir,” Goodman answered stiffly. “It is only a dinner.”
Camden consulted his watch. Half past ten. The guests should be in the drawing room by now, both the men and the women, getting ready to take their leave in the next half hour in order to make the rounds of balls andsoirées dansantes.
He pushed open the double door to the drawing room and saw his wife first, splendid in a surfeit of diamonds and ostrich feathers. Next to her stood an exceptionally handsome man, who, with a frown on his face, seemed to be admonishing her. She listened to him with an expression of exaggerated patience.
Slowly, one by one, then by twos and threes, the guests realized who had come amongst them, even though none of them had ever met him. The hum of conversation faded, until evenshehad to glance at the door to see what had caused the hush.
Her mouth tightened as she registered his presence, but she let not a second pass before putting on a bright, false smile and coming toward him. “Camden, you are back. Come, do meet some of my friends. They are all dying to make your acquaintance.”
Such breathtaking insolence. Such cheek. Such bollocks. He hoped Lord Frederick liked wearing skirts. Camden took his wife by the elbows and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He had heard that he had the most courteous marriage known to man. Far be it for him to argue otherwise. “Of course. I would be delighted.”
Following her lead, her guests received him amicably, though most of them didn't quite achieve her smoothness. The handsome man from her tête-à-tête she introduced last, by which time he was standing by a tall brunette as uncommonly fine-looking as himself.
“Allow me to present Lord Tremain,” said his wife. “Camden, Lord and Lady Wrenworth.”
So this was Lord Wrenworth, The Ideal Gentleman, according to Mrs. Rowland, and Gigi's erstwhile lover.
“A pleasure, my lord,” said Lord Wrenworth, with all the creamy innocence of a man who had never cuckolded Camden.
Camden found he was almost enjoying himself. He appreciated a fine bit of farce. “Likewise. You wouldn't be the same Felix Wrenworth who authored that fascinating article on the capture of comets by Jupiter?”
This took everyone aback, especially Lady Tremaine.
“Are you an astronomy enthusiast as well, my lord?” asked Lady Wrenworth, her tone tentative.
“Most assuredly, my dear lady,” Camden answered with a smile.
His wife glanced uneasily at her former lover.
The guests, faced with the choice of either being the first to observe and gossip about the Tremaines appearing in public together or attending a ball not so different from the one they went to three days ago, forgot to leave.
Camden did not disappoint. He was a charming host. But better than that, he was candid, to a degree.
How long did he intend to stay in England?A year, at least.
How did he like his house?His house, which he liked exceedingly well, was on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. But he found his wife's house agreeable enough.
Was not Lady Tremaine looking very fine tonight?Fine was much too tame a word. He'd known Lady Tremaine since she was practically an infant, and she'd never looked anything less than spectacular.
Had he met Lord Frederick Stuart yet?Lord who?
It was past midnight—and after a few pointed reminders from his wife about their subsequent commitments—that their guests finally prepared to depart. Lord and Lady Wrenworth were the last to leave. As Lady Wrenworth exited the front door, Lord Wrenworth turned around, pulled Gigi close, and whispered something into her ear, as if her husband weren't standing only five feet away.
She laughed, a sudden swell of mirth, and literally shoved Lord Wrenworth out the door.
“Let me guess. He proposed a ménage à trois?” Camden asked lightly, as they mounted the stairs side by side.
“Felix? No. He has become a tiresome proponent of home and hearth since his marriage. In fact, he was arguing most tediously against the divorce the whole evening, before you came along.” She, too, kept up her winsome facade. “Well, if you must know, he said, ‘Shag him silly.' ”
“And are you going to take his sage advice?”
“To scrap the divorce or to shag you silly?” She chortled, her nimbus of sexual charisma unmistakable. “I'm not accepting counsel from Lord Wrenworth at this juncture, or from anyone else stupid enough to think that I should remain married to you. Frankly, I would have expected better from him. Freddie considers him a friend.”
Poor Freddie,he thought.
“Well,” she said, as they prepared to go their separate ways. “Should I expect a visit tonight?”
“Unlikely. I don't wish to upset my stomach. But do be on the lookout for them in the coming days.”
