Page 136 of The Lyon Whisperer
“But who is the man?” Amelia asked.
The two women shook their heads in evident bemusement.
Lord Culver, the elder, sidled over. “You just missed Lady Frommer, dear. She paid us a visit, hoping to speak with you then cajoled your husband into leading her out on the dance floor. Expect they’ll return at the dance’s conclusion.”
“She wishes to speak with me? Did she say what about?”
In answer, the viscount spread his arms wide. “Say, Lady Culver and I are a bit peckish. Thinking to venture to the supper room. Anyone care to join us?”
“Thank you, but I’ll wait,” Amelia replied. Chase would probably wish to escort her to supper. In the meantime, she would take the opportunity to pay the ladies’ retiring room a much needed visit.
Amelia turned downthe quiet corridor leading to the ladies’ retiring room.
In the interest of time, she visited the one nearest the back of the ballroom, away from the supper and card rooms. She had hoped to find fewer guests queued up in the less traveled part of the packed house. By the look of things, she had chosen well.
The soft, brisk footfalls of another moving down the corridor sounded behind her.
“Lady Culver? Is that you?” a woman called.
Amelia slowed her pace to glance over her shoulder.
Lady Millicent Tully, wearing a dazzling, crystal-embellished gown of deep plum, hastened toward her, a smile curving her lips.
“Good evening, Lady Tully.”
She started to turn, intending to keep moving toward the retiring room.
“I wonder if you might have a few moments to spare to speak with me on an important matter.”
Amelia hesitated. She could not imagine anything this virtual stranger might have to discuss with her, other than her husband. That alone disinclined her to speak with the woman. But she could hardly refuse, and she had always had a too-curious nature.
She waited for the countess to reach her side. Once there, the woman grasped her forearm and gave an urgent little squeeze. “Thank you. I believe I have information you will want to hear.”
“Information? For me? What is it?”
“Not here. I know a private garden where we can speak freely.”
Chase found Tullyexactly where he expected to find him—lounging about on a swinging bench on the terrace, a disheveled Lady Stanton at his side, and a bottle of port in easy reach.
Chase stepped outside, clasping his hands behind his back. “Tully.”
The earl squinted up at him, his mouth gaping as if he could not quite believe his eyes. “Culver? Is that you?”
“Last time I checked.”
He sprang to his feet, sending the bench into motion.
Lady Stanton grasped the chain and erupted with giggles.
“What the devil do you want?” He faced Chase, expression simultaneously stony and wary. “I haven’t laid eyes on your wife tonight, other than to pass her on the dance floor.”
Chase inclined his head toward the young woman. “Best if we speak alone. Do you prefer to walk, or send your young friend inside to find her husband?”
“Neither,” he sneered. But he snapped his fingers at Lady Stanton and pointed inside the mansion.
Her revelry abruptly ceased. Her feet skittered on the stone floor, to halt the swing. She rose onto wobbly legs and, looking slightly miffed, disappeared through the open doors.
“Thank you. I admit I was growing bored with the empty-headed chit.”
