* * *
Ralph could not take his seat in the House of Lords before he received a Writ of Summons from the Lord Chancellor’s office. It had not come yet. He was to attend one of the formal levees at court next week. George, Duke of Stanbrook, had arranged it and had agreed to accompany him. In the meantime, Ralph carried on with his life much as he had before the death of his grandfather, grateful that he was not expected to accompany his wife either to Bond Street or on the round of visits his mother had planned for the afternoon.
He was looking through the morning papers in the reading room at White’s Club when his father-in-law stepped into the room. Sir Kevin Muirhead looked about him until his eyes alit on Ralph, and then came toward him with purposeful strides. Ralph stood and they shook hands.
“Your butler thought you had come here,” Sir Kevin said, his voice hushed so as not to disturb the other readers. “I am glad he was right. I need to have a word with you.”
“Perhaps you would care for some luncheon, sir.” Ralph gestured toward the dining room.
“Graham is busy with parish work,” Sir Kevin explained when they were seated. “And Lucy is walking in the park with a lady friend of hers and their children and nurses. Nelson is deeply immersed in the writing of one of his plays, or rather in sawing the air with one arm while he proclaims each speech before he writes it. He is ever hopeful of penning the masterpiece that will immortalize him. Julia has gone shopping with Chloe, and Easterly is at the House for what he considers an important debate. You were the only one left to keep me company, Worthingham.”
“It is my pleasure, sir,” Ralph said as a waiter arrived to take their order.
“Hitching is in town,” Sir Kevin said abruptly when they were alone again, “with his whole family. They came a day or two ago.”
“Yes,” Ralph said. “Lady Angela Allandale was at the theater last evening.”
“And you . . . ?” His father-in-law looked appalled.
“We were there too,” Ralph said. “There was no unpleasantness. Chloe behaved with great fortitude. So, I suppose, did the other lady. They did not come face to face.”
Sir Kevin closed his eyes briefly and exhaled audibly.
“I once informed Hitching,” he said, “that he might retire to his estates in the north of England and live out his life there with my blessing, but that if he should ever dare show his face in London again, he could expect me to rearrange the features on it. Or words to that effect. I was young and foolish enough to believe that he would heed the warning and live forever after in fear and trembling of my wrath.”
He had to pause while the waiter set their food before them.
“That was twenty-eight years ago,” Muirhead continued, frowning down at his plate as if in disbelief that he could have ordered such a hearty feast. “If he was ever afraid of me, clearly he is afraid no longer. Though I daresay he never was. Now he is here with his wife and daughter and one of his sons.”
“It was all a long time ago,” Ralph said. “There may be no need of any unpleasantness, sir. We are to host a ball at Stockwood House. My secretary presented us with a list of prospective guests this morning, and Chloe insisted that Hitching and his whole family be included on it. She seems determined to prove to everyone that last year’s gossip was so much nonsense.”
His father-in-law had eaten only one mouthful of his roast beef. He set his knife and fork down across his plate with something of a clatter. He closed his eyes and rubbed two fingers up over his forehead from a point between his eyebrows. Ralph held his peace, and the silence between them stretched for what seemed a long time. There was a hum of conversation from the tables around them.
“I suppose,” Muirhead said at last, lowering his hand and looking across the table at Ralph, “she ought to know the truth. Do you think?”
“I answered that question at Manville, sir,” Ralph reminded him.
“Does she know, I wonder?” Muirhead said. “Hitching’s daughter, I mean? Has he ever told her? Or his wife? It has not occurred to me until this moment that they too must have been affected by the gossip last year. Yet they have returned this year.”
Sir Kevin was still not eating. He was rubbing his temples with a thumb and middle finger as though he had a headache.
“Perhaps, sir,” Ralph said, “you would care to come for dinner this evening. Bring Graham too. I am sure Chloe would be delighted.”
Muirhead lowered his hand and looked steadily at him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I think that would be best.”
“I think it would,” Ralph agreed, and hoped he spoke the truth.
Sometimes sleeping dogs were best left lying. And sometimes not. How was one to know which choice was better in a certain situation? And, unbidden, a memory returned from last night.
You must face them, then. You must call on them, Chloe had said, referring to Viscount Harding and his wife. And, when he had said he would not, You are content, then, to live out the rest of your life in hell?
* * *
Chloe was feeling tired when she arrived home late in the afternoon. The shopping trip had gone well. Her aunt had both a good eye for color and design and a knowledge of what was fashionable and would suit her niece. Chloe had her opinions too, most of which coincided with her aunt’s. Most of the clothes she ordered for all occasions were in muted shades of her favorite greens, browns, and creams. The gown that was to be made for the ball at Stockwood House, however, was emerald green. Grandmama would be pleased.