“Yes, of course.” Sarah was delighted to join the group clustered about the two bright heads.
They were greeted with delight, then the group separated into two halves. The female half—Amanda, Countess of Dexter, her twin sister, Amelia, Viscountess Calverton, and Sarah, now Countess of Meredith—became engrossed in a discussion of children (the twins now had three each and had apparently decided to call a halt to their unintentional rivalry) then turned their attention to the upcoming Season, and the likelihood of them meeting in London shortly.
The male half—Charlie, Amanda’s husband, Martin, Earl of Dexter, and Amelia’s husband, Luc, Viscount Calverton—exchanged long-suffering glances and instituted their own conversation about matters politic. The three of them were linked in that Devil and Gyles Rawlings, Earl of Chillingworth, had acted as sponsors and mentors in steering each of them through the process of taking their seats in the Lords, and guiding them into the sometimes confusing political arena.
Politics was an aspect of life the five—Charlie, Luc, Martin, Devil, and Gyles—as peers of the realm shared, keeping abreast of the vicissitudes that shaped the country, making sure they were in London to take their seats and vote when necessary, even though none of them harbored political aspirations.
Regardless, all of them accepted they had political responsibilities; that was part and parcel of who they’d been born and raised to be.
However, as Parliament wasn’t sitting and there were no major upheavals threatening, there was little they had to discuss, unlike their ladies. But before they’d been reduced to feeling redundant, Barnaby approached from one side, while from the other, Reggie Carmarthen, a longtime friend of Amanda’s and Amelia’s, and his wife, Anne—one of Luc’s sisters—joined them, along with Penelope, Luc’s youngest sister.
Sarah greeted the newcomers with delight; thanks to Alathea’s having married into the Cynster fold, and Sarah’s family’s being invited to all the major gatherings at the Park and also at Casleigh, the Cynsters’ house, she’d met all these ladies before. While no one had guessed she would marry Charlie, now that she had, Amanda, Amelia, and all the rest were intent on embracing her and wholeheartedly welcoming her into that unfailingly warm and supportive set.
Their interest and the promise of evolving friendships added yet another layer of joy to her day.
Barnaby Adair was one gentleman she hadn’t met, but when Charlie introduced him, he smiled and charmingly complimented her. Blond, exceedingly handsome, and understatedly sophisticated, he was clearly another of this group, unrelated maybe but transparently a part of the circle.
Charlie introduced Barnaby to Penelope, the only other lady he hadn’t previously met. She regarded him seriously through her spectacles, then offered her hand. “You’re the one who investigates crimes—do I have that correctly?”
Taking her hand, Barnaby admitted that he did, but glibly turned the conversation to other, less sensational avenues. Penelope narrowed her eyes, then, retrieving her fingers, turned to Sarah and the other ladies.
As they stood in a loose group at one side of the ballroom, with the sunshine streaming over them, chatting and talking of this and that, the looming uncertainty Sarah had felt over managing Charlie’s London house and all the tonnish entertaining his position necessitated evaporated. With friends like these, she had nothing to fear.
Both Amanda and Amelia insisted she call on them for any help she might need. “We’ve been through it all,” Amanda said. “And while it’s daunting at first—”
“It’s the way our world is,” Amelia cut in, “and once you’ve survived hosting your first ton ball you can manage anything.”
The assembled ladies laughed, then Amelia and Amanda firmly collected their spouses and led them, unresisting, away.
Charlie, Reggie, and Barnaby resumed their discussion of horse flesh. Sarah turned to Anne and Penelope, neither of whom she’d spent much time with before.
Her gaze direct and fearless, Penelope met Sarah’s eyes. Unlike Luc’s other sisters—the softly feminine Anne and the eldest, Emily, and the strikingly attractive Portia—Penelope always appeared rather severe, with her thick, dark hair tightly restrained and her spectacles perched on her straight little nose. She spoke very directly, too. “Mama mentioned,” she said, “that you manage an orphanage nearby.”
Sarah smiled. “Indeed. I inherited it, you might say as a going concern, from my godmother.” Penelope’s glance was openly inquiring; Sarah glanced at Anne and found her interested, too. She briefly outlined the scale and scope of the orphanage, and their aim to give their children a future trade.
“Aha!” Penelope nodded. “That’s what I need to hear about. You see, together with Anne and Portia, and others, of course, I manage the Foundling House in London. We face much the same difficulties as here, but we’ve yet to institute any real program to help the children once they’re old enough to leave.” Penelope glanced around at the wedding guests, but refused to be deterred. “Would you mind terribly taking a moment to explain how your system works?”
“No, of course not. The orphanage is my principal interest.” Sarah paused, then amended, “Well, after my house hold.”
“I know Portia’s around here somewhere. She should hear this, too.” Stretching on her toes, Penelope scanned the room. “Can you see Simon Cynster?”
“Why?” asked Anne, looking, too. “Was he with her?”
Penelope snorted. “No, but if you find him, I’ll lay you odds he’ll be scowling at her.” When Sarah frowned in question, Penelope shrugged. “In gatherings such as this, he always does.”
At that moment, Charlie caught Sarah’s eye and raised a brow. Deciding it was, perhaps, not the wisest of moments to become engrossed in a discussion of the orphanage, Sarah turned to Anne and Penelope. “Perhaps I can introduce you to Mrs. Duncliffe, the vicar’s wife. She’s on the orphanage committee and knows even more than I about the history of our placing boys and girls in various positions.”
Penelope’s attention was immediately deflected. “Mrs. Duncliffe—which lady is she?”
Luckily, Mrs. Duncliffe was seated on a chaise not far from where they stood. Sarah led the sisters over and introduced them, then left the three ladies to share their experiences.
She returned to Charlie’s side just as the strains of another waltz floated over the room.
“Good.” He captured her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed. “I’ve missed you.”
The murmured words were just for her. They warmed her, buoyed her, and then she was in his arms, circling down the room, and for those few moments nothing else mattered.
Nothing else could gain any foothold in her mind, not when she was surrounded by his strength, not when she was whirling down the floor lost in his eyes.
Eventually, he said, “One definite benefit to being married is that we can waltz whenever we wish, as many times as we wish.”
She smiled and replied, “There’s no one I want to waltz with but you.”
His eyes widened fractionally; she got the impression she’d surprised him in some way, yet her words were the simple truth. As he searched her eyes, clearly checking, she let that fact show. Let her smile deepen.
He drew breath, then looked ahead and whirled her through the turn. They spoke no more until the music ended and they halted with a flourish in the middle of the floor.
“Who now?” she murmured.
Charlie closed his hand, tight, about hers, then forced himself to ease his grip. He had hours yet to endure before they could slip away, before he could further explore and savor that fascinating tenderness he’d glimpsed in her eyes. “This way.” He glanced at her. “I want you to meet my closest friends.”
Sarah had met Gerrard and Dillon only briefly in the church. She hadn’t met their wives, but from the instant he introduced her to Jacqueline and Pris, it was obvious to him, Dillon, and Gerrard that their only concern henceforth would be separating the three. There seemed to be an amazing range of subjects on which their ladies needed to speak and exchange opinions.
Some of those subjects, such as the balls and dinners each lady was considering giving during the upcoming Season, were topics their husbands felt it was best not to hear of; leaving their spouses avidly talking, the three edged to one side.
“Thus ends your freedom,” Dillon advised Charlie, distinctly smug. “I recall, at my nuptials, you crowing about being the last man standing.” He grinned evilly. “How did it feel to fall?”
Charlie grinned back, unrepentant. “Actually, it was rather less stressful, and distinctly more pleasurable, than I’d expected.”
Gerrard arched a brow. “So we’ve seen. Mind you, you need to understand you’re starting from well behind. We’ve both got ourselves heirs—you’ll have to hustle if you intend catching up.”
Charlie chuckled; he met Gerrard’s eye. “I’ll bear your advice in mind.”
They’d lowered their voices, yet, as one, they turned to verify that their respective ladies hadn’t heard.
All three of them stayed staring for rather longer than a glance; eventually dragging his eyes from Sarah’s animated face, Charlie noted that both Dillon’s and Gerrard’s gazes, too, were lingering on their wives’ faces.
There was a softness in both men’s normally hard gazes that he never saw except when they looked at their wives and sons.
He glanced again at Sarah, and finally understood, felt again the welling sensation of warmth, and yes, of curious softness, that blossomed inside him when he looked at her. That only deepened and intensified at the thought of seeing her with his child in her arms.
Drawing breath, he turned away, a trifle unsettled by the strength of that feeling. From Gerrard’s and Dillon’s experience, it seemed it was only to be expected…
He inwardly frowned. His situation wasn’t the same as theirs.
Before he could pursue that disturbing thought, Barnaby wandered up. He glanced at the three ladies.
“Don’t you think,” Gerrard murmured provocatively, “that it’s time you took the plunge and joined us?”
Barnaby turned from his contemplation of their spouses and smiled, charmingly glib. “I think not. My fascination, I find, lies in other spheres.”
Dillon laughed. “We all thought that—until we learned otherwise.”
Barnaby’s easy smile remained. “I suspect my ‘otherwise’ might never eventuate. I’ll be eccentric Uncle Barnaby to all your sprigs—all children should have an eccentric uncle, don’t you think?”
“Why think your ‘otherwise’ will never appear?” Charlie asked.
Barnaby met his eyes, then grimaced. “Can you honestly imagine any lady of the ton understanding what I do—how I increasingly spend my time? Would any lady countenance my commitment to criminal investigations in preference to the social round?”
The others exchanged glances, then grimaced, too.
But Gerrard shook his head. “Be that as it may, I still wouldn’t tempt fate by thinking this won’t happen to you.”
“Be that as it may,” Barnaby replied, his eyes going to Charlie’s, “this seems the perfect time to have our little meeting.”
Reminded of their prearranged plan, Charlie glanced around. “Very true.” The gathering was still absorbed; the ladies would talk for hours yet and the gentlemen had topics enough to pursue. He turned to Gerrard and Dillon. “Barnaby’s in pursuit of some rather nasty criminals and there’s a chance we can help.” He dipped his head to Dillon. “You’ve heard some of it, but Barnaby and I thought today the perfect opportunity for him to explain to the whole lot of us at once. Why don’t you two head for the library”—he glanced at Barnaby—“while we round up the others?”
Dillon’s and Gerrard’s eyes had widened; they readily nodded. With one swift glance at their ladies, confirming they were still engrossed, they strolled away across the ballroom.
Charlie met Barnaby’s eyes. “You take that side of the room—I’ll take this.”
Barnaby nodded and they parted, prowling, apparently unhurriedly, through the assembled guests.
11
When Charlie led Gabriel into the library, all the others were there.
Devil had taken the chair before the desk, leaving the one behind it for Charlie; Vane Cynster, Devil’s cousin, was lounging against the bookshelves nearby. Vane’s brother Harry, known as Demon, along with Alasdair Cynster, Gabriel’s brother and commonly known as Lucifer, had appropriated the chaise from the other end of the room, and set it before the desk.
Gyles, Earl of Chillingworth, close friend and honorary Cynster, had pulled up a chair across from Devil, while Simon Cynster, the youngest present and other than Barnaby the only one unmarried, leaned elegantly against the raised back of the chaise.
Dillon, Gerrard, and Barnaby had fetched straight-backed chairs from around the room and sat interspersed between the others, while Luc and Martin stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs propped against the bookshelves, their long legs crossed at the ankles and their hands in their pockets.
Every handsome but hard-planed masculine face bore a serious and in most cases expectant expression. Gabriel went to sit between Lucifer and Demon on the chaise. Charlie felt every eye tracking him as he moved to his chair behind the desk.
He sat, then looked around, briefly meeting every eye. “Thank you for coming. Barnaby’s on a mission and he needs our help.”