Lady Brookmire’s clear voice broke through the conversation and Constance’s heart leaped in surprise just as Lord Timpson coughed harshly, uncomfortably shuffling his feet.
“Your third?” Lord Hayman twisted his head around from Lady Brookmire to Lord Timpson, one hand lifting upwards in a questioning gesture. “I thought you told me your wife died.”
“She did.” Lord Timpson coughed again, then looked down at the floor. “Myfirstwife, yes. The second, however… I was required to divorce her.”
The audible gasp which came from Lord Hayman made Constance break into a smile. She had no doubt that Lord Timpson was considered no longer suitable for her. Divorce was thought of as the most improper thing, and Lord Hayman would not want his daughter, nor his name, connected with a divorced gentleman.
“Father, Lady Yardley has arrived. Might I be permitted to go and speak with her?”
There was a brief silence whilst it took Lord Hayman some moments to look at her, for he was far too busy glaring at Lord Timpson.
“Yes. Go.”
Not needing any more encouragement, Constance hurried away, Lady Brookmire still beside her.
“Oh, my dear friend. I am so very grateful to you!”
“Not in the least.” Lady Brookmire chuckled quietly, throwing one glance over her shoulder. “It is very helpful when one is already aware of certain gentlemen. My husband has spoken to me of Lord Timpson before, for there were some business dealings which went awry also. Lord Timpson will have told your father that his wife died, certainly, but he surely will not have said anything about hissecondwife, simply because of the shame divorce brings. Divorce is not something any gentleman wishes to have attached to his name.”
“All the same, I am very relieved and grateful to you for speaking so.” With a sigh of contentment, she straightened her shoulders and stood tall. “Let us hope that something similar might be done with whoever my father decides to push toward me next!”
Lady Brookmire laughed softly.
“You never know, you may find yourself enamored of the next gentleman,” she teased as Constance shook her head. “He may turn out to be the very best of gentlemen, after all!”
Chapter Seven
The lingering pain in his head did not encourage Adam’s heart to free itself from the doldrums into which it had sunk. He scowled and grimaced as he muttered through his various letters and invitations. It was not as though he were not pleased to be invited to such things, only that his headache had made him irritable and cross. With a sigh, he continued to write various acceptance letters or send his regrets. The very last invitation he looked at, however, made him pause. It was an invitation from Lord and Lady Hayman. The name seemed to bring something to mind, and while he struggled to recall it, he studied the invitation a little more. It was to be an evening ball at their townhouse, in celebration of their daughter’s coming out.
It was then that recognition came. Miss Millington was, of course, the young lady he had spoken with a little over a sennight ago, and with whom he had danced some two days ago at a magnificent ball. That was when he had found himself in better spirits before news of Lady Margaret’s betrothal and her mother’s gossip had reached him. Since that time, this dark, muted mood had settled upon him and had not left him, even after a night of rest. Perhaps a ball at Lord and Lady Hayman’s, alongside Miss Millington, would bring a little lightness back to him. After all, from what he recalled, she was a very charming young lady, and he had been delighted with her company. They had danced together and had enjoyed excellent conversation – and he had found himself admiring the red shimmer to her hair and the gold in her hazel eyes. They had not shared anything in depth, of course, but he had enjoyed her company regardless.
Perhaps this evening would be a pleasant one, so long as no one asked him about Lady Margaret!
It was with lifted spirits and a sudden lessening of the pain in his head that Adam wrote his reply. Yes, he stated, he would be very pleased to join them and was grateful for the invitation. His correspondence thus completed, he was about to rise and ring the bell, only for the butler to tap at the door.
“Lord Campbell, my Lord.”
Adam blinked but nodded, directing the butler to the stack of letters just as Lord Campbell stalked inside. His friend was frowning heavily, looking from one place to the next, his eyes downcast and seeming entirely disconcerted over some matter. It was most unlike Lord Campbell to be at all displeased about anything, for his manner was usually very jovial and good-humored, so to see him now, his brows knitted together in such a fashion, was a little worrying.
“Campbell.” Adam gestured for him to sit down, but his friend shook his head, continuing to pace about the room. “Something has troubled you.” The memory of how he had spoken to his friends the previous evening slammed down upon him and guilt had him looking away. “I must tell you how sorry I am for my manner last evening. I can only apologize for my sharp tongue and dark mood.”
Lord Campbell shook his head, then sighed.
“You were a little irritable last evening.”
“I allowed my frustrations to push into my heart,” Adam admitted openly. “And yes, I was in a very dull frame of mind. I am sorry for speaking so harshly.”
With a nod, Lord Campbell opened his mouth, but then closed it again, continuing to walk up and down the room as Adam watched him with careful eyes. Whatever was troubling Lord Campbell, it seemed to be very serious indeed.
Eventually, Lord Campbell spoke.
“I have been informed this morning that Lord Westerton has returned to London.”
Adam’s eyebrows lifted high, his heart thundering in his chest. For, the previous Season, Lord Westerton and Lord Campbell had been at odds with each other, and Lord Westerton had behaved in a most inappropriate manner and had treated Lord Campbell very poorly indeed.
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Lord Campbell closed his eyes, his jaw pushing forward as he curled one hand into a tight fist, his knuckles white as he came to a standstill.
