Asher ripped his attention from Guinevere to the lady before him. Guilt needled him that he was, in fact,notdevastated, nor had he ever been when Elizabeth had passed four and a half years ago. Saddened, yes, that her life never had been what she wished, for their inability to make each other happy, for his foolishness that had thrown them together. As for his father, Asher was regretful that he had never truly known him. Then again, the more Pierce revealed, the more Asher wondered if he would have liked their father. Though, Asher was only getting Pierce’s view, which was no doubt tainted.
“Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice suitably neutral.
Lady Lilias studied him with lowered lashes, but nevertheless, he could tell that she was scrutinizing him. What was the lady hoping to discover? If he had made amends with his father? If he had loved his wife? Had Guinevere sent Lady Lilias to discover something?
The errant thought irritated him. Lady Constantine’s fanciful imaginings that Guinevere had—what had been the woman’s words?—a passion. Yes, that was it. Lady Constantine had said that Guinevere had a passion for him. As in shemorethan desired him. He thought not, however, or she would never have betrayed him before. She desired him as he did her. Nothing more.
“I’ve heard rumor that you are taking up residence in London. Is that permanent?” Lady Lilias asked.
“I imagine I’ll move between my London home, my country home, and Scotland,” he said, his gaze landing once again by Guinevere. She was laughing, her head thrown back, as only Guinevere could do. There was no polite tittering for her. She had a rich, full laugh.
Lady Lilias cleared her throat, and he dragged his attention back to her. Her gaze was riveted on his face. Was she watching him watch Guinevere?
“Her laugh embarrasses her mother,” Lady Lilias said in a low, matter-of-fact tone. Indeed, the woman had been watching him watch Guinevere.
“It is her mother who should be embarrassed to try to change that which is perfect,” he replied. Best to lay the foundation for winning over Guinevere’s best friend if he was going to get Guinevere’s consent to wed him. Of course, it was true that her laugh was perfect and her mother was a fool, so he had stated true facts, not flowery words spouted by a man in danger of falling again.
“That’s what I think, as well, Your Grace. It is my fondest hope, as her dearest friend, that she makes a match this Season with a man who will appreciate all the things about her that make her unique.”
“Ye are a good friend to have such hopes for her.” He searched Lady Lilias’s face for a sign of what she was after from him.
“What do you think of Kilgore?” she asked, darting her gaze past Asher for a moment. He did not have to look to know she had glanced at Guinevere and Kilgore.
“I do not believe he can be reformed,” Asher said, recalling her words from the other side of the door last week. It seemed to be another indicator that Guinevere wanted to reform Kilgore, but maybe he had misinterpreted it as Lady Constantine had suggested.
Lady Lilias’s eyes widened. “I see. Do you like the pianoforte, Your Grace?”
“Nay.”
“What of embroidery?”
She shot the question at him like an expert marksman. He studied her with newfound respect. The woman was slight in stature but full of confidence. He could only imagine the trouble in which she and Guinevere must embroil themselves.
“What is your position on women who don’t embroider?” she asked.
“I would say they are smarter than most. Seems a devil of a boring way to spend one’s time.” He winced, realizing she might well embroider. “Ye do not happen to embroider, do ye?”
She grinned. “I do actually. It calms me.”
“I beg yer pardon,” he replied, his impatience with the conversation rising. He didn’t see how this was a mission to uncover information for Guinevere.
“Do you know Guinevere does not embroider? She finds it tedious.”
“Is that so?” Women were so damned confusing. What were Lady Lilias’s intentions here?
She nodded. “It is. She also detests the pianoforte. She’s a horrid player, to the bane of her mother.”
“Her mother has always been a fool,” he replied, not meaning to have spoken so carelessly, but he could not retract the statement now. It would call more attention to it.
Lady Lilias blinked with feigned innocence. “I will defer to your opinion, Your Grace, as a man.”
He nodded at that, though he wanted to laugh. They were playing a game now, and it was one that thetonlived their lives by. Never say plainly what one thinks.It was utter shite, but he was here to play by the rules until he got what he wanted, and the rules demanded a dance around the truth instead of plain, practical speech.
“I have heard it said that most men require their wives to be accomplished in pianoforte and embroidery. Tell me—” she tilted her head “—do you think that’s true?”
“I think most men in yer set are dull wits, so it could well be true.”
The lady smirked. “Your Grace, I beg pardon, but are you not now in myset?”