The Unlikely Lady(22)
Isabella brought her napkin to her red lips and blotted their fullness before directing her gaze to Miss Lowndes. “Mr. Upton knew my late husband during the war.”
Miss Lowndes turned her bespectacled gaze on him. “You served together, you and Mr. Langford? In Spain?”
Garrett plucked at his cravat. It was stifling in here tonight. He nodded and reached for his wine glass again. That footman had better stay alert. “Yes. I had the pleasure of serving with Captain Langford. A better soldier I’ve never known.”
Miss Lowndes narrowed her gaze on him. That was another thing about her. She had a way of looking at people, a way of studying them that made it seem as if she knew all their secrets, as if she could see through them and pick them apart one by one.
“Do you have children, Mrs. Langford?” Miss Lowndes continued, smiling a bit too sweetly at Isabella.
Isabella nodded. “I do, a boy and a girl. They are in London with their tutor and governess.”
Miss Lowndes cocked her head to the side. “Ah, one of each. How efficient.”
“I suppose so.” Isabella’s smile remained tight. “How exactly do you two know each other?” she countered, staring at Miss Lowndes and then glancing at Garrett.
A wry smile tugged at Miss Lowndes’s lips and Garrett found himself looking forward to what was certain to be a highly sarcastic answer. “Unfortunately for both of us, Upton and I have a mutual friend in the Duchess of Claringdon.”
Isabella’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately?”
“Yes. It is unfortunate because we often cannot stand to be in the same room with each other. I think Cass is punishing us by seating us near each other tonight.”
Owen Monroe stifled a chuckle.
“However,” Jane continued, “if I hadn’t got this seat, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to speak with you, Mrs. Langford, and what a pity that would have been.”
Isabella smiled and nodded and returned her attention to her soup. “You’re too kind.”
“I’m not kind at all,” Miss Lowndes replied, making Garrett wince. “I’m quite fascinated to learn how you’ve managed a friendship with Upton.”
Isabella narrowed her eyes on Miss Lowndes. “I find Mr. Upton’s company quite charming.”
“‘Charming’? I suppose that’s one word for it. Forgive me, but are you quite certain you know what ‘charming’ means, Mrs. Langford?”
Owen Monroe’s bark of laughter caught the attention of many of the other guests.
Garrett grabbed his wine glass, nearly sloshing the red liquid over his sleeve. He took another deep drink. God help him. This night was already too long by half.
* * *
After their drinks, the gentlemen met the ladies in the drawing room. When Garrett entered, he scanned about, appraising the situation. Thankfully, Isabella was caught up in conversation with Cassandra and Lucy on one end of the long room. Garrett made his way in the opposite direction. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Isabella had said to him at dinner, that she’d wanted to see him. Any man would be flattered to have a woman like her flirting with him, but she was also Harold’s wife. Harold. His friend. His dead friend. There was no possible way Garrett could have any sort of a relationship with Harold’s wife. It would be a betrayal of his friend all over again. He’d done wrong by Harold once, he wouldn’t cuckold him—or whatever the equivalent of cuckolding was once a husband was dead.
By the time Garrett looked up to see who was sitting in the corner, it was too late. Miss Lowndes was perched on a bench in front of a small card table. Blast. How had this happened? He’d barely escaped her barbs at dinner unscathed and here she was again. Thankfully, she appeared invested in her game of solitaire as if trying to beat an actual opponent. It was so like Miss Lowndes to be competitive with herself. But even Miss Lowndes’s company was preferable to another awkward encounter with Isabella.
“Miss me so soon, Upton?” Miss Lowndes raised her nose in the air in that way she did. Ah, so she had noticed his approach. She did not, however, remove her gaze from the cards in front of her.
He sighed. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know that Lord and Lady Moreland have a vast library. It’s just down the corridor. Surely you would be more comfortable there.”
She was usually to be found in the libraries of all houses. She excused herself early and often from all polite conversation and social nicety and went in search of the library. When she wasn’t in a library, she had a book in front of her head and her spectacles perched on her face in the insouciant way they were perched at present. What would she do if he reached over and plucked them from her little bluestocking nose?