The Gift of Love (The Book of Love #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,53

indication he is interested in you, Heather?” Holly had asked the question, bringing Dahlia’s thoughts back to her sisters.

“I think so. Nothing obvious yet. But he sought a dance with me last night and asked if I played whist and would partner him once they set up the card tables at Lord Fielding’s party.”

Dahlia smiled at her sister. “Oh, Heather. That is exciting. I shall discreetly inspect him and give you my opinion...that is, if you’d like my opinion. I’m hardly a good judge of character.”

Heather frowned. “Of course I do. Stop kicking yourself for Gerald’s deceit. He had all of us fooled.”

The rest of the day passed swiftly for Dahlia.

Before long, she and Heather were climbing into the carriage with her aunt and uncle. Shortly afterward, they were on the receiving line, waiting to meet Lord Fielding and his wife as they stood by the grand staircase of their elegant home. The light of a thousand tapers guided their way, casting a magical glow about their home. “It feels as though we are entering a fairy kingdom,” Heather whispered.

Dahlia nodded, wishing Ronan could be by her side.

Lady Fielding was a formidable woman who wielded quite a bit of power among the ton. Dahlia was surprised by the warmth of the greeting she received from her and Lord Fielding. “It is a pleasure to be here. Your house is exceptionally lovely.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Farthingale. That’s quite a compliment coming from you. The Duke of Stoke tells me you are very talented in matters of design.”

She shook her head and laughed. “He exaggerates. But I am delighted to have won him over.”

“He was raving about your talent,” her husband said. “I hear you are going to help his daughter redecorate their home.”

She was?

“It’s just an idea tossed around at the moment.” She wasn’t certain how much to say about it. Dear heaven, she and Lady Melinda had never even spoken.

Lady Fielding’s eyes were gleaming. “Well, I have been bothering Lord Fielding for years now about his study. It is old and ugly, but he claims it is comfortable.”

“It is comfortable,” he insisted in good nature.

“It is old, just as we are,” said his wife, gently berating him.

“You, my dear? Why you are as youthful and lovely as the day I met you.”

Dahlia sighed. “Beautifully said, my lord. Well, I shall be happy to offer my suggestions whenever you are ready.”

She and Heather moved on to the parlor since they’d noticed one of their Chipping Way neighbors, the kindly dowager countess, Lady Eloise Dayne, seated there. She was in a corner with one of her elderly friends, Lady Withnall, the two of them settled in the most comfortable chairs in the room.

While Aunt Sophie and Uncle John were once again accosted by friends to slow their progress and distract their attention, she and Heather skittered over to the dowagers. “Good evening, Lady Dayne. Lady Withnall.”

Lady Dayne smiled at them. “Dahlia. Heather. How lovely you girls look.” She motioned to a footman to bring over chairs for them. “Do join us. How are you, Dahlia?”

She blushed. “Much better than a few days ago.”

“I should think so,” her diminutive companion intoned. “That toad, Wainscott, is never to be trusted. Lady Alexandra’s father is just catching on to this fact. Their betrothal will not hold, mark my words.”

“It won’t?” She leaned closer, eager to learn more. Dahlia had heard Lady Withnall was a gossip feared by all. But she and Heather had nothing to hide, and therefore, nothing to fear from her. “Truly? What has happened?”

“Wainscott has already been caught with another young lady, a duke’s daughter this time. I shall not name her, of course. Discretion forbids it.”

Dahlia refrained from rolling her eyes. This woman was dishing out the juiciest gossip most indiscreetly, and now she was worried about naming names? Someone would soon figure out who his new victim was, and she would become the object of whispers. Dahlia actually felt sorry for Lady Alexandra.

But a duke’s daughter? She worried that Lady Melinda, the Duke of Stoke’s daughter, was his latest victim.

No, Stoke would not be here tonight if that were the case. She’d noticed him standing near the entry doors as they’d walked in. He had been engaged in conversation with others and not looked up when she and Heather had been announced.

“Poor Alexandra,” Dahlia said, more to herself. Even though the girl had not shown much remorse or compassion to her, she did not find any satisfaction in her being