the sound of the laugh. “Now there is a woman who could tell you how to understand Tristan.”
“Is she his – mistress?” Marguerite had to force the word out.
“All of London thinks so, or at least that she was. She’s rumored to be about on her own again.”
“Oh.” Marguerite did not know what else to say.
“All of London is wrong about the relationship, however.” Felicity spoke with quiet authority.
“They are?” Marguerite could not contain the note of elation that colored her reply.
“Yes. Violet, Lady Carrington, was for a long time engaged in a – shall we say – relationship with Tristan’s dearest friend. They may have parted on comfortable terms, but Tristan would still have regarded it as poaching to become involved with her. There are some things a mother does know about her son. Rather, I think, he enjoyed her company and she his. It might very well have suited them to sit and play chess late into the night, while those about them made their assumptions.
“Assumptions are easily made and hard to change.” A bitter note entered Felicity’s voice as she said this last. Marguerite was not sure she was speaking about Lady Carrington any longer.
“She is so beautiful.” Marguerite’s gaze was still fastened on Lady Carrington, who was batting at the hands of the young man who sat beside her and held the reins of the curricle. “I wager she never needed to be taught she was alive.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.”
“Tristan is always saying that to me. I wonder sometimes if I just do not make sense.”
Felicity nodded with sympathy. “My husband was always saying the same to me. No matter how they might love us, men simply lack the capacity for understanding how we think.”
“But, it is preposterous to even think that Tristan loves me. That has never been the issue. And it was you who said you did not understand me.”
Felicity turned and stared back at Violet Carrington. “I am afraid you are going to think I am the one who lacks sense.” She took Marguerite firmly by the arm and strode off towards the curricle. “You need to meet her. If anyone can answer your questions about men, and your husband in particular, it’s Violet.”
“But – but-” Marguerite tried to plant her feet firm. “Isn’t it most improper? I did not think she was respectable. I do not see why –“
“Well, she’s not unrespectable either. She’s never actually stepped beyond the pale. She may hover at the borders and probably lacks for invitations to tea, but there are very few who would turn her from their doors. And as for being improper – I believe the word I would use is unusual. Still, I think she’s just who you need.” The last was said in an undertone as they stopped beside the carriage. “Violet, I thought that was you. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken. You’re doing well, I trust.” Felicity clearly did not lack for shyness.
Lady Carrington looked momentarily taken aback at the intrusion, her eyes growing wide as she saw Marguerite, then her gaze turned considering. She studied Marguerite from the soles of her shoes to the top of her upswept curls. “You do know how to create an interesting situation, Felicity. I’d always thought that was my function in society.” She turned and patted the leg of the gentleman beside her. “Let me introduce, Bickles, he’s Gatfield’s heir.”
The lad, now that Marguerite was this close it was clear that he was no older than she, turned almost purple with either embarrassment or pleasure, it was impossible to determine which. He stammered his greetings and then sat still, his eyes following every move that Lady Carrington made.
Felicity nodded as the introductions were completed. Then came a moment of awkward silence. Marguerite fought the urge to withdraw. She was not sure that Felicity’s plan of talking to Lady Carrington was decent or sound – and even worse, she was not convinced that there was nothing but friendship between Lady Carrington and her husband – but she had to admit there was no better source of information.
Realizing the moment was passing by, Felicity sprang into action. “Violet, I thought perhaps Marguerite, the new Lady Wimberley, and I would call tomorrow. Will you be home to us?”
Marguerite was shocked by the directness of Felicity’s approach. She admitted to a certain admiration as well.
Lady Carrington, however, took it all in stride. “May I ask the purpose of the visit? Or is it some