Colin gave a low whistle, which earned him a glower.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping,” James said, “but that does seem unusually negligent of you.”
Grayson sighed. “Juliana is meant to have her coming out next year. Her governess had a plan which involved an endless amount of lessons in etiquette, conversational skills, dancing, and so on. I believed I’d get in the way, so I chose to stay in Town a bit longer than usual.”
James studied his friend for a moment before deciding to be completely frank. “You are all she has left, Grayson, and she is a child, stuck in a great big manor with only servants for company. I believe she’ll be happy to see you.”
“I’ve no idea what to say to a sixteen-year-old girl,” Grayson grumbled. “It was easier when she was younger and I could bring her a doll or buy her a pony. Now she’s at that awkward stage between child and woman. It’s perplexing.”
Which was no doubt the real reason Grayson had stayed away, because he wasn’t sure how to deal with Juliana any longer. The balance in their relationship would have shifted as she grew older, and she would most likely be less inclined to heed him. Michael had gone through a similar phase, arguing with James at every available turn and refusing to follow James’s advice for the sole purpose of being contrary. James was glad those days were over and did not envy Grayson having to endure it now, least of all with a girl.
“I’m sure her interests aren’t much different from those held by women.” Colin saluted his friend with his glass. “The latest fashion and London gossip ought to make excellent topics.”
“As you are the only one among us who has zero experience with children, I’m not sure you should be the first to offer advice,” James said. He shifted his gaze to Grayson. “Do not share any gossip with her. Most of it will be unsuitable for her young ears, and the rest will just make her stupid. Instead, I would suggest you try and get to know the young woman she’s growing into. Find out what her new interests are and cater to those.”
“I’ll think on it,” Grayson muttered.
“You’re not entirely correct,” Colin said.
“About what?” James asked.
Colin raised an arrogant brow. “I do have some experience with children. Isabella Bankroft has two.”
James groaned. Isabella Bankroft was Colin’s latest mistress. “I’m not sure that signifies, unless you’ve actually met them.”
“I can’t say I have, but she speaks of them a great deal.”
“That doesn’t count,” James and Grayson told him at the same time. Both men chuckled while Colin merely shrugged.
“Will you break things off with her when you return to Woodstone Park?” Grayson asked. Colin, being the enterprising landowner he was, had promised his steward he would be back next week to help oversee the planting of this year’s crops.
“Why?” Colin asked with a sly smirk. “You interested?”
“God no,” Grayson said. “I’ve enough to worry about right now.”
“Have you heard the latest news?” someone across the room asked in a loud voice, distracting James from the conversation.
He instinctively turned to see who had spoken. A young man, whom James immediately recognized as the Earl of Everton, addressed a group of men who sat around a nearby table playing cards. Among them, James spied the Duke of Cloverfield, one of Viscount Rockburn’s youngest sons whose name James could not recall, and two others with whom he was not acquainted.
Since it was rude to stare, James returned his attention to his own friends. It was getting late in the day and he still had work left to do at home. The case he currently worked on was due for review with his client in the morning. He prepared to take his leave, but Everton’s next words stopped him.
“She’s free, my dear fellows. The divorce is final.”
There could be no doubt as to whom he referred.
“Is that so?” Cloverfield drawled with alarming amounts of interest dripping from each word he uttered. He sounded much like a fox licking his chops while approaching a wounded rabbit. “Considering all she’s been through, I’m sure Mrs. Hewitt would welcome the comfort I’m willing to give her.”
James shuddered and noted the concern on both his friends’ faces. They did not like the tone with which these young men spoke either. Even if the woman to whom they referred was something of a harlot.
“She goes by Mrs. Lawson now,” Everton said.
“How come?” someone who wasn’t Cloverfield asked.
“Lawson must be her maiden name,” Everton said in a pensive manner. “As a divorced woman, she may have chosen to revert to it.”
“It will certainly avoid the embarrassment of having two Mrs. Hewitts later on, should Mr. Hewitt choose to re-marry,” Cloverfield said with a chuckle.
“I’m sure the poor man wants to distance himself from his cuckolding wife as much as possible,” Everton added.
“I propose a bet,” one of the other men said with gusto. “Twenty pounds to the first man who secures her as his mistress.”
James gripped his armrest with one hand and squeezed his glass between the fingers of his other. A pause followed, and then someone else remarked, “Is she not a bit old for such sport?”
Even Colin, who chased skirts with the best of them, edged forward in his seat, his posture tense.
“There are many benefits to bedding a more mature woman.” James did not need to look in order to know it was Cloverfield who spoke, his voice dripping with predatory delight. “For one thing, she will have a wealth of experience, and for another, she will be less likely to get herself with child, which means—”
“One would be free to enjoy her without the need of French letters,” Everton said.
“Exactly so,” Cloverfield said while heat began to gather at the base of James’s skull. “With Mrs. Lawson’s situation taken into account, I daresay she can even be convinced to engage in more salacious acts than most, as long as she thinks you can help her regain her social standing. Considering her beauty and that gorgeously curved figure of hers, bedding her would certainly not be a hardship for me. I propose one hundred pounds to the man who becomes her next lover.”
Disgusted by the casual disregard for common decency this group of young men conveyed, it took every ounce of restraint James possessed not to leap to Mrs. Lawson’s defense and deliver a scolding. Jaw tight, he looked at his friends whose expressions were grim. Both gave their heads a swift shake to warn him off. He had to refrain. The woman whose name was now being bandied so loosely about had fallen from grace. It wasn’t his place to protect her and if he tried, he would most surely regret it.
Indeed, the only way to associate with Mrs. Lawson from now on and not have one’s own reputation tarnished by association was by turning her into the very creature Cloverfield had just described – a woman so desperate she would do anything for a small handout.
Unwilling to hear more of such plans, James downed the remainder of his drink and stood. “Forgive me, but I must be off. Perhaps we can meet for dinner before you leave Town?”
They agreed on a day, time, and location before James strode away. He cast one final look of repulsion at Cloverfield and his companions before he escaped to the cool evening air outside. It was a good twenty minute walk to his townhouse on Portman Square. Most members of the upper class would take a carriage, especially at this hour when it was starting to get dark. James, however, preferred the exercise. Lord knew he got little enough as it was with most of his days spent at his desk poring over legal documents and compiling defense strategies for court battles.