“Yes…” came the reluctant response.
“Then shut up and wear the damned thing.”
Graham watched their exchange from a nearby table at the club, his own drink in hand. He hadn’t intended to interact with any of Lady Edith’s friends and associates today, having spent far too much time with the lot of them lately, but their paths did seem to cross inordinately frequently. And he was sitting alone for the present, Tyrone clearly having forgotten the time or the location of their meeting this afternoon.
No matter. His friend would likely have a decent enough excuse, and it wasn’t as though Graham had pressing engagements today.
He wished he did; a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking had never been one he wished for himself. The country was far more his taste. No one minded there if he worked alongside his tenants or just for the sake of it. No one cared if he didn’t dress finely or ride his horse across the lands for hours on end. No one expected him to be on display or to be aimlessly social.
Merrifield was his responsibility and where all his energies ought to be focused. Had he gained just Merrifield with his brother’s death, he would have had no reason to leave it. But the title required more from him, so here he was, sitting alone at a table in London.
Marvelous.
“Care for some company, Radcliffe?”
Graham glanced up to see Lieutenant Henshaw pausing at his table, his eyes fixed on him. “Wasn’t looking for any in particular, but I won’t refuse some if it’s offered.”
Henshaw raised a brow at him. “Which is a long-winded way to say that you wouldn’t mind it. Hell’s hounds, man, why not just say so? Come on.” He clapped Graham on the back and gestured for him to follow.
Barely restraining a face, Graham pushed himself up and did so, nodding at Sterling and Vale as he joined them. “Gentlemen.”
“Radcliffe.” Vale nodded in return and indicated Sterling. “You know Captain Sterling?”
“I do,” Graham acknowledged. “How are you, Captain?”
Tony Sterling made a face and yet again flicked his cravat. “Dressed like a peacock but surviving nonetheless.” He rolled his eyes. “And for pity’s sake, call me Sterling. Or Tony. My commission is a mere formality at this point.”
“Oh, disregarding formality, are we?” announced Lord Ingram as he approached the table. “Excellent, that is my favorite thing.” He took an open seat and sat inelegantly, looking just as at home here as he did in his own residence, somehow. “First time anybody says ‘my lord’ to me, I’ll put my fist to his jaw.”
“That’s harsh,” Vale said with a smirk. “Show some respect, and you get a bruise? You’re clearly spending too much time with me.”
Ingram nodded and took a tankard from a nearby servant, then clinked it against Vale’s. “Woe is me. I feel so poorly influenced.” He craned his neck from side to side and gave Tony a wry look. “Your cousin is part of the Spinsters contingent. Are we to expect him today?”
Graham frowned, looking between the men in confusion. Whose cousin? What spinsters? It would do him no good to sit and listen to conversations he could not follow or understand.
“No, Hugh is still mending fences with Francis and Alice, though we’ve told him time and again it’s all forgotten.” Tony widened his eyes in exasperation, but smiled, then caught Graham’s abject confusion. “We’ve lost you, haven’t we, Radcliffe?”
“From the beginning,” Graham admitted without shame. “Apologies.”
Ingram snorted a laugh. “Don’t apologize, Radcliffe. We practically speak our own language, and it’s devilishly hard to follow.” He pointed at Tony. “His cousin, once a villain and now less so than Cam here, married the hoyden of the Spinsters, Elinor Asheley, and now is one of our little husbands’ club. Though he has yet to attend a gathering with us.”
“Husbands’ club? How quaint.” Graham shook his head with a soft laugh.
“It’s adorable, isn’t it?” Henshaw agreed, grunting from his seat. “They moan and complain about their wives, then go home and live in incomparable bliss, and I get to hear all about it.” He patted Graham’s arm once. “Glad to have you here to endure it with me.”
Graham gave him a sardonic look. “Charmed.” He returned his attention to the others. “And the spinsters you speak of?”
“Oh, not another one,” Cam moaned. “Must we always do this?”
“Do what?” Graham asked, looking around. “What have I missed?”
“Unfortunately, the truth doesn’t make all that much sense now,” Cam admitted, his face screwing up. “There aren’t many actual spinsters left in the Spinsters.”
Tony shook his head in agreement. “Not really, no. Just Charlotte. Well, and Edith.”
Graham’s interest was piqued at this. “Edith?” he repeated before he could stop himself. “What’s she got to do with spinsters?”
“Don’t ask, Radcliffe,” Henshaw warned with a shake of his head. “Don’t…”
“Ever read the Spinster Chronicles, Radcliffe?” Cam asked as he rubbed his hands together, almost eagerly.
Graham flicked a quick gesture with his fingers. “Only recently, and not extensively.”
Cam mimicked his gesture a bit more grandly to encompass the table. “We are the fortunate husbands of the writers. Well, not Henshaw, he’s that irritating younger brother no one quite knows what to do with.”
“Speak for yourself,” Henshaw grunted, then sipped his drink.
“But the rest of us,” Cam went on smoothly, “married the actual spinsters from the Spinster Chronicles, and were thus lumped together by association. So, put your intellect to work, and conclude that…”
“Miss Wright and Lady Edith are also writers of the Spinster Chronicles,” Graham finished without any difficulty whatsoever. “You’ll find my surprise at a minimum. I see I must become a more avid reader while in London.”
The other men stared at him for a long moment, and he stared back, unsure what they were waiting for.
“That’s it?” Ingram finally asked, sounding disappointed. “That’s all the reaction we’re going to get?”
Graham lifted a brow. “I’m not generally prone to dramatics. I know little of Miss Wright, but she is outspoken, which suits the tone I have found in the Chronicles as I’ve read them. Lady Edith possesses spirit and wit, such as can be found there, as well. I confess to having more difficulties imagining Mrs. Vale and Mrs. Morton taking part, but it’s certainly not outside the realm of possibility.” He sat back against his chair and restrained a smile. “Any other surprises?”
Ingram made a face, shaking his head. “Having a friend who is a patron of the field of logic takes the enjoyment out of everything. No, there are no other surprises, devil take you.”
“This is the most entertainment I’ve had in ages,” Henshaw proclaimed with a wide grin. “Quick, think of something else.”
That wasn’t likely; Graham was not one to make a habit of light or ridiculous banter, even among his friends. Despite the treatment and statements of those at the table, he couldn’t count these men among them.