Why in the world did he care? And why did he keep coming back to that question?
“I see her,” he grunted. “What of it?”
“You danced with her.”
Graham scowled. “What of it?”
“You don’t dance. Why?”
“Why don’t I dance?”
Ingram practically growled beside him. “Why did you dance with her, when you do not dance?”
The question was an interesting one, considering Ingram’s apparently close relationship with the woman. Surely, she ought to have given him some idea, if there was a question. Had he not seen the danger that Graham had seen? Did he not know about the weasel?
And if that were indeed the case, why should Graham be the one to betray secrets that were not his own?
“That, I’m afraid,” Graham informed him with a sigh, “is between the lady and me.”
“I don’t accept that answer.”
Graham slid him a wry look. “It is not my concern what you accept. That is the answer.”
Ingram’s frown deepened. “I have a significant interest in the well-being of that lady, Radcliffe.”
“Congratulations,” Graham replied without concern. “Is your wife aware?”
The jab was ignored, though Ingram’s right hand formed a fist at his side. “My wife and I are both friends with the lady. I consider us family.”
“That should make it easier to inquire of the lady as to what occurred during our dance.” Graham smiled as politely as his temperament would allow at present, given the suspicion in Ingram’s voice and the inquiry into his intentions.
He never took that sort of thing well.
“I want to know your reasons for the dance,” Ingram demanded, apparently unwilling to let this go.
Graham straightened and turned to face him, grateful, for once, that his height was above the average. “The lady knows my reasons, Ingram, and if you do not know hers, you do not need to know mine. Good evening.” He bowed and turned away, striding for the doors of the ballroom, having had quite enough of dancing and Society for one night.
Chapter Three
A circle of friends is both a wondrous and dangerous thing. There are no secrets from one’s true friends. Sooner or later, all secrets come to light under their influence, and heaven help you when they do.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 28 October 1816
The frequent gatherings of the Spinsters had never been something Edith had felt any apprehension about attending. Even in the early days, when she hadn’t attended regularly, it hadn’t been due to fear or reluctance, only her natural reserve and general mistrust of anyone and everyone. And attempting to hide herself from Sir Reginald’s reach. Hiding in London was easier than one thought, as Edith knew full well. She’d been in London for three months before Lieutenant Henshaw, or the Spinsters, had known about her.
She bit her lip now, looking around her drawing room for a minute before starting her walk to Charlotte’s home for the meeting, though there was very little structure to resemble an actual meeting in them.
“Mistress?” Owen called from the door.
Edith sighed and nodded, though Owen couldn’t see her. “I ken, I’ll be late if I dinna leave now.”
“Nay, mistress. Ye’ve a visitor.”
Owen’s voice was closer now, and Edith turned to the entrance of the room, eyes wide, heart skipping several beats in sudden fear. “I’ve a what? Now?”
“You would prefer another time, perhaps?” a familiar voice asked in amusement from the corridor.
Edith swayed with overwhelming relief, one hand flailing for the back of the sofa near her as she attempted a swallow twice before succeeding.
Not Sir Reginald, then.
Anyone else, she could receive gladly, and the owner of that particular voice was always welcome.
The tall soldier appeared in the drawing room doorway with a rueful smile, dressed as any other gentleman in London would have been, and taking no notice of the state of her rooms.
He was very kind like that.
“Henshaw,” Edith greeted with a quick bob of a curtsey. “I canna tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“Really?” Henshaw grunted a laugh. “Seems to me you would rather I go so you can get on with matters most mischievous.”
Edith put her hands on her hips. “Now, how did you know the Spinsters were meeting today?”
That earned her a genuine laugh, and Henshaw pushed into the room, coming over to bow before her and kiss her hand.
“How are you, Edith?”
“Well enough.” She gestured to a nearby chair with a smile, and Henshaw moved to sit there.
“I’m not sure I like that,” he told her with a frown as she also sat. “Well enough is not exactly glowing.”
Edith shrugged a shoulder. “I rarely glow, as ye well ken. I’ve been worse, and I’ve been better.”
Henshaw stared at her, the frown remaining. “Edith, what’s going on?”
The somber note in his tone told her he knew more than he was letting on; the only question was how much did he know, and how much was he speculating?
She exhaled slowly and folded her hands in her lap. “Ye ken Archie’s will didna leave me much to live on.”
Henshaw nodded brusquely. “I do. Much as I have tried to argue that point, the solicitors have that locked at every bolt.”
“Yer efforts have been most generous.”
She smiled with real warmth at this goodhearted giant of a man that had taken her under his wing from the moment he had met her in London. He took such care of her, and she knew full well that had led to a great deal of speculation where the pair of them were concerned, yet he had never uttered a word of complaint about it.
“So…?” he prodded, and Edith shook herself from ruminating on his goodness.
“So,” she swallowed once and forced a bland smile, “Archie’s cousin, the heir, has come to London, and Sir Reginald… Well, he’s rather cut from the same cloth, ye might say.”
“How pleasant.” Henshaw shook his head, exhaling roughly. “What does he want?”
Me.
Edith bit the response back and kept her strained smile where it was. “He’s hemmed and hawed aboot, but it seems he’s no’ inclined to extend any generosity there. Which is as I expected, so I canna say I’m especially disappointed.”
Owen watched her from the doorway, raising a brow at her. It was a very simplistic view of the situation, she knew, but there was nothing to be gained by going into the details of everything with someone who was powerless to change the situation.
“Yet you have decided to enter Society,” Henshaw pointed out. “Officially. What changed? You were never so inclined before.”
No, she hadn’t been, and the truth of it was that she was not especially inclined now. She was only determined, and that changed everything.
Edith nodded once, swallowing again. “I ken that all too well,” she murmured. “But I have decided that I’ve had enough of the men of the Leveson family dictating every move I make. I aim to change my situation by my own hand now, Henshaw, and I need Society to do that.”