“It is our pleasure to welcome you,” Harry’s mother answered, moving toward Lady Gresham and drawing her into the room.
Rachel went to Miss Whitford, smiling, and escorted her to sit on the settee next to Delia.
Harry resisted the urge to go directly to Lady Gresham. That would only encourage his family’s efforts to pair them off.
Would that be so bad?
Yes. He wasn’t seeking a wife, and she wasn’t planning to remarry. He’d made himself quite clear on that topic to his entire family. Perhaps he ought to suggest to Lady Gresham that she do the same.
Instead, Harry simply looked in her direction. Their eyes locked, and her lips curved into a slight smile, as if they shared a secret. He supposed they did. His family had no idea they’d spent an afternoon together—two if he counted their previous visit to Gunter’s—and he certainly wasn’t going to tell them.
He went to stand behind the settee where his brother-in-law Nathaniel Hayes, an MP, stood with his other brother-in-law, Sir Kenneth. “We were just discussing the need for greater governance regarding child labor. Limiting hours and ages for those working only in cotton mills isn’t enough,” Hayes said with a frown.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Harry thought of the children at Mr. Winter’s home the other day. They could all be working in a textile mill for far too many hours and even overnight. Too many of them suffered those conditions and were exposed to environmental dangers. “You’re fighting for this in the Commons, I expect.”
Hayes nodded. “Of course, though I’ve not nearly enough support.”
Harry appreciated that Rachel’s husband fought so hard for others. That made Harry think of Lady Gresham’s concern for the less fortunate. She would undoubtedly support Hayes’s efforts too. Harry’s gaze strayed toward her, but she was focused on his mother. Were they discussing Madame Sybila? That was actually a good idea. Perhaps Lady Gresham, as a woman who had also seen the fortune-teller, could dissuade his mother from seeing her.
But no, he wouldn’t ask her to do that. It wasn’t fair—to her or his mother. His father might just have to accept that his wife enjoyed seeing Madame Sybila. So long as the woman wasn’t fleecing Mother, what harm did it truly cause?
“We’re still working on your voucher for Almack’s,” Delia was telling Miss Whitford. “I expect we’ll be able to accomplish it within the month for certain. Mark my words, you will be presented there before the Season draws to a close.”
Miss Whitford had charming dimples when she smiled, as she was doing now. “I deeply appreciate your assistance. I’m having a dress made especially for the occasion.”
Imogen sat down on Miss Whitford’s other side and asked about the dress. As Miss Whitford described the costume in excruciating detail, Harry wondered where Rachel had gone only to see her standing with his mother and Lady Gresham. Rachel was angled toward Lady Gresham, her gaze darting toward Harry as she spoke.
What on earth was she saying to poor Lady Gresham in her effort to make a match? Hell, was that a pained expression in Lady Gresham’s eyes?
Knowing the need for a rescue when he saw one, Harry excused himself from his brothers-in-law and circuited the seating area on his way to reach Lady Gresham.
“Oh, Harry, how nice of you to finally join us and welcome Lady Gresham,” Rachel said, pulling him into their half circle so that he was between her and Lady Gresham.
Harry quashed the urge to glare at his meddling sister. “Good evening, Lady Gresham.”
“We were just telling Lady Gresham how the entire family meets for dinner most Thursdays during the Season,” his mother said. “I feel so fortunate to have everyone so close.” She looked to Lady Gresham. “And every other Sunday, my grandchildren come over after church to spend the day. They’re such a delight.” Her gaze shot briefly to Delia on the settee. “And we are soon to have another.”
“How many grandchildren do you have?” Lady Gresham asked.
“Seven. Delia has three already, as does Rachel. Imogen has but one so far, but I suspect there may be another soon.” She arched her brows briefly and smiled.
Rachel pursed her lips. “Mama, you shouldn’t speculate about such things. You don’t want to curse anything.”
“Nonsense. I’m not speculating. A mother knows things. Besides, Madame Sybila told me recently that there would soon be even more additions to our family. The cards never lie.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, which Harry found amusing. “Let me understand, Rachel. You believe in curses, but not the forecast of a fortune-teller?” He laughed softly and had the strong impression Lady Gresham was doing her best not to smile.
“Oh, laugh all you please. I don’t like to speculate about babies—too many things can go wrong.”
“That is very true,” Lady Gresham agreed. Once again, Harry wondered if she’d lost a child.
“Not wanting to discuss whether someone will increase is not at all related to fortune-telling.” Rachel turned her head to their mother. “You’re still seeing Madame Sybila? I thought Papa forbade you.”
Mother waved her hand and scoffed. “Your father doesn’t forbid me to do anything. He strongly suggested I find another hobby, as he called it, but I enjoy seeing Madame Sybila. She’s a lovely woman with a kind heart. Did you know she supports several charitable endeavors, such as the Magdalen Hospital?”
“Unless she showed you receipts for her donations or personally visited the hospital with you, I’m not sure I’d believe that,” Rachel said wryly.
Harry hadn’t realized his sister possessed such a cynical opinion on the matter. If she’d tried and hadn’t been able to persuade their mother to give up the fortune-teller, he didn’t think Lady Gresham could.
“I saw Madame Sybila just the other day,” Lady Gresham said, clearly surprising his mother. “I also found her to be very kindhearted. In fact, I visited one of the charities she supports and was delighted to donate to their cause.”
Looking very pleased, Harry’s mother grinned at Lady Gresham. “Which one was that?”
“The Home for Wayward Children. A wonderful couple has taken in many children and are doing their best to provide a home and comfort so the children do not fall victim to the streets.”
“Good for you for going to visit,” Harry’s mother said. “Perhaps we should coordinate an excursion to this home with Madame Sybila. Several of my friends see her and donate to her causes, and I know they’d love to contribute more.” Enthusiasm gleamed in her tawny-brown eyes. “I’ll speak to Madame Sybila when next I see her.” She inclined her head to Lady Gresham. “You should do the same.”
Lady Gresham looked briefly at Harry. “I’ll do that.”
Harry’s father was going to be furious. But if this was a legitimate endeavor that was about to be further legitimized by a group of Society ladies, what could he do? It seemed Harry was going to have to talk to his father about this—but not tonight.
Turning his head, Harry smiled at his mother. “Perhaps I’ll come along.”
Mother’s brow creased, and she blinked in surprise. “Will you?”