“I wish Garrick had escorted me,” Merryn whispered impulsively to Alex. Although she appreciated her brother-in-law’s support a very great deal she felt bereft without Garrick at her side, an odd but undeniable sensation that she had not expected.
“He is here now,” Alex whispered back, smiling.
Merryn turned slowly, her heart in her mouth. Garrick had come through the main entrance doors and was walking toward them flanked on one side by a man Merryn recognized as Captain Owen Purchase. Purchase seemed to be looking at Tess with the expression of a man struck dumb with admiration.
“Another good man goes down under the onslaught of the Fenner sisters,” Alex was saying ruefully.
Merryn was not paying attention, however, for on Garrick’s arm was a tiny elderly lady, very stiff and upright in rustling black silk, not a white hair out of place and a truly astonishing diamond necklace glittering about her neck. They approached very slowly and by the time they were within a few paces every single person in the room was watching and once again the gossip had died to a murmur and then faded altogether.
“Is that not … Surely it is … I … Oh, dear …” Merryn was suddenly terrified.
“Lady Merryn.” Garrick had stopped before her and executed the most immaculately perfect bow. He raised his voice a little so that everyone nearby could hear him. “It is my very great honor and pleasure,” he said, “to introduce you to my aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Steyne. Aunt Elizabeth, my fiancée, Lady Merryn Fenner.”
The Dowager’s keen black gaze swept Merryn up and down as she made her curtsy and Merryn felt as though she was taking in every aspect of her appearance while leaving the verdict undeclared. The Duchess’s bearing was regal, her expression haughty. Around them the crowd bobbed and fluttered, waiting. The Dowager Duchess of Steyne was a high stickler, a relic from a previous age. She was a friend of the Queen, rarely seen in public these days but still wielding the most enormous social power. It was unthinkable that Garrick Farne would have introduced his father’s sister to a woman who had been his mistress, engaged in some shoddy affaire. All the same, the crowds waited in case the Dowager titillated their taste for gossip with the cut direct.
Merryn held the Dowager Duchess’s unreadable dark gaze until she felt her nerves were at screaming point. Then something that might have passed for a wintry smile flickered across the Dowager’s lips and she said, “It pleases me greatly that the breach between the Fenner and the Farne families is soon to be healed by your marriage to my nephew, Lady Merryn.”
There was a whooshing sound as everyone released their breath at the same moment, turned away and pretended that they had not really been listening at all. Merryn felt herself go limp with relief. She dropped another slight curtsy.
“Thank you, your grace.”
The Dowager Duchess nodded. “Charming,” she said, and turned to acknowledge Joanna.
“Lady Grant,” she said. “I congratulate you on the most beautiful design you created for Lady Drummond’s drawing room. Exquisite taste.” Her gaze moved on to Tess. “And Lady Darent … I congratulate you on once again being a rich widow.” She turned to Alex. “Now, Lord Grant. I have long wanted to make your acquaintance.”
Garrick drew Merryn slightly to one side. His broad shoulders blocked out the inquisitive crowd.
“Well,” Garrick said, raising his brows, “you seem to have made quite an impression. Aunt Elizabeth is not normally so fulsome in her praise.”
“That was praise?” Merryn tried for a light tone. She put a hand on his sleeve. “Thank you for what you did,” she whispered.
Garrick looked down at her, a smile lightening his dark eyes again, and Merryn felt a rush of feeling that left her light-headed and a little dizzy. “It was a risk,” he admitted, “but after I had explained everything to Aunt Elizabeth I trusted her to support us.”
“Everything?” Merryn said faintly.
“Almost everything,” Garrick amended. His gaze met hers, sliding over her, bringing heat in its wake. His smile was intimate, tender, for her alone, and it made her heart ache.
“You look very beautiful tonight, Merryn,” he said.
The Dowager had turned back to them. “Lady Merryn,” she said, her sharp black gaze traveling from her to Garrick and making Merryn feel as though her emotions were naked, “I have a fancy to see the Collins exhibition. You will accompany me.”
Merryn shot Garrick an anguished look. He laughed.
“I will come and find you shortly,” he said, a smile and a promise in his eyes. He leaned closer. “Remember she does not bite,” he whispered.
“Pray do not interrupt us too soon,” the Dowager snapped.
Merryn followed the Dowager’s ramrod-straight figure through the archway into the next, smaller exhibition room. There were fewer people here and those that were present took one look at the Dowager’s fierce expression and melted away, leaving the room empty. The Duchess stopped before a small portrait in the corner. It was a picture of a seated woman and might have been painted some fifteen years before. The subject was young, a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, exquisitely pretty, curvaceous, with dark hair curling softly about her face, limpid black eyes and a little smile just starting to dimple the corners of her mouth. A small dog sat a few feet away, gazing adoringly at the woman who looked as though she took such adoration for granted from animals and people alike.
Merryn caught her breath on a little gasp and the Duchess looked sharply at her.
“You recognize my nephew’s wife, Kitty Scott? This was painted just before their marriage.”
Merryn’s heart was beating fast in her throat. “I … Yes, I do. We … met once or twice,” she stammered. “I was only a child …”
The Duchess nodded. “Kitty was a pretty little chit. I liked her spirit but she had the most vicious temper when she was thwarted.”
Merryn was shocked. She frowned, trying to match the memory of the Kitty she had known with the woman of the Dowager’s description. The Kitty Farne of her recollection had been the sweetest, kindest creature in the world, always giving her sweetmeats and little gifts, ribbons and thread, asking her what she had been reading, showing an interest in all the ordinary aspects of Merryn’s life that Joanna and Tess had been too wrapped up in themselves to care about. It was one of the reasons that Merryn had loved Kitty. And because Kitty had loved Stephen, of course …
The Dowager Duchess was looking at her very directly. “My nephew has suffered a gross betrayal in his life and experienced a great deal of misery and loneliness,” she said. “I trust, Lady Merryn, that you will not add to his unhappiness.”
I would not dare, Merryn thought. Pinned under the Dowager’s cold, dark stare she felt like a specimen on a slab.
“I would never willfully cause anyone unhappiness,” she said.
The