“You’re Jocelyn Kirk?” Annabel had followed Viscount Stratford’s lurid trial in the paper, even though she’d had to sneak it out of her father’s office and read under a tree in the back garden. She’d found herself envying the daring madam with the courage to fight for justice. “You’re incredible.”
The woman blushed. “I was incredibly reckless, but thank you.”
Annabel turned to Amelia, who was curled into the corner of the sofa, her shoes on the floor and her feet tucked under her skirt. “And you are a distiller?”
Amelia sat straighter. “I am. And I’m Richard’s partner in his winery. The family knows, and you’re family now. This is the best way I could find to tell you before Jasper gossiped over breakfast.” She blinked. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“I’m not certain I would have believed him.”
“How are you finding life with my charming cousin?” Amelia asked.
They had trusted her with their secrets, but Annabel wasn’t yet comfortable trusting them with hers. “It is an adjustment.”
“Annabel was working for Sir Reginald Spencer before she married Jasper,” Amelia said to the others. “She accompanied his daughter Elizabeth to Jasper’s house party, and… Oh dear. That sounded so much better in my head.”
Annabel blushed. The story was the truth, but there was so much more to it that she couldn’t explain. These women had shared damning secrets with her, and she could tell them nothing.
“We have all remade ourselves in some way,” Jocelyn whispered. “You are among friends.”
Annabel looked at each of them in turn. “Thank you for trusting me, but I’m not certain what I can offer.”
“Our charitable efforts are legitimate, so if you do nothing but lend your support to those, you’ll be welcome,” Thea said.
“However, if you find a cause or an enterprise that interests you, you have friends.” Amelia dropped her feet to the floor so she could reach the tea tray. “How is numero tres, Thea?”
The duchess curved her hand over her stomach. “Growing at an alarming rate, though he hasn’t started kicking yet.”
“He?”
“Oliver is hoping for another boy, as is Simon.” Her smile softened. “I have no preference, but I think they’re in for a surprise.”
“A girl?” Jocelyn asked.
“Twins.” Thea’s eyes twinkled. “We’d be tied with you and Drake.”
“You have four children?” Annabel blushed at the indelicacy of her question. “Forgive me, but you do not look old enough.”
“Clean living,” Jocelyn quipped with a twinkle in her eye. Amelia struggled to swallow her drink as Thea shook with laughter.
Annabel wasn’t certain if she was the reason for the joke or the subject of it.
“Forgive me. Drake says my humor can be poorly timed.” Jocelyn put a hand near Annabel’s, but not on it. “He took the boys in from the streets over the past few years, before I came along. They’re ours by agreement, but not by birth.”
“How noble,” Annabel said.
“You wouldn’t think that if you heard him thunder about not running down the bloody stairs.” She deepened her voice, likely imitating her husband. The other ladies broke into peals of laughter.
This time, Annabel joined them. She lifted a square of lemon drizzle cake from the tray. “Do any of you have advice about how to distract a young lady with a tendre for her piano teacher?”
Chapter Twelve
Jasper walked into White’s and handed his hat and gloves to the porter, who stored them on the shelf above his name plate. “Welcome back, Lord Ramsbury.”
You would think I’ve been gone a month instead of just a few hours. “Thank you, Sellers.”
He entered the mahogany-paneled great room, which contained so many members of Parliament that he expected a vote at any moment. He scanned the familiar faces, noting that several small groups stopped talking to stare.
Spencer was in one of them, noticeable both by his height and the way his hair reflected the sunlight. The young men surrounding him only made him look more like an aging clergyman.
He met Jasper’s stare and lifted his glass in a mocking salute.
A whisper campaign was afoot, and Jasper was the target.
Viscount Granville caught his attention and raised his glass. Jasper took it as an invitation and joined the older man at the corner of the bar. His preferred drink arrived with admirable speed. He let the cool liquid clear his throat while he gathered his thoughts.
Spencer had to be a guest, likely invited by one of the young bucks surrounding him. Jasper recognized one of them, a new earl angling for support of a bill that would benefit no county but his own, and meagerly at that.
“It looks like Standridge would rather curry favor than rewrite his proposal,” Granville said.
“He won’t realize the price until it’s too late.” Jasper glanced down at the bar, ignoring the prickling at the back of his neck. The betting book was open. “Making a wager, Granville?”
“Made it last night, after the ball.” The other man held his drink in one hand and spun the book with the other. “I believe it is a safe one.”
The line was short, but it had a long list of takers. Viscount Raines was one of them. The young man could never resist a wager. Neither could his father, the Marquess of Graydon, which made him an odd choice to hold the empire’s purse strings. Rumor had it, the man had some powerful backers in his bid for the job.
“Have I offended you or put an idea in your head?” Granville asked.
