“That’s not news,” Jarrod told him. “We,” he nodded to include Colin and Sussex, “haven’t been to Almack’s since we accompanied you on your bride-seeking mission. We know to avoid the place like the plague. That’s why we’re still single.”
“You’re fortunate you cut lower cards.” Griff looked at the others. “Because Almack’s was crowded with young ladies seeking husbands last night.”
“Any clues to the identity of the young lady?” Jarrod asked.
Griffin took a deep breath. “Grant’s sources were correct. There have been a spate of elopements to Scotland this season, but none—at least at Almack’s last evening—that were unaccounted for. Alyssa and I made discrete inquiries and turned up several minor peers, and one member of the royal family with daughters who eloped to Scotland this season, but as far as we could tell, all of them have either accepted the marriages or secured other, more suitable husbands for their wayward daughters.”
Sussex leaned forward in his chair. “Just out of curiosity, have you the name of the families to whom those wayward daughters belong?”
“Lord Chemsford and Lord Barfield are barons. Lord Wensley is a viscount, and Exeter’s an earl. And the rumor, though unsubstantiated, is that the daughter of the royal family member belongs to the Princess Royal.”
“Good work, Your Grace,” Jarrod grinned. “I’m impressed that you and your duchess were able to learn so much in so little time.”
Griff gave his friend a mockingly regal nod. “We had help.”
“Your parents?” Jarrod guessed. “Or Lord and Lady Tressingham?”
“You know better than that.” Griff laughed. “My father only dons knee breeches and buckles for appearances before the king, the regent, and on state occasions. Almack’s must survive without him. And as for Lord Tressingham...” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Alyssa’s father would never cross Almack’s threshold unless the patronesses suddenly allowed horses and hounds on the premises. And although my mother-in-law rarely declines any invitation she thinks her daughter, the new duchess, might accept, Lady Tressingham did not accompany us last evening.” Griff stared at Sussex. “Lady Miranda St. Germaine did.”
“Miranda made an appearance at Almack’s?” Jarrod was stunned. It was well known in their circles that Lady Miranda St. Germaine avoided Almack’s as often as the Free Fellows did.
“She did, indeed,” Griff repeated. “And she was almost as beautiful as Alyssa.”
“Miranda at Almack’s,” Sussex murmured. The fact that she’d accompanied her close friend, Alyssa, Duchess of Avon, to Almack’s explained why Miranda hadn’t put in an appearance at Lady Compton’s last evening after Sussex had sent a note around to her town house inviting her and her mother to meet him there. He had hoped her presence would enliven the conversation. Although Lady Compton spread the best buffet table in town, the time spent waiting for it could be long and tedious, especially if one tired of gambling. And Miranda St. Germaine was intelligent, well read, possessed a biting wit, and played chess extraordinarily well. As far as Sussex was concerned, Miranda was the ideal female companion, so long as her sharp tongue and quick wit were directed at someone else. He’d been looking forward to sharing a companionable evening at Lady Compton’s with her, and Sussex had been more than a bit perturbed when Miranda sent a note back around to his house, declining his invitation in favor of a previous invitation.
He’d spent a deadly dull evening with his mind only half engaged in the turn of the cards wondering with whom Miranda had spent the evening. “Miranda at Almack’s,” he echoed. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Griff said. “She wore a blue evening gown that matched her eyes, and with that figure…” He broke off to allow Sussex’s imagination to take over. “Suffice it to say, Miranda looked magnificent. I’ll wager she fended off a dozen would-be suitors the first ten minutes we were there.”
“What suitors?” Sussex demanded, scowling at Griffin.
“What difference does it make?” Jarrod intervened. “Miranda doesn’t have to marry anyone. She’s a peeress in her own right.”
“What suitors?” Sussex repeated.
Griff bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Alyssa was right. Sussex was interested in her best friend. “I didn’t know all of them. But I saw Linton, Carville, Nash, and an Austrian archduke.”
“Fortune hunters,” Sussex spat contemptuously. “Linton and Nash, perhaps,” Griff said. “But Carville’s well set, and the Austrian archduke is…well…a young, handsome, very rich Austrian archduke.”
“He might be young, handsome, and very rich, but the Austrian archduke is wasting his time. Miranda is English clear down to the bone. She would never consider an Austrian,” Sussex scoffed.
“That’s your opinion. Miranda may feel differently. She is, after all, a marchioness in her own right with far too few single prospects who outrank her. And I hear she’s tiring of her role as everyone’s favorite bridesmaid. She may feel an archduke is quite a catch.” Griff shifted his weight on the sofa, then reached down to massage his right thigh in an effort to relieve the ache from the saber wound he’d suffered during the Battle of Fuentes de Oñoro. The wound still pained him, especially when he stood for long periods of time, and he’d spent much of last night and much of today on his feet.
“Here.” Colin slid his leather ottoman toward the sofa. “Prop your leg up.”
“Thanks” Griff propped his leg on the ottoman and accepted the glass of whisky Jarrod got up to fetch for him. “And now that I’ve told you what I learned at Almack’s and about Lady St. Germaine, why don’t you tell us what you learned at Lady Compton’s, Your Grace?”
Sussex narrowed his gaze at Griff as the other duke tossed him the gauntlet. Sussex knew that his past history with the Duke of Avon and his duchess m
ade for continued friendly competition and relegated his status as a Free Fellow to that of a probationer. It wouldn’t always be that way, but Sussex knew he still needed to prove himself. Unfortunately, Lady Compton’s hadn’t been the place to do it. “I discovered her chef is superb and that most of the people who attend Lady Compton’s soirees are there to feast and gamble. Gossip and marriageable young ladies were scarce.”
“What about angry papas?” Jarrod asked.
Sussex frowned. “There were plenty of those.” He focused his attention on Colin. “Including yours. But, for the most part, their anger was directed at Lady Luck and the turn of the cards. I heard a great deal about gambling debts and where to find the most understanding moneylenders. I didn’t hear so much as a whisper about anyone’s daughter’s elopement. What about you?” Sussex asked. “Did you learn anything from your foray into Lady Harrelson’s world of dance?”
Jarrod nodded. “We heard quite a bit of gossip about a particular young lady who spent much of the evening beside the dance floor rather than on it.” Jarrod lifted his cup and saucer and took another drink of his coffee. “She didn’t dance at all until our hostess persuaded Colin to partner her.”
“She wasn’t the only young lady who spent much of the evening beside the dance floor rather than on it,” Colin surprised Jarrod and the other two Free Fellows by leaping to Gillian’s defense. “The young lady you partnered didn’t dance with anyone before she danced with you,” Colin reminded Jarrod.