To Love and to Loathe (The Regency Vows #2)(56)

Jeremy wondered if he had underestimated Lady Helen—and if, in fact, he should be concerned.

At the moment, however, he had been left no polite option other than to say, “I would be delighted to join you ladies for tea. And Audley, too, I hope?”

“Only a fool would turn down the opportunity for a scone.”

“Excellent,” the dowager marchioness said, “since I requested enough food to feed a small army, assuming at least a couple of gentlemen would be present.”

In short order the group had arranged themselves in the chairs before the fireplace, and before long, a pair of maids carried into the room an enormous tea service, piled high with sandwiches, scones, and enticing-looking pastries. Lady Helen extended an arm, seemingly reaching for the teapot to assume the duty of pouring, but Diana beat her to it. Jeremy wasn’t certain how she managed it, since nothing about the movement seemed rushed, and yet there she was, teapot in hand, calmly pouring the first cup, while Lady Helen had to awkwardly attempt to cover her motion by reaching for a scone instead.

“Lady Helen,” Diana said as she handed a cup of tea to the dowager marchioness and lifted the teapot again to pour a second cup, “have you enjoyed your stay at Elderwild thus far?”

“But of course, Lady Templeton,” Lady Helen said, giving Jeremy a smile that could only accurately be classified as terrifying. “It would be impossible to not enjoy oneself when staying with a host as charming, as courteous, as entirely perfect as Lord Willingham.”

Violet broke into a fit of coughing at that; Jeremy, who had become rather familiar with the sound of her cough over the course of the summer, was nearly certain that this one was designed to hide a laugh. He looked at Diana, fully expecting her to pounce upon on this opportunity to deliver him a glorious set-down, but found her with a strange expression on her face.

“How right you are, Lady Helen,” Diana agreed, and Jeremy belatedly realized that the expression was supposed to be a smile. “And how fortunate for Lord Willingham that he has such charming company to entertain him.”

“Lady Templeton, are you feeling at all well?” his grandmother asked; she had lifted her teacup halfway to her mouth, where it was suspended in her grasp as she looked at Diana with some degree of concern.

“Never better,” Diana assured her. She turned back to Lady Helen. “Lady Helen, you must find it trying to be one of the only unmarried ladies present. How fortunate you are that our oh-so-gracious host has been so attentive to you.”

Lady Helen simpered. Jeremy glowered at Diana, who merely finished pouring the final cup of tea, then lifted her own cup to him in a mock salute.

“I believe I strive to be attentive to all of my guests, Lady Templeton,” Jeremy said, undoubtedly without his usual degree of charm—but then, truly, a man had his limits.

“Oh, to be sure,” Diana agreed, wide-eyed. “You are all that is welcoming charity. And yet, I could not help but detect a certain extra effort on your part to ensure that Lady Helen felt comfortable.” There was a barely detectable pause before the final word, but Jeremy was certain everyone in the room had noted it just as he had.

“Indeed, Jeremy, it has been most touching,” his grandmother chimed in; Jeremy leveled a look of wounded betrayal upon her. It was one thing to be conspired against by the likes of Diana—she did not seem to be able to help herself in this regard, at least where he was concerned. But to be betrayed by his own flesh and blood?

“I’m not certain,” his own flesh and blood continued, “that I’ve ever seen you pay such particular attention to a lady.” She gave a merry sort of chortle as she lifted her teacup to her lips; Jeremy was quite certain that such a sound had never come out of her mouth prior to this moment.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Diana exclaimed, by all appearances delighted. “It was particularly striking considering it was just yesterday that Lord Willingham confessed to me his intention to take a bride!”

Mercifully, Jeremy had not yet raised his teacup to his mouth. It did clatter rather loudly in the saucer, though, as he set it down quite firmly on the side table next to his armchair. “Is that what I said, Lady Templeton?”

Diana tapped a finger against her lips contemplatively—an unfair tactic, Jeremy thought, since it brought his attention to the lips in question, which made it very difficult for him to focus on anything else at all.

“I believe, Lord Willingham, that you mentioned something about the fact that you weren’t growing any younger.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I recall it perfectly now. And I mentioned how of course I would need a wife who was young enough still to have plenty of breeding years ahead of her. No older than eighteen, I believe I said.”

It was Diana’s turn for narrowed eyes. “I seem to recall the conversation a bit differently, my lord. The bit that really stuck with me was when you mentioned your desire for a wife with a good aristocratic pedigree. An impressive lineage, you understand.”

Lady Helen stiffened and gazed at them so avidly that Jeremy felt it was only a matter of time before she leaned so far forward that she toppled out of her chair entirely.

“I think I said that the most desirable trait would be that the lady be in her first Season,” he said determinedly. “In fact, I cannot imagine that I ever would have said anything else.”