The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(19)

This was what he had feared. That Isabella admired him. That she was flirting with him. That perhaps she wanted something more from him. Something he couldn’t give. Not with the memory of Harold’s death burned into his brain. He wanted to kick Monroe under the table, get his attention, signal to him to use his infamous charm on Isabella, but that oaf would probably only ask why he’d been kicked.

Garrett was about to reply with some innocuous bit of wording when he caught Miss Lowndes laughing at something Monroe had said. Her laughter was … not unpleasant. He couldn’t take his gaze from her. Something about the way she’d tossed back her head and laughed as if she didn’t care a bit what anyone thought about her. And those blasted spectacles. For the second time he had the urge to rip them from her nose. They made her look too prim, too proper, too … Miss Lowndeslike.

He forced himself to return his attention to Isabella. A brief flash of supreme annoyance crossed the widow’s face. If Garrett hadn’t been looking, he might have missed it.

“What’s so amusing?” Isabella leaned toward Miss Lowndes and cupped a hand behind her ear.

Miss Lowndes looked a bit startled to have been addressed by Isabella. “Lord Owen was just telling me the most charming story about a mutual acquaintance of ours in London.”

“Monroe is the soul of charm,” Garrett grumbled under his breath, glaring at Monroe.

Monroe seemed to finally remember his promise. He leaned toward Isabella and flashed her a rakish grin. “Do tell us, Mrs. Langford. Do you know Sir Roderick Montague?”

A small pout formed on Isabella’s lips. “I’m afraid I do not, my lord. I know only a few people in Society. Mr. Upton here is one of my dearest friends. I am quite thankful for his friendship.”

Miss Lowndes’s eyebrows rose, but otherwise she looked as if she were ready to turn back and continue her discussion with Monroe. Isabella cleared her throat. “In fact, I was just telling Mr. Upton how greatly I’ve been looking forward to this party. It’s such a pleasure to see him again.”

Miss Lowndes mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I find that difficult to believe.” Then she pasted a smile on her bluestocking face and said more loudly, “How exactly are the two of you acquainted, Mrs. Langford?”

Garrett froze. The tone in Miss Lowndes’s voice, the way she’d said “acquainted,” implied something he didn’t want to contemplate.

Isabella brought her napkin to her red lips and blotted their fullness before directing her gaze to Miss Lowndes. “Mr. Upton knew my late husband during the war.”

Miss Lowndes turned her bespectacled gaze on him. “You served together, you and Mr. Langford? In Spain?”

Garrett plucked at his cravat. It was stifling in here tonight. He nodded and reached for his wine glass again. That footman had better stay alert. “Yes. I had the pleasure of serving with Captain Langford. A better soldier I’ve never known.”

Miss Lowndes narrowed her gaze on him. That was another thing about her. She had a way of looking at people, a way of studying them that made it seem as if she knew all their secrets, as if she could see through them and pick them apart one by one.

“Do you have children, Mrs. Langford?” Miss Lowndes continued, smiling a bit too sweetly at Isabella.

Isabella nodded. “I do, a boy and a girl. They are in London with their tutor and governess.”

Miss Lowndes cocked her head to the side. “Ah, one of each. How efficient.”

“I suppose so.” Isabella’s smile remained tight. “How exactly do you two know each other?” she countered, staring at Miss Lowndes and then glancing at Garrett.

A wry smile tugged at Miss Lowndes’s lips and Garrett found himself looking forward to what was certain to be a highly sarcastic answer. “Unfortunately for both of us, Upton and I have a mutual friend in the Duchess of Claringdon.”

Isabella’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately?”

“Yes. It is unfortunate because we often cannot stand to be in the same room with each other. I think Cass is punishing us by seating us near each other tonight.”

Owen Monroe stifled a chuckle.

“However,” Jane continued, “if I hadn’t got this seat, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to speak with you, Mrs. Langford, and what a pity that would have been.”

Isabella smiled and nodded and returned her attention to her soup. “You’re too kind.”

“I’m not kind at all,” Miss Lowndes replied, making Garrett wince. “I’m quite fascinated to learn how you’ve managed a friendship with Upton.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes on Miss Lowndes. “I find Mr. Upton’s company quite charming.”

“‘Charming’? I suppose that’s one word for it. Forgive me, but are you quite certain you know what ‘charming’ means, Mrs. Langford?”

Owen Monroe’s bark of laughter caught the attention of many of the other guests.

Garrett grabbed his wine glass, nearly sloshing the red liquid over his sleeve. He took another deep drink. God help him. This night was already too long by half.

*

After their drinks, the gentlemen met the ladies in the drawing room. When Garrett entered, he scanned about, appraising the situation. Thankfully, Isabella was caught up in conversation with Cassandra and Lucy on one end of the long room. Garrett made his way in the opposite direction. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Isabella had said to him at dinner, that she’d wanted to see him. Any man would be flattered to have a woman like her flirting with him, but she was also Harold’s wife. Harold. His friend. His dead friend. There was no possible way Garrett could have any sort of a relationship with Harold’s wife. It would be a betrayal of his friend all over again. He’d done wrong by Harold once, he wouldn’t cuckold him—or whatever the equivalent of cuckolding was once a husband was dead.