"How is your son, Lady Anders? I know that he and Miss Routledge were quite attached before her engagement."
"Oh, poor Tommy was heartbroken when she threw him over, though I must admit that I wasn't entirely disappointed. I'm sympathetic to Elinor wanting Berry for her daughter. Royal blood is always an attractive lure. Charles Berry may have no fortune, but if rumors are correct, that will all change shortly, and Elinor will be lauded for having gambled so well."
"I hope Isabelle finds some happiness."
"Her prospects are as fair with Berry as with anyone, I suppose. She's a sweet girl. She might have done nicely for Tommy if her circumstances were different, but now he's free to find someone who can bring in a sizeable dowry. The Routledges don't have the fortune they used to. Not, mind you, that that would be of particular consequence to us, but" — she smiled winningly — "if one has the chance to better one's financial situation, why not take it?"
"Is Lord Pembroke still in town? I haven't seen him since the Brandons' ball."
"His father sent him to Yorkshire to take care of some business on the estate. The distraction will do him well."
I was satisfied to know that Lord Pembroke was indeed suffering for the loss of Isabelle. He did love her. Someday, she might be very glad to know that. After taking my leave from Lady Anders, I walked up Grosvenor Crescent, across Piccadilly, and back into Mayfair. Now that the initial pain from my carriage accident had begun to subside, I found that walking helped me to feel better, easing the stiffness from my sore body. I could not help but slow down as I reached Park Street, however, fearing that my next call would not be so pleasant as the last.
I felt terrible about my falling-out with Ivy and knew that I bore more guilt for it than she. We might not be able to return to the closeness we shared in the past, but I could at least make an effort to stop the woman I was certain was destroying my friend's marriage. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door in front of me.
The Reynold-Plympton residence was an exercise in bad taste. So far as I could tell, anything that could be gilded was, and nearly every surface in the drawing room to which I was admitted had been covered with hideous displays of stuffed birds, mounted in various stages of flight. I believe the goal was to give one the sense of being outside in a garden, but the actual effect was that of being trapped in a bizarre aviary. However, I gave no further consideration to the setting once I realized the lady of the house was already entertaining a caller. Robert snapped to attention when he saw me and quickly collected his hat and walking stick.
"I shan't stand in the way of your conversation," he said, rushing out almost before he'd said hello to me. I made no attempt to reduce his feeling of unease.
"What a pleasure, Lady Ashton," Mrs. Reynold-Plympton purred, eyeing me critically. "To what do I owe the honor of this call?"
"I'll not mince words. I'm concerned about your friendship with Mr. Brandon."
"Concerned? How can it be of any concern to you? Robert is not the most exciting man I've ever known, but he's not so awful."
My concern is more for him than you."
"Is it?" She laughed, and as she did, I knew at once why she was such a favorite with bored, married gentlemen. The sound was like silver bells, cascading through the most delicious sort of melody, utterly captivating.
"I'm afraid I fail to see the humor in the situation."
"A great loss for you, I'm afraid."
"I can assure you I don't feel it at all," I said.
"So you are here to reprimand me? How tedious."
This woman had no shame! She made no attempt to deny her illicit relationship! I was about to launch into a spirited attack on her morals when I was struck by an unnerving thought: I had no firm proof that she was Robert's mistress. She had danced with him twice in a row, walked with him in the park, and received him as a caller. Not exactly irrefutable evidence of adultery. Was I any better than the gossips who had so savaged my own reputation? I considered another strategy.
"I'm a great friend of Robert's wife," I said.
"So I gathered when we met in the park."
"I want to see her happy."
"You are an impetuous thing, aren't you? Make a habit of leaping to conclusions?"
"I do my best not to."
"You clearly need more practice. I'm not having an affair with your poor, dear Robert." She laughed again. More music. "How naïve you are! Can you really think I'd waste my time on a gentleman who's not even a junior minister? Oh, you have succeeded in diverting me greatly."
I knew not how to respond so remained silent.
"Lady Ashton, I spend time with many of Basil's friends, especially when he's grooming them for future greatness. I know little details about everyone — and you can well imagine how useful that is in politics. Basil likes me to pass this knowledge on to his protégés."
"Basil?" I asked. "Lord Fortescue?"
"Is there another? He quite depends upon me."
"Lord Fortescue? I'm...I'm...astonished."
"There is an art to choosing a lover, Lady Ashton. The obvious choice is not always the most...valuable, shall we say?"
"So you are..."
"Providing Robert with an inestimable service. But you have caused me concern. Is there trouble in his private life? Basil won't tolerate that. He insists upon discretion."
"No, I don't know that there is trouble, I just thought that —"
"To have so quickly concluded that he was having an affair means there is indeed trouble. Is his wife in a delicate condition?"
"Oh, I couldn't —"
"This is not the time for false modesty, Lady Ashton. Fortescue wants Robert on track for a position in the next government. He'll need to be guaranteed at least the appearance of a happy home."
"I never said that their home is not —"
"She's not with child, is she?" Mrs. Reynold-Plympton frowned. "I'll have to speak to him about this at once. Do you think there is some sort of medical problem?"
This conversation was decaying with such rapidity that there was no hope of trying to save it. Ivy would die a thousand slow deaths if she ever learned that I had spoken to anyone about this. "No, no I don't."
"Oh dear. You're gone all scarlet. How unattractive. Why do you find this so embarrassing?"
"I should never have said anything."
"Of course you should have. I'll take care of it at once."
"You can't tell Robert —"
Again came the laugh. "My dear girl, is it possible that you are really so naïve? Basil will talk to Robert."
This was even worse.
"I don't think —"
"Basil always keeps up on these things. Robert doesn't have a mistress, nor does he visit — well, best not mention that. For some reason, undoubtedly a result of the long hours he works, he is neglecting his marital duties. A few choice words from his mentor about the benefits of having a cherubic infant around to complete the picture of a perfect English family will do the trick. I'm glad you came to me, Lady Ashton. Basil has great hopes for Robert. It wouldn't do for him to have trouble at home."
"Please, Mrs. Reynold-Plympton, don't think there is trouble —"
"Say not another word. I am the soul of discretion. No one beyond the necessary few will ever hear a word of what we've discussed."