"I say, been a while since we've seen you in here, St. Justin. Rumor going round you've gotten yourself engaged. Any truth to it?"
Gideon glanced up from the paper. He recognized the portly, bald-headed gentleman as Lord Fry, a baron with estates in Hampshire. Fry was one of his father's old acquaintances from the earl's fossil-collecting days.
"Good evening, sir." Gideon kept his tone even but polite. "You may rest assured the rumor concerning my engagement is true. The notices will appear in tomorrow morning's papers."
"I say." Fry scowled belligerently. "So it's true, then?"
Gideon smiled coldly. "I've just said it was true."
"I say. Well, then. So it is. Rather afraid it might be." Fry looked grim. "Miss Pomeroy seemed awfully sure of it, but one never knows, when there's not been an actual announcement, you know. Her family is keeping mum."
"Sit down, Fry. Have a glass of hock."
Fry dropped down into the leather-upholstered chair across from Gideon. He took out a large white handkerchief and wiped his brow. "I say. Rather warm this close to the fire isn't it? Usually don't sit quite so close, myself."
Gideon set aside his newspaper and fixed the stout baron with a deliberate gaze. "I take it you are acquainted with my fiancée?"
"Yes, indeed." Fry looked suddenly hopeM. "If it's Miss Harriet Pomeroy we're discussing, I've indeed had the pleasure. Recently joined the Fossils and Antiquities Society."
"That explains it." Gideon relaxed slightly. "You may rest assured it is the same Harriet Pomeroy."
"I say. Pity." Fry wiped his brow again. "Poor girl," he muttered almost inaudibly.
Gideon narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
"Eh? Oh, nothing, nothing. I say. Lovely young lady. Very bright. Very bright, indeed. A bit wrong-headed on some matters, of course. Has some rather odd notions about strata and fossils and the general principles of geology, but otherwise quite bright."
"Yes, she is."
Fry gave Gideon a speculative glance. "Her sister is making quite a splash this Season."
"Is she?" Gideon poured a glass of hock for Fry.
"Yes, indeed. Beautiful girl. Respectable portion. World's at her feet, of course." Fry took a large swallow from the glass. "I say. A few of us in the Society had a bit of trouble with the notion that our Miss Harriet Pomeroy was engaged to you, however."
"Why did that disturb you, Fry?" Gideon asked very softly.
"Well, I say. She don't seem the type, if you know what I mean."
"No. I do not know what you mean. Why don't you explain yourself?"
Fry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Such an intelligent young woman."
"You think an intelligent young woman would have had more sense than to get herself engaged to me?" Gideon prompted, softening his voice further still.
"No, no. Meant nothing of the kind." Fry took another deep swallow of the hock. "Just that she's got such a keen interest in fossils and geology and that sort of thing. Would have thought that if she were going to get herself married, she'd have chosen a man who shared her interests. No offense, sir."
"It takes a great deal to offend me, Fry. But you are welcome to try, if you like."
Fry turned red. "Yes, well. She says she's been brought to Town in order to get herself polished for you."
"So I hear."
"I say." Fry gave him a belligerent look. "Far as I'm concerned, Miss Pomeroy don't need no polishing. Perfectly nice just as she is."
"On that we agree, Fry."
Fry looked disconcerted by that. He floundered about for another topic. "Well, then. I say. How's your father?"
"As well as can be expected."
"Good. Good. Glad to hear it." Fry plowed on gamely. "He had quite an interest in fossils at one time. Hardcastle and I had many a discussion on the subject of marine antiquities. They were a particular specialty of his, as I recall. Shells and fossil fish and the like. Does he still collect?"
"No. He lost interest a few years ago." Right after he left Upper Biddleton, Gideon reflected silently. His father had shown no enthusiasm for anything since the events of six years ago. Not even for his own estates. All the earl cared about now was gaining a grandson.
"I say. Pity. Quite a good collector at one time." Fry jerked himself to his feet. "Well, then. Must be off."
Gideon's brows rose. "Are you not going to congratulate me on my engagement, Fry?"
"What?" Fry picked up his glass and downed the last of the hock. "Yes, yes. Congratulations." He glowered at Gideon. "But I still say the lady don't need any polishing, if you ask me."
Gideon watched thoughtfully as Fry took himself off. One of the questions he'd come here with tonight had just been answered. Harriet was making no secret of her engagement.
Gideon felt a rush of deep satisfaction. The lady was apparently not in the least concerned that she might be ravished and abandoned by the notorious Beast of Blackthorne Hall. She fully expected to be married to him.
To judge by Fry's reaction, however, others were clearly far less sanguine about Harriet's fate. When Gideon paused to peruse the club's betting book he saw several entries on the subject of his engagement. They were all very much along the lines of the most recent one at the bottom of the page.
Lord R wagers Lord T that a certain young lady will find herself unengaged to a certain monster within a fortnight.
Harriet was involved in an intense discussion of the nature of igneous rocks with several other members of the Fossils and Antiquities Society when the news that Gideon was in Town hit the ballroom.
Effie appeared at Harriet's side shortly thereafter, looking extremely concerned. Harriet's first thought was that something had happened to Felicity or Aunt Adelaide.
"I would like a word with you, if you don't mind, Harriet," Effie murmured discreetly as she smiled graciously at the small crowd gathered around her niece.
"Of course, Aunt Effie." Harriet excused herself from the conversation. "Is anything wrong?"
"St. Justin is in Town. I just got word."
"Oh, good," Harriet said, her heart soaring, even though she told herself not to get her hopes too high. Gideon was hardly likely to discover he had fallen in love with her during their short separation. "That must mean his father is feeling better."
Effie sighed. "You are so naive, my dear. You just don't seem to understand the potential for disaster that we now face. Come along. Your friends from the Fossils and Antiquities Society can wait. We must consult with Adelaide."
"Aunt Effie, I was right in the middle of a most interesting conversation concerning the significance of molten rock. Cannot this consultation wait?"
"No, it cannot." Effie led the way toward where her sister stood. "Your entire future is at stake and we must be prepared for the worst possible situation. We are walking a tightrope here, Harriet."
"Really, Aunt Effie. You exaggerate." But Harriet allowed herself to be dragged to Adelaide's side. Better to get the consultation over and done so that she could return to her new friends as speedily as possible.
Effie's sister, Adelaide, Lady Buxton, was an imposing figure of a woman. Unkind people were inclined to call her fat. Effie had explained to Harriet and Felicity that much of Adelaide's size was directly attributable to the fact that she had consoled herself with sweets during her long, unhappy marriage.
Since Adelaide had emerged from the minimal mourning period she had observed on the recent death of her husband, she had started to lose weight quite rapidly. Tonight she appeared very striking in a vivid purple gown. She watched impatiently as Effie and Harriet approached.
"You have gotten the word, Harriet?" Adelaide spoke in a low tone while giving a charming smile to a lady in a green turban who had nodded in recognition.
"I understand my fiancé is in Town," Harriet admitted.