no secret, my dear, that some fortunate lady always ends up in his bed at these affairs. Many a silly chit has ruined her reputation because she couldn’t resist boasting that she’d been with him. My money is on Lady Anna St. Clair.”
“Your money?”
“Quite. A few of us married ladies—the older ones especially—always wager. Would you care to place your own wager on whom it shall be?”
She was both intrigued and repelled by the notion. “No.”
“Probably to the best. A few have wagered it will be you.”
Jayne’s jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly enough to snap her mouth shut. If she tried to speak, she’d no doubt be blathering.
“I daresay I think it a fool’s wager, however,” Lady Inwood continued, as though she’d not just insulted Jayne to her core. “It’s well known that Ainsley never takes a married woman to his bed.”
As though the ultimate decision rested with him and not her. She almost commented that perhaps married women didn’t want him in their bed. Having known their husbands, they were content with that. But she didn’t want to prolong this discussion any longer than necessary. “Then why would anyone wager on me?”
“You’re young.” She lifted a bared shoulder carelessly. “Speculation is that since his accident, your husband—”
“My husband satisfies me in all matters, I assure you.” She was pleased that the practiced words had escaped her lips so smoothly. She’d not been certain if the opportunity presented itself that she would be able to successfully protect Walfort’s manhood. He considered these people friends, equals, and here they were gossiping about him as though he were little more than gutter garbage. She’d feared it would be the case, hence the hours of practicing the precise words and tone in order to deliver them effectively.
She took satisfaction in Lady Inwood’s brown eyes widening. “I meant no insult. It is simply that you have still failed to produce an heir—”
“Did it occur to no one as they were doing all this damn gossiping that my husband and I required time to adjust to the obstacles thrown at us?”
“Yes, of course. As I said, I meant no insult.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to my other guests.”
Inwardly, she was seething, but had she learned nothing else in the past three years, she’d learned to bury her emotions so far down that even she had a difficult time finding them. She wanted to leave this suffocating room, but she was the hostess, so she smiled and introduced to the assemblage each young lady who had requested an opportunity to perform, hoping that her music would capture some gentleman’s fancy.
At one point the hairs on the nape of her neck rose and she turned to find Ainsley’s gaze riveted on her. She could see the speculation in his green eyes, the furrowing of his brow. His intense perusal only served to inflame her fury.
She wished this entire affair were over, that she could send all her guests on their merry way. Instead, she smiled and pretended to give a fig about the latest fashions, books, and betrothals. It was all so damned frivolous. She thought her world had stopped falling apart, but she was wrong. It had simply become isolated, her focus narrowed to struggling not to continually grieve for all that had been irrevocably lost.
After the recital, Walfort adjourned to the billiards room with some of the gentlemen. She saw to it that the remaining guests had all they needed to retire for the night. Most had brought their own servants, but hers were still available to help as needed. A few of the guests were sleeping in luxurious tents on the front lawn, but the more prestigious were given rooms. Lady Inwood had been correct: Walfort’s estate was known for its hunting grounds, and royalty often visited. Over the centuries, new wings and additions had been added to accommodate them, until the residence resembled a palace.
When the rooms finally settled into quiet,