“Might provide an enjoyable break from the usual boring rounds of fetes,” the duke agreed. “Let us take to the gaming tables and discuss it.”

They moved down the walkway, laughing, pulling out cheroots and snuffboxes. His jaw tightened to the point of pain, Andrew turned and strode into the house. Damn it to hell, this evening was not going at all the way he’d envisioned it. But at least with that group now departed, things could not get worse.

Standing in the shadows of the far corner of the drawing room, Catherine drew in a long breath, relieved finally to find herself alone for a moment to calm her turbulent thoughts. Knowing this haven would offer only a short respite from the crowd, she cast her gaze about the room in search of another sanctuary.

“For whom are you looking so intently, Lady Catherine?” asked a deep voice from directly behind her.

Her breath caught, and she turned swiftly to find herself staring into Mr. Stanton’s familiar dark eyes. Steady eyes. Friendly eyes. Relief rippled through her. Here, at last, was a friend she could talk to. An ally who meant her no harm. A gentleman not intent upon courting her.

“Mr. Stanton. You startled me.”

“Forgive me. I noticed you standing here, and I wanted to say hello.” He made her a formal bow, then smiled. “Hello.”

She forcibly pushed aside her worries and smiled in return, knowing that he would notice any discomfiture on her part. “And hello to you, too. I haven’t seen you since I last ventured to London two months ago. I trust you’ve been well-and busy with the museum?”