He was already upon us. “Thank you, Lady Ashton. That will be quite enough.” He stood some distance from his spouse, hardly looking at her. “In the future, I would be much obliged if you would refrain from speaking to my wife unless absolutely necessary.”

“I’m sure your wife is perfectly capable of deciding with whom she would like to speak.”

“I will not have you take such a tone with me,” he said. “It is intolerable. Any fool could see that she does not wish to talk to you.”

“And I, sir, will not tolerate you speaking to me in such a manner. Perhaps it was a mistake to include me in this party if you feel that I’m an inappropriate companion for your wife.”

“I do not make mistakes. I know you, Lady Ashton, and I know your kind. The best way to put a stop to your aspirations for marriage is to give you enough rope to hang yourself.”

“What a thoroughly unoriginal thought, Lord Fortescue. I should have thought a man so well versed in vitriol could come up with something a bit more fresh. I’m rather disappointed.”

“Learn to live with it, Lady Ashton. It’s an emotion with which you will be spending a great deal of time in the future.”

Seeing no point in replying to this sort of inanity, I started back to the morning room. I stopped when I heard Lord Fortescue burst into laughter, and could not help looking back at him. He had put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and looked as if he were about to embrace her. Surprised and embarrassed, I turned away.

“Terrible man, Fortescue, don’t you think?” Mr. Harrison stepped out from behind one of the pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling of the corridor that surrounded the hall. “I can’t think of anyone worse.” I wanted to agree, but something in his eyes—a coldness that was frightening in its lack of ambiguity—made me hesitate. “It’s obvious that you don’t care for him.”

“I’m sure my feelings haven’t the slightest impact on him,” I said, quickening my pace. He caught up to me at once and put out a hand to stop me.