“I wonder which is less pleasant, being Lord Fortescue’s protégé or his enemy?” I asked. “At least his enemies don’t have to spend as much time with him.”

“But they do. Lord Fortescue makes a point of keeping his enemies near. That’s why Mr. Harrison is here this weekend.”

“You mean I’m not the only unwelcome guest?”

“Oh, Emily, let’s not talk politics. What do you know about the Countess von Lange? I’m told the attachés in Vienna speak of nothing but her. Her parties are infamous.”

“Her existence had entirely escaped my notice until today,” I said, frowning. “A statement Colin clearly could not make.”

“They do look rather cozy. He must know her from his work on the Continent.”

“Yes, Lord Fortescue was kind enough to let me know that.”

“Oh, dear. We shan’t talk about it,” Ivy said, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Lord Fortescue seems awfully friendly with Flora Clavell.”

“I noticed the same thing. I thought he was devoted to Mrs. Reynold-Plympton?” For years she had acted almost as a wife, offering considerable assistance to him in political matters, particularly when he required personal information concerning his rivals. He was on his third marriage—his first wife had succumbed to fever when they were visiting the West Indies, the second to the rigors of childbirth. Like her predecessors, the current Lady Fortescue did not seem troubled in the least by her husband’s mistress.

“Devoted is perhaps not the right word, but he certainly hasn’t dropped her. I saw them together last weekend at Lady Ketterbaugh’s in Kent. There was perhaps a coldness between them, but it was obvious that they’re still very much attached. Have you been to the Ketterbaughs’ estate? The house is gorgeous beyond belief.”

“No, I haven’t—”