Gregory Blakemore hadn’t been terribly enthused about attending the assembly in Witney until he’d met Mrs. Renshaw. He only hoped she actually came, for she hadn’t responded to his query on the matter.

He’d sent a note the afternoon before, letting her know he’d found the tenant whose dog had birthed Ash and several other puppies. They’d been happy to let Gregory keep him. He’d also asked if she would be at the assembly. Her response had only said she was delighted he would get to keep Ash.

“You coming?” Clifford Blakemore, Marquess of Witney and Gregory’s older brother by eighteen months, peered up into the coach.

“Yes.” Gregory stepped down outside the small assembly rooms. They were rustic compared to what they were used to in London, but Gregory liked their simplicity. They also reminded him of his youth, of dancing with young ladies when he was home from Oxford. And of preventing and saving Clifford from bad behavior ranging from drinking too much brandy and falling unconscious next to the reflecting pool in the garden to nearly being caught kissing the innkeeper’s wife near the retiring room.

Susan, Gregory’s sister-in-law, pursed her lips, her thin, sharp brows drawing together over her deep brown eyes. “It’s so…lacking.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Gregory said, trying not to let her agitate him. He found her arrogance most tiresome. It was also a shame, because when he’d first met her last spring before their father had died, she’d seemed rather pleasant. Her demeanor had changed entirely after she’d become betrothed to Clifford.

“They aren’t so bad,” Clifford said. “They’re no Almack’s, of course.”

Thank goodness, Gregory thought.

“The gardens in the rear are quite lovely,” Clifford continued. A faint, somewhat lascivious smile passed over his features, and Gregory wondered which misbehavior he was recalling. Perhaps it was one about which Gregory wasn’t even aware, though hopefully there were few of those. Gregory had taken care to keep his older brother from causing trouble or embarrassment given their family’s position in the community. “My father funded their maintenance. I suppose that’s my responsibility now.”

“Shouldn’t everyone in the area contribute?” Susan asked. “It isn’t just for our enjoyment.”

“That’s not very charitable of you,” Gregory noted, working to keep the irritation from his tone. “The town of Witney has been our family’s seat for generations. It is the marquessate’s duty, indeed its honor, to provide such support.” He turned toward the doors. “Now, let us join the festivities.” Where he would do everything possible to avoid her for the rest of the evening. He was glad Witney Court was so large. With the exception of dinner, he was able to mostly keep himself from her path.