Before Clifford offered his arm to his wife, he leaned toward Gregory and whispered, “Please be kind to Susan.”

Gregory gritted his teeth, summoned a bland smile, and followed them inside. Immediately, he looked for Mrs. Renshaw. It was possible, if not probable, that she wasn’t present, but Gregory would hope. She would stand out, for she was a stunning beauty. Indeed, he couldn’t understand why he didn’t recall meeting her last Season, especially since she remembered him.

Ah well, he’d set out—rather nervously and at his father’s behest—to find a bride last Season. He’d thought Miss Wingate, now Lady Overton, might be the one, but she’d apparently been falling for her guardian, who was now her husband. In any case, the sudden death of his father from apoplexy had cut the Season short.

There she was. Standing near the rear doors dressed in a vibrant, coral-hued gown, Mrs. Renshaw exuded confidence and grace. Gregory made his way toward her, purposely keeping his gaze from connecting with anyone else’s. First and foremost, he wanted to greet Mrs. Renshaw.

He slowed his gait as his brain took charge for a moment. Why Mrs. Renshaw? He’d never paid particular attention to any woman, the former Miss Wingate notwithstanding. She had been a recommended means to an end, and while he’d liked her, he hadn’t been drawn to her. Not like he was to Mrs. Renshaw. Why her?

He wasn’t shallow enough to credit her beauty alone. She’d heard the puppy in distress and stopped to investigate. Not every woman would have done so. He was fairly certain his new sister-in-law wouldn’t have. Perhaps it was the way Mrs. Renshaw had looked at Ash, as if she’d already fallen in love, but didn’t dare succumb to the emotion. He found that reaction intriguing. He found everything about her intriguing. He was eager, almost desperate, to know more.

Quickening his pace, he made his way to her. Her enchanting blue eyes, round and turned up at the corners, sparked as she saw him. She was white, but her skin wasn’t ivory like so many women in Society. Her complexion glowed with a rich color that looked as if she’d been kissed by the sun. Her brown hair possessed the same quality, as occasional golden strands seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Her full lips pursed slightly as he stopped before her.

He bowed. “Good evening, Mrs. Renshaw. I am delighted to see you decided to come.”

“Good evening, Lord Gregory.”

Gregory realized the woman standing next to her was watching them. Mrs. Renshaw turned slightly toward her. “Heloise, this is Lord Gregory Blakemore, one of your neighbors at Witney Court.”

The white woman’s blue eyes were remarkably like Mrs. Renshaw’s. Indeed, Gregory might have thought they were related. She smiled at Gregory and the white man beside her also gave his attention.