“I . . . have some reason to think that Mr. Trevelyan has . . . an irregular attachment,” he said carefully. “The matter is not yet quite certain.”

The Countess inhaled deeply, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and regarded him with a pale, clear blue gaze of pragmatism, tinged only slightly with regret.

“He is a dozen years her senior; it would be not merely unusual, but most remarkable, if he had not had several mistresses. Men of your age do have affaires, after all.” Her lashes lowered briefly in delicate reference to the hushed-up scandal that had sent him to Ardsmuir.

“I could hope that his marriage would cause him to abandon any such irregular liaisons, but if it does not . . .” She shrugged, her shoulders sloping in sudden tiredness. “I trust he will be discreet.”

For the first time, it occurred to Grey to wonder whether either his father or her first husband, Captain DeVane . . . but this was not the time for such speculations.

“I think Mr. Trevelyan is highly discreet,” he said, clearing his throat a little. “I only wondered if . . . if Livy would be heartbroken, should . . . anything happen.” He liked his cousin, but knew very little about her; she had come to live with his mother after he himself had left to take up his first commission.

“She’s sixteen,” his mother said dryly. “Signor Dante and his Beatrice notwithstanding, most girls of sixteen are not capable of grand passion. They merely think they are.”

“So—”

“So,” she said, cutting him neatly off, “Olivia actually knows nothing whatever of her intended husband, beyond the fact that he is rich, well-dressed, not bad-looking, and highly attentive to herself. She knows nothing of his character, nor of the real nature of marriage, and if she is truly in love with anything at the moment, it is with her wedding dress.”

Grey felt somewhat reassured at this. At the same time, he was well aware that the cancellation of his cousin’s nuptials might easily cause a scandal that would dwarf the controversy over the dismissal of Pitt as Prime Minister two months before—and the brush of scandal was not discriminating; Olivia could be tarred with it, blameless or not, to the real ruin of her chances for a decent marriage.

“I see,” he said. “If I were to discover anything further, then—”

“You should keep quiet about it,” his mother said firmly. “Once they are married, if she should discover anything amiss regarding her new husband, she will ignore it.”

“Some things are rather difficult to ignore, Mother,” he said, with more of an edge than he intended. She glanced at him sharply, and the air seemed for an instant to solidify around him, as though there were suddenly nothing to breathe. Her eyes met his straight on and held them for a moment of silence. Then she looked away, setting aside her volume of Burke.