Ah. No wonder Lady Amelia was relieved not to have to cast her lures to Griffith—if she knew and had spent time with Ida, and was also willing to admit it, chances were good she was as intelligent as Ida and as unwilling to get married simply because that was what one did.

“If I may, could I persuade you to share a dance with me this evening? I believe we are scheduled to attend the Chartleys’ party?” he said, looking down at Della.

“Yes,” Della confirmed, even though now was the first time she’d heard of the party. But she shouldn’t have been surprised; there were parties every evening. His surprising her with the information wasn’t the same as being told she would have to go.

And she wouldn’t have been invited at all if she weren’t on the arm of an eligible gentleman.

It was remarkable how that would open doors for someone who’d expected all the doors to be shut in her face on her return.

“Thank you, my lord, I would be delighted,” Lady Amelia replied.

“Good, good. Now, if you will excuse me, my betrothed and I have to be on our way. We have strategizing to do.”

He whisked her away before Lord Thwaite and his daughter could see her break out into laughter.

Chapter 9

Della fumbled for the key to the house, only to have him snatch it away from her and put it in the lock, pushing her inside with his big body as the door swung open.

“You’re home!”

Both of them froze, his front pressed against her back, their faces likely wearing equally startled and probably guilty expressions.

“Mrs. Wattings said you likely wouldn’t be home for hours, and I shouldn’t wait, but see, you are here, and much earlier than expected.” Olivia beamed at both of them. “My lord, a pleasure to see you. I didn’t realize the two of you were together.”

Sarah peered over Olivia’s shoulder, her expression bemused. Not unusual, given Olivia’s enthusiastic mien. Likely Sarah had done her best to dissuade Olivia from staying, but Della knew her sister would not be deterred if she had a purpose.

And her purpose today—even though she did not know it—was to keep her sister from embarking on an illicit affair.

Drat.

“Do come into the parlor, Olivia.” She might as well accept that nothing passionate would be occurring today. “Sarah, do you mind ringing for tea?”

Sarah nodded, her expression still rueful. There was nothing you could do, Della wanted to say.

“Lord Stanbury, would you care for tea?” He hadn’t moved from where he had been when Olivia had hailed them. His face was still frozen, as though in shock. And disappointment, Della knew. Since she was feeling vastly disappointed herself.