“But, Charlotte, the majority of my friends have watched their husbands … well, have known that their husbands were bedding one female or another. Why, dearest Georgina has had to inure herself to all manner of affronts.”

“You mean Julia’s mother?” Charlotte asked, fascinated despite herself. “Squire Brentorton seems to be such a kindly man.”

“He is, darling, he is. But he’s a man, and there aren’t many who set store by their wedding vows. John truly loves Georgina, but he just doesn’t see it the same way she does. At least he hasn’t set up a mistress, or anything of that nature! And he never sleeps with women of our class, which is a great boon, believe me. Why do you think that Sissy’s mother pleads a weak heart so often? She simply can’t stand to watch her husband swan around the ballroom with that piece of muslin he’s set up on Mayfair Street.”

“What?” Charlotte gaped.

“I think her name is Melinda, something ridiculous like that; she’s a major’s widow, supposedly. But it’s common knowledge that Nigel Commonweal spends most of his time at her house, and while she doesn’t get invited to the best houses, she does seem to finagle invitations to most of the large balls. Prudence just doesn’t have the backbone to ignore it, not that I blame her. I have been terribly lucky with your father; I have never been confronted with anything of this nature.”

“You don’t mean that papa too …”

“I don’t think so,” Adelaide said. She sighed. “No, I’m fairly sure he has not. But if he has not, darling, then he must be one of perhaps five men in the ton who don’t occasionally sleep with ladies other than their wives. The important point is that these men don’t necessarily dislike their wives. Men simply see sexual acts rather more flexibly than do women.”

“I cannot like it, Mama,” Charlotte said, frowning.

Adelaide had to smile. On the surface, Charlotte looked to be entirely her daughter, but occasionally she was so like Marcel it made her heart melt. Just so would Marcel announce that he disliked a certain social impropriety.

“No woman likes it,” she replied simply. “Well, that’s not true. There are also women in the ton who occasion-ally …”

Charlotte’s eyes widened again. “Who?” This was just the kind of gossip that abruptly ceased when she sat down with a group of matrons. As an unmarried girl, she was far too innocent to know such things, they said.

“That’s not the point,” Adelaide said with a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. “The point is that while Alexander Foakes may have forgotten a brief encounter in the garden, he seems to be ardently pursuing you now and perhaps you ought to marry him—” She broke off, frowning. “But I forgot; I forgot all about his … problem.”