Free The Bachelor List by Jane Feather

sandwiches and held their own teacups on their laps.
    “So what's this I hear about Letitia Graham's brother coming to town?” Lady Bainbridge demanded. “I wasn't at Arabella Beekman's soirée last week, but I hear that he was there, causing quite a stir.”
    “We met him briefly,” Chastity said. “Just an exchange of civilities. I didn't notice him causing a stir, did you, Con?”
    “No,” Constance responded with a delicate little frown. “As I recall, he seemed perfectly insignificant, madam.”
    “That's not what I read,” her ladyship declared, sipping her tea.
    “Oh? Did someone write about him?” Prudence leaned forward, her lively green eyes wide behind her spectacles.
    “Did you receive a letter, Lady Bainbridge?” Chastity asked, her own eyes, more hazel than the pure green of her sisters, fixed with rapt attention upon the visitor.
    “Oh, Mama found a copy of that newspaper,” whispered Mary. “In the ladies' cloakroom in Swan and Edgar's, of all places.”
    “That will do, Mary,” Lady Bainbridge declared. “You're always chattering.”
    The three Duncan sisters exchanged a glance. Mary spoke so rarely, the sound of her voice was a novelty.
    “What newspaper?” inquired Prudence with an innocent smile.
    “Oh, you must have seen it. A disgraceful thing.” Lady Bainbridge set down her cup on the small table beside her. “It's called
The Mayfair Lady.
A dreadful misnomer if ever I heard one. There's nothing ladylike about it at all.”
    “Lady Letitia Graham and the Right Honorable Mr. Ensor, Miss Duncan.”
    Jenkins's voice from the drawing room door startled them all. No one had heard the front doorbell.
    “Oh, Lady Bainbridge, I do so agree with you,” trilled Letitia, wafting into the drawing room on a cloud of lavender water and a rustle of silk and lace. “It's quite shocking. My poor brother was quite dumbfounded to be the subject of such an article. So embarrassing, don't you agree? When one is but newly come to town, it's no way to be introduced to Society.”
    “Curiously, Letitia, I consider it quite flattering to have attracted such notice.” Max Ensor's voice was as mellow as Constance remembered it, but she could detect an edge to it and guessed with satisfaction that he was not quite as sanguine about his appearance in the pages of
The Mayfair Lady
as he made out.
    “Mr. Ensor, how nice of you to honor us with your company.” Constance came forward with outstretched hand. Her smile, though polite, was cool, disguising the prickle of anticipation, the slight thrill in her blood at the prospect of engaging in battle with him.
    “The honor is mine, Miss Duncan.” He bowed over her hand.
    “Not attending the Prime Minister's Question Time this afternoon, Mr. Ensor?” Chastity asked brightly.
    “Apparently not, Miss Chastity,” he replied, taking a cup of tea from Jenkins.
    “Oh, but surely as a responsible Member of Parliament, Mr. Ensor, Question Time must be very important,” Constance said. “Will you have a sandwich? Egg and cress or cucumber?” She extended the platter in invitation.
    Max found three pairs of eyes of varying shades of green fixed upon him with smiling attention. But there was more than pleasantry in that attention. He felt a little like a mouse under the intently malicious gaze of a trio of felines. “If there are any questions of earth-shattering importance, you may rest assured that I shall be informed,” he said, to his annoyance hearing a defensive note in the statement. “As it happens I lunched with the Prime Minister and left him in the Members' Lounge less than an hour ago.” He took an egg sandwich.
    “Oh, I see.” Constance's smile remained constant. “You have a direct route to Sir Henry's ear. An unusual honor for a new MP, is it not?”
    Max said nothing. If she intended to make him sound like a boastful coxcomb he wasn't going to play a duet.
    Constance regarded him quizzically. “So I gather you were the focus of a