“What’s wrong, Sam? You look white as milk.” Izzie sat down on the chair de Grave had just pulled up next to mine and gazed at me with concern.

“Oh, just the insufferable Lord Windham, getting on my nerves. That man doesn’t rest until he gets his way.”

De Grave laughed at this. “Yes, I remember him from our school days. He was exactly the same. He could always charm the maids, or the teachers, for that matter, into his getting his way. He never had to resort to the more underhanded measures the rest of us were forced to use.”

I filed that last comment away for future reference. What underhanded measures could de Grave be referring to? Was he implying something there?

I finished my glass of punch and placed it on a nearby table. “Well, I’m going to the powder room. I feel as though my hair is coming undone. I fear the maid didn’t use enough pins.”

Izzie immediately stood up. “I’ll come, too, Sam.”

De Grave offered to bring us all back some punch and we thanked him and left to find the powder room.