“I do,” Henry managed, with a wrench of memory. He recalled Lady Redford, the false-front lady with a wide and not entirely sincere smile, and her tall, rakish husband who was almost entirely bald except for a few strands of grey hair on the top of his scalp. He was standing unhappily beside his wife, and favoured Henry with an unconvincing grunt of greeting.
“And, of course, our daughter, Sophia,” Lady Redford added, and Henry immediately realized why they’d come to find him.
Miss Sophia Redford was, in his estimation, about nineteen years old. She had jet black hair, elaborately curled and styled, and wore a silver gown obviously chosen to set off her colouring. She had large, ice-blue eyes, which she enhanced with the use of white stones in her jewelry. In short, she was a remarkably beautiful woman, and the look she shot Henry through thick black eyelashes indicated that she knew that fact very well.
“Lord Henry,” she breathed, sinking into a curtsey. “So wonderful to have you back in England.”
“You must be quite tired of foreign food,” Lady Redford added, chuckling at her own joke.
He smiled weakly. “On the contrary, Lady Redford. I quite miss the cuisines of France and Italy, especially.”
This was not what the woman had wanted to hear, so she rapidly changed the subject.
Henry was more than familiar with these tricks. The Season was designed for ladies to find husbands, and for men who did not wish to be married to slip away as best they could. Any respectable lady had a mother to watch out for her – hermamma, who would corner suitable men and put everything in place for her daughter tofascinatetheir prey, hoping to entrance him into a marriage proposal.
Henry frankly thought it ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as ladies having to sit miserably and wait to be asked to dance. Society would be a much more pleasant place if people would simply say what they meant and be honest. Of course, that was not going to happen anytime soon, and that meant he had to endure Lady Redford’s less-than-subtle needling as to whether he intended to be married.
“One never knows where life will take you,” Henry said at last, thoroughly bored.
Lady Redford clucked her tongue. “Oh, that is exactly what your dear brother said, the esteemed Duke, when we spoke to him earlier. He said…”
“My brother? You spoke to my brother first?” Henry rapped out sharply, before he could stop himself.
“Well, yes,” Lady Redford said, bewildered.
Henry bit his tongue. It was a silly thing to be angry over, especially since he had no interest in the admittedly beautiful Miss Redford, but it hurt to know that he was, as always, second best. They had tried to fascinate William first, and when that hadn’t worked, they’d moved on to the second brother. When Henry got rid of them, doubtless they would try Alexander.
I am more than just the second son,Henry thought, swallowing down a bubble of discontent and frustration.Society will see, no matter how hard I have to try to make them.
He cleared his throat, forcing a quick smile. “Forgive me. Do go on, Lady Redford.”
The woman pursed her lips at him. On cue, the musicians started up, and there was a general exclamation of excitement. People began to head towards the dance floor in pairs. Henry’s heart sank. He knew quite well what was coming next.
“Oh, the dancing is beginning!” Miss Redford exclaimed archly. “Oh, Mama, I do love dancing.”
“She dances remarkably well,” Lady Redford said, looking self-satisfied. “My dear, do you have a partner for this set?”
“No, Mama, I don’t.”
“What a pity. Do you dance, Lord Henry?”
The implication was clear. Already feeling a trifle guilty over snapping at them, Henry sighed.
“Would you like to dance, Miss Redford?”
A few moments later, the two of them were prancing around on the dance floor with the others.
“You dance exceptionally well, Lord Henry,” Miss Redford said, but he couldn’t help but feel she would have paid the same compliment regardless of his dancing skills.
“Thank you,” he managed with a sigh.
Henry did not like dancing. He did not consider himself particularly good at it, and he disliked looking silly. Alexander would caper around like a fool and make everybody around him – and himself – laugh until their sides hurt. He always received applause and earned himself goodwill by the spadefuls. William had a sort of grace about him that worked well on a dance floor, and Katherine was naturally good at most things.
Henry, however, plodded his way through the steps, counting the minutes until he could be released. Miss Redford insisted on talking, too, so he could not just concentrate on the dance and not shaming himself by tripping in front of the whole company. He kept getting glimpses of Percy, standing on the sidelines and grinning at him, as well as Lord and Lady Redford, perched out on the outskirts like waiting vultures.
Eleanor Fairfax was dancing, too, with one of the fresh-faced boys she’d been talking to earlier. Occasionally, their paths crossed, and she would always do her level best not to look into his face, although there was no way she could not have recognized him.
Henry prided himself on not beingentirelyforgettable, at the very least.
