An elbow dug into his ribs, waking him up from his reverie.
“It is impolite to stare,” Alexander said pointedly, lifting his eyebrows.
William flushed. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.”
“You most certainly do. Miss Lavinia. You’ve stared at her like you’re seeing a ghost. Are you shocked by her unfashionable gown, or do you admire her?”
“Neither.”
“Hmph. Well, are you going to dance? It’s the first dance to open the ball,andto start off Mother’s ball. You ought to dance. Why not ask Miss Lavinia? Mr. Hasselford just asked her younger sister to dance instead of her, which is rather rude in my opinion.”
“I’m sure Miss Lavinia is not offended. Mr. Hasselford is a simpleton.”
“That’s a fair observation. Nevertheless, you ought to make inquiry of her. She has not signified an interest in you, and as she is nearly a spinster, it is likely her ambitions do not extend in your direction. No one will raise an eyebrow should you choose to ask her.”
William wavered. Could he ask her? Should he ask her?
And then Alexander hissed between his teeth, nudging him again.
“Wait a moment. Miss Bainbridge is coming our way.”
The woman in question slipped quietly through the crowds, small and unobtrusive among the frilly pastel gowns around her. She wore a simple dress in a deep blue, flattering but hardly eye-catching. Miss Bainbridge had an interesting face, round and even featured, with large blue eyes and dark hair dressed in a somewhat austere style, with a pair of round spectacles perched on her nose.
“Your Grace,” she said, making a neat curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Miss Bainbridge.”
Many ladies took their mammas along with them when it came to approaching gentlemen. The rules for women were much more austere than that for men – the idea of pressing oneself on a gentleman’s notice was rather disgusting for ladies, and that involved talking to a man who had not expressed interest in speaking to her first.
It seemed ridiculous to William. He remembered all of these rules from when Katherine was younger, and their father was making a valiant effort to compress his daughter into the social mould for young women. Katherine, naturally, did not fit, despite him applying all of his force.
Most other ladies submitted, and he couldn’t particularly blame them. However, Miss Bainbridge struck him as a woman who had politely refused to become the model of a Proper Young Lady, and quietly went on her own way.
Miss Lavinia also seemed like that sort of woman, albeit a little louder about her nonconformity than Miss Bainbridge.
Miss Bainbridge was also much richer, and money meant that people would forgive almost everything.
Alexander greeted Miss Bainbridge, drawing William back to the present.
“My congratulations on your marriage, Lord Willenshire,” Miss Bainbridge said, voice cool and even. “Miss Abigail Atwater was an unusual choice.”
Alexander visibly bristled. “Unusual? Why, because she has no dowry?”
Miss Bainbridge allowed herself the tiniest of smiles. “I only came to offer congratulations.”
“Right. Well, thank you. I shall pass your congratulations on to Abigail.”
He made his excuses, shooting a significant look at his older brother, and melted away into the crowd. Miss Bainbridge watched him go, eyes narrowed.
“Your brother appears to be thriving,” she remarked, as if seamlessly continuing a discussion from earlier.
“He is,” William said, feeling protective for a reason he could not quite identify.
“He has drunk nothing but water and lemonade all night.”
Ah. That was what she was getting at. William cleared his throat. “Yes, I believe Alexander avoids alcohol these days. He said he has lost the taste for it.”
“I imagine we have Miss Atwater to thank for that? Forgive me, I ought to call her Lady Willenshire, but there are two of them now. You have an extensive family.”
