CHAPTER ONE
April 1816
The Honorable Mr. Christopher “Kit” Featherton, heir to Viscount Featherton, waited behind a young gentleman at the entrance to Almack’s. The other man was patting his suit, desperately searching for something. Kit, as he was known to his family and close friends, stepped around the individual, gave his hat, coat, and cane to a footman before addressing Mr. Willis, Almack’s gatekeeper. “Good evening, Willis.”
The older man bowed. “Good evening, sir. Her ladyship and Miss Featherton arrived not long ago.”
“Thank you, Willis.”
As Kit strolled into the assembly room, the young man complained, “I don’t see why you didn’t ask him for his voucher.”
“Mr. Featherton is well known to us and all in theton,” Willis replied sternly. “You, sir, are not.”
Kit couldn’t help but feel bad for the gentleman, but the patronesses of Almack’s were extremely particular about who gained admission to the rarified assembly rooms. He lifted his quizzing glass, surveying the attendees. Unfortunately, the one person he’d hoped to find was not present, and had not been for two years.
“Mr. Featherton, precise as a pin as usual.” A light hand touched his sleeve. Lady Jersey, one of Almack’s several patronesses, or Silence as she was called because she rarely ceased talking, smiled up at him. “Would you be so kind as to ask one of the young ladies to stand up with you?”
He inclined his head. Her ladyship had no need to ask. Unlikemany gentlemen, he would do his duty. “Naturally. Is there anyone in particular?”
“Yes, Miss Caudle. The young lady in green next to the lady with the large red feather in her turban. She is painfully shy. I shall introduce you.”
A few moments later Kit led the girl to join the group of gentlemen and ladies making up a set for a country dance. Bending his head slightly, he said, “Don’t let anyone frighten you. This is really no different from your assemblies at home. You have only to stop worrying and you’ll be fine.”
A smile trembled on the girl’s lips, and she nodded tersely. “Thank you.”
Miss Caudle was light on her feet, managing the complicated steps perfectly. In a few moments, she began to enjoy herself. After the set he was pleased to see other men lining up to beg her to dance with them.
He made his way to his mother and sister Meg.
“That was well done of you, Kit.” Meg grinned, and nodded to indicate Miss Caudle. “She was so afraid of doing something wrong, and I didn’t know how to reassure her.”
“I was glad to help. Do you require a dance partner?”
“No, mine is coming now.” His sister’s eyes twinkled. “Although if you could arrange to have Lord Beaumont ask me, I’d be forever in your debt.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but there is only one reason he is attending.” He motioned with his head to where his friend was standing next to a stunning woman with auburn hair.
“Oh, I know. Unfortunately, Lady Serena is too nice to be jealous of.”
Kit glanced around to see a tall gentleman a few years younger than himself approach. “Swindon.”
“Featherton.” The new Earl of Swindon gave a short nod, before turning to Meg. “My dance, I believe.”
His sister held out her hand and curtseyed. “Indeed it is, my lord.”
After Meg left, he raised a brow to his mother. “Now that would be a good match, if he wasn’t such a cold fish.”
Mama gave her head an imperceptible shake. “She will pick when she’s ready, and not before.” She focused her steady blue gaze onhim. “I’m much more concerned about you. It is all very well for you to be the perfect gentleman, but is there no lady who interests you?”
He did not want to have this conversation now. “Perhaps you have a lady in mind?”
Her lips thinned. “You know perfectly well how I feel about matchmaking mamas. I shall not be one.”
Thankfully, Lady Cowper, another patroness, intruded. “Mr. Featherton, I wonder . . .”
“I’ll be happy to, ma’am.”
He spent the rest of the evening doing the pretty, then retired to his rooms on Jermyn Street. Evening shoes off, brandy in hand, Kit stared into the fire. Until this past year, he might have gone to his club and enjoyed a night cap or two with his friends. But now they were mostly married. Late nights drinking brandy couldn’t compete with the soft, warm arms of their wives. The others were either out of Town, or pursuing their lady loves.
