“Or care about.”
“Well, I suppose that might have something to do with it.”
Both of them laughed.
“Seriously, Gus,” continued her sister after a bit. “Why is it you are so set against making yourself agreeable to the many gentlemen who would show an interest, if you gave them half a chance?”
“You know very well why,” she muttered. “You are content with the idea of a husband and children and a household to run, but it would not suit me.”
“Surely there are men who would appreciate your keen intellect, and not seek to keep you from expressing your views.”
“Ha! If you think any man would countenance my opinions, especially if he knew that?—”
She swallowed hard. “I mean, you may know that I am capable of stringing two coherent thoughts together, but the fact is, in public, I stutter and natter like a veritable peagoose, which, combined with my gangly height and angular features, is hardly likely to set any gentleman’s heart to fluttering.” She made a show of rearranging the papers on her cluttered desk. “Truly, Marianne, I am well content as I am. Don’t you, too, start asking me to change.”
Her sister bit her lip. “I meant no such thing, Gus, you know I didn’t. It’s just that …” Her words trailed off with a sigh.
“Come now, let’s have no long faces.” Augusta quickly changed the subject. “What was it you were in such a hurry to tell me?”
“Oh, as to that, Mama was wondering if you might attend Crestleigh’s ball with me tonight. She is having one of her megrims and wishes to stay in bed. Of course, if you do not wish to, I should be happy to stay at home as well.”
“And forgo an evening of watching Stonehill whisper insipid verses in your ear and Evershaw try not to tread on your toes as he gazes like a mooncalf into your eyes? How could I ever pass up such entertainment?”
“They mean well, poor things,” said Marianne, trying to stifle a giggle. “You don’t mind, then?”
“I am looking forward to it—why, just yesterday I purchased a turban for exactly this sort of occasion.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “Wear your figured emerald silk instead and see just who needs a chaperone.” On that note, she picked herself up and left as precipitously as she had entered.
Augusta gave a little shake of her head as the door fell shut. What an odd notion her sister had taken into that lovely head of hers, to imagine that she might be of the slightest attraction to the opposite sex. It was just as well it was utter nonsense. She hadn’t time to waste fending off unwanted suitors, not if she was to get done all the things that she needed to in the next few months. Already she was a tad behind schedule to meet her next deadline.
And then, there was the real reason she had agreed to leave the comfortable environs of Greenfield Manor and endure the distractions of a Season in Town.
Yes heavens, she hadn’t even had a chance to begin looking into that, she thought grimly. Perhaps tonight would provide theopportunity to start asking a few discreet questions. Her brow furrowed slightly as she turned her mind to formulating a plan for her investigation. That it would take luck as well as logic to succeed had already occurred to her. Being a female was going to be a great hindrance in this matter. However, with Jamison’s help, she might manage to discover what was needed.
The chiming of the clock on the mantel chased such thoughts away for the time being. If she applied herself, Augusta decided on looking down at her notes, she might be able to finish another page of her current essay before it was time to dress for the evening.
But first, she would finish the interesting letter that had just arrived from Pritchard’s office.
Marcus strolledthrough the packed ballroom, noting with wry exasperation that at least four young cubs fresh from the country were wearing the same burgundy and charcoal striped waistcoat that he had sported last week at Audley’s ball. Making a mental note to have his valet destroy it at once, he took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and swept his gaze over the latest array of young ladies making their debut in Society.
After a long look, his mouth tugged down at the corners.Hell’s teeth, was he really getting so old?Why, the chits looked like mere children! And no doubt their thoughts would match their smiling faces—bland, agreeable, and scrubbed of all hint of originality.
He drained his glass and turned in search of another.
“What? None of the newest Incomparables meet with your august approval, Dunham? I had thought the blonde, at least, might catch your eye.”
“Really, Fitz, when have you known me to consider ravishing little girls? ” he muttered, moving restlessly toward a corner of the room. “Innocents have little appeal to me.” His current unsettled mood led him to be more acerbic than usual. “Take the blonde you mentioned—I wager there is not one word worth hearing that would come from those rosebud lips. And most assuredly she would have no idea of how to make any other part of her anatomy more … interesting.”
His friend gave a muffled guffaw.
“No,” he continued. “The trouble far outweighs any sort of reward one might expect. I shall stick to more mature ladies, who at least offer some sort of recompense for having to endure their inane chatter.”
The two of them had paused beside a towering arrangement of potted palms woven with a cascade of ivy spilling from the terra cotta containers. The earl’s friend finished his drink and gave one more glance around the room. “I fear you are right. This evening promises to be a dead bore. Nothing here but scheming mamas looking to make a match. Care to join me for a bottle at White’s? I might also decide to try my luck at that new gaming hell off Pall Mall.”
Marcus slapped at one of the long fronds brushing the shoulder of his immaculately tailored evening jacket. “Perhaps I will join you later,” he said curtly.
The other man’s brow furrowed a bit at the earl’s sharp tone, then he simply shrugged and backed off through the swirl of dancing couples.
