Wetherby followed him thankfully from the room, though Rosamund had left a few minutes before. But the library was not empty, he found with surprise. Lady March was there as well as the marquess and marchioness.
“We will have the poor young man blushing and stammering and shaking in his shoes,” the marchioness said, directing him to a seat. “If you wish, Lord Wetherby—may I call you Justin? —Lana and I will leave without more ado. But we are all such interested parties, you see, and we all wish to have our say in your plans.”
The earl smiled. “Please, don’t leave,” he said. “I shall try my best to hold my own even against such odds.”
The marchioness laughed. “Do offer Justin some brandy, William,” she said to her husband. “He looks just like a young man who is about to lose his freedom.”
“I hope that is a quite accurate description, ma’am,” he said. He looked at Lord March. “I had your approval of my suit last year, sir. I assume that you have not changed your mind?”
God, he thought, looking at his future father-in-law, just a month before he had spent two full days and three nights with the man’s sister. He had made love to her—how many times? And now he was renewing his request for the daughter.
“Absolutely not,” Lord March said. “And Annabelle is looking forward to renewing her acquaintance with you.”
“But how could she not?” the marchioness said. “She met you several times last spring, Justin? I don’t wonder at all that she has been looking forward with pleasure to meeting you again here.”
The marquess coughed.
“Oh, William,” she said, “you know I am an incurable romantic. Why else would I have married you?”
The marquess chuckled.
“My reason for asking to speak with you, sir,” Lord Wetherby said, turning back to Lord March, “was to ask if I may speak with Annabelle without delay. Or would you prefer that I waited?”
“I can’t see any reason for delay,” Lord March said, “since word seems to be out anyway and everyone is expecting the betrothal.”
“It seems that my dear wife thought my seventieth birthday a momentous enough occasion to invite all these people here,” Lord Gilmore said. “There is to be a grand ball for the occasion one week from today. It would be a grand idea to announce the betrothal on the same evening.”
“What a splendid idea, William,” the marchioness said. “Are you in love with my granddaughter, Justin?”
Lord Wetherby looked at them all in some discomfort. “I have not had a very lengthy acquaintance with her,” he said. “I would hope that we can develop an affection for each other.”
“Naturally,” Lord March said.
“But it is as I thought,” Lady Gilmore said. “Justin and Annabelle have had no chance to grow comfortable with each other. They met when she was just a child and he a very young man—you did look rather comical together on that occasion, Justin, dear, and I know that you wished your mama and me at the very bottom of the ocean. And then they met under all the formality of a London Season last year. They need time to get to know each other.”
“But the announcement should be made, Mama,” Lady March said. “Lord Wetherby has accompanied his mother here expressly for that purpose.”
“Well, of course the announcement will be made, Lana,” her mother said. “On Papa's birthday, as he has suggested. But I would suggest that the offer be made on that day, too, so that it will not be a stammering affair, but an agreement between two young people who have had a week to grow comfortable with each other. What do you say, Justin?” She smiled at him.
“I am agreeable to whatever is suggested, ma’am,” he said.
Lord March coughed. “You understand, of course, Wetherby,” he said, “that though Lana and I are delighted at the prospect of the match and Annabelle seems pleased by it, we have left the final decision to her. It would be a great embarrassment if she refuses you, but we will not try to force her.”
“I certainly would expect nothing else,” Lord Wetherby said. “I will hope that during the coming week I can make myself irresistible to your daughter.”
He could also make himself very resistible, he thought, temptation flashing into his mind. He had not thought there was any real question of Annabelle’s refusing him.
“But of course,” Lady March said hastily, “she is very ready to accept you, my lord.”
“She would be a very strange young lady if she were not,” Lady Gilmore said with a smile. “All the other young ladies in London will doubtless go into mourning.”
They all laughed. The earl wondered idly what Rosamund had told her brother and sister-in-law about those days of the snowstorm. Doubtless she had not mentioned Justin Halliday—they would have known the name. He wondered what March would do if he knew that the man he had accepted for Annabelle had spent those days—and nights— tumbling his sister, and the weeks since dreaming of her.
“That would seem to be satisfactory to everyone, then,” Lord March said. “You will speak with Annabelle on my father-in-law’s birthday, then, Wetherby, and he will announce your betrothal during the ball in the evening?” Lord Wetherby raised his glass. “Agreed,” he said. The marchioness clasped her hands to her bosom. “How splendid,” she said. “I do love romance and betrothals and weddings. Who else can we match during these two weeks?” Lord Gilmore laughed and set an arm about her shoulders. “No one,” he said. “Everyone is either married already or is related to everyone else.”
“Oh, the situation is not quite so desperate,” she said. “Toby and Robin are the grandsons of my stepbrother and so only remotely connected to our other relatives. It is high time Joshua started to think of marriage. He is your heir, William. I have always thought I should try to match him with Christobel since she is the daughter of our elder girl and only his second cousin. But I cannot quite think her capable of coping with his wit. And then of course there is Lady Hunter, who is unrelated to anyone except Dennis, and is very eligible and quite lovely. It really should be possible to find her a husband.”
“Perhaps she would prefer to choose her own, Eugenia,” the marquess said with a chuckle. “A remarkably handsome young lady, by the way, Dennis.”
