“Well, if he is unsuitable, best cement that in your mind now. Then you’ll be ready to drive him out if he attempts to drive in.”
Betsy was right. She must only make a firm decision and follow it without thinking about it all the time. Without thinking abouthimall the time.
She must make that decision today, as she was certain to see him again this evening. Viscountess Rembly was hosting a ball and the duchess had promised they would go.
As it was likely that the ball was to be another opportunity to throw Miss Rightstone and Mr. Vance together, he would of course attend.
Isabel wondered what he thought of the proposed match. She had not noted any signs of affection coming from Mr. Vance in Miss Rightstone’s direction. In fact, she got the sense that he was put off by the lady, despite the viscountess heavily hinting that an engagement was in the works.
But perhaps he was of a practical mind, as she was herself. The duchess had said the Miss Rightstone’s history and dowry were precisely what a new-to-society baron would require and that he would certainly see that.
Perhaps hehadseen that.
The idea irked her, though doing the sensible thing was exactly what she planned for herself.
She did not fail to see the irony of it.
Chapter Six
Harry was atonce looking forward to the Remblys’ ball and dreading it. He had, at first, declined the invitation. The lady and her mama might chase him round the town, but he would not do anything to actually express a particular interest.
He did not wish to be presented to Miss Rightstone on a silver platter, in her own house, and had determined that this would be one of the times he would confound the duchess by declining to comply with her wishes. After all, Miss Rightstone was unlikely to need him there. It was her own family’s ball, her card would fill, and somebody would act the gallant and take her into supper.
That had been his decision. However, the duchess, so little liking to be crossed, had found the temerity to turn up to his house regarding it.
At first, he could not fathom what she did there as there seemed to be no point to the visit. She’d spent a deal of time outlining her shopping plans for the morrow.
Lady Isabel was to choose several new bonnets befitting a Plantagenet. Harry certainly hoped not, as he thought a Plantagenet headpiece, stiff and reaching for the sky, would not suit the lady at all.
Then the duchess spoke of a proposed visit to Rundell and Bridge to receive a long-awaited tiara that she and Mr. Rundell had designed between them. Apparently, this headpiece was to be of gold and contain some of the best emerald stones in England. It would perhaps have the unfortunate effect of reminding Lady Featherstone that her emerald brooch was, after all, just a brooch. But that could not be helped.
Harry was well aware of Lady Featherstone’s brooch, as was everybody in Town. She took great pride in it, having won it at one of Ryland’s mystery suppers. He mused that this group of lady friends were more like spies for enemy nations—never revealing themselves entirely, always presenting with a smile, but working to get the better of one another. Except for poor Lady Redfield, of course, who could not get the better of a flea.
After a thorough description of the gold setting of the tiara, the duchess had dramatically reached her hand toward the table, and then seeing nothing there had pulled it back again. He thought, if he were not mistaken, that she had pretended to reach for a teacup and then acted as if she’d been taken by surprise to recall that none had yet been offered.
Harry suppressed a sigh and rang the bell to order a tea tray. He was beginning to wonder when the lady planned on leaving. Perhaps he should set a dinner place for her as well?
Tea finally turned up while the duchess enumerated the emerald stones, their weights, cuts, and clarities, that would be set in her astounding new tiara.
After the door was closed and the tea was poured, the lady did an about face from shopping and droned on and on about the duties of participating in society. This tedious lecture culminated in how put out Lady Rembly was to discover that he had declined her invitation.
Now they were getting to the real reason for the visit. He let her ramble but did not reply.
She then out and out said that they all had hopes that he would marry Miss Rightstone.
His look of incredulity must have been apparent, as she then hurried to lay out all the reasons why it would benefit him.
Thenheinformedherthat he had no need of the lady’s dowry, did not need that much of a leg up in society, and had done her the favor of sometimes taking Miss Rightstone into supper because he did not think she’d have any takers otherwise.
Lady Rembly, if she wished to marry off her daughter, ought to take her in hand and for the love of heaven get that fan away from her.
The duchess had appeared stunned to hear it. At least, he supposed that was what it was. She’d risen, then staggered, then sat back down.
Harry presumed this was the end of his being invited to places at her urging.
“But surely, you have paid Miss Rightstone some attention.”
“No more than any other lady,” Harry said. “Last season I took her into supper three times out of the fifteen balls where I encountered her, and all at your request. I am perfectly amenable to doing a favor where I can, but a wedding is really a step too far to ask.”
