Matthew had slippedaway from Lady Clara when the opportunity came. She’d turned to greet a friend and he disappeared into the crowd.
It was not that he did not like the lady, she was very pleasant. However, there was something uncomfortable in her mien. Her eyes glittered, she laughed too easily and perhaps too long, her color was high. Her nerves seemed at a fever pitch, and he was very afraid he knew why. He’d been singled out.
He did not wish to be singled out by her or any other lady. Not this season. Not yet.
A sudden slap on the back woke him from his thoughts.
“Van Doren,” a hale and hearty voice said from behind him.
“Cahill,” he said, turning. As if one of the YBC would not be enough, Lord Dunston was with him.
“We find ourselves entirely dejected just now,” Lord Dunston said.
Matthew did not think they looked at all dejected. In any case, while a rout was not the most pleasant thing to attend, it could hardly engender such strong feelings.
“I see you did not note it,” Cahill said. “The great Conbatten has whisked off our Lady Beatrice.”
Matthew attempted to parse the various outrages in the statement.OurLady Beatrice? Since when was she to betheiranything? And what was this about Conbatten?
“Whisked?” he said.
“Oh yes, he swooped in like a falcon and now they are heads together in the refreshment room,” Lord Dunston said.
“I do not suppose we have ever seen Conbatten take such an interest. Perhaps the great man is finally to be caught,” Mr. Cahill said.
“That must be well received by you, Van Doren—your neighbor will become a duchess,” Lord Dunston said. “Though we must be crushed by this turn of events.”
Mr. Cahill sighed very dramatically. “I suppose he will have no trouble at all fulfilling Lady Beatrice’s list of requirements. Conbatten never has any trouble withanything.”
“Her list of requirements is a lot of nonsense,” Matthew said, “as I believe you are all fully aware.”
“Nonsense?” Lord Dunston said, appearing very aggrieved. “But certainly, Van Doren, a lady such as that has every right to define her requirements.”
“Yes, yes,” Matthew said, “but her list is…well, the derring-do of Robin Hood? The depth of feeling of Shakespeare? The stalwartness of Henry the Fifth?”
“But Van Doren,” Mr. Cahill said, “it is Lady Beatrice we speak of. Perhaps no other lady might have such expectations, but Lady Beatrice has every right!”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “You may praise her to the skies, but I am confident of my understanding of the real case of things. I believe I understand herrealattraction.”
“Clarify yourself, my lord,” Lord Dunston demanded, looking exceedingly affronted.
“I will not, as I do not believe you have need of it,” Matthew said. He turned on his heel and pushed his way through the crowd.
Ahead, he spotted Lady Clara. Taking a sharp right, he saw Lady Mary. Both of the ladies were closing in.
He was a hunted stag and the people milling about were the trees he attempted to hide behind. He did an about face and dodged and weaved away.
This was speedily becoming one of the most irritating nights of his life.
*
Beatrice had longsince left the company of Conbatten and had various conversations, some with people she had met at Almack’s and some she was newly introduced to.
All the while, she took surreptitious glances round the room. Was there a gentleman here somewhere, watching her. Tortured by her? Wishing to approach but holding himself back on account of his love of her?
The only gentleman who could be positively identified as watching her was Van Doren, as he was so predisposed to do.
She supposed Van Doren would agree with Conbatten regarding the unsuitability of the YBC members, both of those gentlemen entirely in the dark as to what was really going on.
