“He will be deep in cards at his club by now. He convinced me long ago that he ought not attend balls—he does not care for dancing and makes himself a nuisance with complaints until the carriage is called.”
“I will be sorry we do not see him,” Weston said.
“It cannot be helped. One realizes, in a marriage, that one ought tocarefully choose one’s battlefields. I do not complain about his cards and he does not complain about the new furniture in my writing parlor.”
“Very sensible,” Lord Ledderbey said.
Weston had not considered the matter, but it did sound sensible.
“Now, Lord Tramondeley, I do not suppose anybody has explained to you how things are done at Almack’s.”
“Not specifically, no.”
“One of the patronesses will arrange who you dance with. It will likely be Lady Westmoreland as she will know you are the duke’s heir presumptive and she has always taken a particular interest in the Nicolets. Though how she tolerates my brother, I am sure I do not know. Maybe I should ask her for tips. In any case, if she asks, feel free to inform her if you have any specific preferences on which ladies you might like to be paired with.”
“I’ve only met Lady Valor and Lady Letitia,” Weston pointed out.
“Two dukes’ daughters, very good choices.”
“Can I tell Lady Westmoreland who I’d like to avoid?” Weston asked. “I really do not care for Lady Letitia.”
Lady Marchfield frowned. “Certainly not.”
Weston sighed. He was afraid that would be the case. A gentleman could never offend a lady, even if the lady was offensive. Upon being apprised of this some years ago by Lord Ledderbey, he’d decried it as unfair. Lord Ledderbey had gone on to outline all the advantages in the world that gentlemen had and ladies did not. Then it began to seem a deal more fair.
“I hope you have eaten a good dinner,” Lady Marchfield said. “I did outline in my note that you will not find much there.”
“We took that advice to heart, Lady Marchfield,” Lord Ledderbey said.
“Why is that, though?” Weston asked. “If this place is supposed to be a pinnacle of some sort, why do they allow their guests to starve?”
“Because itisthe pinnacle and they will dare you to complain about it,” Lady Marchfield said. “I suggest you wait until you are a duke to do so.”
Weston suppressed a snort. “I presume the Duke of Pelham does a lot of complaining.”
“And worse,” Lady Marchfield said. “Do not follow his habits in anything.”
Rather than answer, Weston looked out the carriage window at the lights from various windows shining down on the wet streets. He might never get over how closely packed together everything was in this town. As for Lady Marchfield’s warning regarding the duke, he did not know what it was about, but as he was not likely to begin following the duke’s lead in anything, he did not suppose it mattered much.
He did find himself looking forward to seeing Lady Valor again. The last he’d seen her, she’d been dressed in a simple muslin. She would look far different tonight.
“Here we are,” Lady Marchfield said.
They proceeded in and Weston did not know what he was expecting, but it was not a particularly prepossessing sort of place. He supposed that had to do with being the pinnacle and not having to try very hard to impress the fortunate people who were let in the doors. He found the idea in some way tedious.
Lord Ledderbey patted his arm and said softly, “All your hard work will pay off now.”
An elegant woman drifted over to them. “Lady Marchfield, I suspect I know who you have brought us.”
Lady Marchfield nodded graciously. “Lord Tramondeley, the Duke of Pelham’s heir presumptive, and his companion and guardian in his youth, Lord Ledderbey. Gentlemen, may I present Lady Westmoreland.”
“You are new to Town, is my understanding,” LadyWestmoreland said. “But if I understand Lady Marchfield at all, I imagine you have been well-briefed on how we do things.”
“Indeed, Lady Westmoreland,” Weston said. Though, he was tempted to say he’d been briefed on the utter lack of food and had a question about it.
“Excellent, do you have any preferences for which young ladies making their debut you ought to be put down for?”
“I am acquainted with Lady Valor Nicolet,” Weston said, refusing to say the name of Lady Letitia.
