Page 76 of Waiting for Love

“La! What men do? Now you will tell me I have lovely eyes and then commence to boast about yourself.”

He laughed. Then asked her if she had seen The Coachman at the theater. He and Hazard had gone. She hadn’t been to the theater yet, but couldn’t wait to go. They had a typical, if slightly awkward, supper conversation.

It was just as well to eat supper with Hazard’s friend rather than Lord Howerton. But she was not amused when the Duke of Lythe broke the rules again. He had arrived late to the ball and her card was already full. This time, he stole the Marquess of Ebersom’s place. The final set. And this time, he did not apologize.

It was the last set, but the ball was not over. It was time for the fireworks. The duke escorted her to the terrace to watch. It was a lovely starry-skied evening. The terrace was chilly but there were enough warm bodies to block the wind. The brickwork flooring was patterned in a series of spirals, and an intricate iron-grillwork balcony encircled the whole. At one end, torches illuminated a viewing point where one had to walk up four brick-faced steps to another tier.

“Here is best to see,” he said, steering her away from the torchlights. “The fireworks will be brighter where it is dark.”

He held tightly to her elbow. She would rather have stood with the crowd. They were not more than twenty feet from the others, but it was darker in their corner than she anticipated, and His Grace stood too close. Much too close. She could smell his wine breath.

To her relief, after the first colorful burst of light and terrace-shaking thunderclap, Reg and Georgiana joined them.

“Here you are!” Georgiana said, looping an arm through hers.

“Lythe,” Reg said, reaching out a hand. Lythe had to release Olivia’s elbow to take it. “I hear you are responsible for sponsoring the exhibit at Baxter Hall. I’m anxious to see it. Hunt’s work, is it not?”

Smiling, Georgiana said, “Mr. Taverston, Lady Olivia and I are not tall enough to see well here. We are going to join Lady Iversley. Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Oh? Fine. Go along. I will join you shortly,” Reg said, then continued his discussion with the duke.

“That man,” Georgiana fumed as they moved out of earshot. “He can bore a corpse to death twice. I’m sure he is lonely, but that’s no excuse. He claims to be a little deaf, and that’s why he prefers to talk in small groups or one-on-one. But Hazard says he can hear an insult at forty paces.”

Lonely. Hard of hearing. Now Olivia felt terrible for what she’d been thinking. Something more along the lines of lecherous. She should really be kinder to him. Papa would expect it of her.

“Well, he isn’t that dull. He has a fascinating stable. But thank you for rescuing me.”

Georgiana smiled. “That’s what we are here for!”

Was that how the Marriage Mart worked? Throw a lamb in among the wolves and then circle around protecting that lamb? Why put her through this? In another month, Jasper would have the unacceptables winnowed out. Why not simply hand out notices to his top ten choices and let them work it out amongst themselves?

Another burst of fireworks lit the sky. Olivia joined the applause, but not even the elaborate display cheered her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend to enjoy this. To feign excitement. To smile encouragement at men she didn’t care for, waiting for Jasper to tell her which one she should.

*

Olivia thought she’d overslept, and that no one would be at breakfast when she entered the morning room in the midafternoon. But the whole family was gathered. A fire burned in the hearth. Dismantled newspapers littered the table. Reg bounced Arthur gently on his knee, one hand on the baby’s belly and one cupped behind his head.

“Oh! Let me,” Olivia said.

“Careful,” Reg said. “His head wobbles.”

“I know, I know. You say that every time.” She scooped up Arthur and cuddled him, breathing in his soft, soapy scent.

Mama yawned. “Thank goodness there is no ball tonight. Only the musicale and that will not run late. Olivia, the pink this evening.”

Olivia groaned. “Yes, Mama.”

“I don’t know why you fuss. Pink is a lovely color on you.”

Olivia turned, rocking Arthur and humming.

Alice swished into the room, bright eyed and rosy cheeked, stripping off her gloves.

“Were you out?” Mama asked. “Already?”

“I met Miss Frampton. We went for a walk.”

“Hmmm.” Mama’s brow wrinkled. Miss Frampton was one of Lady Rose Posonby’s bluestockings. It wouldn’t do Alice’s prospects any good to start spending too much time with them. It was not Mama’s place to say anything, but that hum made it clear what she thought.