Page 23 of The Language of Love

Fortunately, the subject of Mr. Norburg had not come up again, which was not unusual, as Annis was hardly the most important subject on the days leading up to the ball.

***

Henry surveyed the densely packed ballroom and wished, yet again, that he’d stayed home. But this was their first ball—although they’d attended a dozen other, smaller, functions—and he could hardly escape it since it had all been his idea.

Beside him, Colin bounced on his heels, so excited that Henry was afraid he might break into a triple huzzah at any moment.

Henry cleared his throat, but that failed to attract his attention. “My lord.”

“Hmm?” Colin surveyed the room with the wide eyes of a child confronted with a tempting array of sweets.

“Lord Rotherhithe.”

Colin flicked him a glance from distracted blue eyes. “Eh?” And then he looked again; whatever he saw on Henry’s face made him stop bouncing. “Ah, yes, Parker?”

“Do you recall what we spoke about in the library?”

“Uh. The library?”

“Yes, you know, the room with all the books.”

Colin blinked, visibly scouring his memory for what Henry was talking about.

“My lord?” Henry prodded.

Thanks to the ludicrously high shirt points Colin had insisted on wearing, he couldn’t turn his head. Instead, he had to shift his entire torso to look directly at Henry.

“Er, yes, the conversation. In the library.” He chewed over Henry’s question as if it were the Riddle of the Sphinx. “You mean that thing about the tea?”

Henry told himself to remain calm, reminding himself, for the ten thousandth time, that he had brought this all on himself.

“No, my lord, not the thing about the tea. I meant the discussion about deportment.”

Colin’s unblinking, stunned rabbit stare told Henry the word was not familiar to him.

Henry leaned closer and hissed through a smile, “Don’t look so damned excited to be here. A real aristocratic male would be bored to tears.”

Colin nodded several times. “Yes, of course. That thing.” He beetled his brows and frowned, sweeping the room with a look meant to be haughty, but more closely resembling that of a man straining on a chamber pot.

Henry sighed.

“Oh, look! There’s Lady Freddie.” Colin’s arm shot up to wave, but Henry grabbed his elbow to arrest its progress.

Colin looked hurt. “Don’t you believe me? I told you I could see well enough without my spectacles, and there she is.”

Ah yes, the glasses discussion. For the first time in his dealings with Colin, the other man had stood firm: Colin refused to wear his spectacles. What could Henry do? Wrestle him to the ground and nail them onto his head?

The idea was not without merit.

“I believe you, my lord. But no waving. And I doubt she’d appreciate being called Lady Freddie.”

“See, it’s her, Parker. Look.” Colin waved with the hand that Henry wasn’t restraining.

Henry gave up. After all, this sort of thing occurred All. Day. Long. He needed to choose his battles, or he would go stark raving mad.

As Lady Sedgwick approached them, he saw that her gown of mauve silk was of exquisite design, but again, the material was of an inferior quality.

What happened to the money she earned from her matchmaking activities? Her fee had been quite high, yet everything about her person was modest. She did not own the house she lived in, so where did she spend her money? Certainly not on clothes.