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“A man may feel passion,” he continued. “And a man ought to feel love for his family and his friends. But neither is the emotion that women cherish. The ridiculous idea of a grand, sweeping, romantic love;thatdoes not exist. Not outside of fairy-tales.”
“I cannot quite bring myself to agree with you, Ashbrooke,” Lord Edward, stated.
Lord Edward had held his tongue until that moment. He was the most serious-minded and intellectual of their group of friends and he possessed a more delicate constitution stemming from frequent childhood illness.
“Much of what you say is undoubtedly true,” Lord Edward said. “But I cannot agree with denouncing even the most remote possibility of a great and all-consuming love between a man and a woman. Certainly, such a thing is rare, but that hardly makes it a fairy-tale or something to scoff at.”
“Has my putting the entire situation so coldly offended you?” Sir John asked, somewhat concerned. He thought a great deal of Lord Edward and would like to keep his good opinion.
“Perhaps.” Lord Edward considered. “I would be wrong to say that the institution of marriage is founded in love alone. So often itismerely a business transaction, especially for members of our station, but I find you just as wrong in saying that it isalwaysa business transaction. If true love is so rare as to have its very existence questioned, then it is a quality to be respected, not ridiculed, that is all.”
“I take your meaning Lord Edward,” Sir John clarified. “I do not ridicule love. The true heart-felt emotion is described in tales, poetry and songs beyond counting, but if such feeling does exist, I have never experienced it. On the other hand, the paltry frivolous emotion that women mistake for love is a thing that is easily manipulated.”
“Are you really saying that you could settle on any one of those young ladies out there and persuade her to fall in love with you? Simple as that?” Lord Blakely asked, eager to return to the topic that was most interesting to him. He had lately experienced a great deal of distress when the object of his own affections treated him with marked coldness.
“Certainly,” Sir John insisted. “Any of them who is not already spoken for, of course.”
“I say you cannot,” Lord Weston declared, just as emphatically. “And I say, you cannot make such outlandish claims and not prove them. Suppose we make a wager of it? Select a girl this very evening and use your clever little formula to win her heart.”
“Is that all?” Ashbrooke scoffed. “There are not many wagers I would take just now, considering the sad state of my finances. But this I cannot refuse, as it is my entire purpose for attending this evening.”
“Then let us set the terms, shall we, and then we can get on with the infinitely more fascinating task of choosing Ashbrooke’s quarry,” Lord Henderson suggested with a laugh. “If you really mean any young lady, Ashbrooke, then you will not mind if we have a part in selecting your bride-to-be.”
“Certainly. My only criteria, as I told you before, is that she be a wealthy heiress.”
“Oh, I think we can do better than just that, but of course, we will choose with the size of her pockets in mind.”
The men nodded and formalized their gentleman’s agreement with a handshake.
With the terms of the wager settled, the small group of young gentlemen proceeded to the gallery that overlooked the main ballroom. Jovially, Sir John’s friends covertly pointed out various young women. Several unknowing candidates were considered and rejected before Lord Henderson spied Lady Charlotte Keening.
“What of Lady Charlotte?” he asked, pointing her out. “I have not seen the young woman about Town before tonight, but I danced with her earlier this evening. She is beautiful enough to charm anyone, and I believe she is sister to the Earl of Keegain. If so, she is worth more than enough to qualify for the role of Lady Ashbrooke.”
Henderson leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to his other friends. “And from her spirited conversation and lively dance I gather she will lead Ashbrooke on a most merry chase.”
Lord Blakely sniggered.
“Yes, she is Keegain’s sister,” Sir John replied, unaware of his friends’ game. “And the family is quite wealthy.”
Sir John contemplated Lady Charlotte. As he watched, she laughed gaily over something her current dance partner said. Flitting about the ballroom as light as a butterfly, she made a decidedly charming picture. She was a breath of spring, all in rosy pink, like a morning dawn. She tossed her curls and laughed. She had a good temper then, he concluded. All in all, he decided, it would be better to be married to someone who was of a pleasant disposition. It did not hurt matters that Lady Charlotte was most beautiful.
Even from a distance, her eyes sparkled with mirth and her hair was a mass of spun gold, piled upon her head. He was struck with a sudden desire to run his hands through those beautiful golden curls. Such was her aspect, that every compliment that he paid her would ring with sincerity. It would not be difficult.
The thought galled him that he must perforce consider a more mundane goal, but there was no help for it. He was relieved to not have to marry some horse-faced drab to repair his fortunes, although he would have done so to protect his mother from destitution. He shoved the thought from his mind and concentrated on Lady Charlotte’s beauty and her spirited demeanor. As distasteful as marrying for money might be, John took his responsibilities seriously. He inwardly vowed, he would be a good husband to Lady Charlotte. Now, he only had to woo her. She laughed again. He was sure the sound of that laugh alone would be enough to get him through this endeavor.
“I do not know if you want to choose Lady Charlotte for this particular wager,” Lord Edward cautioned.
“Why on earth not? She is perfectly delightful, I assure you. Unless that is the reason? Do you wish to punish Ashbrooke for his treason against womankind and saddle him with a less charming specimen for a wife?” Lord Henderson jested.
“Perhaps Lord Edward would rather pursue her for himself and does not want Ashbrooke as a rival,” suggested Lord Blakely with a wicked grin. Lord Edward was handsome in his own way, but compared to Ashbrooke it was clear to anyone which of the two men was more likely to attract the immediate attention of a young lady, but Lord Edward’s higher title would no doubt attract her matchmaking mother more than Sir John’s dwindling purse.
“Not at all,” Lord Edward defended. “I only thought the lady looked a bit too high-spirited to be so easily wooed and wedded.”
“Some of us like a feisty lady,” Lord Weston teased.
“If you’re trying to make this wager easier for me, I assure you I need no assistance.” Sir John stated, annoyed by his friends’ comments. “In fact, I should rather have a bit of a challenge, all the better to prove my point,” he declared with great confidence. “Besides, I do not desire a milksop for a wife. Look how her eyes sparkle. I declare, there is a bit of mischief.”
“You are not looking for mischief. You are looking for money,” Lord Weston reminded him.
