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“They are bright girls. I never doubted they could make it work.” It was a far different story where he was concerned. When he’d first agreed to this venture, he’d never planned on staying so long in London. He’d never planned to integrate himself into society. Yet now, his acceptance—or lack thereof—would affect Charlotte. So for her, he would stay.
He would stay, andnottake hold of her hand where others might see.
Lud, but his life was steadily becoming more and more complicated by the day.
Their hostess announced that all was ready, and due to the very wide gap between his standing and Charlotte’s, Seth was obliged to walk in to dinner at the back of the line and with another woman. A Mrs. Nicholson—the mother of another lady in attendance, a widow he soon learned, and one who could most easily carry on a conversation without any help from him.
At least he was seated not too far down the table. He would still be able to at least speak with Charlotte. That would be imperative if their plan was to succeed.
The fact that his companion enjoyed speaking quickly from one topic to another was proving less of an aid to the plan.
“My daughter is quite fussy about these sorts of things,” Mrs. Nicholson continued with hardly a pause to take breath. “She is adamant that there is no better place to buy gloves.” Her hands fidgeted constantly as she spoke, pointing and then waving, motioning and then gesturing.
No matter how hard he tried, however, Seth found he could not hear Charlotte over Mrs. Nicholson. He very well couldn’t disagree with what Charlotte was saying if he couldn’t even hear her.
“Obtaining the best fitting gloves really is so important, and quite harder than most gentlemen seem to give credit. Oh,” she waved her hands near frantically, “and my daughter told me about the best fishmonger the other day. She truly knows London better than anyone else.”
Seth continued to smile and nod. It was all she gave him time to do. No matter how much he wished she would take a moment to speak with the gentleman on her other side, he wasn’t about to be rude. He may have been raised among the working class, and her constant chatter may exhaust him faster than a bruising ride, but he would never disrespect a woman.
“I have never had such delightful fish. What do you think of the fish here tonight? I would wager Lady Keats acquired it from the same fishmonger my daughter frequents.”
An idea formed in Seth’s mind, and he jumped at the opportunity. “Quite delightful,” he said, breaking into the conversation. “Some of the best fish I have ever had.” Then, before Mrs. Nicholson could say anything else, Seth turned away from her and toward Charlotte. “Lady Blackmore,” he called to her. “Mrs. Nicholson and I have just been commenting that this is the best fish we’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Do you not agree?”
Charlotte, clever woman he knew her to be, didn’t even hesitate. “Though the fish is quite delightful,” she said with an appreciative nod toward their hostess, “I have to confess to enjoying the pheasant most of all.” Once more she turned toward their hostess. “Your cook is truly a joy.”
The entirety of the table muttered their agreement that all the food was most delicious. Normally, Seth would have let the topic lie there. However, their aim was for not only them to disagree in public, but even when Seth was adamant, he was in the right for them to see Charlotte remaining unswayed by his insistence.
“Though the pheasant is very good,” Seth continued loud enough for the entire table to hear, “I must contest that the fish rivals all others.”
“Are you a great lover of fish then, Sir Mulgrave?” Mrs. Nicholson asked.
Seth hesitated—though he had started the topic, he hadn’t exactly taken the time to think this through or plan all his reasonings should he be questioned.
“Yes, I am,” he said somewhat slowly.
“Then I must write down the name of the fishmonger my daughter recommends. You can let your cook know of him.”
“Thank you,” Seth said. It was the only thing he knew would be acceptable to say in such a situation. He’d never before had an argument regarding fish while attending an elegant dinner party.
“I insist on writing down for you,” Charlotte spoke from where she sat farther down the table, “the best place to buy pheasant. You can give it to your cook as well. I fear you have not had enough of quality to develop a taste for it.” Far from sounding like a put-down, there was enough of a good-natured laugh behind her words that she was clearly only teasing.
Seth leaned forward. “And I will pass on the name of the fishmonger to you, my lady.”
“I already have a trusted fishmonger, but thank you all the same. Sending me the name of yet another merchant would simply be...nonsense.” She said it quite as though the word hadn’t been a source of great disagreement between them.
Seth laughed silently. How many times had Charlotte gotten after him for using that very word? He’d never known someone to develop such a strong abhorrence for aword. Hearing it come from her now proved extremely diverting.
Then again, there wasn’t much about Charlotte thatwasn’tdiverting.
The conversation picked up around them, talk of fish and pheasant quickly being replaced by more conventional topics.
Another opportunity to disagree with Charlotte did not come up. Then again, wouldn’t one disagreement be enough for the night? Seth could only hope so. It was proving a bit tricky to find something to disagree on that wouldn’t offend their hostess or anyone else in the room, while also not being disrespectful of Charlotte herself.
After the ladies retired, the men did not stay long but joined the women after only a quarter of an hour. Though Seth found he quite enjoyed the company of Adam and Henry, he didn’t know any of the other men overly well and was more than happy to join the women.
When he entered the drawing room, however, Charlotte was engaged in a game of cards. So, instead of joining her, he moved over to where Eliza and Dinah were sitting nearer the fire.
“Fish? Are you in earnest?” Dinah asked the moment he sat.
