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“That he is, but he spends more time abroad than he does at home these days,” Annie said as their eyes followed a particularly tall and fair-haired gentleman across the room.
“I would like a husband who I would see at least. Oh, what about Sir Robert Falconer for you, Peggy?” Annie asked, gesturing to a shorter man with a spring in his step as he hastened across the room. He was such a happy fellow, so eager to greet those around him that he barely looked where he was going. The result was falling into two different people.
“Hmm, I may not demand a perfect gentleman, but I think my cousin would despair of me if I brought Sir Falconer home to meet him,” Peggy said quietly. “Oh my, a gentleman has just entered we have not discussed before.”
“Who?” Annie asked, turning her head to the stairs. When the names were announced, she froze, for two names were read out that she had read often enough in the scandal sheets.
“Lady Jemima Wynn, the Countess of Shrewsbury, and Lord Luke Yeatman, son of the Earl of Wells.” The announcer stepped back as the two moved forward, descending the stairs.
“Lady Jemima Wynn?” Annie repeated. “Is that what he said?”
“It is,” Peggy added hastily. “I had not known she intended to return to society. Who would have known she would come back after what happened to her, especially holding onto her brother’s arm in such a way?”
Annie glanced around the room, aware that they were not the only ones now gossiping about the newcomers. Many whispered, so much so that the room grew a little louder. The pairing could not have been oblivious to the fact. Lady Shrewsbury seemed to make the effect of maintaining her smile as she descended the stairs, whereas her brother had stiffened.
Annie’s eyes landed on Lord Yeatman, rather startled by what she found there. He was tall, strikingly so, and the brown hair atop his head was so dark it was nearly black. It curled away from his temples rather than being excessively coiffed and slicked in the way so many gentlemen wore their hair these days. His dark eyes that surveyed the room made Annie swallow around a sudden dryness in her throat.
“The rake,” she murmured, remembering what she had read in the scandal sheets about him.
“You would have thought after what happened to Lady Shrewsbury, she would try to distance herself from any more scandal. Fancy coming here with a rake on her arm, even if he is her brother.”
“She cannot escape scandal now. I suppose she has accepted that fact,” Annie whispered in amazement. She could remember well enough what she had heard of Lady Shrewsbury.
When the lady had first entered society, a few years ago now, she had been caught in the arms of an older man, one who had refused to marry her. The lady’s name was ruined, and the reputation of her entire family was thrown into question. It had shocked everyone when the Earl of Shrewsbury had visited town and married her within a few months.
“Scandal,” Annie whispered. “God forbid it ever visits our doors, Peggy. I would hate to wear that haunted look Lady Shrewsbury wears now.”
“She is smiling,” Peggy pointed out.
“That smile is paper-thin, I can see that.” Annie let her eyes wander over Lady Shrewsbury for a minute. She was a beauty, with dark hair like her brother’s and elegant features. The smile was clearly difficult for her to hold, for her cheeks quivered.
“Talking of false smiles, put yours in place,” Peggy urged with a hurried whisper.
“Whatever for?”
“Because Mr Jacob Knight is coming this way.” Peggy elbowed Annie forward a step, prompting Annie to stand straight and maintain her good posture, turning to see a gentleman was indeed approaching them.
“Miss Grove, good to see you again,” Mr Knight said politely as he bowed to her in greeting.
“And you, Mr Knight. May I introduce my friend, Miss Anne Storey.” Peggy gestured to Annie as she curtsied.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Knight.” Annie curtsied formally as Mr Knight bowed once again in her direction.
“The pleasure is mine. I know this must be rather presumptuous, Miss Storey, but I am afraid I had a very particular purpose in approaching the two of you, as I rather hoped our mutual friend here would introduce us.”
“You did?” Annie said in surprise, startled by the words though they were spoken formally.
“If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next set with me, Miss Storey?” Mr Knight’s question hovered in the air, unanswered for a second as Annie looked over him.
She had heard of Mr Knight through Peggy. He was a gentleman of business, the younger son of a Viscount, and certainly of someone who was of an eligible position for her to marry. Though she knew little more than that. In her quick appraisal, she judged him to hold himself well. He had an acceptable smile and a tolerable countenance, too.
Mama may approve.
“I would be delighted, Mr Knight.” Annie offered him her hand. He smiled and took it, escorting her away with enough slowness to give her the chance to exchange a look with Peggy before she followed.
As they took to the floor, Annie soon lost any hope she might have felt in the dance. Her frequent attempts to make conversation were not responded to eagerly, so she and Mr Knight danced a cotillion mostly in silence.
She judged him to be polite and a pleasant dancer, perfectly proper, but there was little warmth in his conversation, and to her mind, he seemed rather distracted. Every now and then, he would look away from the dance floor as if searching for someone else.
