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“He won’t get into any trouble with me around,” Lockhart chimed in.
“Lying does not suit you, Lord Lockhart. I do recall that whenever there was mischief afoot at school with my son, you were almost always at the center of it. Alas, I fear Milton has about reached his limit for the evening, and the company of friends, questionable as they are, would do him well.” The duchess gave Nathan one last pat on the arm. “I will leave you to your manly talk. Goodness knows I’ll not want to hear what sort of adventures you lot have been up to.”
They watched her disappear into the throng before Lockhart remarked, “You truly were serious when you informed me of the future bride hunt, I see.”
“Part of it had more to do with cajoling my mother out of her seclusion, but yes, it is getting to be that time.” Much as he dreaded the whole affair. If all had been right with the world, then the succession would have been entirely out of his purview. But nothing had been right for the past ten years.
Lockhart winced, his blue eyes crinkling in displeasure, as well he would. Nathan wasn’t sure he knew anyone as averse to matrimony as the man before him. “Perish the thought,” the baron said. “It is times like this that I am glad to have a younger brother who is devoted to the shackles of marriage and the gaggle of boys he seems determined to produce.” He stiffened, looking at Nathan with obvious panic. “Oh, Christ. That was a thoughtless remark to make around you. Forgive me.”
“It has been ten years,” he replied, managing to keep his countenance even. “I can handle talk of siblings without crumpling into a heap.” He loved his friends dearly, but their extra care around him whenever the topic came up was grating on occasion. While ten years ago the mere mention of Andrew might have sent him into a spiral, these days he only felt a dull throb of sadness at the memory of his older brother.
The guilt, however, was another thing entirely.
“I see your thoughts of matrimony haven’t changed,” Nathan remarked, hoping to steer the conversation towards lighter ground for both their sakes.
Lockhart grinned. “And never will. You are alone in your efforts, I’m afraid, and will have to be content with the rest of us rooting for you from the sidelines, as good as that will do. I think you’ve picked just about the dullest year to embark on your quest.”
Nathan sighed. “Believe me, I am well aware. At least your presence is giving me a break from these insipid introductions.”
“My reputation does precede me.” Lockhart smiled at a young lady and her mother as they passed, the older woman having to all but drag her moon-eyed daughter away from them. Nathan might be the catch of the season, but he doubted any mama was willing to risk exposure to Lockhart for a mere introduction.
“Things must be tedious indeed for you to be here. I think this is the first respectable entertainment I’ve seen you at all this spring. Kirkwood and Thurmont’s attendance is also a mystery, though I haven’t seen them all evening.” He’d been so focused on shepherding his mother about and ensuring she was well that he’d thought little about the potential presence of the rest of their merry gang.
“That is why I’ve been looking for you, actually. Kirkwood finally got sick of his mother’s pestering and decided to attend, dragging Thurmont along for emotional support. They're hiding in the garden at the moment and could use some company.”
Nathan hesitated. “My mother…”
“Is fine.” Lockhart pointed into the crowd. “She seems to be engrossed in conversation with Lady Drummel and having a grand time, as she should.”
Nathan followed Lockhart’s gesture and spied his mother talking animatedly with the viscountess, whom he could dimly recall being an old friend of hers. “I see.”
“And her daughters are there as well. Goodness, Miss Caroline Hughs is just as striking as she was last year.”
He assumed Lockhart was referring to the platinum blonde standing behind Lady Drummel. Indeed, the young woman was a sight to behold, as the rumors had suggested. Though this was his first time in polite society for quite a while, he was well aware of the debutante, famed for both her beauty and the peculiar fact that she somehow escaped her debut season last year without a betrothal. She seemed nice enough, the smile on her face as she surveyed the room sweet and uncontrived. Nathan was debating whether to put her on his tiny list of marriage candidates when she shifted, revealing another woman by her side. The facial features were similar enough to tell him that her companion must be the sister, though for the life of him he could not recall her name. A shame, really, for though she paled in comparison to her sibling, something about the lady drew his attention. There was a straight ease to her stature and an analytical glow in her brown eyes as she surveyed the crowd that told him she was smart as a whip. Her lips curved, as if on the cusp of uttering some witty rejoinder, and he caught himself leaning forward in anticipation despite his place on the other side of the ballroom. And then her gaze fell upon him, their eyes meeting in a clash of blue and chestnut. Nathan smiled his most charming grin and nodded. The woman’s smile fell, of all things, and she titled her head, staring at him as if he were some bizarre animal she’d come across on a woodland stroll rather than the most eligible peer in England. Fascinating.
“What is her name?” he said, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the riveting woman.
“Miss Caroline Hughs, as I stated a mere three seconds ago. Are you foxed already?”
“No, the other one.”
Lockhart furrowed his brow. “The elder Miss Hughs? I’d be wary of her. She has quite the reputation.”
“Oh?” To his disappointment, by the time he looked back, Miss Hughs had already turned away and was conversing with Miss Caroline.
“She had two failed seasons before Miss Caroline’s come-out. After that, of course, she was entirely overshadowed, almost to a pathetic degree. A perpetual wallflower, that one. I’d feel sorry for the woman if she wasn’t so awful about it.”
“Awful? How so?”
Lockhart sidled closer, speaking like a gossip mongering fishwife. “She has a tendency to be prickly towards gentlemen.”
Nathan rose an eyebrow. “Prickly, or not willing to suffer fools?” He could imagine her setting down a frivolous fop with gusto. Most men disliked having their pride torn to shreds, even if warranted. As a young man, Nathan himself might have been counted amongst such a lot.
“Perhaps,” Lockhart replied with a shrug. “But there are also rumors that she is rather bitter over her prettier sister’s success. Some say that she has attempted to sabotage several of Miss Caroline’s potential courtships.”
“Rumors?” Nathan all but scoffed. “You should know how precarious such things are. How many outlandish tales concerning us and our friends have the Ton concocted out of whole cloth?” Though, if indeed true, such actions would certainly cool him to Miss Hughs, but there was no way of knowing for sure.
“Not all of them were outlandish. Rakehells to the bone the lot of us are.”
