Chapter Seven

Another night of nonsense. Henry fought not to curl his lip, watching people circle around him, laughing and chattering about everything and nothing, fluttering fans at each other and drinking entirely too much. It was hard not to like brusque, confident Mrs Everett – occasionally called the Merry Widow behind her back – but Henry couldn’t say that he liked many other people here tonight.

“Oh, do cheer up,” Alexander murmured in his ear. “You might look down your nose at everybody else, but at least they’re enjoying themselves.”

That was a fair point, and besides, Henry didn’t much want to grouse away the night. It felt like a waste. So, he swigged down the flute of champagne he’d been given when he stepped inside, and strode off into the crowd, leaving his brother behind.

Alexander would find his way to the card-tables soon enough, Henry thought, with a pang of guilt.

He’d spotted Miss Eleanor Fairfax almost at once.

Her father was nowhere to be seen, and Henry was privately relieved, as he didn’t particularly want to discuss business at this hour of the evening. If he were honest with himself – and Henry was never anything but painfully honest with himself – he would admit that a jolt had gone through him. Miss Fairfax looked exceptionally beautiful, in a frothy, pale blue delight of a dress that outshone every other lady’s gown here. In fact, Henry was a little confused as to why she wasn’t surrounded by admirers, considering how staggeringly beautiful she was.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder , sniped a little voice at the back of his head, which he ignored. He considered talking to Miss Fairfax – there was an acquaintanceship there, after all – but she was arm in arm with a friend, and they were currently chatting with two fresh-faced young men, and he didn’t believe his presence would be appreciated.

And then, like a hero from a gilded age, Henry spotted Percy.

Lord Percy Fletcher was exactly the same age as Henry, but the two men could not be more different. Percy was a red-headed, freckle-faced optimist, whose pale skin had not fared well under the Spanish and Italian sun. He had a round face, a snub nose, and was attempting to grow what looked like a moustache. He liked everybody, and had never, in all their years of acquaintance, said anything unkind about another person.

Unless they truly deserved it, of course.

Percy spotted him across the room, and waved vigorously, causing punch to slop over the edges of his cup and splash over his previously white-and-gold waistcoat.

Henry suppressed a smile. Percy’s clumsiness was truly legendary. Perhaps he and Percy could catch up, enjoy a private chat, and reminisce on their shared Tour. After all, he…

The trail of Henry’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when three people stepped in front of him, causing him to stop short.

“Lord Henry!” fluted a lady in her forties, with what was obviously a false front of red hair, and marked spots of rouge on her cheeks. “What a lovely surprise! Isn’t it so, my dear Lord Redford? You do remember us, don’t you, Lord Henry?”

“I do,” Henry managed, with a wrench of memory. He recalled Lady Redford, the false-front lady with a wide and not entirely sincere smile, and her tall, rakish husband who was almost entirely bald except for a few strands of grey hair on the top of his scalp. He was standing unhappily beside his wife, and favoured Henry with an unconvincing grunt of greeting.

“And, of course, our daughter, Sophia,” Lady Redford added, and Henry immediately realized why they’d come to find him.

Miss Sophia Redford was, in his estimation, about nineteen years old. She had jet black hair, elaborately curled and styled, and wore a silver gown obviously chosen to set off her colouring. She had large, ice-blue eyes, which she enhanced with the use of white stones in her jewelry. In short, she was a remarkably beautiful woman, and the look she shot Henry through thick black eyelashes indicated that she knew that fact very well.

“Lord Henry,” she breathed, sinking into a curtsey. “So wonderful to have you back in England.”

“You must be quite tired of foreign food,” Lady Redford added, chuckling at her own joke.

He smiled weakly. “On the contrary, Lady Redford. I quite miss the cuisines of France and Italy, especially. ”

This was not what the woman had wanted to hear, so she rapidly changed the subject.

Henry was more than familiar with these tricks. The Season was designed for ladies to find husbands, and for men who did not wish to be married to slip away as best they could. Any respectable lady had a mother to watch out for her – her mamma , who would corner suitable men and put everything in place for her daughter to fascinate their prey, hoping to entrance him into a marriage proposal.

Henry frankly thought it ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as ladies having to sit miserably and wait to be asked to dance. Society would be a much more pleasant place if people would simply say what they meant and be honest. Of course, that was not going to happen anytime soon, and that meant he had to endure Lady Redford’s less-than-subtle needling as to whether he intended to be married.

“One never knows where life will take you,” Henry said at last, thoroughly bored.

Lady Redford clucked her tongue. “Oh, that is exactly what your dear brother said, the esteemed Duke, when we spoke to him earlier. He said…”

“My brother? You spoke to my brother first?” Henry rapped out sharply, before he could stop himself.

“Well, yes,” Lady Redford said, bewildered.

Henry bit his tongue. It was a silly thing to be angry over, especially since he had no interest in the admittedly beautiful Miss Redford, but it hurt to know that he was, as always, second best. They had tried to fascinate William first, and when that hadn’t worked, they’d moved on to the second brother. When Henry got rid of them, doubtless they would try Alexander.

I am more than just the second son, Henry thought, swallowing down a bubble of discontent and frustration. Society will see, no matter how hard I have to try to make them.

He cleared his throat, forcing a quick smile. “Forgive me. Do go on, Lady Redford.”

The woman pursed her lips at him. On cue, the musicians started up, and there was a general exclamation of excitement. People began to head towards the dance floor in pairs. Henry’s heart sank. He knew quite well what was coming next .

“Oh, the dancing is beginning!” Miss Redford exclaimed archly. “Oh, Mama, I do love dancing.”

“She dances remarkably well,” Lady Redford said, looking self-satisfied. “My dear, do you have a partner for this set?”

“No, Mama, I don’t.”

“What a pity. Do you dance, Lord Henry?”

The implication was clear. Already feeling a trifle guilty over snapping at them, Henry sighed.

“Would you like to dance, Miss Redford?”

A few moments later, the two of them were prancing around on the dance floor with the others.

“You dance exceptionally well, Lord Henry,” Miss Redford said, but he couldn’t help but feel she would have paid the same compliment regardless of his dancing skills.

“Thank you,” he managed with a sigh.

Henry did not like dancing. He did not consider himself particularly good at it, and he disliked looking silly. Alexander would caper around like a fool and make everybody around him – and himself – laugh until their sides hurt. He always received applause and earned himself goodwill by the spadefuls. William had a sort of grace about him that worked well on a dance floor, and Katherine was naturally good at most things.

Henry, however, plodded his way through the steps, counting the minutes until he could be released. Miss Redford insisted on talking, too, so he could not just concentrate on the dance and not shaming himself by tripping in front of the whole company. He kept getting glimpses of Percy, standing on the sidelines and grinning at him, as well as Lord and Lady Redford, perched out on the outskirts like waiting vultures.

Eleanor Fairfax was dancing, too, with one of the fresh-faced boys she’d been talking to earlier. Occasionally, their paths crossed, and she would always do her level best not to look into his face, although there was no way she could not have recognized him.

Henry prided himself on not being entirely forgettable, at the very least.

“Are you fond of music, Lord Henry?”

He twitched his attention back to his actual dance partner .

“Hm, what? Oh, yes, I am. Of course I am. I think everybody is fond of music.”

“Then I must play the pianoforte sometime for you. I know it isn’t modest for a young lady to say, but I am rather good at it.”

He smiled tightly. “There certainly is no point in false modesty.”

“And I play the harp, too,” she said, encouraged. “You may have heard that Miss Bellamy also plays the harp, which is true, but I don’t believe she has the arms and hands for it – her wrists are not very well turned, and her elbows are not neat.”

Henry wondered briefly what constituted a neat elbow. Miss Bellamy was a plump young woman, so perhaps that was what Miss Redford meant.

“I heard that she plays like an angel,” he said, despite himself. “Everybody says so.”

Miss Redford scowled, just for an instant, before she recovered herself and reverted to a saccharine-sweet smile again.

“Perhaps she plays well , but I think that playing the harp is more about the image it presents, don’t you?”

“Really? How interesting. And here I thought it was about the music.”

He wasn’t sure whether his acid comment simply escaped Miss Redford’s notice, or whether the end of the dance simply distracted her, but she contented herself with smiling coyly at him and saying nothing. The music ended with a flourish and a burst of applause, and the dancing partners bowed or curtsied to each other, grinning.

Miss Redford came forward, mouth open to say something else, but Henry seized his opportunity.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Redford,” he said quickly, before she could interrupt, “But I think I must go and see my friend now. Good evening and do enjoy the party.”

Then he was gone, scurrying through the crowd as fast as he dared. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Lady Redford had joined her daughter and they were standing side by side, arms folded, watching him.

They looked displeased, but not particularly angry. No doubt they would consider this a partial success at the very least .

He passed by Eleanor Fairfax again, standing in a foursome with her good-natured friend, who was in fact the aforementioned Miss Bellamy whose elbows were somehow untidy, along with the two fresh-faced young men whose names Henry had no intention of learning.

This time, Miss Fairfax happened to glance up, and their eyes met. Well, there was no ignoring each other now. He paused as he passed by, inclining his head.

“Miss Fairfax.”

“Lord Henry.”

Bows were exchanged, and then Henry hurried on. It wasn’t exactly proper manners, but then rules were generally relaxed at parties like this.

It wasn’t Almack’s after all, where the rules were stringent and waltzing was forbidden altogether, except between married or engaged couples.

Henry had already spotted his friend by the refreshment table, grinning at him.

“Took the liberty of pouring you a champagne,” Percy said, handing over the glass. “I saw you dancing with the Redford girl and thought you’d need it. They’re keen to get her married off by the end of the Season, and frankly nobody is safe.”

Henry winced, taking a long sip. “She’s beautiful, but more than a little unkind.”

“Yes, I’d say so. I saw you talking to the Fairfax girl, too?”

“Miss Eleanor Fairfax? Yes, we’re acquainted.”

Percy, ever eagle-eyed, watched his friend closely. “You kept watching her during the dance. I saw you, you know. I don’t think Miss Redford noticed – it probably hasn’t crossed her mind that you would look at another woman when she was with you – but I noticed.”

“I don’t believe I paid her any special attention.”

He huffed. “Oh, you did, my friend. I know you of old, remember?”

Henry scowled good-naturedly at him, and they fell to sipping their drinks in silence.

“She helps run her father’s business, you know,” Henry said, after a long pause. “She’s extremely knowledgeable. Manages the accounts, the workers, the product, everything. I had a business meeting with them only a few days ago, and I was astonished at how capable she was.”

Percy sighed. “That’s all well and good, Henry, but that won’t do her any good with the fellows, will it?”

“Why not? What man would not appreciate a wife that could do accounts? She’s as sharp as a blade. No, Percy, you’ve got that wrong. You’d have to be a mad fool not to appreciate a clever wife.”

“Men want clever wives, but not cleverer than they are,” Percy said with another sigh. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying that I want a wife who makes me feel clever – I know that I’m not clever. But most men feel differently.”

“They want to feel superior,” Henry said, shaking his head. Weak-minded fools.

“Yes, and that brings me back to my original point. If Miss Fairfax is too clever, she’ll scare away the men, and then she won’t be able to find a husband.”

“Who says she wants to find a husband?”

Percy grinned. “Look at where we are, Henry. This is the Season! The whole thing is designed to put ladies and gentlemen together. Mark my words, Miss Fairfax is looking for a match. However, my question to you, my friend, is why you are standing here with me when you could be talking to Miss Fairfax yourself?”

Henry shot him a sharp glance. “What concern is it of yours?”

Percy shrugged. “I’ve seen you looking at the poor girl all evening. Don’t be a coward, and go speak to her, why don’t you?”

Henry set down his glass with a clack .

“Do you know, I think I will.”