Chapter 14

After the string quartet’s performance, the guests were directed back to the manor house to change for dinner, which began promptly at eight o’clock.

On the hour exactly, Percy ventured into the dining hall in his starchy tailcoat and too-tight cravat, hoping absently that he might be in the same seat as the night before. However, more guests had arrived in the interim, and he found himself at the far-left end of the table. Anna could not have been further away, though he noticed that Simon had been given the same position as the previous night—seated at her side.

He mostly ate his dinner in silence, answering occasional dull questions in between bites, not really interested in getting to know any of the ladies and gentlemen who surrounded him. He could not rely upon the conversational talents and inclusive nature of Max or Dickie, either, who were both seated at the center of the table.

But here and there, his eyes wandered toward Anna, and whatever he was eating continuously lodged in his throat. She looked radiant, needing no exquisite gown to do so; her smile was sparkling enough.

What could Lord Luminport possibly be saying to make her laugh like that? Percy could not fathom it, nor could he hope to eavesdrop at such a distance. But Anna seemed to be reveling in it, her pale cheeks dusted with pink, her blue eyes gleaming with joy, her perfect teeth forming the perfect smile time and time again.

Percy was grateful when dinner ended and all the guests were led into the Grand Drawing Room, though there were a few protests from others.

“What about port and cigars?” one gentleman complained, unfortunately within earshot of the Countess of Grayling.

She raised her voice for all to hear. “After dinner, we do not force separation between ladies and gentlemen in this residence. Everyone is free to go wherever they please, but I have always found the division rather clandestine and unseemly. Why, whatever you gentlemen have to say with your port and cigars can be said in front of the ladies. If it cannot be, one must wonder if it is something that should be said at all.”

The gentleman who had dared to complain mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks turning the color of claret. A few of his companions laughed and mocked him, clapping him on the back, and though Percy usually found the countess’s antics unsavory, he could not have agreed more in this instance.

But his hopes of perhaps involving himself in a conversation between Anna and her friends were swiftly dashed, as he searched the drawing room and found them to be absent.

“Why the wide eyes?” Max asked, approaching with two glasses of port. He handed one to Percy.

“Hmm?”

Dickie appeared out of nowhere, also with two glasses of port. “What has you staring like an owl, Percy?” He seemed to be keeping both glasses for himself, sipping alternately.

“I was just asking the same thing,” Max said.

Percy swallowed the rising discomfort in his throat. “I was hoping to speak with the Earl of Westyork about some business matters, but I do not see him anywhere.”

“Are you sure you did not catch a glimpse of Lady Joan’s ankle?” Dickie wiggled his eyebrows.

“What? No, of course not.” In truth, Percy had not so much as looked in Lady Joan’s direction since the bowling green.

Max laughed and put his arm around Percy’s shoulders, steering him toward the other side of the expansive drawing room. “The Earl is on the terrace with his sister.” He cast a pointed look at Dickie. “I am certain you will be glad to hear of that, and at least you will have an excuse to speak with her.”

“As if I would need to fashion an excuse,” Dickie scoffed playfully. “Alas, the sweet girl is not for me. Nevertheless, I enjoy her conversation, so I shall happily distract her while you try to wring some business secrets out of the Earl, Percy. For such a wealthy man, I hear he can be rather miserly when it comes to giving out pearls of wisdom.”

Percy looked back at the guests, still unable to find Anna or a single one of her friends among the congregation. “Is Lord Westyork not with his wife, also?”

“Certainly not.” Max chuckled, exchanging a knowing look with Dickie. “The meeting of the Spinsters’ Club is undoubtedly in session, at this very moment, in one of the countess’s thousand rooms.”

Dickie nodded. “Can you not hear society trembling?”

Hiding his disappointment, and unsure of why he was disappointed in the first place, Percy pulled a face. “Why do they even call themselves that anymore, when four of five are married?”

“I suppose they enjoy the irony,” Dickie replied. “Well, four out of five of them do, anyway.”

Max sighed unexpectedly. “My poor Buttercup. If you had told me when I was younger that she would be six-and-twenty and unmarried, I would have laughed so hard I might have coughed up a piece of lung. Her. The girl who breathed romance and love.”

The only girl who might actually deserve it… Percy’s mind wandered.

“Let us hope this Luminport fellow is the hero of her story, eh?” Dickie encouraged. “Just a few years delayed due to jousting and dueling and rescuing damsels, and that sort of thing.”

Percy cleared his throat. “If he is right for her.”

“Pardon?” Dickie frowned at him.

“She should not settle for Lord Luminport because he seems like her last resort,” Percy explained awkwardly. “If he is her longed-for hero, very well, but if he is merely a gentleman showing her attention, she will not be happy. It will not be enough for her.”

Max seemed equally as surprised as Dickie. “But something is better than nothing, is it not? I do not want her to be alone.”

“Better to be a spinster with dreams than shackled to a life of misery with an unworthy gentleman for a husband,” Percy recited, almost against his will.

A strange, spluttering sound came out of Dickie. “My good man, we must ask the countess to fetch a physician here at once. Evidently, that bruise on the side of your face is leaking madness into your brain. Why, in a moment, you might begin to perform poetry or start singing ballads of love! And I am sorry, but I cannot bear the possibility.”

“Leave him be,” Max chided lightly. “He is clearly practicing for when he woos his own future bride. Is that not so, Sinclair?”

Percy touched the bruise, wondering if it was to blame. “Exactly so, Max.” He forced a smirk at Dickie. “Do not fear, if I feel compelled to recite poetry, I shall give you fair warning.”

“Please do,” Dickie urged, any concern dissipating from his perpetually cheery face.

Yet, for reasons he could not explain, Percy did want Anna to have those things, to find someone who was everything she needed. It did not mean he had changed his mind about the silliness of love and manipulative emotions, but as with her glove, it was her life; she could do with it as she pleased. And after all she had done for others, he figured she deserved to have the husband she had dreamed of, all her life. Whoever he might be.

But Lord Luminport? He turned up his nose. Just thinking of the fellow made him want to yawn.

“Lord Westyork!” Dickie shouted, as the trio of men made it out onto the terrace. “My good friend, the Duke of Granville, has come to bend your ear about matters of business! And he needs your advice rather swiftly, for his house is falling down.”

Flashing Dickie a reproving look, Percy straightened his posture and squared his shoulders, putting on his most affable smile as he extended a hand to Daniel Barnet, the famed Earl of Westyork. Perhaps, the wealthiest man in England.

“I assume you are accustomed to Richard’s sense of humor by now,” he said to Daniel. “If not, I can only apologize.”

Daniel laughed and took Percy’s hand, shaking it firmly. “I am, indeed. I think all of society is, though I would say we tolerate it more than we grow accustomed to it. It is like the rain in Spring.”

“I am sorry we did not get to speak much that day in the park, but if you would not mind, I would like to ask you about some endeavors I am thinking of entering into,” Percy said, glancing at Caroline for a moment. But her doe eyes were fixed on Dickie, who was in the midst of telling a joke about how he had been a late bloomer.

Daniel nodded. “Of course. What can I help you with?”

The list was as long as Percy’s arm, but with a breath, he began. For the sake of his future wife, whoever she might be, he had no choice.