“My sister resides in London, yes. I visit when I may.”
“Good. Family is the foundation of stability. A wife without strong ties is… unreliable.”
Matilda raised her brows but smiled still, her spoon poised with elegance. She made some polite reply, though the words slipped past her lips without thought. For her attention had strayed again to the other side of the table.
Jasper’s hand rested carelessly near his companion’s wine glass. The girl’s cheeks glowed with delight at every word.
Matilda’s stomach twisted, though she told herself it was nothing but irritation. What business was it of hers to mind how he spent his evening? He could charm every lady in the kingdom if he pleased. It made no difference to her.
And yet, for all her practiced indifference, she found her fingers tightening around her napkin.
“Are you quite well, Lady Matilda?” Callbury’s voice broke through her thoughts.
She forced her composure, meeting his stern gaze with a calm she did not feel. “Perfectly well, Your Grace. Perfectly well.”
The Duke of Callbury dabbed at his lips with a linen napkin. “And you are not one of those ladies who fritter away her time with endless frivolities, Lady Matilda? Cards, shopping, gossip?”
Matilda arched a brow. “I confess I have played at whist, purchased a bonnet or two, and spoken with friends. I hope that does not render me a hopeless case, Your Grace.”
His expression scarcely shifted. “Not hopeless. But I have always thought women waste a great deal of energy on trifles when they might lend more sense to matters of consequence.”
Matilda let her spoon rest in her bowl, her voice cool but edged with mischief. “Perhaps we do so because gentlemen guard those consequential matters so jealously. If we are not allowed into the lists, Your Grace, we must at least find amusement in ribbons.”
Across the table, a bright trill of laughter reached her ears. Jasper Everleigh’s laughter joined it, as he leaned closer to the young lady at his side. Matilda’s heart gave an unwanted jolt. She fixed her gaze upon Callbury at once, determined not to let her eyes wander again.
The duke inclined his head as if weighing her words. “A fair point. And yet a wife’s true strength lies in order and management. A household well governed is the mark of a capable mind. Do you not agree?”
Her lips curved. “You make it sound as though marriage is a military campaign, Your Grace. Are we to draw up maps and ration supplies?”
He looked at her without humor. “In a sense, yes. Discipline is the root of success. I should value a wife who understands that.”
Matilda blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. What an extraordinary man: so cold, so practical, and so utterly unromantic. And yet, even as she opened her mouth to frame some witty reply, her gaze betrayed her once more.
Matilda’s stomach twisted, though she told herself it was nothing more than annoyance at his predictability. Of course Jasper would charm the prettiest girl in the room. It was his way.
Callbury’s voice pulled her back. “You seem distracted, Lady Matilda. Am I so poor a conversationalist?”
She recovered herself at once, giving him a smile sharp enough to cut. “Not poor, Your Grace. Simply… precise. I am not accustomed to being spoken to as though I were already in training for my duties.”
The man almost smiled. “And yet you spar well. I admire that.”
Matilda inclined her head, but her pulse was still unsteady. Admiration from the Duke of Callbury should have pleased her. It was practical, respectable, everything her mother would have wished.
But it was not Jasper Everleigh’s laugh drifting across the table, needling her heart like a thorn.
When dinner ended, the company rose in cheerful clamor, with chairs scraping and laughter echoing against the high ceilings. Servants moved swiftly to open the doors to the music room, where lamplight already glowed warmly and a small ensemble of musicians from the village had arranged themselves at the far end.
The sound of strings and flute filled the air. It was lively, bright, carrying with it a charm that eased even the most solemn faces. Ladies fanned themselves as they entered, gentlemen bowed with courtly flourish, and soon the hum of conversation blended with the sweet strains of melody.
Matilda lingered near the doorway, thinking she might slip quietly into a corner to watch. But before she could make any retreat, a shadow fell at her side.
“Lady Matilda,” came that low, commanding voice. She turned to find the Duke of Callbury bowing before her, his bearing as steady and immovable as stone. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Her breath caught. For the briefest moment, she glanced across the room. Jasper was there, of course, leaning one shoulder lazily against the mantel. His blue eyes were glinting as he spoke to Robert. She remembered the golden-haired companion from dinner and her heart gave a sharp and unbidden jolt. She willed herself still, schooling her features into calm.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, inclining her head. “It would be my honor.”
He offered his arm with formality, and she placed her hand upon it. Together they stepped into the line of couples forming for the quadrille, the rustle of gowns and the tapping of shoes marking the rhythm before the first notes struck.
