The young man with the fan and the one on the other side of her chair who held her lace-edged handkerchief lest she have need of it murmured agreement.
“But she is beautiful, this Miss Dunmore?” she asked. “And he has been seen paying court to her a number of times? And is to take her driving in the park tomorrow? And he really, truly is in search of a bride, Ede?”
“Let me see,” Lord Ede said. “Four questions, all with the same answer. A simple yes. Would I make a mistake or tell a lie?”
“You were mistaken today,” she reminded him. “He was in the park. I caught a glimpse of him. Did I not, Blanche? But not with anyone who could possibly have been Miss Dunmore or any other eligible young lady. I recognized her. She was that faded creature. Riverdale’s sister. Blanche?”
“Lady Overfield, Mother,” Blanche said.
“Lady Overfield,” Lady Hodges repeated. “Why would he so waste his time when he is in search of a bride?” She drummed the perfectly manicured fingers of one hand on the pink velvet arm of her pink velvet chair and looked about her pink-hued drawing room with dissatisfaction. “No company today when there might have been after all. And now tomorrow’s gathering will have to be canceled. Because my son is choosing a bride and must be steered in the right direction. He must pick the most beautiful girl there is. I can allow no less. It would be too lowering. And after he marries her, Blanche, we will be a trio of beauties and hold court here and at Roxingley. I daresay we will be famous.”
“You must meanmorefamous,” Lord Ede said. ‘‘If that is possible.”
“I daresay I do,” Lady Hodges agreed sweetly. “And I suppose people will flatter me, as they always do, and pretend to believe that Miss Dunmore must be my sister.”
“Indeed,” his lordship agreed.
“Youroldersister,” the young man with the handkerchief murmured.
“And my dearest Colin will be back in the fold at last,” she said, her eyes dreamy. “He was always more handsome than Justin. But more wayward. I have given him rein, but now he will return. How lovely it is going to be. A late spring wedding at St. George’s and a grand summer house party at Roxingley.”
“Are they not all grand?” Lord Ede asked. “With you presiding?”
“Grander,” she said. “This will be a party everyone will talk about for years, Ede, and everyone will know it in advance and clamor for invitations.”
“It is to be hoped,” he said, “that I will be the recipient of one of them without having to clamor?”
“You ought not,” she said, turning her eyes upon him and looking at him critically. “You are growing old, Ede—lined face, white hair. I wish you would color your hair and use some discreet cosmetics. However, you are still handsome.Distinguishedis the word I believe people use.”
“We are not all ageless as you are ageless,” he said, making her a mock bow.
“True,” she said. “You must go away now. I am tired of you. And I must go and rest before dinner. I would not wish to look hagged even though I am not entertaining tonight.”
“Hagged?”The young gentleman with the handkerchief sounded shocked.
“Impossible,” his counterpart with the fan muttered.
Lord Ede took his leave.
Nine
Sir Geoffrey Codaire was attentive whenever he and Elizabeth met. Sometimes they did so by chance, as on Bond Street one afternoon when she and her mother were shopping and he persuaded them to join him for tea and cakes at a nearby tearoom. Sometimes they met by design, as when he escorted her to a dinner one evening with a neighbor of his from the country who was in town for a few days with his wife. He was at all the balls she attended and danced with her at each.
Elizabeth always found him courteous, and predictable. He never made a nuisance of himself. He did not keep her and her mother longer than half an hour at the tearoom, since he knew they had more shopping to do before they returned home. He came for her promptly on the evening of the dinner and returned her at a timely hour. He never asked for a second dance at a ball, though sometimes he came to stand with her when she was not dancing with someone else. More and more she felt that marrying him would be the sensible thing to do if he asked again.
She did meet someone else. One evening Aunt Lilian, her mother’s sister-in-law, introduced her to Mr. Franck at a private concert, and he sat by her and engaged her in conversation between performances. He fetched her refreshments during the intermission while her mother and aunt went to talk with mutual friends on the other side of the room. He was a widower of three years with two boys away at school. The younger had joined his brother there just this year, leaving his father feeling restless. Hence his decision to spend a month or two in London, something he had not done for a number of years. He was a pleasant-looking man about her own age, Elizabeth estimated, with an amiable disposition and an unassuming air.
He called on her two afternoons later, the day after she went walking with Colin. Mr. and Mrs. Latchwick, neighbors from Kent, were there too, and Mr. Franck made himself agreeable to them all until Sir Geoffrey Codaire was announced. Soon after that Mr. Franck rose to take his leave after inquiring if Lady Overfield intended being at Lady Arbinger’s ball that evening and asking, when she had replied in the affirmative, if she would do him the honor of reserving the opening set for him.
Sir Geoffrey took tea before asking Elizabeth if she would drive in the park with him later, during the fashionable hour. She hesitated, as there was the ball during the evening and it had already been a bit of a busy afternoon. But it was a beautiful day again and she had not set foot out of doors all day.
“That would be pleasant,” she said. “Thank you.”
He returned promptly at the appointed hour and handed her up into his curricle outside her door.
“What a lovely day it is,” she said as they set out for the park close by.
“It is,” he agreed. “The Latchwicks appear to be an amiable couple.”
