“Well, I shall join my wife. I’ve promised her to try out my old dancing shoes tonight, given how it is such a glorious night for us. Do not forget to dance with Catherine now, as you promised.” He wagged his index finger in jest, clearly elated by the late showing of Thornmouth. “I am sure we will speak later, regarding the business of the vineyard?”
“Of course, Lord Hazelshire, of course,” Christopher bowed his head which the Earl reciprocated and then departed.
“He seems chipper,” Henry’s voice sounded out from behind him. “Have I missed the minuet? Darn, what poor luck.”
“I am not in the mood for your sarcasm, brother.” Christopher said without looking at his brother. He was fixated by Lady Rowena and her dance partner. She appeared to make conversation with the man, who eagerly lapped up each of her words. Yet, every now and then, she appeared to glance in his direction, the same sorrowful look on her face.
“You are utterly Friday-faced. What has happened? Did the young lady turn out to be a disappointment? I told you not to place her upon a ped—”
Christopher swung around so fast he misjudged their distance and found himself almost nose-to-nose with Henry.
“She is perfection. She is just as I had imagined. I feel…I felt.” He stopped. There was no point in indulging in his daydreams any further. “She is betrothed to that fool. The Duke of Thornmouth.”
“Thornmouth? Is that so? I’ve heard of him. Unpleasant fellow. Arrogant. Determined to enhance his riches at the expense of just about anything. Prinny adores him, I hear.”
Christopher scoffed and shook his head, turning away.
“The news simply gets better and better.”
Henry placed one hand on Christopher’s back.
“Topher. You hardly knew her anyhow. And if she led you to–”
“She led me to do nothing but converse in a manner which was exhilarating. In any case, it appears this match is new; the betrothal is not even official. Evidently, this is the first time they’ve met since the decision was made. Thornmouth was late. Very late. So late, he left poor Lady Rowena in danger of having no partner for the minuet.”
Henry sighed and scratched his chin while nodding his head in a rhythmical motion.
“What is it? You are doing the thing you do when you devise one of your master plans,” Christopher mimicked Henry’s stance.
“Well, silly as I believe your endeavor to capture this young lady’s affections is, I can see how serious you are. As luck would have it, etiquette and manners are in your favor.”
Christopher crossed his arms in front of him and nodded.
“Go on.”
“You said the betrothal is not official? No offer has been made, none accepted, no contracts or dowry exchange?”
Christopher shook his head. “I am not their barrister. However, that is what appears to be the case. Why?”
His brother shrugged. “If there is no official betrothal, then there is nothing to keep you from conversing with the young lady, within the bounds of respectable society of course. Such as at a ball, for example. Look where we are.”
“At a ball. So?”
“So, go and demand the cotillion. It was promised to you, Thornmouth or not. Take the opportunity to speak to her. Then decide what you wish to do.”
Sometimes, he simply wanted to knock his brother on the head for his witty comments and sarcasm. Tonight, was not one of those times. Tonight, he wanted to hug him. Knowing how his brother disliked that sort of affection, he refrained.
“I can seek her out. Speak to her. Perhaps convince her that he is all wrong for her.”
Henry cleared his throat.
“It is not up to her to decide if he is right or wrong for her. It is up to her Father. He is the one you must convince. Given our poor financial state however, it may be quite the task. You do have one thing on your side.”
“The vineyard.”
“Indeed. Now. The music is ending. Perhaps you had better seek out your beloved and whisk her out of the arms of your fellow duke. I meanwhile, will remain over here, at a safe distance.”
Christopher tilted his head to one side, a slight smile on his face. “Henry, there is one more thing I ask of you.”
