“Very good, My Lord,” the servant said, bowing slightly and moving back to return to his duties.
When the man had gone, Matthew resumed his slow walk about the room. He nodded at the appropriate guests and smiled endearingly to those he did not yet know or could not remember. More than once his eyes fell on this lady or that, and he was perpetually bemused by the way they instantly put up their fan to hide their coy smiles.
Ah, it is all a game, I see, Matthew thought bitterly.They shall look to me, I shall look at them, and we are both to pretend that neither of us did any such thing.
“There are rules and a clear victor in this game of social behavior, and I know nothing of how it is played,” Matthew muttered in frustration. “But I do intend to learn, and I intend to win.”
* * *
Julius made the rounds of the guests, speaking to those whom it was pertinent to acknowledge and nodding to those of lesser importance. There was a time all too recently that he was considered the one not worth knowing, a man of only modest income and no title to speak of. Since assuming his brother’s earldom and his business affairs, Julius took note of the people who had once dismissed him yet now came seeking him out.
“Who is that man in the blue waistcoat, dearest?” Julius whispered as he leaned closer to Claudine.
“His is the Marquess of Stillton, remember?” Claudine replied just as quietly, not letting on that Julius could barely remember the faces of his peers. “His wife is zee one with the racing horses.”
“Ah yes. It has come back to me,” Julius replied, looking up and beaming proudly just in time for the Marquess to come over and speak.
“So, Bronson… how have you taken to life among the ton? Why, this time only last year you were still living in some provincial manor house, were you not?” the Marquess asked with a hearty laugh.
“Quite true,” Julius replied, bristling slightly at what he perceived to be an insult. “My brother’s passing was a terrible blow to me, to be certain, but I strive to honor his memory by filling his place as best I can.”
The Marquess covered his embarrassment with a slight cough, clearly having forgotten that Julius’ place in the ton had come at a heavy price. “Very true, you’ve done admirably, I’m sure. And Madam Saunier, is it? It is lovely to see you again. You must find my wife and come out for a day of racing. It is such a noble pastime, a great diversion for us all from the seriousness of politics and business.”
“Yes, we will plan to do so. Good evening, Stillton,” Julius replied with a polite nod before moving on.
“You were not very friendly to that man,” Claudine said quietly once they had moved away. “I thought you wanted to make better connections, to create friendships with these people.”
“He is not someone I should align myself with,” Julius answered near her ear. “There is much scandal surrounding his name, including several dubious investments and talk of quite a few bastard children who have come demanding financial support. It’s best to keep him at arm’s length, especially while I am so newly placed in the position of Earl.”
“I had no idea,” Claudine said, taken aback. “But zere is no one here who shuns this man. They must not care about his behaviors, no?”
“Believe me, they do.” Julius nodded firmly as if that were the end of it, but then he added, “There are things the ton will tolerate so long as they do not have to know of it. One’s financial troubles make for gossip and backbiting if they come to light, especially if they affect other people. As for his extra children, if they had quietly stayed in the countryside with their mothers and received whatever sum he provided, no one would have cared. But when they come to the city and insist on being given employment in your businesses, that’s when people turn up their noses.”
“And what of me?” Claudine asked, an odd lilt in her voice. “Do they merely tolerate my presence, or do they welcome me as your friend?”
“I do not know,” Julius admitted rather sheepishly. “I think so long as there is no flaunting of one’s relationships, people are free to make their own decisions.”
“So the ton would look down on you for marrying a French woman with no title or fortune, but will think even worse of you should they know you allow her into your bed,” Claudine said with an accusingly tone. “Why would you count these people as your friends if they do not wish for your happiness?”
“Happiness has never been something that noblemen seek, darling,” Julius answered darkly. “Their only happiness comes from power and wealth, not from the matters of the heart or love or emotional attachment.”
“Emotional attachment? Tell me, which one am I, love or emotional attachment?” Claudine demanded, her anger rising.
“This is precisely what I’m talking about,” Julius said, steering Claudine away from the small numbers of guests who were chatting happily. “An argument now would force these people to become aware of who you are.”
“Ah, but I do not care if they are aware of it, only you seem to care,” she shot back. “You have no intention of marrying me, you are content to keep me only as your mistress so long as it is our devious little secret.”
“That is not true, darling,” Julius said, a false smile on his face as someone he recognized walked past them. “You know my brother would not permit the marriage, and I relied upon him for my annual salary.”
“Yes, and now he is dead,” Claudine replied angrily.
“And with my inheriting his estate still so new, I cannot disrupt the social order here by doing anything that would appear suspect,” Julius continued, still looking around to ensure they were not being watched. “Do we have to discuss this now? And here, of all places?”
Claudine looked up at Julius and narrowed her eyes in a glare. “There has been no talk from you about improving my station or seeing to my future should anything happen to you. Marriage is not only a silly dream for these young ladies, it is the only way we women are provided for. And if you have no interest in providing for my future, I have no interest in providing anything for you in the present.”
She stormed off, leaving Julius to worry about what she might say or do without him there to watch over her. Claudine, he knew, could be quite a hellion when she saw fit. Just as he thought to go after her and apologize—at least to prevent her from saying something in her anger—he was approached by the Viscount of Lockwood.
“My Lord Bronson,” Vincent said, looking askance as two other men approached them. He bowed formally and added, “I wish to speak with you about your niece.”
