“Ah.”
“But I’ve seen our Mr Chalmers gettin’ ready for one not long ago, and he looked fine as fivepence. Much like yourself, sir.”
“Fine as fivepence, eh?”
“He had ever such a fancy cravat, sir.”
“Fancier than mine?”
The lad tilted his head to one side and studied Garrett’s neckwear. “Well, I’d say he had it tied a bit different. More fluffy-like, if you get my meaning.”
“Mmm. Probably the Osbaldston,” muttered Garrett. “Not a bad choice for a summer dance, but a tad showy for my tastes.” He flicked his fingers over his simple arrangement. “I prefer the Mathematical. Can’t go wrong there, I always say.”
“And very flattering it is, too, sir.”
He couldn’t resist a chuckle at the enthusiastic lad’s automatic response. “Thank you. I appreciate the encouragement, since this isn’t exactly the way I’d hoped to spend the evening.” He sighed and turned away from the glass. “Would you happen to know if Lady DeVarne is anywhere near ready?”
“I don’t, sir, but I’d be happy to find out…”
“Good lad. Go forth and do that.”
Flicking an errant piece of lint from the lapel of his coat, Garrett wondered if Cherry was experiencing the same sort of thing; all the fuss and bother of preparing for an evening out. It had to be worse for women, since they were immediately judged on their appearance.
At least all a man had to do was look presentable. And tie his cravat in one of the acceptable styles. And make sure his waistcoat was suitably elegant, but not too elegant since this was the country…
He sighed. Yes, in many ways, both men and women were held to a clothing standard that sometimes became rather annoying, stifling even.
If given a choice, Garrett would have much preferred wandering the forest with Cherry, dressed comfortably and casually, and enjoying the gentle magic of the woods as the sun set.
His thoughts would have horrified his mother, of course, but he knew that Cherry would willingly have grabbed his hand and dragged him into the peace and quiet over his mother’s objections.
They certainly had a lot in common.
Unaware that many of his thoughts were duplicating those of the young woman in Forest Grange, his body stirred at the memory of their kisses. Yes, they had a lot in common there as well.
Would it be a mistake to think about her as his wife? A permanent feature in his home and his bed? The answer was immediate. No, it wouldn’t be a hardship. In fact, he might well end up finding it more difficult livingwithouther than with her. An odd notion, especially given the brief nature of their acquaintance.
But it had to behisdecision. Andhers. Not their mothers’.There was nothing worse than a marriage arranged by parental agreements. He’d known too many of that sort, and they’d been less than satisfactory at best, and disastrous at worst.
Fortunately, he had the luxury of being able to make his own choice, and he would when the time was right. All he had to do was persuade his wonderful, loving, well-meaning mother to stay the hell out of his business.
And that would be quite a challenge. Especially this evening.
*~~*~~*
There were more than a few vehicles lined up in front of the Village Hall when Cherry and Lady Trease arrived. A carriage or two, several open lightweight country phaetons, and a simple cart, decorated for the occasion with flowers and ribbons.
“I see the Mastersons are here,” observed Cherry.
Her mother smiled. “Those girls do love their frills and furbelows, don’t they?” She gazed admiringly at the colourful cushions on their cart. “It’s quite lovely.”
Cherry nodded. “I believe Jane is expecting a declaration from Charles Stonebridge any day.”
“Oh, how sweet. He has been so dedicated to her for years.”
“Yes. They’ll make a good match, I think.” She helped her mother gather her things as the groom opened the door and let down the steps.
“I wonder if Henrietta has arrived yet?” Lady Trease looked around. “Hard to tell with all these horses and grooms.”
