However, with Kynaston already off the list, and Churston and Blacknorton impossible, that left only Sellerden, Wentforth, and Sir Arraby Arranbury. She was still prejudiced against a man with such an ill-suited name, but perhaps Ethel had been right.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
“Is something the matter, dear?” her mother asked.
No one was close, so Ariana said quietly, “I’m developing a greater appreciation for princesses and such who are forced to make marriages without any choice.”
Her mother’s lips twitched. “I didn’t think Churston quite to your taste.”
“Nor Blacknorton. So hairy.”
“I’m sure some women find that appealing.”
“That’s good, for I’d not like to think of him rejected all his life.”
“You have a kind heart, dear, but be careful to marryno man out of pity. And you mustn’t marry simply to force Norris. If disaster falls, it will be his fault, not yours.”
“Then why am I here?”
“To see if there’s a man who will suit.”
So, her mother had sought this way to matchmake, had she? Ariana knew that her single state worried her mother, but it wasn’t such a terrible thing, especially when a lady had a comfortable income of her own. She was beginning to regret insisting so forcefully that a quick, practical marriage would be easy. It would gall her to lose her contest with her brother, but all the same, perhaps the need wasn’t so urgent....
As if to reinforce her resolve, the threat personified entered.
Ariana hadn’t seen her uncle, Paul Boxstall, since her father’s funeral, when his superficial resemblance had been particularly upsetting. It had been as if the same mold had produced one perfect specimen and one that was badly flawed. It was an offense against heaven that the badly flawed one, the dissolute one, still lived.
Uncle Paul’s skin was even more deeply seamed now, his eyes more pouched, his lips slacker, but his smile was the same crooked sneer. “My dear sister, and my niece. In Town at last.”
Lady Langton had to introduce him to Lady Cawle, who responded in a way that should have frozen him on the spot. Of course, he didn’t care. He was probably enjoying embarrassing them.
Ariana noticed Kynaston move forward as if he’d take action and Lady Cawle gesture to him to hold fire. It was oddly comforting that he be there. Ariana didn’t exactly fear her uncle, but he was capable of any sort of unpleasantness.
For a start, he was drunk, though a lifetime’s practice enabled him to stay upright. He was perfumed, but nothing could disguise a slight sour smell of decay. Ariana wished she could believe he was dying, but it was probably just a lack of soap and water over too many days or weeks, and a complete lack of attention to his shabby evening clothes.
“M’nephew with you?” he asked.
“No,” Ariana’s mother said, trying to be as icy as Lady Cawle, though it wasn’t in her nature.
“Pity. Got a business prospect he might like.” He looked around as if seeking a seat to collapse into, but Kynaston moved forward, took him by the elbow, and steered him out of the box without untoward drama.
A very useful skill!
Ariana said, “I hope Norris has more sense than that.”
“I’m sure he has,” her mother said. “He must bump into the man here and there all the time. Such a sad case.”
“From what you’ve said, he’s been like that from the cradle.”
“That can’t quite be true, dear, but for most of his life, certainly. He had looks and charm of a sort once, but threw away every chance.”
That unfortunately sounded too much like Kynaston’s course, and Ariana hated to think of him like Uncle Paul one day. It was for his family and friends to prevent, however, not for her. She had a marriage to make and a renewed purpose. Uncle Paul must never, ever inherit Boxstall.
But she was already down to three candidates.
Perhaps there were others.
As the bell rang for the end of the intermission, shesurveyed the opposite theater boxes and even the pit in search of tall young men. She saw a few. Some might have been married, and some ineligible, but there had to be more than six possibilities in the beau monde.
