He was certainly not pleased, but he said, “We can hardly avoid all mention. As for Cleopatra, there is a great interest in Egypt these days. I admit, I’m not an enthusiast for it as a decorative style.”
It was a clumsy diversion, but it worked because Miss Cushing came to life again with enthusiasm for crocodile-legged furniture and palm motifs. Lady Eastonholme was happy to debate such matters, so Ariana could largely observe. Kynaston did the same, except for intervening if Inching tried to turn the conversation back to his obsession.
She had to admit that she’d enjoyed their brief debate.Clearly his intellect hadn’t been entirely eroded by drink, and he’d spoken to her as if she had a brain and opinions worth considering. She noted that tonight his consumption of wine had been moderate. If he was to stop drinking alcohol completely, could he be reclaimed?
A choral performance was announced so that everyone could digest their food before exerting themselves again in the dance. Kynaston and Mrs. Manners rose together, but Ariana could tell that North and the widow would prefer each other’s company.
She stepped close to Kynaston and took his arm. “Our discussion of Marie-Antoinette was disturbed, my lord.”
He tensed as if he’d push her away, but then he looked beyond and must have understood the situation. “North, if you could escort Mrs. Manners to the music? Lady Ariana wishes me to prove that I’m correct.”
They all turned to leave the room, along with a stream of others. Soon the other couple was well ahead.
“You don’t object?” Ariana asked.
“How could I confess it?”
“Not to escorting me, my lord. To North and Mrs. Manners.”
“I should tear them from one another’s arms, breathing fire?”
“She is in your employ.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me. Told the whole table. She seemed to want matters clear.”
“She’s an admirably honest lady.”
“And you won’t interfere?”
“God forbid. If North’s to her taste, I wish them both well.”
As they turned to go up the stairs as part of a stream of couples, she considered him. “You mean that.”
“Wholeheartedly.”
“Then it’s to your credit.”
“As little else is?”
She let that pass. This wasn’t the time or place to fall into an assessment of his folly. “It will leave your sister unsupported,” she said.
“Indigent widows are not scarce. The sorry remnants of war.”
“It is a terrible business,” she agreed, and would have said more, but they’d arrived at the drawing room, which was now set out with rows of chairs, many already taken.
Ariana spotted Lord Dauntry and remembered her particular purpose. He was already seated, but with two spaces to his left. She steered firmly in that direction. Dauntry was with a pretty blond lady, but Ariana chose to assume he was squiring an absent friend’s wife, or perhaps even a sister.
As they approached, she approved of his fine-drawn features and elegantly dressed blond hair. They would have angelic children together. She sat beside him, and took a bold tack.
“We’ve not been introduced, my lord, but I’m Lady Ariana Boxstall, friends with Hermione Faringay. She’s written to me about you.”
He smiled in a very pleasant way. “And to me, to ask me to remember her to you if we met in Town.”
Hermione had probably expressed concern and asked him to help if he could, but Ariana would ignore that.
“A shame she isn’t in Town, for it’s an age since we met, but as Christmas approaches, many are settling onto their country estates.”
