Gwen raises her glass to him. “It couldn’t last forever.”
He chuckles and taps her glass with his own. “I suppose so.”
Gwen scans the assembled girls. Not just anyone will do for Albie. “Miss March?”
“I heard Dyfort’s got his eye on her,” Albie says with a shrug.
“So? Dyfort’s an arse. You’re sweet, and she’s tall.”
Beth snorts quietly and Albie laughs. “Tall is all you’ve got?”
“Well it’s true! Didn’t you say height differences were awkward?” she asks, looking to Beth, who sobers at her frown and nods seriously up at Albie.
“I’d have to climb on two apple boxes just to kiss your cheek. How embarrassing.”
Albie rolls his eyes but bobs his head. “I suppose.”
“Lady Meredith?” Gwen suggests, looking across the yard at Meredith, bedecked in a slightly garish magenta dress that accents every one of her curves and highlights her shiny auburn hair. “Penchant for color aside, she’s very sweet and whip-smart. Great at duets.”
“Perhaps,” Albie says, and Gwen smiles, noting his interest.
“I’m a constant disappointment to Albie,” she tells Beth. “I’m good on my own, but duets have never been my forte.”
“You just don’t like sharing,” Albie fires back. “Maybe you two could practice together. Miss Demeroven says she and her mother play duets every day.”
“We do,” Beth agrees. “I much prefer them to playing alone.”
“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Gwen says, thinking that an afternoon letting Beth teach her duets would be much more enjoyable than Albie’s frustration. She thinks Beth’s likely to be a more amiable partner, and far nicer to look at.
“You’re on. Mother might actually approve,” Beth says.
“Excellent,” Gwen says, bumping her shoulder to see Beth smile.
“What about you?” Albie asks, looking down at Beth. “Anyone caught your eye? If I wasn’t such a fortune chaser I’d come to call, just so you know.”
Beth blushes a little and shakes her head. “None so far. Mother’s going a bit spare about it, actually,” she adds, glancing back toward Lady Demeroven, who’s making the rounds with the mothers clustered around the tea cakes.
The fathers are all seated on the deck, deep into the brandy already and smoking cigars. It’s a small assemblage; most of them escape to the club if they can manage it, rather than suffer these events.
Gwen notices her father tracking Lady Demeroven’s slightly frantic movement around the group as well. Perhaps she should put her plan into action sooner rather than later, before Father gets the chance to finish his glass and go for another.
“Well, we’ll just have to make a little magic then, won’t we?” Gwen suggests, turning back to her friends.
“How so?” Albie asks.
“I think a bit of couples competition is in order. If you’ll excuse me,” Gwen says, squeezing Beth’s arm before throwing back the rest of her wine.
“What are you up to?” Beth asks.
“Shenanigans,” Gwen says with a significant look, grinning as Beth’s smile widens. Let the games begin.
She places the glass down on one of the tables and then walks to the center of the lawn, taking a deep breath. Time to turn on what little charm she has.
She goes for the youth first. “Gather around!” she calls, waving the friendly faces over to her, trusting everyone else to follow.
She may be no one’s first choice, but she’s known for her hijinks. She’s made it a point to be the group director of morale since her second season. If she has to suffer it, she’ll suffer it with fun.
“What will it be this year?” Eloise asks, dragging over Annabeth and Lord Prous along with her. Her voice carries an admonishment but the delight on her face says otherwise.
