The evening’s theme seemed to be avian, as the ladies all sported colourful feathers, bobbing comically in their hair. Scores of unfortunate songbirds from exotic parts of the world were placed in gilded cages as decorations all around the hall. But the poor creatures would not sing, nor would they be heard above the hubbub. Instead, they twitched and fluttered, struck dumb at the uproar in the ballroom of too many bodies pressed into a too-small space. Rawden could feel their pain. The urge to barge through the throng and escape the press of bodies around his own was almost insurmountable. But he had promised to behave for his brother’s sake, and was a man of his word.
Potted shrubbery sprouting from all corners gave the impression of being in a jungle, and Rawden could not imagine a real one feeling any more humid. He might just as well be in the colonies in India as in a London ballroom. He fingered his high, stiff collar as sweat made it stick to the back of his neck and tried to spy out a quiet spot.
Eager, dewy-skinned society innocents were crammed in like pretty flowers, slowly wilting in bejewelled silk dresses, fans feverishly flapping to circulate the cloying air, thick with perfume and haze from the candles. Add to this mix the noise of scores of giggling debutantes, chattering mamas and braying lords, earls and viscounts, and you had a scene from Dante’s Inferno. Surely Lady Blanchard did not have this many friends, for she was an insufferable, fussy snob who was as likely to denounce you as a peasant as shake your hand? It seemed she was to judge the success of her rout on the sheer number of guests she could cram into her house rather than their quality.
At least William was enjoying the melee. Engaging and affable as ever, Rawden’s brother was laughing and flirting with a group of young ladies under the eagle eye of their mothers. Being only one and twenty, his soft edges had not yet been sharpened by experience and disappointment, and he was still in awe of pretty women, though he tended to get tongue-tied in their presence. William was the perfect example of a privileged young man, eager to make his mark.
What trite small talk was he regaling the ladies with? The turn in the weather from crisp to uncomfortably sultry. No, that would bring attention to how much the ladies were sweating into their fine silk dresses, their carefully crafted curls losing their bounce in the humidity. He could hold a discourse on the progress of the grinding war recently waged on the continent against the tyrant Napoleon. No, such worldly matters were far too dramatic for these sheltered flowers. Any talk of battle and bloodshed would surely send them swooning.
Rawden stifled a yawn as William said something which sent all the ladies into a round of delicate laughter, gloved hands brought delicately to mouths as if mirth were something to be contained and never unbridled. Rawden doubted even one of them could summon a true belly laugh of pure joy. Perhaps they were too confined in tight stays to fully laugh at anything. As his frustration boiled over, he resolved to visit a certain singer of his acquaintance this evening and loosen her stays in order to loosen his mood. She would surely welcome his attentions and salve his anger.
Will caught his eye and winked at him just as some fool bumped into Rawden’s shoulder, sending his punch sloshing over the top of the glass. A savage glare sent the man pushing off through the throng in great haste, and when Rawden looked back at Will, he was making his way over, winding through a press of heaving bosoms and fans.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, brother?’ he said, knowing full well that Rawden was not.
‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘Look at all these pompous fools. How they love to shun me.’
‘If you would desist from glaring at everyone, they might not.’
‘I will not smile and simper to appease this lot, and it would make no difference. I am here on sufferance because of you, brother, and so I will not play the fool for a bunch of numbskulls nor suffer the attentions of the marriage-minded simpletons in this party, nor should you. By all that is holy, these matrons are like a pack of rabid dogs sniffing after eligible bachelors.’
‘I would not put you into that category, though you look well enough when you clean yourself up.’
Rawden grinned. ‘Thank you for massaging my vanity. Lucky for me, you are right, and I am far from eligible. But you should watch yourself. A tasty morsel like you, they will be drooling over you all night.’
‘I quite enjoy the ladies drooling over me,’ said Will with a smirk, lighting up his boyish face.
‘Very well, do as you must, but must you scrape and bow to people who are your inferiors in every way?’
‘Now, you flatter me, brother. And I am merely joining in this rout in the spirit of good manners and by being pleasant to the company, an example you should emulate. Can you not circulate and refrain from lurking in this dark corner?’
‘Do not seek to educate me on manners, little brother. I am a lost cause in that respect. And I am lurking in a corner for good reason. I have no wish to be in the vanguard of this battle.’
‘Battle?’
‘Aye, it is a battle - for your fortune and title, and I wish you luck with it,’ said Rawden, clapping a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder.
A pretty young woman glided by and met Rawden’s eye. She quickly dropped her gaze as if discomfited by his attention, though he’d paid her little heed. She did not move away. A stout lady with enormous hair swept up to her, obviously the mother, and opened her mouth to request an introduction, but Rawden casually turned his back on them both. Will sighed loudly as the ladies moved off with much tutting, the matron snarling, ‘Well, I never saw such deplorable manners. That is no gentleman in my book.’
‘I lay no claim to that virtue, nor will I ever, so you had best set your sights on a softer target,’ Rawden shouted after her, downing his glass in one gulp. Several people turned and stared. A sharp elbow in the ribs had him turning back to his brother.
‘Goodness, what is wrong with you, Rawden?’ said William. ‘That young lady was most pleasing to the eye.’
‘You think that of all young women pleasing simply because you are a young man. Anything in skirts looks good to you. I have had quite enough of being preyed on by gushing mamas and their insipid offspring. As if I would entertain the notion of being tied forever to some pretty imbecile of a girl who has no more knowledge of how the world works beyond the stuffy drawing rooms of the ton than these poor birds trapped in their cages.’
Will sighed. ‘Well, I declare you a dull dog, and I refuse to sulk here with you when I can be charming the room. So I suggest you partake of more champagne to dull your pain whilst I make myself known to the prettiest girls. I’ve spotted a rather striking redhead, and I mean to find out who she is before some other fellow gets to her.’
‘If you mean to make a good impression on a young lady, you would have done well to come alone. My notoriety is a constant anchor dragging you down, brother.’
‘On the contrary, it makes me appear more exciting by association. The ladies like a bit of danger to spice things up.’ Will grabbed a glass of punch from a passing servant and gulped it down before heading off with a grin.
Rawden frowned at his retreating back. Though he seemed in good enough spirits, where Will was concerned, still waters ran deep. His brother was being overly jolly, which Rawden had come to know meant he was on edge about something. Perhaps he had some special lady in this throng he was trying to impress. The thought of Will offering his heart to some young lady sent a stab of fierce affection through Rawden along with a great urge to protect him from disappointment.
Rawden shrank back a little into the shadow of the faux jungle and tried to hang onto his patience for his brother’s sake. If he drank enough champagne to fell a dray horse, it might take the edge off the bitter taste in his mouth. It was then he noticed a group of young ladies glancing his way. One of them was mouth-wateringly pretty – coppery hair, wide hazel eyes and a tip-tilted nose, giving her a playful innocence that melted his heart a little. It was the young woman whose striking hair had earned his notice earlier. Yet for all her beauty, her face held sadness, and she said little, seeming ill at ease within the lively chatter of the group. Rawden was a little intrigued. Maybe she was an outlier like him, there on sufferance, and so not really wanted.
So intrigued was Rawden by the sad beauty that it took him a while to realise that the party of young ladies was laughing at him.
Chapter Three
