“You forget that my intentions arehonorable,” he pointed out. “Unlike your designs on Lady Calliope.”
Seb continued to adopt a surly demeanor. “The chit wouldn’t even deign to look at me. Then again—” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never been one to shirk a challenge.” He sat up straighter. “Where did you say they would be next?”
Grey glared at him. “They didn’t.” He sighed heavily. “Again, let me remind you that I would like to try and gain the lady’s favor.”
“Odd’s fish, Grey.” Sebastian rested a foot on the opposite side of the carriage. “You make me sound as if I’m going to start humping the gel’s leg in the middle of a ballroom.”
Grey merely lifted a brow. “Is that really so farfetched?” He interlaced his hands over his taut stomach. “Tell me again how many ladies you’ve courted down Scandal Lane.”
Blakely held up a finger. “Nonethat didn’t wish to be led down that path, I assure you.” He suddenly frowned. “To be honest, I don’t think you’re upset with me so much as yourself.”
“And why would that be?” Grey asked tolerantly, not particularly in the mood to humor his longtime friend, but finding that he was doing it anyway.
“You are just like me, used to getting what you want from all sorts of willing women, and yet, when it comes to imparting the same sort of experience that you’ve gained through the years, it failed to impress and it’s bothering you.” He leaned back as if he’d signified the conclusion of their conversation when Grey wasn’t nearly done.
He leaned forward and settled his elbows on his knees. “So let me get this right. You think I’m upset with you because of some sort of misguided sense of pride that was bruised on my behalf?”
Seb spread his arms wide. “I rest my case.”
Grey laughed. “That’s because thereisno argument!” he countered, and then shook his head. “But seeing as how this will undoubtedly turn into a useless altercation, I’m going to sit here and hold my tongue until I get home where I will have a long, soothing drink of brandy before I decide the best way to win this fair maiden’s heart.”
As if on cue, the carriage rolled to a stop before White’s, where Sebastian took his leave. However, before he departed, he leaned back in the carriage and said, “While I’m sure you don’t want any more of my adoring advice, my suggestion is to find another ‘fair maiden,’ because I don’t think you’re going to convince Lady Araminta of your sincerity, especially once your reputation as a rake reaches her ears.”
With that, he slapped his hand on the carriage, not only to add credence to his statement, but also to let the driver know his master was ready to depart.
As the carriage pulled away from the curb, Grey mulled over the viscount’s words. Sebastian might be a libertine in the most torrid of definitions, but the man also knew how to read women. If he imagined she would be difficult to court, then he was more than likely right.
He tapped a finger on his thigh in contemplation. So if this wasn’t to be a conventional courtship with roses and flowery prose, he had to figure out what the lady loved best.
Only then would his plan to secure Lady Araminta as his wife succeed.
“The invitations, my lady.”The butler bowed reverently to Araminta as he held out a silver tray.
“Ooh! Already?” Calliope nearly jumped up and down in her chair with excitement while Olivia barely even glanced up from the novel she was reading. Isadora wasn’t even in the room, but Araminta guessed she was likely outdoors somewhere taking a brisk walk. She had always enjoyed the exercise and preferred the quiet beauty of nature to an indoor parlor, even if it was snowing rather steadily at the moment.
“Patience, Callie,” she admonished her younger sibling. She lifted the pile of folded parchment from the tray and sifted through the various seals. Most, she noted, were invitations to afternoon tea, likely so they could be scrutinized more thoroughly than they had been at the theatre. But when she came across one that held a ducal seal, she found herself intrigued and opened it.
She must have been taking too long to read it, for Calliope nearly burst from her chair, “Well? What is it?”
“It’s an invitation to a Christmas Eve ball next Saturday.”
Calliope clapped her hands together. “Oh, how delightful! I know just what to wear!”
Araminta noticed that Olivia didn’t share in her sister’s excitement. “What about you, Livy? It’s about time we put some of those dancing lessons to use, isn’t it?”
She shrugged one shoulder, but didn’t lift her green gaze, keeping it glued to the page she had been on for the past quarter hour. “I’d much rather stay in. I’m not that eager to venture out in the cold.”
Araminta knew that Olivia had always hated winter, and generally asked to stay back when her sisters would choose to go out and play in the snow. “I know that, dearest, but perhaps you could make an exception for the holiday season for us? Besides, it would be best if we continued to adapt a united front for society.”
She tried to adopt a hopeful note to her voice and it worked for the youngest Bevelstroke sister sighed heavily and said, “Very well.”
“Splendid!” Calliope cheered.
“What’s so splendid?” Isadora said dryly as she walked in, the evidence of the falling snow still visible in her dark hair. As the eldest she was generally content to allow Araminta to act as though she was the leader of their small pack, but Araminta still found it necessary to gain her approval on most matters as a show of respect.
“We’ve been invited to a Christmas Eve ball by the Duchess of Gravesend.” She handed the item in question to Isa, who flicked her gaze across the elegant penmanship and then handed it back to her.
“I suppose we’re going?” she asked.
