He tapped his fingers upon the column as he leaned against it to study the women of the school. There had to be a way to make them a valuable commodity as opposed to leftover slops to be thrown to the dogs. Granted, he exaggerated, but the concept still held. It seemed an impossible task, but if he could accomplish such a miracle, it could be his way of honoring Belinda and all that she had been. He rarely aided others except Sommerset, so it would be a monumental task on many levels. He doubted anyone else had a reason to take on such an impossible quest. The question, though, was how to do it.
He studied the ladies in question. There were four present at the ball, though he’d been informed by Lady Sommerset that her older sister was sponsoring a Mademoiselle Lissette to attend the winter term. She was not present. That would make his task easier. All of them were pleasant to look at, so that was not a drawback. The issue was their studies and most likely their conversation. There had been grumblings among the four gentlemen he’d overheard about the subject of science, about which the women were knowledgeable and for which they had little use. He had no doubt that like himself, the gentlemen had not spent their entire time at Oxford in their assigned studies. What they’d done at Cambridge he couldn’t say.
Making a match for one of the ladies obviously wouldn’t help stop the gossip about the school as Lady Elsbeth, the first one to attend the school, was now married and that had not solved the problem. He pondered the issue. What if one of them were to become very popular, maybe even have multiple men vying for her attentions? But how?
He could start a rumor that one was royalty. But all four had well-known ancestry. He could attend to one of them himself and spread her praise. Men did like competition. But that could end in his own character being dragged down, which was an appalling thought. Women were far better at this sort of work than he was, but he refused to ask Lady Sommerset to aid in his quest. If he was to accomplish this herculean task for Belinda, he wanted to do so alone.
The four ladies moved closer as two others joined them. That the classmates were not shunned by their peers was very interesting. Nor did they sit on chairs against the wall meekly awaiting their fates, though he was quite sure the diminutive Lady Sophie Howard would be far more comfortable doing exactly that. Having only spoken to her once, he’d noticed immediately that she was painfully shy. The woman who stoodnext to her was quite the opposite. Lady Eleanor Compton, the daughter of Countess Dulac, could hold people’s attention with her conversation, but her bright-red hair caused many to immediately discount her.
Moving his gaze past the Lady Eleanor, it landed on Lady Dorothea Ansley, whose hair was of a more muted tone of auburn. Actually, it was rather more like mahogany, but as with her fellow classmates, she tended to converse a bit too much. He hadn’t had a reason to speak with her beyond an introduction, but he had observed her over the season. She seemed more prone to soliloquy than conversation. Last, standing next to her was Lady Georgina Bridgeman of Edgerton. She was a wisp of a thing whom he’d seen more often near the food and libations than conversing. But again, he had not had reason to interact with her, either. The only reason he knew them at all was due to Lady Sommerset.
He continued his observation just as his sister Rose and two other ladies, joined the group. He strained to hear the conversation, but the music and voices around him overrode any chance of success. So he settled for watching their interactions. The dynamics were puzzling. The new ladies, including his sister, interacted with each of the classmates. It wasn’t until the music stopped and his sister was asked to dance that he subtly moved closer to make sure the man in question was worthy of her.
“Lord Harewood, I didn’t know you would be here this evening. What a pleasant surprise.”
He turned to find Belinda’s mother on the arm of her husband. “Lady Wakefield, it is always a pleasure to be in your presence.”
She gave him a warm smile, causing wrinkles to appear around her blue eyes, so much like Belinda’s. “But not such a pleasure as to be in the presence of all these lovely ladies?”
He looked blankly at her, not sure to what she referred.
“She means the column. It appears to have captured your complete attention.” Lord Wakefield nodded to a column against the wall that he had inadvertently moved to in trying to see who his sister would dance with.
“Ah, not at all. I was simply fulfilling my brotherly duty.” He gestured toward the dance floor where his sister was standing opposite Mr. Wheatly, a man barely out of Eaton.
Lady Wakefield sighed. “Your sister is truly a sweet woman. I’m so pleased that she has a partner.” The woman leaned in as if to impart some great wisdom. “Though the gentleman in question is far too young for her.”
“I agree.” He didn’t elaborate, as the topic was spent. “Will you be staying after the end of the season?” Though the Wakefield estate bordered his parents’, he rarely visited. He asked only to make polite conversation and to have the information in case it was required.
“Most certainly. Since all our daughters are married now, we are in no hurry to return to Bedford.”
He clenched his jaw to keep from correcting the woman about havingallher daughters married. Belinda would never be married nor grace the halls of Thornwood Park again.
“Oh, there’s the Countess Dulac. Excuse us, Lord Harewood. I have yet to greet my good friend.”
“Of course.” He gave the older woman a nod and the couple moved through the crowd toward the corner of the room.
Free to return once again to his new project, he was surprised to see the only lady left from the school was Lady Dorothea. He slowly made his way closer, as her back was turned to him while she spoke to the other women he recognized as his sister’s companions. He’d met Lady Dorothea briefly at Lord Mabry’s wedding, having been forced to attend by Sommerset. If he could listen to the woman in question’s conversation withoutbeing involved in it, it may give him a clue as to how he should proceed. Maneuvering between people brought him to the wall of the ballroom just to the side of the ladies but within easy earshot of his quarry.
“Doesn’t Lady Rose look splendid in that sky-blue dress? It almost seems to make her eyes sparkle.”
“I agree.”
Rose’s friends were at least complimentary, if acutely boring.
“I’m not surprised by that.” Lady Dorothea smiled. “According to Aristotle’s theory of colors, it has to do with the amount of light. He considered black the absence of light. So though the dance floor resembles a rainbow, the dark clothes of the men certainly keep the colors apart. Do you think if men wore lighter colors, it would highlight the women’s dresses more or less?”
The answer was obvious and he waited impatiently for one of the ladies to respond.
At first, silence greeted her question, then one of the ladies exclaimed. “Oh, my mother wishes me to attend her. I best see what is amiss.”
“I will go with you. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”
And with that weak excuse, Rose’s companions left Lady Dorothea standing by herself. Curious as to how the lady would manage the obvious disinterest of the other two, he took a step forward to better see her expression.
Her lips remained lifted in a frozen smile, but her eyes clearly filled with tears.
His stomach tensed with anger at the two women who could neither answer the question nor create a legitimate excuse to leave. While in the same instant, he felt a strong pang near his heart, a strange occurrence since that particular part of him was rarely used. Not giving himself time to think it through, he addressed the now-alone Lady Dorothea. “Obviously, if all menwore such light colors as our acquaintance Lord Sommerset, the ladies’ dresses would fade. Black attire like my own is what sets the colors apart.”
