As they slipped into the crowded room and into the side room with dazzling chandeliers, at her request, he poured her a glass of water while he had punch.
“Why do you think Lord Stromwell asked Celestine to dance?” She asked.
“Silas could be asking for true interest, or he could be because he has a whim,” Cedric shrugged. “To be honest, that man is a conundrum at times.”
Ariadne’s brows knit in two, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that as much as I know Silas, I don’t truly know him the way he knows me,” Cedric admitted. “He is a very private man, yes, I have seen him court a few ladies before, I know his business, and he had told me about his family before.
“In passing, he had mentioned his late parents and distant cousins, and from what I gather, there is bad blood on both sides,” he said. “I have no intention of forcing him to relive awful memories. He does keep a lot to himself, and I do not push,” he said. “It’s an arrangement that works for us, and I see no reason to change it.”
Privately, Ariadne held her doubts, but she had to trust Cedric to know his mind and who was in his company.
They barely stepped out of the room when another lord asked for Ariadne’s hand, and Cedric only leaned into her ear. “Dance as much as you would like, but the waltzes are for me.”
The lord she danced with was overly gracious, as were the three who followed him. Her dance card had filled with astonishing quickness, and she’d obligingly twirled around the floor with a number of partners.
Although she would have been content to dance the night away in her husband’s arms, her mother had shown her that a healthy couple did not live in each other’s pockets.
She didn’t mind as Cedric had danced with each of her sisters and at the end of the set, got refreshments and congregated at a nook away from the mingling crowd.
Celeste had stars in her eyes, “Lord Moreland is utterly delightful,” she sighed in bliss. “He is so handsome and smart. I cannot believe he has not married yet. A lord like him should easily be the bachelor of the Season.”
“He is handsome,” Marigold looked over her shoulder to where the lord in question was talking to a willowy lady in a breathtaking icy blue gown.
Looking over Celestine’s shoulder, Ariadne saw Cedric speaking to the redhead lord from the park.
“Isolde,” she turned her gaze to her sister, “Do you see any familiar faces?”
Frowning, Isolde slowly shook her head, “What do you mean?”
Spotting Cedric and the young man approaching, Ariadne smiled and nodded to the two, knowing Isolde would follow her lead. “Look for yourself.”
The second Isolde saw the two, her face went bright red. This closer, she saw that his features were the stuff of dreams: straight, strong, classically male. Ariadne expected that he was younger than she had first assumed, in his mid-twenties, most likely.
His eyes were now as green as she had expected but had a hint of hazel in them; his tailoring was undoubtedly superb, the azure double-breasted tailcoat, tan waistcoat, and buff trousers showcasing his long, sinewy form. His tall black boots, banded by brown leather at the top, hugged his muscular calves.
“Ladies,” Cedric said, “May I introduce Lachlan Basset, Duke of Igthorne in east Scotland. Igthorn, my wife Ariadne, her sisters Marigold, Celestine, and Isolde Hargrave.”
The young man bowed, and when his warm highland burr rang out. “Pleased to meet you all.”
Maybe one more than the rest of us.
“Scotland,” Ariadne took the horns of the conversation. “You certainly are a far way from home. Are you simply visiting, or, as I am now familiar with the running of a dukedom, is it for business?”
“A bit o’ both, I suppose,” Lachlan replied casually. “My da encouraged me to see both sides of the aisle for a year. I just returned from Spain a month ago. T’is a beautiful country, from the seaside to the vineyards.”
“I’d imagine the culture and the people are beautiful as well,” Ariadne said innocently.
Cedric, however, gave her an eye at her meddling.
“Very so,” Lachlan said, his gaze flitting to Isolde. “Extraordinarily beautiful.”
An uneasy moment lingered between them before Cedric plowed on, “It so happens that he’s looking into creating a trade venture between our countries, and I extended my help to find partners willing to fund it.”
“Oh,” Ariadne blinked, “That’s wonderful. I’d love to see you again.”
Hunt cleared his throat and announced the new set, starting with another waltz; Ariadne already knew Cedric was about to whisk her to the floor, and while she wanted to meddle more andsubtly nudge Duke Igthorne to ask Isolde to dance, she knew her sister would not appreciate it.
