“Mr. Risewell’s fortune might only span a few generations back, but rumor has it that he is one of the richest men in England at the moment.” She gestured to the younger woman, who wore a light blue evening dress and had gorgeous honey-colored hair. “Thus, his only daughter, Theresia, is one of the most eligible debutantes in Bath at the moment. She has as many as two to five suitors at any time, though she never shows much interest in them. Currently, there are two in the running. Silas Treadway is the one doting on her now.”
The man in question had dark brown hair and light skin. It was hard to tell his age at a distance, but Mira would guess he was around thirty. He smiled as he spoke out of the side of his mouth, obviously feeling clever about whatever it was he wassaying. Theresia was unaffected.
“The other,” Maureen continued, gesturing to a young man standing off on his own with black hair and a beard, “is Bertie Corbet, of the Shropshire Corbets, you know.”
Mira didn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“It’s unfortunate that your party didn’t arrive until this evening. Why, I’m sure if you had come yesterday the Risewells would have offered you an invitation to their ball tomorrow evening. By the way, that’s Catherine Meredeth over there. She and her brother—”
Maureen continued after that fashion, pointing out each family she deemed important, from Reverend Knott and his four spinster daughters, to Dr. George Sherbrooke Turpin and his second wife who had recently moved into the neighborhood. The topic of conversation briefly shifted to the construction of the museum for the Roman ruins and how much it had changed social gatherings, before Maureen abruptly changed the topic again.
“Oh, I can hardly believe it. I almost forgot the Sherards! They spend most of the year in Devon, from what I understand, but always winter here in Bath. The father passed away several years ago, and the eldest son is set to be the next Baron Sherard once their uncle passes. You can see him there. I don’t recognize the younger gentleman with them. You don’t think...” Maureen gasped. “There are two younger eligible Sherards. I think that might be one of them!”
Mira suppressed a smile. Byron scanned the room, hopefully looking for her. She took a step away from Maureen and the tree, taking out her fan. Now, what was the proper way to beckon a gentleman to approach? She was always forgetting these things. She would have to ask Liza for a refresher.
Fortunately, he caught sight of her, eyes brightening as he moved over to her, taking her hand.
“Miss Blayse,” he said, kissing the back of it.
“Mr. Sherard,” she said, her smile breaking free. “How are you enjoying the program?”
“Oh, very well. I understand that the lead violinist, Mr. Heinrich, is in fine form this evening.”
Mira nodded and turned towards Maureen, whose wide eyes betrayed her shock, though she wisely kept her mouth shut. “Miss Harris, may I introduce you to Ambrose Sherard?”
“How do you do, Miss Harris,” Byron said, dipping his head.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Maureen said, with a slight curtsy. “Are you staying long in Bath?”
“A few weeks, I believe. Perhaps a bit longer. Are you enjoying the recital?”
“Oh yes,” Maureen gushed. “Mendelssohn has always been a favorite of mine. I wish the whole program was only his music.”
The crowd began to move back to the main room. Byron held a hand out to Mira. “Might I escort you back?”
“Of course.” She bid a still shocked Maureen farewell and walked with him back to the recital room.
“You seemed deep in conversation with her,” he whispered.
“She was informing me of the social climate.”
“Gossip?” Byron raised an eyebrow.
“That as well.”
“Good. You’ll have to tell me about it later.”
***
It wasn’t until the conclusion of theprogram that Mira had the opportunity to be reintroduced to Byron’s family. The lingering crowd meandered out of the main room to partake of refreshments. The Sherards stood on a raised platform a little away from the tables, observing the scene. Every so often one of them would make a comment to another, but for the most part they remained silent. Like cathedral statues gazing down onthe populace. For as much as Byron insisted he didn’t take on a persona with his family, he seemed to be standing straighter than usual, and betrayed none of his usual expressiveness.
Somehow, that made her even more nervous.
Liza came to her side. “Are you going to go talk to them?”
“I don’t even know what I’ll say. Is it appropriate for me to approach without invitation?”
“Mr. Constantine is courting you. Isn’t that invitation enough?”
