The American’s mouth was open when she finished. “That’s extraordinarily impressive. To quote like that.”
Beatrice lifted a shoulder in a shrug, but inside, she was pleased at his praise.
“I read a lot,” she confessed. “In any case, we call itthe Season. It occurs, as Balzac said, so the men can examine the women who are hoping to catch a husband. But he was wrong about its duration. Instead of a few days, it lasts for months.”
“Perfect. We shall go together,” he offered. “I will escort you and, thus, by having a man seemingly to be already at your beck and call, you will look even more desirable. I know how a man’s mind works, believe me.”
It was her turn to look astonished. She was starting to recall all she’d heard of brash Americans. “If I were going to do it, I would have done it last year or the year before. I’m too old.”
“Ridiculous!” His expression was all-over shocked. “You can’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen.” He started to peer more closely at her, making her skin prickle.
“It’s not polite to wonder about a woman’s age, but I’m twenty, too old for any of this nonsense. Besides having a Season is expensive. I have already told my parents I do not want them to bear the burden.”
“Then I shall bear it for the both of us. When can we start?”
Beatrice was starting to think Mr. Carson to be a most determined individual or — and this was quite possible — a halfwit.
“It’s not that simple. I would need new gowns for balls and dinner parties. You would need new suits. We have to purchase tickets for some events. For others, we must be lucky enough to receive invitations or know someone who is already invited. And still, it would do you no good.”
“Why not?” he demanded, looking as if he were ready to go shopping for his new clothes immediately.
“Because only the titled young lords and ladies are presented to the queen at court, as well as daughters and sons of the clergy and military officers. Also, physicians and barristers’ children, I believe. But most definitely not daughters of merchants, nor sons from New York, not even those with Scottish great-grandfathers who were barons.”
He looked unimpressed by this impediment. “Then we won’t go to court. Can’t we attend the Season without doing so?”
“We would not be at the same events as those who officially came out before the queen and are, therefore, considered acceptable to be on the marriage market in polite society. In other words, you would be in with the likes of me and not with the titled ladies you desire.”
Beatrice couldn’t believe she was still talking about this, but he intrigued her. Helping him was something to do with her free time besides reading. Moreover, in truth, as she’d told her sisters, she would like a husband of her own, as well as children. She was not a revolutionary who wanted to throw the order of society upon its head. If she had to remain a spinster, so be it. But if she didn’t have to...
“On the other hand, my older sister is now a duchess,” she mused.
His eyes widened with renewed interest, and then he smiled. “You are having me on. Pulling my leg and making fun of me because I am an American. I was born at night, but not last night. Even I know a duke doesn’t walk into a sweet shop and marry a shopkeeper’s daughter.”
Beatrice would take offense if what he said wasn’t normally the truth.Who could believe it?
“You are correct,” she agreed, “Marrying a duke is nearly impossible. It is like catching a shooting star in your pickle jar. And to do so when not a member of the nobility is next to impossible.”
“And yet your sister did it.” His tone was suitably awestruck as he realized she was telling the truth. “How?”
“For one thing, the duke came to us looking for the best chocolate. For another, my sister is lovely and sweet-tempered. Nevertheless, seeing as he was the only duke in the country at the time under forty and looking for a wife, it was quite a feat.”
“I can imagine London’s elite are still talking about it.”
“They are. Or, at least, my younger sister who reads the society pages tells me they are.” Beatrice considered the man before her and her own situation. “My sister, the duchess, will be back from her wedding trip any day. Her new status certainly opens up new avenues of social engagement. While you and I still cannot be presented at court, we could attend the events of the titled if we do so with my sister and her husband, as their guests. No one would gainsay a duke and duchess.”
Mr. Carson was grinning from ear to ear. “I knew I came to the right place. I had a feeling, Miss Rare-Foure, that you and I would be a good match.”
“Indeed,” came her mother’s voice. “And who in blue blazes might you be?”
Felicity Rare-Foure had stepped through the curtain, wafting rose-scented toilet water with her, and stopped at the sight of her daughter and a man, secluded in the back room, chatting seriously.
Beatrice didn’t mind her mother’s bluster, but she could appear quite formidable if one didn’t know her reasonable, unflappable, if somewhat forceful nature.
“Mother, this is Mr. Carson from America.”
Felicity looked him up and down, then at her daughter, before glancing again at the American.
“Are you healthy?” she demanded.
