After he left, she waited for the three lords to take a breath before interrupting.
“Tell me, Your Grace, do members of the ton behave in a cool and disinterested manner right up until the time they ask a woman for her hand?”
Along with Waverly and Jeffcoat, Amity’s husband was taken aback, his mouth opening and then closing, while the duchess waited for his answer along with Beatrice and Charlotte.
“Did I hear the flageolet?” the duke asked cocking his head, his eyes looking slightly wild.
“No,” Lord Waverly said, his mouth working into a wicked smile. “You didn’t. When the first dancers come out, believe me, it will be as if the Red Sea has parted, and we shall be flattened like shirts in a valet’s mangle. Answer the lady, Pelham.”
His Grace frowned, and Amity put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure my sister is trying to figure out the strange ways of noblemen, just as I am still doing.”
The duke rolled his eyes while Lords Waverly and Jeffcoat laughed. “Strange ways of noblemen, indeed,” the latter said.
However, since all three Rare-Foure sisters, including his wife, were still gazing at him, the duke shrugged. “I suppose we are counseled to remain impassive until we have an inkling that a lady returns our affection.”
“Agreed,” Jeffcoat said. “It’s prudent to do so and avoid embarrassment on all sides.” Lord Waverly nodded in agreement.
“So, a lord might actually be interested in our Beatrice,” Charlotte asked, “even if he has all the warmth of a dead fish?”
The men all laughed even harder.
“Inappropriate,” Beatrice reprimanded her, then looked at the duke. “Might he?”
His eyes widened. “I assure you I have no idea. Which gentleman are we talking about?”
Realizing His Grace hadn’t apparently noticed Lord Melton’s arrival and quick departure, Beatrice opened her mouth to tell him when Charlotte sighed loudly.
“I hope your viscount is interested. How exciting for you and in only one Season!”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Beatrice said, thinking it unlikely Lord Melton would unexpectedly spark her interest or declare himself. “But we can still appreciate Mr. Carson’s success.” She glanced around and those around her did, too. “I don’t mean at present, for I have no idea where he is. What I mean to say is, he seems to have found himself a wife.”
The words came out sounding displeased, causing Amity to send her a sharp glance.
“A nice lady, I understand,” Beatrice amended in a kinder tone. “Do you know Lady Emily St. George, Duke?”
“I do not, although I know of the St. George family. Nothing scandalous or particularly interesting I can bring to mind.”
He looked to his friends who shrugged in agreement. “I think I danced with her once,” Waverly added.
“I think you’ve danced with everyone once,” Jeffcoat quipped.
“At any rate,” the duke continued, “the earl is active in Parliament, and I agree with many of his views.”
“Good,” Beatrice said softly, as if that concerned her. It didn’t. She wasn’t sure if she were jealous enough to have hoped for a hot cup of gossip-water, which she could relate to Greer, perhaps to end his pursuit of Lady Emily, or whether she was simply looking out for her friend. Moreover, she didn’t want to examine her motives too closely.
“Shouldn’t we mingle before the dancing?” Charlotte asked. “I want to see the Prince and Princess of Wales up close if possible, and as many costumes as I can.”
“Yes, let’s,” Amity agreed, and the six of them began the rounds of the large rooms opened for the ball, filled with merrymakers dressed for every period and place on earth, or so it seemed.
“They say there will be fourteen hundred people here tonight,” Lord Jeffcoat remarked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lord Waverly replied. “The royals always have to do it better than anyone else.”
Beatrice trailed behind, reluctant to leave the prearranged meeting spot. When Amity dropped back with her sisters, they let the three men walk ahead.
“Henry’s friends are pleasant,” she said.
Beatrice frowned. Neither man interested her. “Are they?” she asked crabbily.
