“Are you suggesting some guests will not be allowed to eat? Worried about your own meal, my dear?” Her husband chuckled as if he was very clever. He had moved closer to Mr. Steele so that it was men on one side, women on the other.
Forget stomping on his foot. Gwendolyn wanted to elbow him so hard he would double over in pain. Then she would push him into the potted plant located right behind him. She was also frustrated that she was torn between jealousy over the hungry looks Lady Rabron kept sneaking at Mr. Steele and the desire to champion the clueless woman. What woman with any common sense would marry someone like Rabron?
Fortunately for his lordship, at that moment, Lady Middlebury decided to address their guests. “Welcome, everyone. Welcome. My husband and I are pleased you could join us. You will see him at dinner,” she assured them as if someone had asked. “Remember, we keep early hours at Colemore. Dinner will be served in an hour and a half. Cook has designed a menu that will certainly please you, Lord Kirkham.”
“Beefsteak?” the gray-haired lord barked out.
“And plenty of it,” she confirmed. “But first, we have some new faces in our company. Let me introduce Admiral Abbott—” She waved a graceful hand in the direction of a stern-looking man who had heavy jowls as if he’d spent his time at sea scowling.
Guests murmured greetings.
“—Miss Gwendolyn Lanscarr.”
Heads turned in Gwendolyn’s direction. She lowered her head demurely. She knew her role.
“Lord and Lady Rabron—”
Lord Rabron appeared pleased with the attention.
“—and my dear,dearfriend Lady Orpington—who brought us Miss Lanscarr—has also given us her nephew, Mr. Nicholas Curran.”
Mr. Steele stood as stoic as any Corinthian would if he was worth his salt—tall, confident, and radiating masculinity. Female hearts from every corner of the room fluttered in response.
Of course, Gwendolyn understood why women were attracted to him. Yes, Mr. Steele was handsome in a dark and wild sort of way.But there was also an energy about him, a sense of purpose, especially when compared with the other young men in the room.
They were an indolent group. Mr. Randell was in government, but she didn’t sense he had any true passion for the position the way her brother-in-law Michael did. She suspected that Captain McGrath spent more time deciding on the buttons for the military jackets he wished designed than in actually serving king and country. And Mr. Mason was just a lost cause, a man trailing behind other men so that he could fit in.
As for Lord Ellisfield...? She sensed he had some worth. Granted, he was heir to a vast fortune, but she preferred men who forged their own lives.
It must be the gambler in her, she decided. Her father had always advised his daughters to seek opportunity. And if Gwendolyn was going to put money on the value of someone, it would be on Mr. Steele overanyother man in this room.
A question directed to the marchioness caught her attention. “What is this I hear, my lady, that there will be no whist tournament this year?” The speaker was Lord Kirkham, a man of middling years. Lady Orpington had introduced Gwendolyn to him earlier. Her ladyship stood not far from him, Magpie in her arms. She’d been stirring the pot.
Lady Middlebury was unperturbed. “We are doing new things this year, my lord,” she answered.
“And what new things are those?”
She gave him an expansive smile to include the room and answered, “WhateverIdecide.”
Her declaration was met with a polite ripple of laughter. No one would join in criticizing her decision because she was the hostess to a party so exclusive it bestowed upon each guest a bit of importance in Society. In fact, Gwendolyn believed that if Lady Orpington was wise, she would end her whist campaign now and accept defeat.
Knowing few would question the whist decision further, a triumphant Lady Middlebury stepped back toward the door. “My lord husband and I shall see you at dinner. We will gather in here beforehand.” She walked out into the entrance hall.
“What else is there if we don’t have the tournament?” Lady Orpington said, proving that she was not crying quarter.
Lord Kirkham grumbled, “I’m not up for hunting. Too much fresh air.”
“It would be good for you,” someone called out jovially, and the conversations resumed, although many were being escorted to their rooms by maids in the Middlebury livery. Among the first to be led away were, to Gwendolyn’s happy relief, Lord and Lady Rabron.
Gwendolyn turned to Mr. Steele. She wanted his thoughts on this sudden change of plans about the card game. However, an older woman stepped between her and Mr. Steele. She elbowed Gwendolyn out of the way with a breezy and insincere “I beg your pardon” before smiling up at him.
“I’m Dame Agnes. No, we haven’t been introduced, not formally,” she said before Mr. Steele could ask. “However, we are in the country. Some liberties may be taken. Especially since I am of advanced years. But I so wished for you to meet these young gentlewomen.” She angled him toward Miss Purley and her friends and began introducing Mr. Curran to them. The young women were all smiles and gleaming, hungry eyes.
Mr. Steele did not seem to mind their open admiration... or notice that Gwendolyn had been rudely cut out of their conversation. She found herself standing awkwardly alone.
At that moment, Mrs. Nally, a jovial-looking woman with apple-red cheeks, approached her. “Betsy will take you to your room, Miss Lanscarr,” she said, referring to the maid by her side.
Gwendolyn had no choice but to leave Mr. Steele to Miss Purley and her friends and follow. As she left, she noticed Lord Ellisfield and his companions had commandeered a decanter of whisky.
