Shaking his head, Asher grinned. “And that right there is why I’m perfectly comfortable not having sisters.”
“Indeed, but because I have those sisters, I’ve been privy to inside information pertaining to the lady world. And that world seems to enjoy gentlemen sweeping young ladies up into their arms when they’re in distress, hence the reasoning behind my gallant gesture to Gertrude.”
Asher’s brows drew together. “Your sisters told you ladies enjoy being swept up into a gentleman’s arms?”
“Don’t be daft.” He leaned close to Asher and lowered his voice. “I got that from reading a few, or perhaps more than a few, romance novels my sisters keep tucked away in the oddest of places.”
Asher looked around, then lowered his voice as well. “That’s a brilliant strategy, my friend, and one I might have to investigate because I certainly could use some additional insight into the feminine mind, what with me about to be married. But tell me this, besides the sweeping a lady up, have you uncovered any other gestures written between the pages of those books that a lady might find to be swoon-worthy?”
“There are always a few instances of the hero riding to the heroine’s rescue on a horse. But I’m not certain I agree with the hero then plucking that heroine straight up and onto the back of his horse. Such an abrupt action makes me wonder if the lady would be left sighing in pleasure or screaming in fear for her very life.”
“That is a question to ponder, but tell me this—if Gertrude wasn’t annoyed with you for carrying her, why do you imagine she bolted into the hotel?”
Harrison picked up his champagne again and took a sip before he nodded. “Curious as this may sound, her bolting might have had something to do with Agent McParland.”
“The Pinkerton detective I hired a few months back?”
“The very same. I think she may fancy him, because after learning that Pinkerton detectives are hired by this hotel, she brought him up in the conversation and then evidently went off to find him, leaving me behind.” Harrison shrugged. “Or at least that’s one of the reasons I’ve come up with as to why she dashed into the hotel.”
“And here you almost had me convinced you weren’t interested in her,” Asher said with a shake of his head, but before he could expand on that, they were suddenly joined by Mr. Gilbert Cavendish.
Gilbert was one of Harrison’s closest friends, and he’d proven himself worthy of that title over the past few weeks, not hesitating to offer his assistance to Harrison when it became known that Permilia’s stepmother had decided to remain in Paris instead of returning to the States to organize Permilia’s engagement celebration.
“Gentlemen,” Gilbert began with a nod all around, “forgive me for interrupting, but I’m afraid we really do need to get the festivities underway. We’re a few minutes from becoming off schedule, and then, well, everything will be cast into disarray.”
Harrison blinked. “I’m sure a few minutes won’t lead to complete disarray.”
Gilbert raked a hand through brown hair that was less than carefully maintained, an unusual circumstance that lent credence to the disarray theory. “I realize that you, Harrison, being a more casual sort, do not understand the distress a gentleman of my sensibilities suffers when events don’t go as planned. However, because I did share my schedule with the very temperamental chef who is currently wielding a very large knife back in the kitchen, while making threats to anyone who happens to duck their head into that kitchen to check on the status of dinner, he’s expecting everyone to take their seats within the next thirty minutes. That means we really need to get the special dance we’ve planned for Permilia and Asher underway with all due haste.”
Asher choked on the sip of champagne he’d just taken. “You’ve planned a dance for me and Permilia?” he managed to ask after he caught his breath.
Gilbert frowned. “Surely I mentioned that to you.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Wincing just the slightest bit, Gilbert nodded and summoned up a charming smile. “Well, I’m telling you now, but there’s no need to fear. Harrison told me all about Permilia’s lack of interest in performing quadrilles, so I’ve chosen the delightful Ticklish Water Polka for the two of you to enjoy.”
Asher’s face turned a somewhat concerning shade of white. “If memory serves me correctly, and I assure you, I do believe it’s currently serving me very well, my charming fiancée once maimed a gentleman while performing that particular polka. Because of that disturbing incident, perhaps we should simply forgo the dance, which would then appease what sounds like a very temperamental chef since we won’t be late sitting down for his dinner.”
Raking his hand through his hair again, Gilbert shook his head. “Absolutely not. Permilia will certainly expect a special gesture on your part, and swirling her about the room while everyone looks on is just such a gesture.” He summoned up a smile. “Being the magnanimous friend I am, I give you leave to claim the idea of the dance as your own. That, my dear Asher, will allow you to remind your bride twenty years from now of your thoughtfulness when you take to annoying her by chewing your food too loudly, or ... by breathing.”
“I don’t believe Permilia is the type of lady to become annoyed by breathing,” Asher said.
“That’s because you haven’t known her for twenty years,” Gilbert countered before he craned his neck and looked over the room. “And, even if she does take to maiming you while you swirl her about the room, something I must say I wouldn’t be opposed to watching since I’ve never seen a person maimed while dancing before, you’ll then havethatmemory to pull out and use when needed, something I daresay you’ll be thanking me for someday.” He stopped craning his neck and took to nodding at something in the distance. “Maiming aside, I’ve just spotted a fine-looking young lady over there. Would either one of you be so kind as to formally introduce me to her before we sit down to dinner? I have yet to find a partner for the meal, and ... she is lovely.”
Craning his neck as well, Harrison felt his lips curve when he noticed that the lady Gilbert was interested in was none other than Miss Clementine Flowerdew.
“I will certainly introduce you to her, Gilbert, but I’m not sure your charming mother will approve of this particular introduction. The lady you’ve cast your eye on is a member of New York society, and you know how your mother feels about society.”
Gilbert flashed a brilliant smile. “Mother, bless her far too opinionated heart, is currently over in India, having traveled there with my stepfather to finalize an exportation of spices we’ve recently purchased. She’s not expected to return for months. Besides, she’s more opposed to English society ladies than she is to American ones. And because she’s recently begun bemoaning the fact that she has no grandchildren, she’ll be more agreeable to any lady I might set my sights on.”
Asher handed his empty champagne flute to a passing server, then returned his attention to Gilbert. “Doesn’t your half brother over in England have children?”
“He does not, and even if he did, they wouldn’t be of any true relation to my mother since she was only his stepmother and didn’t hold that position long because my father died before I was even born. That unfortunate situation had my mother abandoning London, a city she loathed from the start, and abandoning a fully-grown stepson who was only too anxious to assume my father’s title of Earl of Strafford.”
Asher tilted his head. “I readily admit I’m not well versed in the way the aristocracy works in Britain, but if your brother has no children, won’t you eventually inherit his title and all the land that goes with that title?”
Gilbert shrugged. “Even though my half brother, Charles, is considerably older than I am, he’s recently married again after his first wife died a few years back. His new wife is incredibly young, and I have every hope she’ll provide him with an heir—and hopefully, a spare.”
