“I will indeed,” Christian replied.
“Oh, wonderful, for I shall be there, too,” Lady Claire replied with a bright smile.
“Oh, goody,” Sarah drawled. She picked up her wineglass and took a deep draught.
“Will you be attending the Rutherfords’ ball as well, then, Lady Sarah?” Christian ventured.
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“It’s too bad I cannot accompany you, my dear,” the marquess said. “I have been invited to Carlton House, and one simply does not turn down an invitation from theprince.” This was said in an overly loud voice to ensure that most of the occupants at the table heard it.
“I wouldn’t know,” Christian replied, tasting the watercress soup that a footman had placed in front of him. A memory flashed through his mind of Sarah’s stew and the laughter they’d shared in Scotland.
“Never been to Prinny’s?” the marquess asked, obviously pleased to have something to pontificate about.
“Never,” Christian replied.
“Yes, well, his dinner parties arelegendary. I mustn’t eat too much tonight in preparation, I daresay.”
“Perhaps you should save your conversation for tomorrow evening as well,” Sarah said. When Lady Claire gave her a horrified look, Sarah hastened to add, “You wouldn’t want your voice to be hoarse for conversation with His Royal Highness.”
The marquess nodded. “Sage advice, my dear. Quite sage.” He promptly stopped talking, taking small spoonfuls of his soup.
Sarah took another large drink of wine, draining her glass. A footman rushed to refill it, and she thanked him prettily. Then she turned her attention to Lady Claire.
“How are you finding the events of the Season, Lady Claire?”
“Oh, I find I amquiteenjoying myself so far,” Lady Claire replied, taking a dainty taste of her soup. Somehow Christian couldn’t imagine the delicate Lady Claire making stew and knitting a dog’s sweater in the middle of a snowstorm in Scotland.
“And the gentlemen, how are you finding them?” Sarah continued.
Lady Claire’s pale cheeks turned bright pink, and she glanced up hesitantly at Christian. “Everyone has beenquitelovely andquiteaccommodating so far. I’mquitein awe of the number of callers I’ve had.”
“Quite,” Sarah echoed, drinking more.
“Claire, do not brag. It is not seemly,” her mother said from a few seats away.
“Yes, Mother,” Lady Claire replied, her cheeks still pink.
Sarah lowered her voice. “You’ve had a great many suitors, have you?”
Claire glanced down the table nervously to ensure her mother wouldn’t hear. “A dozen today alone,” she whispered back. “Including Lord Berkeley here.”
Christian winced.
“Ah, you paid a call on Lady Claire today?” Sarah asked him.
“Yes, actually. That’s how we came to be riding in the park together.”
“He brought me the most lovely flowers,” Lady Claire gushed, beaming at Christian.
“Not roses, surely?” Sarah said, taking yet another drink of wine.
Lady Claire shook her head, her blond ringlets bouncing. “No. Violets.Quitethe most lovely bouquet of violets.”
“A fine choice,” Sarah replied, sitting back in her chair and taking another long draught of wine.
The next several courses were served while an increasingly drunken Sarah peppered Lady Claire with a series of questions about her suitors and her marital prospects. Christian tried not to listen while he spoke with another gentleman across the table about the current crop of horseflesh at Tattersall’s. Meanwhile, Lord Branford spoke only a few words from time to time, obviously having taken to heart his intended’s advice about saving his voice for conversation with the Prince Regent on the morrow. He did, however, take every opportunity to paw at Sarah, touching her hand and shoulder with a frequency that made Christian’s gut clench. It was allquiteridiculous and was punctuated by Lady Claire’s incessant use of the wordquite.
