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“If you aren’t interested in any other young ladies, try to avoid dancing with them. It can be difficult, but you’re safer spending time with women who are happily married. Stay away from the unhappily married ones because they might view you as a challenge and try to get you into bed, where, once again, you’re at risk of being challenged to a duel.”
Trevor frowned. “How do I know if a woman is happily married or not?”
Sylvestor shrugged. “There are signs. But if you aren’t certain, my wife is an option, as are both Ladies Blackwell and the Duchess of Ashford.”
That was helpful. He’d liked the younger Lady Blackwell when he met her last year, although at that time, she’d still been Lady Sophie Carlisle. She was a friendly, straightforward sort of person and had been kind to him, never mentioning his eccentricities.
“Once you’ve attended her at a ball, the next step is to call on her at home the following morning. It’s best if you take a gift or prepare in advance in some way that sets you apart from everyone else.”
Trevor wrote that down.
“After that, a courtship is more loosely defined. You ought to continue dancing with her at balls, but you may also court her outside the ballroom, which I suspect is where you will have more success. You could escort her on a walk in the park, take her to the opera, or even to a play.”
“But I thought you said we were never to be alone together?”
“Which is why she’ll be accompanied by a chaperone. Probably her maid, since she has no sisters or mother.”
Trevor’s legs were restless, and it was all he could do not to get up and start pacing. There were so many rules, and he was supposed to somehow instinctively know and remember them all. How did anyone manage it?
He folded the paper, slipped it back into his pocket, then reached for his glass and took a healthy swig of brandy.
“If you think she’s the sort to be impressed by your academic studies, you could take her to a garden or a pond and romance her with stories about the meanings of different flowers, but for the love of God, do not lecture her on their growth patterns or crop yields.”
He was doomed.
Trevor had no idea about the sentimental meanings of flowers. He knew which were pretty and what conditions they required to grow and flourish. That was all.
“This is so much more complicated than I thought it would be,” he said dully.
“Don’t despair. You’re the cleverest man I know. You’ll figure it out.”
Maybe. More likely, this courtship was going to be an absolute disaster.
He stayed a while longer, moving on to other conversational topics, but eventually the overpowering aroma of cigars got to be too much for him, and he made his excuses and left.
The conditions on the street outside weren’t much better, and he was looking forward to being safely inside Wembley House. However, as they passed Hyde Park, he glanced out the window and saw Lady Sophie Blackwell atop a horse, her bright red hair tucked beneath a riding cap.
Recalling how direct she had been with him last year, he knocked on the front wall of the carriage, signaling for the driver to stop, and then scrambled out and made his way toward her, keeping his movements smooth so as not to startle her mount.
“Lady Sophie, it’s good to see you.”
She tilted her head to the side quizzically, and her lips quirked in a bemused smile. “Lord Fitzgerald, this is unexpected.”
He stopped a few yards away, lifting his chin to gaze up at her. “I know I’m probably breaking all sorts of social rules, but I thought you might be frank with me, and you have a woman’s perspective as well, which I’m desperately in need of.”
“I must admit I’m intrigued. What would you like my perspective on?”
“May I be blunt?”
She laughed, light and tinkling. “Please do. I find that’s always easiest.”
“I want to marry Miss Dalton, but I don’t know whether I realistically have any chance or how to go about it.”
“I didn’t take you for the type of man to chase after beauty.”
“I’m not.” Why did everyone assume that was the case? There was so much more to Seraphina than her looks. “I want to be married to someone with whom I can have a rigorous academic conversation without boring her to tears. Miss Dalton is educated and thoughtful.”
“Is she now?”
