Page 40

“Yes, my consequence is growing very large indeed.” Tiffany laughed, though there was a tinge of sad yearning to her expression. She looked around the room as the last of the guests trickled out the door. “I always thought that if my mother saw me doing something like this, maybe she would finally be proud of me.”

“If she was not, that would be entirely because of her inadequacies, not yours,” Mei replied quietly. “Mothers are not always as they should be, and that is never the child’s fault. She should be proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Tears shimmered in Tiffany’s eyes, and she cleared her throat, shaking her head to clear the emotions away. “I appreciate that more than you know. But… is there something you need me for?” She glanced at the doorway. They were alone in the room now, and Mei knew Tiffany needed to leave to get ready more than anyone else. She would want to be down for supper before her guests.

Which meant Mei could not mince her words without risking making her friend late. Hopefully, Tiffany would not realize that Bolton was a client of Mei’s and would assume Mei’s interest was purely because she had suggested the ladies be invited.

“I was wondering if you think your brother has a preference for any of the young ladies,” she stated baldly. “I believe Lord Hayworth and Lady Juliette have made a match of it, which only leaves Lady Darcy, Lady MarcyAnne, and Miss Fenley in the running. I worry that I have perhaps been mistaken in my recommendations for invitations if he has no interest in any of them.”

“I am uncertain,” Tiffany admitted. “Sebastian is very difficult to read. He did request to speak with me privately, which I shall have to try to arrange soon, so perhaps he wishes for my impressions of them. I cannot tell if he has a preference yet, though. I am happy to pass on anything that is not sworn to secrecy.” Mirth sparkled in her eyes.

“I appreciate you indulging my nosiness.” Mei smiled back at her. “Now, you should go, get ready for the evening. Thank you for letting me take your time.”

“Of course. What else are friends for?”

18

Mei

Dressing for supper, Mei reluctantly allowed herself to be gowned in an English evening gown upon Jocelyn’s insistence. It would make Astrid happy, after all. And… well, if there was a part of her that wanted to look her best by her current company’s social strictures, that was only natural.

It didn’t have anything to do with any dukes. Or any duke’s potential brides and the gorgeous gowns they would no doubt be wearing tonight.

She waited until the gong rang for supper before making her way downstairs. To her bemusement, she found herself paired with the younger Mr. Fenley, rather than just seated next to him, and she cast a glance at Tiffany as her friend turned away.

“Did you enjoy the card games today?” Mr. Fenley asked, beaming at Mei in such a manner that she could not possibly be cool to him in return. His eager friendliness was irresistible.

“I did,” she said, smiling warmly while still attempting to keep her metaphorical distance. “How did you fare?”

“Oh, terribly,” he replied so cheerfully that the incongruence of his statement and his attitude made her laugh aloud. “But I had a good deal of fun. I do not mind not winning; I am quite used to it. Meredith is so naturally good at everything, and Colin is so competitive about not allowing our younger sister to best him, I gave up long ago.”

“That might have been the best course of action for your own sanity.” Mei could not help the smile on her lips, which was entirely sincere. Her grandmother’s advice to find a good husband echoed in her mind. Simon Fenley would make someone a very lovely husband. Amiable. Easygoing. Cheerful. He reminded her a good deal of the Duke of St. Albans, and Johanna was wildly happy with her husband.

Mei could do far worse.

Even if there was a spark that was lacking between them.

Her gaze slid across the room to where the Duke of Bolton was now standing with Lady Darcy on his arm… and he was looking at Mei, frowning. She felt her own smile falter, especially when Lady Darcy said something to him, and he turned to answer her.

Why was he frowning at Mei, anyway?

Because of the conversation they’d had last night?

“Miss Hu, are you alright?” Mr. Fenley pulled her attention back to him, and Mei felt her smile return.

There was just something about him that was so very sweetly entertaining. Yes, she could do far worse. Maybe she should try to transfer her desires to him. Was such a thing even possible? It could not hurt to try, she supposed.

“Oh yes, just a bit distracted.” Which was entirely the truth. “Lady Darcy looks particularly splendid this evening, does she not?”

The lady was dressed in a stunning pale green silk gown that enhanced her features, allowing her natural beauty to shine. As before, diamonds sparkled at her ears and neck, delicately draped around her wrist, and scattered through her hair. She looked like a duchess, especially on the Duke of Bolton’s arm.

“She is a renowned beauty,” Mr. Fenley agreed immediately. He leaned in, and Mei did so as well, wondering what he wanted to say that he did not want others to hear. His voice lowered, so it was just the two of them. “I do not mind admitting, rather intimidatingly so. It’s like admiring a goddess set among us. I would rather a beauty I can speak with without tripping over my tongue.”

It was the nicest way he could have said that Mei wasn’t as beautiful as Lady Darcy, and she found herself laughing again rather than being insulted. Mr. Fenley’s bright blue eyes sparkled at her, and he grinned.

The others began to move into the dining room, which meant a break in their ability to converse so freely. Mei was seated between Mr. Fenley and Lady Darcy’s brother, Lord Owen, who was far more interested in Lady MarcyAnne, who he’d escorted in. Mei had the feeling Lord Owen was not intent on finding a bride, but neither was he against feeling out the young ladies who were attending the house party.

It made sense—they were being considered by a duke; therefore, he would want to consider them as well. Mei, on the other hand, was of no consequence to him. Unlike Mr. Fenley, who, as the second son of a third son, was very unlikely to ever inherit his grandfather’s title of marquess, Lord Owen would be the Earl of Stanwick after his father. While Mr. Fenley might lower himself to marry someone such as herself, especially as she was so well-connected, a future earl certainly would not.