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“Then family will be of great importance to me too,” he said, his eyes burning into hers.

“My advice, Maria,” Ann said, “is that the discussion from this point on take place between you and Lady Brandon and, I hope, me. In my experience, men know next to nothing about organizing formal events and too many female voices can cause confusion and even conflict.”

Since the table was surrounded by both men and women, it was clear why Ann Cobb had a reputation more for bluntness than for tact.

“That is an excellent idea, Ann,” Estelle said.

“It is,” the dowager duchess said. “Well said, Miss Cobb.”

“Will you feel excluded, Geoffrey?” Maria asked gently.

“Relieved more than excluded,” he said. “I will do my part by attending the wedding and leave the rest to you. But if I may request one thing of you and Lady Brandon and Ann, may it please be speed?”

Miss Cobb clucked her tongue. “Such events take time to plan, Geoffrey,” she said. “For one thing, invitations will have to be sent out all over the country and their answers awaited.”

“We will settle upon the earliest possible date,” Maria said. “I am as eager for our wedding day as you, Geoffrey.”

“Impossible,” he said, frowning.

She smiled serenely at him while there were several sentimental sighs about the table.

Maria was like a puppy dealing with a bear, Bertrand found himself thinking. He would put his money on the puppy for future years.

Bertrand had expected all attention to be focused elsewhere this evening. He was not disappointed to find that it was not so. He was fond of Maria, and he had always liked Cobb, who had once, as a very young man, swept aside all obstacles to marry the woman he loved, to take her from an unhappy home to his own, and to remain stalwartly by her side for the two months before she died of consumption, reportedly in his arms.

Bertrand had had a private conversation with the dowager countess, Stephanie’s mother, before the assembly. He had written to Devlin, Earl of Stratton, Stephanie’s older brother, during the night after his return from the lake since it seemed impossible that he would sleep. He had sent the letter on its way to Ravenswood the following morning though he did not know if the family had returned yet from Wales. Permission was not necessary from either the dowager countess or the earl, of course, but Bertrand would prefer to have it than not. Family, as Maria had just observed, was important. He had personal experience with how very important it was. So did Stephanie.

Finally, he had had a word with his father. His father had wrung his hand before drawing him into an impulsive hug. But he had not said a word about the other announcement that would be made this evening.

The marquess was smiling along the table now at his son, a soft, affectionate smile that utterly obliterated the usual, slightly mocking gleam in his eye. And he got to his feet when the fuss over the first announcement had subsided somewhat and everyone was seated again.

No one was going to be surprised at this second announcement, Bertrand thought. If he had hoped to slip away from the assembly with Stephanie unobserved after the waltz, then he had been an idiot. It was doubtful a single person in attendance had been unaware of their leaving and not reappearing after a decent time. And apparently, when all the Redcliffe contingent had arrived back there and Bertrand’s father had asked the butler if his son had returned earlier, the man had looked blankly at him before recovering and replying that he was unaware of his lordship’s having returned but might well have missed him when he was called away to the kitchen for a few minutes.

No one had been deceived. For no self-respecting butler would leave the hall unattended even for a few minutes.

The aunts had smirked benevolently upon Bertrand the following morning and had drawn Stephanie into their midst, rather as though she were a prized pet.

“Tell me, Bertrand,” Aunt Matilda had said to Bertrand later in the day. “Did I do the right thing in suggesting the night before Christmas that you kiss Stephanie beneath the kissing bough?”

“You are a fiend, Aunt Matilda,” he said. “Let us say that you did not do the wrong thing. It was Christmas, after all, and kissing boughs are meant to be put to good use.”

“And in suggesting you as her accompanist at the Christmas concert?” she had said.

“Someone had to do it,” he said. “It was a privilege and an honor to be the one chosen.”

Owen had got a word in too the same day. “You got lost again on the way back to the house last night, Bert?” he had said. “You have come dashed close to compromising my sister, you know. I might be a mite annoyed with you if I did not suspect you mean honorably. Besides, if I were to draw your cork, I would not be at all surprised if Steph drew mine. She is like that. Be warned.”

“I will keep it in mind,” Bertrand said.

Now his father was standing at the head of the table, his glass, refilled with champagne, in his hand while a footman refilled all the other glasses.

“I have an announcement of my own to make,” the marquess said. “It will doubtless stagger you all with its sheer unexpectedness. It would seem that Lady Stephanie Ware, perfection in the form of a young woman, has been persuaded to give my son a chance to love her and keep her as she deserves. My son and Stephanie are betrothed and soon to be married. Please join me in toasting Bertrand’s extreme good fortune and the future happiness of the couple.”

There was a renewed swell of joyful sound as everyone rose again and drank the toast. Bertrand smiled across the table at Stephanie, who beamed back at him and looked so dazzlingly pretty that he thought his heart might well burst.

Heart of my heart.

She was soon enveloped in hugs and was laughing and happy. His back was being slapped and his hand shaken and his person embraced by most of the females.