“I should like an ice, truth be known. But you did not answer my question.”
“It would be very ill bred of me not to consider you for a friend when you have allowed me to win at cards, have escorted me to a ball where you knew you could not dance, and have likened me to an angel. I am considering it. But, my lord, only time will tell.”
“So, we have a trial friendship?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“I am gratified beyond my wildest dreams. Let us celebrate with an ice.”
They stood, and he held out his arm. She placed a dainty hand upon his sleeve and allowed him to lead her to the refreshment room. To his pleasure, they found the Aldridges were providing both lemon and raspberry ices.
He secured a lemon for Miss Edwards and a raspberry for himself and found them a table. They had not long been seated when they were approached by his mistress, who was escorted by his best friend, the Baron Shrewsbury. Lila was a vision in powder blue silk tissue, her strawberry blonde hair cut around her gamine face to create the look of the naughty pixie that she was.
“So this is Rosalind’s little sister,” Shrewsbury said. “Introduce us, if you would be so good.”
He referred to Fanny by Buck’s pet name, causing Frank to grin. “Rosalind” had created quite a stir among the ton in her day.
“Lord Shrewsbury, Lady Manwaring, may I introduce you to Lady Deal’s angelic sister, Miss Sophie Edwards. Miss Edwards, this reprobate is the Baron Shrewsbury, and this is Lady Manwaring, a renowned Whig hostess. More political deals are made in her Sunday salons than at Brook’s. Both are considered by many to be card sharps, so I advise you to keep your distance in the card room and your money in your pocket.”
“But you are adorable, pet!” Lila exclaimed. “Are you a rebel, like your sister?”
“She is an angel,” Frank insisted. “But she has beaten me at piquet.”
“Piquet rather than dancing?” Lila asked. “Are you an oddity, child? Like your Aunt Clarice?”
Miss Edwards replied, “I am afraid I am. Aunt Clarice is my idea of a fine lady.”
Frank clapped his hands at this masterful set-down.
“May I have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Edwards?” Shrewsbury asked. “I worship your Aunt Clarice.”
“I am afraid I must decline, my lord, though I appreciate your kindness. I do not dance.”
“Definitely an oddity!” huffed Lila. “I have already danced with Shrewsbury, but I shall be pleased to dance with you, Frank.”
“Another time, Lila. Miss Edwards and I have our evening quite planned. Now that we have had our ices, I must introduce her around. She is a violinist and will benefit from acquaintance with London’s musical circle. I shall call on you tomorrow.”
He bowed to his mistress and his friend, put Miss Edwards’ dainty hand upon his sleeve, and walked away toward the mirrored wall, where he had last noticed Joseph and Bella.
“Is Lady Manwaring always so rude?” Miss Edwards asked.
“Inevitably. She believes her beauty and influence entitle her to say whatever she likes.”
“Why do you cultivate such an acquaintance?”
Trowbridge coughed to cover a laugh. If she only knew. “Actually, she is very helpful, politically.”
“If she is the mode, then I am certain to take London in aversion.”
“Wait until you meet Joseph and Bella Carstairs before you decide. I think you shall like them exceedingly.”
As soon as he had them in view, the towering form of Joseph Carstairs strode forward to meet Frank, his hand outstretched. “You walk with beauty tonight. Pray, introduce us.” His tiny wife Bella was at his side, a welcoming smile upon her face.
“Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Carstairs, please meet Miss Sophie Edwards, a very fine violinist who has been hiding in Derbyshire. Miss Edwards, I would like you to make the acquaintance of two of my dearest friends.”
The young woman at his side offered Joseph her hand, over which he bowed.
“You are musical?” she asked.
“We are,” Bella replied. “I am a pianist, and my husband plays the cello. Who was your master in Derbyshire? Ffolkes?”
“Yes. He retired there from London. I am very fortunate.”
“You are, indeed,” said Joseph. “I say, Bella, we now have enough for a trio!”
“But you have never heard me perform,” Miss Edwards protested.
“Ffolkes would never have taken you on, my dear, if you were not full of promise,” Bella said. “Oh, how my fingers itch for the piano. Who is your favorite composer?”
“Herr van Beethoven,” Frank’s angel said.
Though music was not his forte, he was not such a Philistine that he had not heard the name van Beethoven before. He knew the man’s compositions to be rousing and difficult.
“I shall bring my tambourine and make up the percussion section,” Frank said.
“Oh, Frank, dear, do you feel excluded? What would musicians do without an audience?” Bella asked.