“Shall I drive us home, Suze? Your hands are notably occupied.”
Susannah’s heart was occupied too, bemused with feelings of pleasure and uncertainty. She was once again sixteen years old, growing too quickly, and terrified of tripping on the dance floor.
“Hold these,” Susannah said, shoving the flowers at Della and taking the reins. “You can drive next time.”
They left the park for the busy streets of Mayfair, Della holding the flowers, and occasionally—say, when a carriage full of young ladies passed—raising them to her nose as she waved or smiled.
“You are awful,” Susannah said, proud of her sister’s guile and pleased with the day. “The entire battalion of Dorning brothers has asked permission to call on you. There’s a handsome, eligible earl in the bunch, and he seemed taken with you.”
A reassuring thought, for reasons Susannah would examine once she’d put the violets in water.
Della waved to another group, this time holding the violets aloft. “The earl is probably ten years my senior, Suze, but they’re a fine group of fellows. Effington is titled, and he and I get on well enough.”
For all Della was smiling furiously, and beaming gaiety in every direction, her words were tired and hard.
“You’ll have other choices.” A woman always had choices, though often, she hadn’t any good ones. “Give it time.”
“He fancies you,” Della said, touching a fragile violet petal. “Mr. Will Dorning fancies you, Suze. You might have choices too.”
*
“What was that all about in the park, earlier today?” Casriel asked. He was the most inquisitive older brother ever to inconvenience a busy younger sibling. “All that gallantry beneath the maples and flirting among the infantry?”
“You will accuse me of trying to marry you off,” Will replied, and the accusation would have had some merit.
The waiter bustled over to their table. Casriel ordered his usual beefsteak, Willow a plate of fruit and cheeses, because Georgette harbored a special fondness for the club’s cheddar.
“Please recall,” Will went on, “that you intruded uninvited on my conversation with the Haddonfield ladies. I was making amends for Georgette’s misbehavior.”
Mostly, and being a little sentimental too.
“You bought the woman a replacement parasol and hand-delivered a written apology. What amends remained to be made?”
Casriel thought in terms of crops and ledgers, sums owed, and acres fallowed, so Will explained. He would explain as many times in as many situations as it took for Casriel to learn to think like an earl, rather than a country squire.
“Lady Della is in her first Season, Casriel. Her escort this morning—a handsome, eligible viscount—was nearly pissed upon by my dog. The worse damage was not to the parasol.”
The earl wrinkled a nose euphemistically described as aristocratic. On Will, the same nose was a sizable beak. Ash and Cam had been spared the worst excesses of the Dorning nose, as had their sisters, Daisy and Jacaranda. The remaining three brothers had yet to grow into the family proboscis one way or the other, though they had the Dorning eyes.
“I suppose the lady’s consequence might have suffered,” Casriel said, considering his glass of wine. “From what I heard, Effington delivered a sound beating to Georgette on the spot. I’m surprised she didn’t dine on rare haunch of viscount for his presumption.”
So was Will. Georgette was a peaceful soul, but she took a dim view of repeated blows to the head.
“The whole incident makes no sense to me, Grey. Georgette has better manners than our younger brothers. Something must have provoked her to misbehavior.”
“Cam would provoke a saint to blaspheming. Will you join me for tonight’s rounds?”
The Miltons’ ball, a soiree at Lord and Lady Hamilton’s, perhaps a round of cards back here at the club. Casriel had to be let off the leash at some point, and those were safe gardens for him to nose around in.
“I think not,” Will said. “If you make yourself agreeable to the hostesses, they’ll ensure you’re introduced to all the ladies interested in becoming your countess. Don’t dance with any of the marriageable women more than once, don’t leer down their bodices no matter how they trip against you or lean too closely on the turns. If you must, smoke a cheroot on the balcony or eat some leeks, and breathe directly on the more presuming ones.”
Casriel was handsome, and he’d make a loyal, if somewhat distracted, husband. Like Will, he indulged the manly vices rarely and discreetly. He was not wealthy, however, not compared to what many of the ladies on offer were accustomed to, and Dorset was not the most fashionable address.