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He entered the ballroom and grabbed the first glass of wine he saw. He drained it in one gulp.
“I say, Ashford,” said a voice from behind him.
It was Cameron’s grandfather, Beauregard Adams, the Marquess of Denbigh. He was still a sturdy man in his early seventies with a shock of white hair and silver-blue eyes that his grandson had inherited.
“Denbigh, good to see you.”
“Jolly good party.” Denbigh surveyed the room. “I daresay you could find a potential mate among all these lovelies.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Are you going to drill that into me as well? It’s bad enough I’ve had every debutante’s mother in London trying to catch my eye tonight.”
Denbigh grinned. “It’s the way of things, you know. There are quite a few beauties here.”
“Have you thought about taking another wife?” Thomas asked.
“No, I’m happy to be alone in my old age. And of course there’s my mother to think of.”
Denbigh’s mother, the dowager marchioness, was nearing ninety and was confined to a wheelchair. She hadn’t made the trip to Hampshire and was at home in Bath with her caretakers.
“I wonder if my mother will ever remarry,” Thomas said, more to himself than to Denbigh.
“She is a lovely thing, your mother.” Denbigh cocked his eyebrow. “Do you think she wants to remarry?”
Good God, what had Thomas started? The last thing he wanted Denbigh to think was that he was looking for a suitor for his mother.
“I doubt it,” Thomas said. “She was utterly devoted to Father.”
“And of course you’ll see that she’s always taken care of,” Denbigh said.
Thomas nodded. “Of course. She will always have a home here at this estate, and in our many properties in London and abroad.” Thomas glanced about, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tricia.
Where had she gone?
But before he could find her, a lady approached him with who he presumed to be her daughter.
“Lord Ashford,” the older woman said, “and Lord Denbigh. How wonderful to see you both.”
Thomas wasn’t sure who the woman was, but as luck would have it, Denbigh replied to her.
“Mrs. Templeton, it is my pleasure indeed.” He took the daughter’s hand. “And this must be your lovely daughter. Aurora, is it?”
“Yes, my lord. I named her Aurora, after the morning dawn.”
“Please allow me to make the introductions,” Denbigh said. “Miss Templeton, please meet the Earl of Ashford, Thomas Jameson.”
Aurora curtsied politely to Thomas. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Lord.”
She was a lovely little thing. Quite diminutive in size. Thomas, of course, was used to tall women. His sisters and mother were all tall, and so was Tricia.
But she was pleasing to look at. Miss Templeton had lovely warm brown eyes and a mahogany mane of hair that was swept up on her head into ringlets of curls.
Thomas held out his hand and took her gloved one. “Perhaps you would honor me with a dance, Miss Templeton?”
She bowed her head coyly. “It would be my honor, my lord.”
Denbigh patted him on his back. “That’s the way to do it, Ashford. You should be out dancing with all the young lovelies tonight.”
Thomas took to the dance floor while Lord Denbigh continued to speak with Mrs. Templeton. Aurora was so small, he almost felt he was twirling nothing in his arms.
