Page 27 of The Marriage Wager

Constance did as Francesca told her, going to the cheval glass standing in the corner of the room. She could not keep from smiling as she looked at her reflection, for the woman who gazed back at her was not only pretty, but sophisticated looking, as well. No one, she thought, would mistake her for a chaperone.

Francesca came to stand beside her, looping her arm about Constance’s waist. “Ready?”

Constance nodded. “Yes. I think I am.”

“Good. Then let’s go downstairs and capture some hearts.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

EVERYONE HAD GATHERED IN what Francesca told Constance was the anteroom to the formal dining room. It was a smaller room than the drawing room, in which the family had sat earlier, but it was empty of furniture, except for a few chairs around the edges of the room. The anteroom was full of people, conversation rising in a buzz. Constance halted at the doorway, startled by the number of guests. The room seemed a blur of unknown faces.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be long before you know everyone,” Francesca assured her. “Come. We must first introduce you to the Dowager Duchess of Chudleigh. She is the eldest lady here and my mother’s godmama. She cannot hear a thing, so she will just look at you disdainfully and nod, like this.” Francesca demonstrated, raising her chin to look down her nose at Constance and then lower her head fractionally. “She does it to everyone, so you must not take offense.”

The Duchess was seated beside Lady Selbrooke against the far wall, surveying the people before her with a sour expression on her face. Her hair was iron gray and swept up in a high, old-fashioned style, though not powdered. Her black dress, too, seemed to be from another era, boned and hooped in a way that had not been fashionable in fifteen years or more. Her reaction when Francesca curtsied to her and introduced Constance was so much what Francesca had predicted that it was all Constance could do not to laugh.

Then Francesca swept Constance away on a tour of the room, introducing her to everyone. It was dizzying, and Constance feared she would not remember half the names she was told. It was a relief to see Cyril Willoughby, whom she remembered from the dance, and there were two more men whom she had danced with at the Simmington ball, though she did not remember who they were and was grateful when Francesca greeted them by name. There were several young women who seemed far pleasanter than Muriel Rutherford, for which Constance was also grateful. With luck, she thought, she might be able to avoid spending much time in the company of Miss Rutherford or her mother.

As they made their way around the room, she saw Lord Leighton enter and, as she and Francesca had done, go to his mother and her companion, the Duchess, to pay his respects. She turned away, not wishing to be caught staring, but a few moments later she glanced up and found Leighton’s gaze on her. He smiled at her before turning back to the man beside him and murmuring something to him, then breaking away from him.

Leighton’s journey was slow and meandering, with many a pause to greet this guest or that, but Constance was sure that he was making his way to where she stood. Though she continued to talk to Francesca and a rather languid young man named Lord Dunborough, she was aware every moment of where Leighton was, and she had a great deal of trouble keeping her mind on Lord Dunborough’s account of his journey from London.

She felt Leighton’s presence beside her an instant before he spoke. “Dunborough. Ladies.”

“Leighton!” Francesca turned to greet her brother with an expression of relief.

Lord Dunborough nodded. “Hallo, Leighton. Didn’t expect to see you here. Lady Rutherford told me this morning you were coming, but I said I was sure you were not. ‘Saw him Saturday a week ago,’ I said to her, ‘when I took a toddle down to White’s, and I’m certain he said he would not be here.’ She would have none of it and insisted that she had it from Lady Selbrooke herself, who should, of course, know, as it’s her house and you’re her son.”

“Quite,” Leighton broke into the other man’s story with the expertise of long practice. “It happens that I changed my mind.”

“One does,” the other man agreed. “I did so this morning. Thought I would wear my blue jacket down here, told my man to lay it out, and so he did. But then, this morning when I got up, I thought, no, it should be the brown. Better for traveling, don’t you see?”

“Of course it is,” Leighton agreed quickly. “Just what I would have done. Have you spoken to Mr. Carruthers yet? He is interested in a pair of grays for his carriage, and I know you looked at that pair Winthorpe’s trying to sell.”

“Really?” Lord Dunborough’s eyes lit with interest. “Wouldn’t advise him doing it. No, not at all.” He glanced around. “I should speak to him.”

“No doubt you should,” Francesca agreed.

It took him several more sentences to excuse himself from their presence, but at last he started across the room toward Mr. Carruthers.

Francesca let out an enormous sigh. “Thank you, Dom, you are our savior.”

“Was Dunny entertaining you with the tale of his broken wheel?” Leighton asked, his eyes dancing in amusement.

“Yes, though we had scarce reached the actual breaking point,” Constance told him.

“Quite true,” Francesca agreed. “We spent ten minutes on loading the carriage. If his journey was as dull as his recounting of it, it is a wonder he did not expire on the way.”

“What possessed you to inflict him on Miss Woodley?” Leighton asked.

“I have avoided him for so long I had forgotten how horridly longwinded he is,” Francesca admitted. “Please forgive me, Constance. We shall cross him off the list.” She looked toward the door and said, “Ah, there are your aunt and uncle. I should make introductions. Keep Miss Woodley company, will you, Dom?”

“It will be my pleasure,” Leighton assured her.

Francesca left them, and Lord Leighton turned to Constance. “List? What list are you and Francesca keeping?”

Constance blushed a little under his regard. “’Tis nothing. Lady Haughston has taken me on as her newest project. She is determined to find me a husband.”

“And are you seeking a husband?” he asked quizzically, raising one brow.