Page 21 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“Don’t you agree?” she asked as they separated and rejoined.
“No,” he said shortly.
He’d never been one of the aristocrats who looked down their nose at people who made something of themselves from humble beginnings. They certainly had more to be proud of than he did. He’d inherited all he had, and he hadn’t even been responsible enough to hold on to it.
The dance ended, and he escorted Miss Wentham back to her mother.
“Thank you for the lovely dance.” He kept his tone polite. It did no good to be abrupt with anyone.
“I hope we’ll see more of you soon.” Mrs. Wentham sounded optimistic, but her daughter seemed less so. Perhaps she realized she’d erred in expressing her snobbery so openly to him.
He excused himself, internally debating whether to seek out Miss Carruthers or help himself to another champagne first, and perhaps a piece of cake. The idea of a sweet treat and more alcohol appealed, but he decided it was best to get the last of his conversations with prospective wives out of the way.
He wandered the gathering. Unfortunately, he did not know what either Miss Carruthers or her parents looked like. However, his mother had informed him that they were cousins to the Earl of Wembley, so when he spotted Lady Wembley, he hoped she would be able to aid him.
He silently thanked his lucky stars that the Wembleys’ daughter had married last season. If not, he might find himself fending off Lady Wembley’s attempts at matchmaking with her own daughter.
Normally, he wouldn’t mind that, but from his understanding, the Carruthers were much wealthier than the Wembleys, and at the moment, unfortunate—and somewhat crass—though it may be, much depended on his ability to marry a fortune.
“Lady Wembley.” He took her hand and bowed. “Might I trouble you for an introduction to your lovely niece?”
The corner of Lady Wembley’s mouth hitched up. “It’s true, then? The illustrious Earl of Longley intends to settle down?”
He straightened. “In this, the gossip is correct.”
A dimple formed in one of her cheeks. “You are fortunate that I no longer have an unmarried daughter, Longley, or I might take offense at your interest in Miss Carruthers. As ithappens, I am in a good mood, and she is a sweet girl. I shall be happy to make the introduction.”
“Thank you, my lady. I can’t imagine that you ever experience unpleasant moods. You are the height of graciousness.”
She laughed. “And you, my lord, are a dreadful flirt. Come. Last I saw her, Miss Carruthers was near the lemonade.”
She led him to the lemonade table tucked away in the corner of the ballroom. Hovering nearby was a relatively unremarkable girl with dark hair and a nice smile.
He assessed her quickly. Her dress was a pale shade of green that suited her well, and while she was not in anyone’s company, she didn’t seem to be attempting to disappear into the wallpaper.
She was, however, quite young. The youngest of the ladies he’d met tonight. His mother had promised him no schoolroom chits, but Miss Carruthers was surely not long past that age.
“Miss Carruthers,” Lady Wembley called.
The girl turned toward them and, seeing Longley, swept a neat curtsy. “Aunt.”
Lady Wembley drew up in front of her and gestured at Andrew. “This is the Earl of Longley. He wished to make your acquaintance.”
“Lovely to meet you, my lord.” Her voice was soft and cultured.
“The pleasure is all mine. I don’t suppose your dance card is empty for the next dance?”
“It is.” She held out her wrist and offered it to him.
He added his name, and they made polite small talk until the dance began.
When the dance was over, he returned her to the wall near the lemonade and parted with a few final words. He made his farewells and headed out of the building, taking thestairs down to where the carriages waited with a pep in his step.
Perhaps the evening had been exhausting, but he was in a good place to start planning. While both Miss Carruthers and Lady Esther remained valid options, neither had intrigued him as much as the woman he’d found hiding behind the shrubbery.
Miss Hart had been alternately awkward and witty. He suspected the awkwardness was a facade and that the witty, amusing woman was who she really was. Her, he wanted to know better. It didn’t hurt that her mother had made it obvious just how desperate she was to make a good match.
His carriage pulled up. He got in and called out to the driver that he was ready to depart. They trundled through the gate and onto the road. It was truly dark now and slightly chilly. Andrew drew his jacket tightly around himself and dipped his chin down to conserve warmth.
