Page 6 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“Now, Samantha,” Lord Norfeld said quietly, “the boy is making an effort.”
“That’s precisely what concerns me.”
The bouquet trembled in Jane’s hands, and Samantha frowned. Had she imagined that flutter of movement among the roses?
“Lady Jane,” Lord Stonehall continued, “these flowers represent the depth of my?—”
A white dove burst from the center of the bouquet with violent flapping of wings, causing Jane to shriek and nearly drop the arrangement. The bird soared toward the refreshment table, where it promptly knocked over a silver tea service and sent cucumber sandwiches flying.
The assembled guests gasped as the dove circled the room in obvious distress, its wings beating frantically against the painted ceiling. Ladies ducked behind their fans while gentlemen reached for walking sticks, though no one seemed inclined to pursue the creature.
“Oh!” Lord Stonehall exclaimed, his face cycling through several shades of mortification before settling on determined brightness.
With surprising agility, he lunged forward and captured the dove, cradling it gently against his chest.
The room fell silent.
Lord Stonehall looked around at the sea of shocked faces, his mind clearly working to salvage the situation. Then, with a flourish that would have impressed the most seasoned performer, he raised the dove above his head and bowed deeply.
“Part of the performance! A symbol of the peace your beauty brings to my troubled heart, Lady Jane!”
After a moment of stunned silence, polite applause began to ripple through the crowd. Jane clapped enthusiastically, though her smile appeared strained. Uncle William joined in with diplomatic approval, while other guests followed suit with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Samantha kept her hands firmly at her sides.
“Brilliant!” called out one young lady from near the window. “How wonderfully original!”
Soon a small circle of young ladies surrounded Lord Stonehall, their voices rising in animated praise. He handed the dove to a nearby footman with obvious relief, then turned back to his admirers with growing confidence.
“The symbolism was quite intentional,” he explained, his chest puffing with pride. “You see, the dove represents freedom, but also fidelity?—”
“Jane,” Samantha whispered firmly, taking her sister’s arm, “we need to discuss your expectations regarding courtship.”
“Samantha, please,” Jane whispered back, glancing toward the crowd still gathered around Lord Stonehall. “He’s being kind.”
“He’s being theatrical. There’s a significant difference.”
Uncle William approached them, his expression thoughtful. “You know, watching young Stonehall reminds me of my own courtship days. When I was pursuing your dear aunt, I once hired a string quartet to play beneath her window at dawn.”
“Uncle,” Samantha said with strained patience, “that’s entirely different.”
“Is it?” He smiled fondly. “She threw a boot at me from her bedroom window. Nearly knocked me unconscious. But shemarried me, didn’t she? Sometimes grand gestures work, my dear.”
From his position in the far corner of the drawing room, Ewan shook his head as he watched his nephew continue to bask in the attention of the surrounding debutantes. The boy was practically glowing with satisfaction, apparently having convinced himself that his latest disaster had been a triumph.
“Well,” came a familiar voice beside him, “that was certainly… memorable.”
Ewan turned to find the Marquess of Tenwick, Ralph Kennington, approaching with two glasses of wine and an expression of barely contained amusement.
“I specifically told him to be more subtle this time,” Ewan said, accepting the offered glass.
Ralph’s eyebrows rose. “Subtle? By God, Valemont, if that was subtle, I shudder to think what his previous attempts involved.”
“Pony. With a servant boy scattering rose petals.”
“Ah.” Ralph nodded as if this explained everything. “Well then, I suppose hiding livestock in floral arrangements does represent progress.”
“By Percy’s standards, yes.”
