Page 7 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
Colin nodded. He gave his cousin an apologetic look. “There has been much talk of the marquess’s untimely death with the marchioness’s return to society. Everyone has an opinion on the matter. While the general consensus is that it was a terrible accident, there are rumors of it being murder.
Apparently, the marquess owed a great deal of money before his demise. It has also been noted that the marquess and marchioness were never seen together on his travels. Apparently, it was not unusual for the marquess to be gone for long periods of time, leaving his wife alone with no one but her lady’s maid for company.”
“I do not wish to hear more about the marchioness or her husband’s exploits,” Michael cooly informed his cousin. He did not wish to feel pangs of sympathy for the woman who had broken his heart.
No sooner had the words left his lips than there she stood in the entrance to the throne room, looking as beautiful as ever. He prayed that the clenching pain in his chest at the sight of her did not show on his face. Needing some air, Michael turned away from the throne room and exited via a side door out into the gardens.
Colin, concerned about his cousin’s well-being, followed. “Are you unwell?”
Michael shook his head. “No, I am well. I simply needed some air.”
Colin nodded, but the worried expression did not leave his face. “Perhaps a stroll about the gardens, then?”
“You will miss the presentation of the debutantes,” Michael pointed out.
“I will see them all at the ball,” Colin reassured him. “If I find one to be of interest, I shall seek your counsel.”
Michael nodded. “I could use a drink for reinforcement of what is to come.”
Colin laughed, giving his cousin a jovial slap on the shoulder. “I know just the place.”
The cousins left the palace gardens in search of a fortifying drink for the matchmaking market ahead. Colin led them to a nearby room where servants were bustling about in preparation for the coming ball and ordered them each a snifter of brandy before taking a seat along the wall to watch the comings and goings.
Michael accepted his drink gratefully, enjoying the smooth, dark amber liquid as it slid down his throat. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and turned his eyes to his cousin. “So, tell me what it is that you desire in a wife.”
Colin sat back, tilting his head in thought. “Beyond the usual societal expectations of good reputation and the like?”
Michael nodded in confirmation. “Of course.”
Colin smiled. “She should have a kind and loving spirit that brings joy to her family. A certain amount of intelligent curiosity would not go amiss, either.”
Michael nodded with approval. “Good. And what of her appearance?”
Colin shook his head. “While any man appreciates feminine beauty, it is not the most important aspect for me. I do not have any particular demands of her visage other than that I find her to be beautiful in character.”
Michael smiled at his cousin’s honesty. “Your father and mother did well with you, cousin. You are a worthy man. I will endeavor to find you an equally worthy wife.”
Colin smiled in gratitude. “I value your good opinion above all others. It means a great deal to hear you say such.”
Michael reached out and squeezed Colin’s shoulder reassuringly. “Go and rejoin the festivities. I will follow along as soon as I have finished with my restorative brandy.”
Colin’s smile turned into a grin as he arose with hopeful excitement twinkling in his eyes. “Do not tarry overlong. I shall be dancing with every eligible debutant in sight.”
Michael laughed. “I would not dare to miss it.”
Nodding, Colin downed the last of his drink and left the room, excited anticipation quickening his steps. Michael watched his cousin leave, sending a prayer with him that Colin would be luckier in love than he himself had been.
Michael sat there for some time, slowly finishing his brandy, drinking in the atmosphere of the palace. He had never been particularly good at painting people, being more of a landscape artist, but he admired those who did and thought that the bustling scene before him would have made a most interesting subject.
He vaguely wondered how Hans Holbein the Younger would have portrayed the portly butler and the servants under his charge as they bustled about behind the scenes.
He was an admirer of Holbein’s work,The Ambassadors,and hisPortrait of Anne of Cleves.In fact, one of the maids looked a bit like Holbein’sLais of Corinthas she counted out silverware upon the table, if not in different clothes, of course.
Having bolstered his courage and stilled his pounding heart, Michael arose to follow Colin and keep to his word. Upon entering the ballroom, Michael scanned the attendees to find Colin engaged in a spirited dance with a group of young gentlemen and ladies.
Smiling, he moved around the edge of the room, nodding with encouragement when Colin’s eyes fell upon him, then he continued on through the room and out onto the balcony, where some of the other men had gathered to talk politics and smoke cigars.
“Ravenshollow,” Harry Livingston, the new Marquess of Worthington, greeted with amusement in his eyes. “It has been some time since we were last graced with your presence.”
