Page 21 of Inventing Vivian

“Thank you.” She took Lord Ruben’s arm. “The wedding will be in August.”

“Yes,” Ruben said. He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “We are very happy.” His words sounded habitual, as if he’d said them often.

“What an interesting room.” Lady Lorene cocked a brow as her gaze moved around the space. “Very... original.”

From the doorway, Zhang Wei cleared his throat. “Dinner is served, my lord.”

“Thank you, Zhang Wei.” Benedict knew his friend had practiced his pronunciation, making sure he said each word just right. “If you’ll all accompany me to the dining room.” He offered his arm to Lady Priscilla and led the group through the entry hall to where the table was set. The dining room was decorated in a much more traditionally English manner, but Benedict hadn’t been able to resist using deep-red silk napkins embroidered with a bamboo design.

Following the seating chart suggested by Chatsworth, Benedict found himself at the head of the table, seated between Lady Priscilla and Miss Rothschild. The conversation was pleasant as the footmen brought out different courses. Benedict had borrowed his mother’s cook for the evening since he hadn’t seen the need to hire one on a permanent basis. He much preferred the meals Zhang Wei prepared. Especially since the man had discovered the Chinese markets in the Limehouse district. Benedict picked at his food and listened with half an ear as Chatsworth regaled the company with a story about a particularly speculative wager he’d made on a horse race.

“Do you not care for the veal, my lord?” Miss Rothschild asked.

Benedict glanced up from his meal. Not wanting to order a separate meal for himself, he’d carefully separated the potatoes from the meat on his plate and was eating from only one side.

“I don’t—”

“Benedict hasn’t eaten meat since we were children,” Ruben cut in from the other end of the table, speaking in his typical loud voice. “Thinks hunting’s inhumane.” He spoke the last word with an exaggerated smirk, showing how silly he thought the opinion.

“Well, perhaps he’s right,” Miss Rothschild said. “It is cruel to kill the dear animals, isn’t it?”

“We don’t huntdearanimals,” Ruben said. “Excepting, of course, actualdeer.” He laughed at the joke, tapping his glass to signal for a footman to refill it.

Lady Lorene laughed as well. “Oh, Ruben, you are so clever.”

“Thank you, mydear.” Ruben laughed even harder. He shook his head as if unable to believe the immensity of his own wit.

The lady continued to giggle as well, although her laughter sounded a bit forced.

The others gave an obligatory chuckle.

Ruben took a drink of wine, and Benedict wondered just how many times his glass had been filled. He’d known his friend to be fond of a drink, but he’d rarely remembered him indulging to such a state, especially so early in the evening.

Once dinner was finished and the ladies had withdrawn, Benedict sat back in his chair. He swirled the port around in his glass.

“Your first dinner party in your own house,” Chatsworth said. “I think it’s going swimmingly, don’t you?”

“The food was delicious, Ben,” Meredith said.

“Very good,” Ruben agreed.

“And I don’t know if you noticed, but a certain young lady has been paying extra attention to you tonight.” Chatsworth poked Benedict’s arm.

“She has?” Benedict asked. “Who?”

“Miss Rothschild, of course,” Chatsworth said.

“She did seem to enjoy your conversation,” Meredith said. “And she laughed quite a bit.” He nodded. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

“Quite so,” Benedict agreed. He thought back to the meal, trying to remember any specific attention she’d paid him. Aside from her comment about the veal, he hadn’t noticed.

“Pretty, yes,” Ruben said. “And from a well-connected family.” He took a drink of port, pointing with the glass as he spoke. “But her father is not titled. That is the crucial point. You must consider the future of your family line. It is about legacy and family alliances, not simply which lady has the loveliest face and most pleasant laugh.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink. “This is not a matter for the heart, Ben.”

Ruben’s face had darkened, his words sounding extremely serious and... something else Benedict couldn’t quite put his finger on. Was he angry? Bitter?

Benedict nodded. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Once their drinks were finished, the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room.

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