He broke the news during the first course. “I wish to hold a ball to introduce my wife to the people she needs to know,” he said smoothly as he helped himself to parsnips. “Early in the season.”
Roker’s eyes opened wider, revealing a bloodshot pupil. It didn’t appear that he was a drinker, but he must have had a lot to deal with since John had broken the news of the brothers’ deaths.
Sleepless nights, then. John felt a little better about the man, if he cared enough to do that. “My lord, I’m not sure that’s wise...”
“I am. If you could help to arrange it that would save me some trouble.” A polite way of saying, “Do it.” It meant the same thing and politeness cost nothing.
“What’s that you say, Graywood?” the dowager said. Probably heard every word. No doubt had ears like a bat’s.
It annoyed him that he had to bellow from the other end of the table. “Lady Graywood, I wish to hold a ball to present my wife to society. I know you are in mourning, and I do not know if you consider it proper for you to emerge so soon.”
Louisa perked up, her cheekbones flushing pink and a light sparkling in her previously dull eyes. At twenty-two, she was too old for a come-out, but she still possessed the dew of youth. At twenty-four, her older sister would lose it before long. He found them too shy, too uncomfortable and they needed to rectify that if they were to find husbands. Every time he’d tried to talk to them, they’d stared at him, making their eyes wider. They listened and agreed in a way that made him want to demand that they express opinions of their own.
Thankfully her ladyship took the bait. “We may have a gathering here. The rooms on this floor will accommodate a considerable number. At Charlotte’s debut we had two hundred in the rooms, and turned away fully a hundred more.”
“A triumph,” he said. “But do you consider it proper for you to attend?”
Her ladyship’s eyes sparkled. “As long as the girls wear muted colours and black armbands with no coloured jewellery, for that one night it would be unexceptional. It is your presentation.” Lady Graywood almost cracked a smile. “It would be considered unusual if we did not attend.”
He knew thath only too well. Society would consider it a family breach if they didn’t make a token appearance. Another hurdle overcome. “Thank you. I hardly dare ask, but could you help to arrange the affair?”
“I would be so grateful,” Faith put in, her voice quiet and conciliatory. “I have no experience at organising something of that nature.”
“You have lived quietly,” the countess agreed, her manner condescending. “Very well, for you, Faith, I will do my utmost.”
He loved the way Faith said, “We should invite some younger men, so the girls do not become bored.” Faith’s diplomatic skills obviously consisted of the more advanced variety. Briefly, he covered her hand with his, then moved on to assist her to a dish of buttered mushrooms he couldn’t help but notice she had a partiality for.
They’d concocted a perfect bribe for the dowager. She would have to remain in mourning for most of the season. However a ball to introduce the new Earl of Graywood to the ton wouldn’t raise any but the stiffest eyebrows, especially if they remained in half mourning. Almacks would have to wait, as would appearances at the theatre and other places of public amusement.
Faith, though, would not have to do that. The duties of countess would supersede those considerations. He wondered how she’d appear in a rich blue and decided he wanted to find out sooner rather than later, even if she could not wear colours in public. Of recent years, ladies were dressing in richer shades, instead of the washed-out pastels of his youth. More substantial stays were definitely coming back with a vengeance and the waistline was returning to a place closer to its natural form. He approved, because Faith’s dark hair and pale skin would suit such styles better than the high-waisted, ethereal fashion of previous years. Women tended to assume that men knew nothing of fashion. Which was largely true, but it was also true that men knew what they liked and were perfectly capable of memorising their preferences for future reference. If she lasted long enough to come out of mourning and into colours.
However, he had learned that he preferred Faith naked. An entirely different consideration, for he had also determined that nobody else would see her that way except her maid.
Turning his thoughts reluctantly from the memory of her sweet breasts bobbing before his face as they had earlier, he put his attention to the meal. While he ate, the countess planned for the ball, which, Lady Graywood informed him, was better earlier in the season. “For you will wish to establish the acquaintances you need then, dear sir.” When had he become “Dear sir?” Oh yes, when he’d offered to hold a ball here. And pay for it, he presumed.
To that end, Mr. Roker seemed to require his attention urgently. He lent an ear. “The estate is still moving through probate,” Mr. Roker said. Ah, yes, it would be. “While we of course have a considerable sum set aside to defray necessary expenses, this affair will cost a great deal.”
“We have no credit?” He raised a brow. Some aristocrats he’d known in the past existed on credit alone, having run through much of their fortunes.
“N-naturally, my lord.” Roker gave him a doubtful glance and John nearly laughed aloud, because Roker’s thoughts were so obvious. The gleam in his eyes, the lines creasing his forehead spoke of a commendable concern.
“I don’t intend to run the estate into the ground,” he said. “I brought some finances of my own with me.”
Roker gave him a disbelieving stare. “Of course, my lord.”
Clearly he believed John’s finances not up to the wealth of the estate. John chose not to disabuse him.
Soon after the servants cleared the covers and they drank the health of the King, the Queen, the Regent and Princess Charlotte, the ladies retired. John breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the discussion about gowns and guests would probably continue for some time. Faith had continued in her diplomatic role, agreeing with the dowager and making a few mild suggestions. John would ensure that the decorations would suit her most. As his countess she should be the centre of attention. He wanted everyone to see what he did when he looked at her. But when he tried to define it, he found a lack of facility in his words, only vague descriptions.
He’d rescue her soon, but he felt the need for a snifter of brandy after the talk of toilettes and perfumes and flowers and God knew what else. He’d leave the arrangements to them. Give them the names of the few people he wanted to attend, mostly acquaintances from his youth.
Not the man sitting at table with him tonight. “We may as well discuss our business,” he said. “The ladies will keep at it for hours. I don’t suppose you have any more idea than I do of the difference between soupir a rose and soufflé de champagne.”
“I think they’re both pink,” Roker ventured, “Though I wouldn’t wager on knowing the difference.”
John grinned and got up, nodding his dismissal to the footman and unlocking the Tantalus to get to the brandy. The key was in the lock that made him wonder why they bothered with the item in the first place. Fashion, or did they trust all the servants implicitly?
He’d keep an eye on the spirits. He didn’t begrudge a few tots, but it was a good measure of the way a household was run as to how often they had to top up the spirits.
He took the brandy and a couple of the cut-glass tumblers he found next to it to the table. Roker accepted a small amount. “The news of the deaths of the previous earl and his brother shocked me exceedingly when I heard. I can only consider us fortunate that you remained to continue the title.”