“-Don’t you agree, Mr. Stanton?”
Andrew jerked his attention back. The duke, Lord Borthrasher, Mr. Sidney Carmichael, and Lord Nordnick all looked at him with expectant expressions. “Agree?”
“That women today are becoming far too bold in expressing their opinions,” said the duke.
“I have noticed, yes,” he said dryly. “Yet I prefer a lady to say what she thinks.”
“But often what they’re thinking is utter nonsense,” protested Lord Borthrasher.
“I suppose that depends on the lady,” Andrew said.
“Well, they’re just far too opinionated if you ask me,” the duke said. “My nieces, for instance.” He jerked his head toward the trio of pastel-clad young ladies twittering near the open doors leading to the terrace. “Haven’t an intelligent thought amongst the silly lot. Earlier today the youngest informed me that she had no intention of marrying for fortune-she would only marry for love. Ridiculous gel. ‘Tis a father’s responsibility to arrange marriages based on the advantageous joining of fortunes and properties.”
“Extremely unfashionable to be in love with one’s wife,” Lord Borthrasher remarked. He turned to Lord Nordnick. “Hope you’re planning to choose wisely, Nordnick.”
A deep flush crept up the young man’s neck. “Surely it is possible to make an advantageous match with a woman one also loves.”
“Nonsense,”said the duke, with a wave of his hand. “Choose a wife based on her family and fortune, then count your blessings if she is someone you can live with without undue stress. Save your love for your mistress.”
Lord Nordnick looked at Andrew. “You’re an American, Mr. Stanton. As such, do you have a different opinion?”
“Yes. Rather than marrying a woman I could live with, I’d marry the woman I couldn’t live without.”
Lord Borthrasher harrumphed. “And you, Carmichael? What is your opinion?”
“It is a father’s right and duty to have his daughter marry as he sees fit,” said Mr. Carmichael.
Andrew tensed. Before he could stop himself, he asked softly, “And if the daughter disagrees with her father’s choice of groom?”
Mr. Carmichael turned toward him with a measuring look. He raised his hand to stroke his chin, and the diamond on his ring flashed. “She would be wise not to. Interfering with such arrangements is begging for disaster.”
“Well, I’m hopeful my brother-in-law will be able to marry off those three silly chits of his,” the duke said. “The sooner the better, I say.”
A movement across the room caught Andrew’s attention, and he turned. Dr. Oliver was heading toward Lady Catherine. “If you gentlemen will excuse me?” With a nod, he stepped out of their circle. Before he crossed the room, however, he leaned behind Lord Nordnick and said quietly, “I have it on the best authority that Lady Ophelia holds a fondness for tulips.”
Satisfied that he’d done what he could for Nordnick’s courting attempts, it was time to see to his own. As he made his way across the room, his gaze raked over Dr. Oliver in critical assessment. He’d hoped the doctor would prove old, decrepit, and frail. Bald. With a hideous paunch. And brown teeth. Or better yet, no teeth. With a countenance that resembled that of a hound. An ugly, no-tooth, paunchy, bald hound.
Unfortunately the doctor was tall, robust, and certainly not much over thirty, if he were that old. Andrew watched grimly as Dr. Oliver’s face-his damned good-looking face-lit up like a bloody candle as he approached Lady Catherine. His grin displayed a set of perfectly even white teeth. Andrew felt a strong urge to uneven those teeth.
“A word with you Oliver?” he asked, strategically waylaying the man before he reached the fireplace.
Dr. Oliver halted and nodded at Andrew. “Of course. Didn’t have much of a chance to speak with you when we were introduced earlier. Pleasure to meet the explorer fellow who’s starting the museum with Lady Catherine’s brother. Tales of your exploits with Lord Greybourne have provided many hours of entertaining conversation between Lady Catherine and myself.”
“Have they indeed?” Andrew said silkily. “Did she tell you the legend of the unfortunate suitor?”
Dr. Oliver frowned, then shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“Very sad tale. A misguided young man-who oddly enough was a physician-set his sights on the object of another man’s affections. As the lady was extremely lovely, the man-who was a very reasonable gentleman-understood the physician’s fascination with her and decided he would give the physician fair warning. He looked the physician straight in the eye, and said, ‘The lady regards you as nothing more man a friend, and you’d be wise to remember that. If you make any further advances toward my woman, I’ll be forced to hurt you.’ ” Andrew shook his head sadly. “Frightfully barbaric lot, those ancient Egyptians.”
Understanding slowly dawned in the doctor’s gaze, and his jaw tightened. “You don’t say. So what did the doctor do?”
“According to the legend, he backed away. A most intelligent decision.”
They stared at each other for several seconds, then Dr. Oliver said, “I’m certain that if the physician backed away, it was because he realized that the lady did indeed regard him only as a friend. Not because he was a coward.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Because if the lady had given the physician any indication that her regard was deeper than friendship, well, then, I think the other gentleman would have had a fight on his hands.”
Andrew kept his expression impassive, but he mentally applauded the doctor. If not for Lady Catherine, he might actually like this man. “I think we understand each other.”
“Yes, I believe we do. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Stanton…”With a curt nod, the doctor left him and headed toward the punch bowl.
Excellent Another suitor taken care of. Andrew glanced around and when his gaze settled on Lord Kingsly, his eyes narrowed. Clearly Kingsly, as well as several other gentlemen, would do well to hear the tale of the unfortunate suitor.
Catherine stood alone at the fireplace, sipping her sherry, awaiting Genevieve’s return. When Genevieve had excused herself for a moment, Catherine had actually been relieved. For the first time in their long acquaintance, she’d had difficulty following her friend’s conversation. She’d been forced to say “pardon?” three times, and it was all his fault.
This evening was not going at all as she’d intended. Oh, the avoid portion of her plan was working splendidly- shortly after arriving she’d left Mr. Stanton in the company of the duke and several other gentlemen, then had joined Genevieve. It was the ignore portion of her plan that was failing miserably. She knew every time Mr. Stanton moved about the room. Every time he spoke to someone new. Every trip he made to the punch bowl. In desperation she’d finally maneuvered herself so that her back was to the room, but then she found herself straining her ears for the sound of his voice and stealing quick peeks over her shoulder to ascertain his whereabouts.
Never in her life had she been so excruciatingly aware of someone. Never in her life had she found it so completely impossible to ignore someone. It was an unsettling, confusing sensation, and she was quite sure she did not like it one bit.
Genevieve rejoined her, and said in an undertone, “Darling, I just overheard the most fascinating conversation.”
“Oh? Between whom?”
“Your Mr. Stanton and Dr. Oliver.”