husband’s arm as he led her to the floor. Sometimes, she thought, as he spun her out with the other couples, she was so very happy to have married him.
SIR Geoffrey was mistaken in one of his declarations. The host and hostess had not yet greeted all their guests, because a few were very late to arrive. Two, in fact.
Wearing his finest black evening dress, his dark hair ruthlessly pushed back from his face, Max’s hawk-like gaze scanned the throng that crowded the ballroom floor of Number Seven Berkeley Square.
“How are we acquainted with the host this time?” Max said, his green eyes continuing to scan the crowd.
“We met Sir Geoffrey in Vienna on our tour of the Continent, remember? He was attached to the British Consul’s office,” Will answered from beside Max, quite dashing in his own evening kit. “I received the invitation a few weeks ago, but not until your bride hunt began did I decide to attend.”
Max’s gaze narrowed. The “bride hunt,” as Will so aptly called it, had consumed the majority of Max’s time since it began in earnest more than two weeks ago. He had always been a mildly social creature, but since his father had issued the ultimatum, Max had been to more balls, musicales, afternoon teas, public assemblies at Almack’s, and theater performances than he cared to count. He had met numerous young ladies, some fresh out of the schoolroom, some in their second or third Seasons, some decidedly upon the shelf. They were variously short, tall, plump, thin, dark, fair, pleasant, pretty, plain, intelligent, and insipid. Max had been courteous to all of the above, happily flirting with the mamas as much as the daughters, working his way into the good graces of every eligible female in London. Suffice it to say, Max had found every single one of the girls he met lacking. He was fast growing weary of the hunt.
“I am fast growing weary of this hunt,” he remarked.
Will rolled his eyes. “You are the one who has rejected every eligible young lady out of hand! What was wrong with Miss Plimpton, dare I ask? I thought her remarkably good natured.”
Max shot his friend a hard look. “She had a gap between her two front teeth, and when she spoke there was whistling.”
“Well, then of course she is beneath your notice,” Will replied sarcastically. “Sir Geoffrey has two daughters, if I recall. Do let me know if either of them has a nose that doesn’t meet with your approval? Or chews her food too many times before swallowing?”
Max smirked. “Have you made the acquaintance of Sir Geoffrey’s daughters?”
Will shook his head. “When we were in Vienna, they were still in the schoolroom. And uh, I was otherwise occupied in Vienna, if you recall.”
“Oh, yes. Otherwise occupied. That’s a new term for it.”
Will shot him a look, but Max just squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “The misses Alton must be the only two young ladies in London we haven’t met.”
“Shall we seek them out, then? Who knows, you could fall madly in love with one.”
Max gave his friend a very cynical glare. “God help me if I do. Love doesn’t come into this bride hunt, Will. Come on, let’s find our hosts and get this over with.”
Max headed into the maddening crowd of Society’s beautiful people, with a smirking Will close at his heels.
GAIL stood on the far side of the ballroom, close to the balcony doors, quite happily unaware of the latest arrivals to her and Evangeline’s debut ball. She had been so nervous before, but now Gail was quite certain she’d never been in such a good mood in her life.
It was working! Evangeline had given her explicit instructions before the ball began.
“Gail, darling,” she had said as Polly, the newly promoted ladies’ maid, worked a seed pearl into her elegant coiffure, “I want you to try an experiment tonight. I want you to try conversing with a gentleman for more than two minutes.”
“But—” Gail had started to say, but
SIR Geoffrey was mistaken in one of his declarations. The host and hostess had not yet greeted all their guests, because a few were very late to arrive. Two, in fact.
Wearing his finest black evening dress, his dark hair ruthlessly pushed back from his face, Max’s hawk-like gaze scanned the throng that crowded the ballroom floor of Number Seven Berkeley Square.
“How are we acquainted with the host this time?” Max said, his green eyes continuing to scan the crowd.
“We met Sir Geoffrey in Vienna on our tour of the Continent, remember? He was attached to the British Consul’s office,” Will answered from beside Max, quite dashing in his own evening kit. “I received the invitation a few weeks ago, but not until your bride hunt began did I decide to attend.”
Max’s gaze narrowed. The “bride hunt,” as Will so aptly called it, had consumed the majority of Max’s time since it began in earnest more than two weeks ago. He had always been a mildly social creature, but since his father had issued the ultimatum, Max had been to more balls, musicales, afternoon teas, public assemblies at Almack’s, and theater performances than he cared to count. He had met numerous young ladies, some fresh out of the schoolroom, some in their second or third Seasons, some decidedly upon the shelf. They were variously short, tall, plump, thin, dark, fair, pleasant, pretty, plain, intelligent, and insipid. Max had been courteous to all of the above, happily flirting with the mamas as much as the daughters, working his way into the good graces of every eligible female in London. Suffice it to say, Max had found every single one of the girls he met lacking. He was fast growing weary of the hunt.
“I am fast growing weary of this hunt,” he remarked.
Will rolled his eyes. “You are the one who has rejected every eligible young lady out of hand! What was wrong with Miss Plimpton, dare I ask? I thought her remarkably good natured.”
Max shot his friend a hard look. “She had a gap between her two front teeth, and when she spoke there was whistling.”
“Well, then of course she is beneath your notice,” Will replied sarcastically. “Sir Geoffrey has two daughters, if I recall. Do let me know if either of them has a nose that doesn’t meet with your approval? Or chews her food too many times before swallowing?”
Max smirked. “Have you made the acquaintance of Sir Geoffrey’s daughters?”
Will shook his head. “When we were in Vienna, they were still in the schoolroom. And uh, I was otherwise occupied in Vienna, if you recall.”
“Oh, yes. Otherwise occupied. That’s a new term for it.”
Will shot him a look, but Max just squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “The misses Alton must be the only two young ladies in London we haven’t met.”
“Shall we seek them out, then? Who knows, you could fall madly in love with one.”
Max gave his friend a very cynical glare. “God help me if I do. Love doesn’t come into this bride hunt, Will. Come on, let’s find our hosts and get this over with.”
Max headed into the maddening crowd of Society’s beautiful people, with a smirking Will close at his heels.
GAIL stood on the far side of the ballroom, close to the balcony doors, quite happily unaware of the latest arrivals to her and Evangeline’s debut ball. She had been so nervous before, but now Gail was quite certain she’d never been in such a good mood in her life.
It was working! Evangeline had given her explicit instructions before the ball began.
“Gail, darling,” she had said as Polly, the newly promoted ladies’ maid, worked a seed pearl into her elegant coiffure, “I want you to try an experiment tonight. I want you to try conversing with a gentleman for more than two minutes.”
“But—” Gail had started to say, but
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