A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(18)
Julia gave one last critical look at herself in the glass and turned to go. “I advised her to direct the poet to the kitchens so he can scour dishes in exchange for his keep. I doubt she will though. For someone so inquiring and studious, she is ridiculously conventional. Hey ho, let us go down to dinner and see whether Charles has thought better of his offer. I wonder if he thinks to look for a rich wife and that is why he is escorting us?”
“Charles wishes to marry?”
“He hasn’t said so, he always keeps his own counsel. But why else would he put up with poor music and bad poetry for an evening? I do not think he earns a great deal as an attorney though he is always well turned out, don’t you think? Heavens, Verity, have you looked at yourself since you dressed? Sometimes I despair of you.”
Verity scrambled off the bed and submitted to having her hair ornament reset and her gown pulled straight. The idea that Julia might be right about Charles made her uneasy. She hadn’t forgotten his start when she’d mentioned Lilith’s name, and Lilith would be quite a catch in a financial sense. But fortune hunting did not accord with the intent, caring man she had seen with her own eyes today, even if it would give him more of an income to expend on helping the poor.
Lady Fitzgilbert’s soirees were a byword for informality, Julia had informed them as the carriage bore them towards Bedford Square. This, reflected Verity after they had been there for half an hour, was something of an understatement. A quantity of spindly gilded chairs had been scattered in artistic groups about the well-lit, cream-panelled room. People stood or sat as they pleased, being served lemonade, ratafia and what Verity guessed from Charles’s face to be an indifferent wine.
“Julia tells me the cook is very good,” she teased, after he had made a perambulation of the room and failed to find anything better.
“I look forward to it,” replied Charles. “Always assuming we are allowed to eat without being given indigestion.”
Verity made a face. He had a point. Lady Fitzgilbert’s creative muse seemed to function by causing her to clap her hands at erratic intervals and announce a performer plucked from the circulating hopefuls. Invariably this occurred just when Verity had succeeded in starting a conversation. Being obliged to leave off a discussion in order to listen to the entertainment made for a very disjointed evening.
Charles, rather to her surprise, had not disappeared into the card room at the first warble of the flute, nor at the powerful, if muddled, lament that followed. Nor, from what she had seen of his movements (not that she had been watching, naturally) had he seemed to be seeking out well-dowered ladies or paid any particular attentions to Lilith. She was about to reward this good behaviour by confiding another tip from Julia when Lady Fitzgilbert clapped her hands again.
Verity sighed and composed her face into one of attentiveness.
Charles listened to the new musician for a full ten seconds before turning to Verity. “What is this appalling noise?”
“Hush. He is a violinist, Charles.”
“Are you sure? Has your friend checked that the kitchen still has its full complement of cats?”
Verity bit her lips together. “You heard Lady Fitzgilbert’s introduction. The poor man fled from Napoleon to be here tonight.”
“I had not realised the emperor was so much of a music lover. Nor that it commonly takes two years to cross the channel.”
Verity directed a hasty, apologetic smile at the scandalised ladies nearby and drew Charles to a row of chairs at the side of the room out of earshot.
“These are the most hideously uncomfortable chairs I have ever had the misfortune to sit on,” he grumbled.
“That is hardly my problem. I did warn you, Charles. Why did you come with us when you knew what it would be like?”
“The reason escapes me. The music is bad enough, but was there some reason why you did not also warn me about the poet?”
“Oh dear. Was he introduced to you? As I understand it, Lilith’s aunt - her late father’s sister - collects exigent artists abroad and sends them to Lady Fitzgilbert in order that London society may marvel at their genius. This has not turned out to be a very rational evening, has it? Would it help if I passed on the information that Lilith’s brother keeps a very good cellar for the more discerning visitor, quite separate from the refreshment served to his stepmother’s soiree guests? Julia says you simply murmur Lord Fitzgilbert’s claret to the footman and the proceedings will then take on a far rosier hue.”
Charles looked at her in amazement. “How did she discover that? I cannot believe her ineffectual lieutenant is one of Lord Fitzgilbert’s close circle. I see he and his friends have escaped the barracks again to be with us tonight.”
“Don’t be unkind. Julia always knows everything. She always has. It comes of being interested in people. She watches and listens and has an excellent memory. Also Lilith is our friend.”
“Even so, I should not presume on Lord Fitzgilbert’s hospitality until I have received permission.”
“Then go and ask him! See, he has just entered by the far door. I shall listen to the music for both of us.” Verity fixed a soulful expression on her face and let her gaze wander the room. She saw Charles and their host shake hands. Good. Now he would be less acerbic about the company, though she secretly rather enjoyed the turn his wit took when he was disgruntled. Dear Charles, it was very good of him to have stayed in the main room so long. She was still watching him fondly when she saw Lord Fitzgilbert pocket a folded note that Charles appeared to have slipped him.