The Wedding Game(3)

‘Legs and wind,’ Lovell agreed, with a casual gesture toward the dance floor. ‘You had best prove to them you can gallop. With pins like those holding you up, you will not get a woman to take you unless you pad your calves. At the very least, we must get you a better tailor. You wear that suit like it is full of fleas.’

‘Because it itches,’ Templeton agreed. Then he sighed happily. ‘But the girl I’ve got my eye on will have me even so.’

‘She will need to be the most patient creature in London to put up with you,’ Lovell said, ‘if you will not attend to the niceties.’

Not too patient, thought Amy. With a good family, a pleasant face and a full purse, Mr Templeton was near the top of her list for prospective brothers-in-law.

‘Niceties be damned,’ said Templeton under his breath, offering a polite nod to a passing patroness. ‘Old bats like that one insist on breeches, call tea and cake a supper, and do not allow so much as a waltz with a pretty girl. Then they make the introductions, thinking they can decide our marriages for us. Worse yet, they make us pay for the privilege.’

‘It seems to work well enough,’ Lovell said with a shrug.

‘But if we truly love, can we not choose a more direct method to demonstrate our feelings? It is like standing on a river bank,’ Templeton said, gesturing at a group of girls on the opposite side of the room. ‘But instead of simply swimming across to the object of our desire, we have to pick our way across the water on slippery rocks.’

‘Swim?’ Lovell arched his eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘The water would spoil one’s knee breeches. And what makes you think romantic emotion has anything to do with the process of picking a wife?’

The words were delivered in a tone of cold calculation so at odds with the pleasantly approachable expression on Mr Lovell’s strikingly handsome face that Amy almost dropped her fan in shock. She regained her grip and fluttered deliberately, staring away from them so they could not see her flush of annoyance. He was a heartless fraud, just as she’d suspected.

‘Not love and desire one’s future wife?’ Templeton said in genuine surprise. ‘Is that not half the fun of getting one?’

‘Fun.’ Lovell’s lip twitched in revulsion, as if he had found a fly in his lemonade. ‘Marriage is far too serious an undertaking to be diminished by idle pleasure.’

Then the grimace disappeared and the smile returned. But his stance, shoulders squared and one foot slightly forward, was the one her father took when on the verge of political oratory. He used the same distancing posture when encouraging her to conform to society and find a husband who would improve her weak character so her father did not have to.

To the last vertebra of his inflexible British spine, Mr Lovell was a man who knew how things should be and had no qualms in telling others the truth as he saw it. ‘When one marries, one does not just make a match with the young lady, one enters into a union with her family and with society as well.’

‘I should think it was unnecessary for you to think of such things,’ Templeton pointed out. ‘Cottsmoor, after all—’

Lovell cut him off with a raised hand. ‘For argument’s sake, let us assume that I have no family at all. I am the first of my line, which makes it all the more important that I choose my attachments wisely. Picking the right father-in-law will do more for a man of ambition than choosing the right woman ever will.’

‘Then you want a man with a title,’ Templeton interrupted. ‘The Duke of Islington is rich as Croesus and has three daughters, all of age.’

Lovell shook his head. ‘Title is hereditary and lands are entailed. And I do not need his money. I am quite capable of making my own.’

‘No title.’ Templeton stroked an imaginary beard as if deep in thought. ‘You don’t need to marry for money. But of course, you will tell me the daughter of a cit is not good enough for you.’

‘Nor scholars or men of law,’ Lovell agreed. ‘I want a proper Tory with an old fortune, distantly related to Pitts, elder and younger. Someone who dines with Wellington and has Grenville’s ear.’

Amy leaned forward in alarm.

‘Politics?’ Templeton said with surprise.

‘If one wishes to make a difference in society, where else would one be than Parliament?’

‘And you are speaking of Lord Summoner, of course.’

‘No other,’ Lovell agreed and Amy’s heart sank.

‘I assume you wish to wed the lovely Arabella?’ Templeton said with a bark of a laugh.

‘She is the toast of the Season,’ Lovell said. ‘I mean to settle for nothing less than the best of the best.’

‘Then you must get in line behind the rest of the men in London,’ Templeton replied, shaking his head. ‘Her dance card was nearly full before we even arrived. I had to fight a fellow for the last spot.’

‘I did not bother. I have not yet gained an introduction to her,’ Lovell said. ‘There must be nothing less than respectable in our first meeting.’

Amy’s mind raced to stay ahead of him. His insistence on propriety was a small consolation. It meant there was still time to stop him.

‘Even when you do manage to meet her, you will find it a challenge to draw her out,’ Templeton informed him. ‘She is very shy. Her smile is dazzling, but she speaks hardly at all.’