the mamas. But he must always do all of those things in the plural. Always he must avoid singling out one particular beauty for more attention than all the rest.
He had led Lady Charlotte Maddingly into the opening set at the last ball, Miss Amanda Carpenter the one before that. He had taken Miss Brede driving in the park two days before and the Honorable Miss Willow two days before that. He had accompanied Miss Pomfret to the opera last week, the Honorable Miss Cassandra Borden to the theater the night before.
All of them were quite delightful. All of them were possible brides. All of them would have jumped at the chance to be the future Lady Berringer, he believed. Or if they did not, their mamas would certainly have jumped at it for them. But all must be done in perfect balance.
He was enjoying himself. It was vastly amusing to find that at the age of six-and-thirty he had still but to raise an eyebrow or a finger or a quizzing glass to raise hopes and blushes. And to know that such thoughts were not vanity at all. For whereas Mr. Piers Westhaven of Westhaven Park had never found himself lacking feminine company when he had needed it, Mr. Piers Westhaven, heir to Lord Berringer of Bingamen Hall, did not find himself lacking female company whether he needed it or not.
He was going to have to be careful, though. Very careful. For the balance of his attentions to sweet young creatures was about to be tipped. He had escorted Miss Borden to the theater last evening, and he was to lead her into the opening set tonight, always provided that she and her mama arrived in time, of course. The gossips would not be slow to note that particular mark of favor shown to the girl.
Bosley had invited him in for brandy the night before after he had returned the ladies safely to the house. Mr. Westhaven had been unable to deny himself the pleasure of another hour of the man’s conversation.
He had not been disappointed. He had been entertained by a lengthy and fascinating account of the importance of bribes and a little blackmail to the businessman who wished to make more than a very modest fortune. Considering the probable wealth of his host, Mr. Westhaven had guessed that the man must have half the population of London within his power. A fascinating man, indeed.
How Bosley succeeded in interspersing with this topic the fact that he had wangled an invitation for his niece to the Partiton ball the next evening, Mr. Westhaven did not know. Though when he thought about it again, he guessed that there was some very real connection. No one except her mother was needed to take the girl to the ball, of course, but it would be a shame for such a pretty and such a very shy young lady to be without a partner at the start of the ball so that everyone might see how pretty she was and how daintily she danced.
“I don’t know how these things are arranged, sir,” Mr. Bosley said, “but my sister does not know anyone to introduce little Cassie to, you know.”
Mr. Westhaven pursed his lips and pulled at his earlobe. It was too soon yet to make the obvious reply. It was too amusing to witness how his host would proceed.
“You may be sure that the hostess will see to it that there are no wallflowers,” he said. “It would reflect on her skills.”
“Ah,” Mr. Bosley said. “You have set my mind at rest, sir. But Cass will hide in corners, the timid puss. What if the hostess does not notice her for half an evening?”
Mr. Westhaven raised his eyebrows. “Will your sister not ensure that that does not happen?” he asked.
Mr. Bosley sighed, “Right you are, sir,” he said. “I am just too fond an uncle, you see, and too anxious to see my girl properly married and my fortune settled on a worthy gentleman before my passing.”
“Your passing?” Mr. Westhaven asked, amazed. “Surely you are not ailing, sir? You look to be in the very best of health.”
Mr. Bosley had laughed heartily and changed the subject. And only then
He had led Lady Charlotte Maddingly into the opening set at the last ball, Miss Amanda Carpenter the one before that. He had taken Miss Brede driving in the park two days before and the Honorable Miss Willow two days before that. He had accompanied Miss Pomfret to the opera last week, the Honorable Miss Cassandra Borden to the theater the night before.
All of them were quite delightful. All of them were possible brides. All of them would have jumped at the chance to be the future Lady Berringer, he believed. Or if they did not, their mamas would certainly have jumped at it for them. But all must be done in perfect balance.
He was enjoying himself. It was vastly amusing to find that at the age of six-and-thirty he had still but to raise an eyebrow or a finger or a quizzing glass to raise hopes and blushes. And to know that such thoughts were not vanity at all. For whereas Mr. Piers Westhaven of Westhaven Park had never found himself lacking feminine company when he had needed it, Mr. Piers Westhaven, heir to Lord Berringer of Bingamen Hall, did not find himself lacking female company whether he needed it or not.
He was going to have to be careful, though. Very careful. For the balance of his attentions to sweet young creatures was about to be tipped. He had escorted Miss Borden to the theater last evening, and he was to lead her into the opening set tonight, always provided that she and her mama arrived in time, of course. The gossips would not be slow to note that particular mark of favor shown to the girl.
Bosley had invited him in for brandy the night before after he had returned the ladies safely to the house. Mr. Westhaven had been unable to deny himself the pleasure of another hour of the man’s conversation.
He had not been disappointed. He had been entertained by a lengthy and fascinating account of the importance of bribes and a little blackmail to the businessman who wished to make more than a very modest fortune. Considering the probable wealth of his host, Mr. Westhaven had guessed that the man must have half the population of London within his power. A fascinating man, indeed.
How Bosley succeeded in interspersing with this topic the fact that he had wangled an invitation for his niece to the Partiton ball the next evening, Mr. Westhaven did not know. Though when he thought about it again, he guessed that there was some very real connection. No one except her mother was needed to take the girl to the ball, of course, but it would be a shame for such a pretty and such a very shy young lady to be without a partner at the start of the ball so that everyone might see how pretty she was and how daintily she danced.
“I don’t know how these things are arranged, sir,” Mr. Bosley said, “but my sister does not know anyone to introduce little Cassie to, you know.”
Mr. Westhaven pursed his lips and pulled at his earlobe. It was too soon yet to make the obvious reply. It was too amusing to witness how his host would proceed.
“You may be sure that the hostess will see to it that there are no wallflowers,” he said. “It would reflect on her skills.”
“Ah,” Mr. Bosley said. “You have set my mind at rest, sir. But Cass will hide in corners, the timid puss. What if the hostess does not notice her for half an evening?”
Mr. Westhaven raised his eyebrows. “Will your sister not ensure that that does not happen?” he asked.
Mr. Bosley sighed, “Right you are, sir,” he said. “I am just too fond an uncle, you see, and too anxious to see my girl properly married and my fortune settled on a worthy gentleman before my passing.”
“Your passing?” Mr. Westhaven asked, amazed. “Surely you are not ailing, sir? You look to be in the very best of health.”
Mr. Bosley had laughed heartily and changed the subject. And only then
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