The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

Still puzzled, Mary returned Henrietta’s gaze steadily. “Of course I know that. Quite aside from all your complaints, it’s not as if I don’t behave so deliberately.”

“Exactly!” Henrietta sat back with a wave. “There you are then.” When Mary continued to look blank, Henrietta spread her arms. “Don’t you see? On the list of gentlemen of the ton who need to be bossed, Ryder Cavanaugh ranks supreme—indeed, well out of range of any others. More than any other, he’s the one who needs a lady like you—one with the right nature to counter his—to take him in hand.”

“Ah.” Suddenly, Mary saw it. “That’s why the grandes dames are so thrilled.”

The look Henrietta cast her clearly said, Well, of course!

The sound of footsteps in the corridor preceded the opening of the door. Louise walked in, saw them, and smiled. “Perfect. I need to speak with you both.”

Closing the door, Louise crossed the parlor and sank onto the cushions alongside Mary. “We have the flowers for the wedding to finalize today, but before we head off on that errand, we need to discuss when to hold yours and Ryder’s engagement dinner and ball.”

Mary blinked. “I have to admit I hadn’t yet thought of it.”

Louise nodded. “Indeed, but in this case, this household has to juggle your engagement event with Henrietta’s wedding.”

“Oh, but”—Mary glanced at Henrietta—“the wedding takes precedence, surely?” She looked at Louise. “Can’t we leave any engagement ball until after the wedding?”

“We could,” Louise allowed, “but it would have to be at least a week after, and then we run into the question of when your wedding would be held.” She waved her hands. “It’s become something of a logistical nightmare, what with all those of the family who have traveled to town for Henrietta’s wedding, and who would feel compelled to remain for an extended time if we put off your engagement ball, and so pushed back your wedding, too.” Louise grimaced and met Henrietta’s, then Mary’s, eyes. “We—the ladies of the family—all gathered at Horatia’s yesterday and discussed the subject at length. It was agreed that if you and Ryder are amenable, then the most felicitous timing for all would be to hold your engagement ball and dinner before Henrietta’s wedding, with your wedding following a week or so after Henrietta’s.” Louise paused, then added, “Unless, of course, you and Ryder were content to put back your wedding until September or so.”

Both Henrietta and Louise looked inquiringly at Mary. Considering the prospect, she pulled a face. “While I can see some benefits in a longer engagement”—such as giving her time to learn how to better deal with Ryder before she let him put his ring on her finger—“I can’t imagine either he or I will be . . . comfortable with waiting until September.”

“Indeed.” Louise nodded. “That was the consensus of feeling yesterday—and really, no one could see any great sense in delaying formally acknowledging your engagement.” Louise nodded at the paper Mary still held. “Especially as the announcement has already been made. It’s taken people by surprise, and although that’s neither here nor there, compounding surprise by delaying a formal engagement ball was something we all saw as simply unnecessary. And making you and Ryder wait until September to marry seemed equally senseless. So!” Louise drew breath and faced Mary. “What do you think, and how do you think Ryder will see it?”

“I don’t know—as I said, I hadn’t thought of it, so we haven’t discussed the subject at all.” Lips firming, Mary looked at Henrietta, then met Louise’s gaze. “But clearly he and I need to do so. When, exactly, were you thinking of holding our engagement ball?”

“With the wedding six days away, the latest we could manage it is four nights from now.”

“And our wedding?”

“It was suggested, from our Cynster point of view, that a week after Henrietta’s would be the earliest date that would suit, but that’s more flexible, of course. We need to consult more definitely with Ryder and his family on that.”

Mary nodded. “Very well—I’ll suggest that. Our engagement ball four nights from now, and our wedding a week after Henrietta’s.”

“Good!” Louise rose. “Now, we really should be on our way to Covent Garden. The florist suggested we visit her shop and see the blooms for ourselves, just to make sure we’re happy with the flowers we’ve chosen.”

Henrietta rose with alacrity, but Mary was slower coming to her feet. When Henrietta arched a brow at her, Mary grimaced. “I was going to come with you, but four nights from now isn’t all that much time.” She met her mother’s eyes. “I suspect my morning will be better spent determining Ryder’s thoughts on the timing of our engagement ball and our wedding.”

That the Marchioness of Raventhorne had elected to breakfast at the small table before the fire in her boudoir in company with Claude Potherby, who had called to keep her company, was the only thing that saved her Sèvres tea service from certain destruction.

Perusing Lavinia’s copy of the Gazette, Claude glanced at her, then folded back the paper to reveal the Announcements section and held it out to her. “Here—you’d better read this.”

Setting down her teacup, Lavinia accepted the news sheet and focused on the print.

“Argh!” She shot to her feet, overturning her delicate hoop-back chair, which smashed on the polished boards.

She stared at the paper. “Damn it! Why didn’t they stop it?”

Claude smothered a sigh. “My apologies, but I thought it better you see that now, rather than hear about it later—in public—but, after all, you knew it was coming.” He frowned. “And they who? Who would want to even try to put a stop to it?” Other than her, but Claude knew Lavinia’s wishes were neither here nor there, at least not with regard to her stepson.

“Bah!” Lavinia flung the sheet into the fireplace.

The flames flared and consumed the thin paper. Claude didn’t care; he’d already read all the news it had contained.

Tightly folding her arms, Lavinia fell to pacing. “I’d thought the Cynsters would decide that Ryder was no fit husband for their darling.” She flung out an arm. “He’s a known seducer!”

Of bored matrons only too ready to be seduced. Claude thought the words but knew better than to utter them. Instead, he drawled, “I believe you should take this as a sign that Mary Cynster is not the lady for your Randolph.”

Lavinia snorted. “Clearly.” Still pacing, breakfast forgotten, she started to chew one fingernail. “I’ll have to find someone even better for Randolph—a young lady of impeccable background with an even bigger dowry—and with all speed.”