The Beguilement of Lady Eustacia Cavanagh (The Cavanaughs 3)

On the pavement outside St. Martin’s colonnaded façade, as he handed Stacie into his carriage, Frederick said, “I daresay you have a small mountain of invitations for the rest of the week, as do I.” He patted a bulge in his pocket. “I brought them with me, thinking it might be helpful for us to compare the summonses and prioritize those events at which we feel most inclined to show our faces.”

His near-disgusted tone made Stacie laugh. “All right.” She settled on the seat, and he followed her into the carriage. “Let’s repair to Green Street and plot out our schedule over tea.”

They’d agreed to attend two balls that evening.

The first, at Lady Horowich’s house, was also the first ton event they’d attended since the announcement of their engagement; as Stacie climbed her ladyship’s staircase on Frederick’s arm, she fully expected the next hour to be akin to a trial by fire.

Lady Horowich embraced them warmly, welcoming them with barely concealed delight. Given Stacie and Frederick had chosen her event for their first ton appearance, that was, perhaps, unsurprising.

Far more unexpected was the acceptance displayed by her ladyship’s guests; as, with Frederick, Stacie passed through the crowd, exchanging greetings and chatting here and there, she detected not the slightest hint of aloofness, disapprobation, suspicion, or even plain old jealousy.

The last she viewed as decidedly odd; Frederick was—had been—a significant catch. At least, she assumed so, and she couldn’t see how it would be otherwise. A wealthy marquess, handsome to boot, not given to gaming or any other major vice? He was a matchmaker’s dream, yet she sensed nothing but approval, even from those ladies intent on securing titled husbands for their daughters.

It seemed that her and Frederick’s unconventionally announced engagement had been embraced as if it were merely the natural order of things.

Of course, many remained terribly curious, but with Frederick by her side, and him perfectly prepared to be charmingly yet ruthlessly cutting if provoked, she had no real difficulty navigating the waters of her ladyship’s ballroom.

Then the musicians struck up—and she realized she had no idea whether her supposed fiancé could waltz at least creditably. Yet when she turned to him, he smiled, tilted his head toward the clearing dance floor, and arched his brows, and when she smiled back and nodded, he tightened his hold on her hand and drew her onto the floor and, with a graceful flourish, turned her in to his arms.

Their first circuit of the ballroom was a revelation.

“You’re an expert dancer,” she accused.

He widened his eyes at her. “I thought you would have guessed. Musician from birth. A natural flair for rhythm and movement, especially as pertains to orchestral music.”

She laughed. “When you put it like that, I fail to see how I missed the point myself.”

He smiled in reply and whirled her through the turn, leaving her breathless. With an “Indeed,” he set them revolving back up the room.

She was still breathless and not a little giddy when, at the end of the dance, he led her from the floor.

Other gentlemen were eyeing her hopefully, but Frederick steered her toward two couples who had recently arrived. “My sisters,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear, “will probably fall on your neck.”

His sisters—Lady Candice and Lady Marjorie—didn’t go quite that far but warmly embraced Stacie. While their husbands, Henry, Lord Harbury, and Douglas, Lord Rawton, pumped Frederick’s hand and slapped his shoulder, Lady Marjorie confided that she, Lady Candice,

their mother, and Mrs. Weston had all but given up hope of Frederick bestirring himself to select a suitable wife.

“At least,” Lady Candice added, “not in the next decade.”

Stacie recalled Frederick mentioning that Lady Horowich was a connection of sorts, and the scales fell from her eyes. It was likely, if not certain, that many of those gathered in the ballroom were connections—perhaps distant, but connections nonetheless—and from his sisters’ comments, it seemed the Brampton family as a whole was delighted that Frederick had chosen her—a marquess’s daughter, sister to another, well-dowered and long-established within the ton and, therefore, a paragon of suitability—as his bride.

She’d assumed the ton’s reactions would center on her having succeeded in securing Frederick as her future husband. She hadn’t, until then, realized that a good proportion of the ton would view their engagement from the opposing viewpoint—that of Frederick having secured her as his future wife.

As she’d assiduously avoided everything to do with the marriage mart, she hadn’t previously listed her qualifications as a nobleman’s bride. Now…she had to admit she was exceedingly well-qualified, and she hadn’t even included their shared interest in music.

After Frederick deflected all inquiries as to their plans with a deft touch Stacie had to admire, they parted from his sisters and brothers-in-law on excellent terms, with promises of gathering for a family dinner in due course.

Once again moving through the crowd on Frederick’s arm, Stacie glanced around and no longer felt the slightest surprise at the ready acceptance of their engagement.

Frederick squeezed the hand she’d placed on his sleeve and lowered his head to say, “We need to stop and chat with the couple just ahead. Brampton is a cousin a few times removed and currently my heir.”

That was all the warning he gave her before introducing her to a genial gentleman of early middle years—Mr. Carlisle Brampton—and his wife, who proved to be one connection of Frederick’s who was not thrilled to meet Frederick’s recently acquired fiancée.

Yet Aurelia Brampton exchanged nods and accorded Stacie a curtsy perfectly gauged for her rank. Carlisle’s wife was a lady best described as severely handsome; her contributions to the ensuing exchanges were cold and stilted, and she remained as stiff as a poker throughout.

In contrast, her husband was of the bluff and easygoing sort; if he was bothered that Frederick’s proposed marriage would threaten his position as Frederick’s heir, Stacie saw no evidence of it, and she truly didn’t think Carlisle, as he insisted she call him, was capable of acting at all.

After only a few minutes, Frederick made their excuses on the grounds they had another engagement to attend, and they set off through the crowd toward the ballroom door.