Page 41 of A Duke for Diana
“And they prefer a certain sort of food?”
“Not all of them. But you must admit younger men are willing to try exotic dishes or eat tartlets and such without needing a full meal, mostly because they’re busy drinking. And dancing, of course. But men of a certain age want their joint of beef or mutton and some nice potatoes.”
He started to protest that, then realized she was right. Even his own father became very stodgy about food as he aged. And Geoffrey’s grandfather . . . a joint of beef or mutton and potatoes was all the man ever ate for dinner.
Diana added, “So, if they are catered to sufficiently at this dinner, they will make sure their sons attend the ball later. The mothers are unpredictable—we can’t necessarily count on them—but because the way to a man’s heart apparently reallyisthrough his stomach, we’ll have to count on Verity’s menus. The rest is up to Rosy, and from what I heard of how she fared at the Queen’s Drawing Room, she should be able to impress them all quite handily.”
Grenwood frowned. “But I don’twanther just to marry a titled, wealthy man. I want her to marry someone who’ll make her happy, too.”
To keep from biting his head off, she counted to ten before speaking. “Whom, pray tell? A military officer who will go off to war and get killed like my brother-in-law? A banker who’ll be focused on her fortune? A penniless student? Can you give mesomeidea of who you think would be perfect for her? Because when I was choosing whom to invite, you were sadly unavailable to instruct me.”
That seemed to fluster him. “I don’t know. I’ll recognize the chap when I meet him.”
“Listen to me, Your Grace. You could pick the perfect fellow for Lady Rosabel and she might feel nothing for him. She has to want the fellow herself in order to be happy. The best you can do—wecan do—is invite a nice assortment of respectable gentlemen and see if any of them make her heart race.”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I swear, if she ends up with some fellow who keeps a mistress and makes her miserable,Iwill not be happy.”
“Nor will I. My father made my mother miserable, and it wasn’t pleasant for any of us.”
“My father did the same to my mother, so I sympathize.”
“Good.” She now wished he would return to ignoring what was going on in his household.
“Good,” he replied. “So long as we understand each other.”
He started to walk away, when a thought occurred to her. “You say your father made your mother miserable, but she never says that herself. Whenever she talks about him, she’s effusive in her praise.”
“I know.” He sighed. “What is that saying about absence making the heart grow fonder? When my father was happy, she was radiant. He made her laugh with his witty remarks, and he quoted Shakespearean sonnets about comparing her to ‘summer days’ and the like. That’s who she remembers, not the brooding fellow who drank too much.”
“Ah. That’s utterly different frommyfather. He tried to keep Mama under his thumb, and he did, still does, have a mistress even though he remarried. I somehow think that your father’s brand of creating misery might have been more palatable thanmyfather’s.”
“Perhaps,” he said, but his eyes hinted at those dark secrets Eliza glimpsed. One day Diana fully intended to find out what they were.
Again, he began to leave, but this time he chose to return himself. “Tell me something. Are you planning to wear that gown tonight?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You wore it to St. James’s today. I thought ladies wore different gowns at night.”
She blinked. Then awareness dawned. “Don’t you remember? I told you we won’t be here as guests. I’m notattendingthe dinner, you understand. I’m not even the hostess. Your mother has that position, but unofficially, because she’s in mourning. I will be darting around behind the scenes, helping your housekeeper deal with problems, making sure the footmen have their orders, and the like.”
“But do you have to?” He paused to pin her with an assessing look. “Surely by this point my servants know what to do, and whatever emergencies arise can be handled by your sisters.”
“Are you saying youwantme to attend the dinner?” she asked, trying not to show how inordinately pleased she was by that.
“Not me so much as . . . well . . . Rosy seems to rely on you, and even Mother looks to you for advice.” He groaned. “Not that Iwouldn’twant you there, but it’s more for the sake of my sister and Mother. That is, I don’tneed. . .”
“I understand. And you mustn’t worry. I never expected to attend, so I am not insulted by . . . whatever it is you’re trying to say.”
He sighed. “No one who heard me talking so clumsily about this would believe I can command an audience of fifty gentlemen and convince them to invest in a project they can barely imagine as feasible.”
“I would believe it,” she said softly. “I read your article after all. I didn’t understand much of it, mind you, but I could tell you were explaining it cogently for the people who did.”
He arched a brow. “You ‘could tell,’ could you?”
“Yes.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “If I am to attend—purely for the sake of your sister and mother, of course—I will need a dinner gown, and I have none here.”
After pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time and said, “You have at least an hour and a half, and you don’t live that far away. Send a servant for it. Surely there’s a footman you can spare.”
