Page 104 of Ironvine

“I too, Your Grace. The Earl and I were so pleased to hear the news that you and the Duke have come to stay for a time. We are most excited to be here this evening.”

After more tidings of goodwill were exchanged, Charles and Georgina entered the grand hall of Tidesfar, the Oakley mansion. Georgina let out a small gasp. A veritable ballroom.

“Have you never been here before?” he asked.

“No, never. It’s spectacular.”

The high coffered ceilings lined in gold, the walls adorned with Baroque cherubs and mythological creatures fluttering past, and the polished marble floor all bespoke of a house that belonged to the highest rank of the aristocracy. The number of liveried servants lining the walls and bustling through the guests alone was staggering.

All eyes were upon Charles and Georgina as they moved through the grand hall. Georgina was resplendent in a black silk gown, diamonds glittering in her loosely coiffed hair coiled with a black silk scarf. She was elegance personified. Her fingers curled tighter in his hand as she spotted her brother, Thomas.

Thomas met her gaze, his posture straightening. She nodded at him and he bowed his head in acknowledgment to her and to Charles. Glancing up at him, Georgina gave Charles a smile. She was pleased and relieved that her brother was polite. Thomas went back to his conversation with another gentleman. The man he was speaking to turned and took Georgina in boldly, a grin forming on his lips. Matthew.Bastard.

Several couples stared at them, whispering loudly, eyes wide. Was it their sudden marriage? Georgina’s mother’s disapproval? Was it Hugh’s death? The duel? Ignoring them all, Charles guided his wife to where Brandon and Justine stood.

“There you are.” Justine embraced Georgina. “You both look marvelous.”

“Graven.” Charles shook hands with Brandon. “What a to-do, eh?” he muttered.

Brandon clamped a hand on his shoulder as he let out a dark laugh. “Ryvves, welcome to the rest of your life.”

“I used to slide in and out of these soirees without much care or notice.”

“Those days are over, my friend,” said Brandon. “That was a hard lesson for me to learn as well. Both of us inherited our titles in an unexpected and disturbing fashion, did we not?”

“We did. But you, Brandon, were the one destined to inherit, being the only child and son. I was never meant for all this grandeur.”

“You were born to it, Charles. Made for this. You see how thinking in extreme terms as ‘never’ can be a problem?”

“I had lots of nevers, and yet…”

“Fortune is a whimsical creature. We can choose to either flounder or flourish with what she throws in our paths. And yet, both take a wild supply of energy, I can tell you.”

“I see the local ton is here.”

“But of course. Tonight is an event not to be missed.”

“Unquestionably,” Charles muttered as his gaze roved over the guests. A woman with dark hair in a coral gown offered him a brazen smile.Damn. Elinor Whatley.Charles blew out a huff of air. He’d forgotten about her.

Mrs. Whatley had been one of his lovers here in the country last winter. Her husband, Mr. Whatley, a stout and overdressed young country gentleman, stood next to her, preening himself as he spoke to another lady. He most especially enjoyed pontificating to any willing audience of females.

The year before last, a marriage agreement formed of mutual desperation had been struck between Elinor and Whatley’s families, and they had married. The lady had a tiny dowry, two younger sisters, and her titled father—titled but without income—had accrued debts that he could not pay.

Meanwhile, much to Whatley’s family’s great displeasure, not one, but four young ladies had turned down Mr. Whatley’s marriage proposals in quick succession. What he lacked in personality and handsomeness, and, it must be said, masculinity, Mr. Whatley, an only son and heir, more than made up for this imbalance with his great wealth which Elinor’s father greatly appreciated.

Upon their marriage, Elinor’s parents and younger siblings lived quite comfortably, their debts paid along with a new, additional income. And much to his parents’ relief, Whatley was now a respectable married gentleman above reproach.

Behind closed doors, Elinor squirmed alone in her bed every night. She had told Charles that her husband had only touched her once—on their wedding night. It had lasted no longer than a few moments and he’d seemed, quite surprising to her, disgusted by the act.

After months and months of her husband avoiding her bed, even shoving her away on a howl when she’d attempted to mount him one night as he slept, she finally realised the truth of her marriage and began to take lovers, to which her husband delightfully ignored, and, for which, he was gratefully relieved.

Elinor put her arm through her husband’s and whisked him away from his audience and swiftly slid through the guests toward Charles and Georgina. Charles groaned inwardly.

“What is the matter?” Georgina asked.

“Nothing.”

Whatley and Elinor bowed before them. “I say, Ryvves, splendid to see you,” said Whatley in his loud affected voice which always made Charles wince. “Our condolences for your dear brother, of course. He shall be missed.”

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