even pretend she was amused.
"Would you care for some Madeira?" The Duke offered
his son a glass, which Freddie accepted. "Speaking of
university ... what are your plans for university?"
Freddie took a deep drink and glanced at Muriel, masking another teasing smile. "I thought I might take a year off
and make a Grand Tour before making that decision."
Grand Tour! She willed herself not to react. Because any
volatile outburst to her brother's announcement would surely
give her away as the determined bluestocking she was.
The Continent. Europe. Italy. Muriel could not believe it.
Freddie was going to Rome.
"How nice for you," she commented, sounding most
pleased at his good fortune. "You lucky, lucky, boy." Muriel
squeezed his arm in a playful manner ... or perhaps not so
playful. Then she pinched his cheeks.
"Watch it, there!" he cried out. "That hurts."
"Sorry." But she wasn't, really. "It's just that you're so
very fortunate."
"Many in my position do the same." It was true that many
young men traveled to Europe for firsthand exposure to
foreign culture, architecture, and the arts.
"Yes, I know." Life was so unfair for girls.
"When do you plan to leave?" The Duke eased into the
chair behind his desk.
"I thought I might remain in Town for Moo's Season,"
her brother replied. "Somehow I managed to miss Gusta's
and Char-Char's altogether."
"They were completely uneventful," Muriel commented
in a cool manner. "Both of them."
"My sisters are grown, and time is slipping by quickly."
Freddie had missed much since he'd been away at school.
"I thought that was apparent only to me." Their father, who
wasn't all that old, sounded as if he were fast approaching
his dotage.
Muriel's failed Season would not be a disappointment to
her or to His Grace.
"I'd be delighted if you'd save me a waltz next time
you're at Almack's." Freddie's request sounded heartfelt.
"Of course." Muriel smiled and dipped into a shallow
curtsy. "I'd be delighted."
"I cannot believe how much you have changed. Now you
are a real lady. It's funny, really." Freddie chuckled. "I remember a time when you couldn't stand the thought of dancing."
The footman heralded, "The Earl of Brent," at the ballroom
doorway of Devonshire House that evening.
The announcement came as a shock to Muriel. She hadn't
thought her brother had received an invitation to the Devonshires' ball-but here he was.
Freddie stepped through the double-door portal and
glanced about the room. Once he spotted Muriel, there was
no stopping his progress to share her company.
"What are you doing here?" She regarded her brother's
slightly rumpled attire. He was wearing the very same clothes
he'd worn that afternoon! "I'm quite certain you bespoke a
dance at Almack's. I had no idea you were to attend tonight's
ball."
Muriel had been busy looking for Lord Caldwell, who
was to partner her for the next set. Across the room she spot ted Sherwin, making what she thought was a fairly inconspicuous attempt to capture her attention. Was it wrong of
her to wish to communicate with him rather than stand up
with Lord Caldwell or converse with her brother, who stood
waiting at her side? She could not say exactly what had
changed her opinion of him or when it had happened. But
to Muriel, Sherwin now seemed the best choice of companion by far.
He moved his mouth, forming words that she deciphered:
Do you think we should share a dance this evening?
"I hadn't meant to, but I've heard-" Freddie turned to
see what had captured Muriel's attention.
Muriel's answer to Sherwin was just as silent. After what
the Duchess put us through this morning, I think it would
be a good idea. I would hate to disappoint everyone. She
snickered, unable to believe she actually looked forward to
dancing. It was so unlike her.
Freddie acknowledged Sherwin with a slow nod. "Good
Gad, don't tell me Amhurst participates in that speechreading nonsense as well."
"It's far more private
"Would you care for some Madeira?" The Duke offered
his son a glass, which Freddie accepted. "Speaking of
university ... what are your plans for university?"
Freddie took a deep drink and glanced at Muriel, masking another teasing smile. "I thought I might take a year off
and make a Grand Tour before making that decision."
Grand Tour! She willed herself not to react. Because any
volatile outburst to her brother's announcement would surely
give her away as the determined bluestocking she was.
The Continent. Europe. Italy. Muriel could not believe it.
Freddie was going to Rome.
"How nice for you," she commented, sounding most
pleased at his good fortune. "You lucky, lucky, boy." Muriel
squeezed his arm in a playful manner ... or perhaps not so
playful. Then she pinched his cheeks.
"Watch it, there!" he cried out. "That hurts."
"Sorry." But she wasn't, really. "It's just that you're so
very fortunate."
"Many in my position do the same." It was true that many
young men traveled to Europe for firsthand exposure to
foreign culture, architecture, and the arts.
"Yes, I know." Life was so unfair for girls.
"When do you plan to leave?" The Duke eased into the
chair behind his desk.
"I thought I might remain in Town for Moo's Season,"
her brother replied. "Somehow I managed to miss Gusta's
and Char-Char's altogether."
"They were completely uneventful," Muriel commented
in a cool manner. "Both of them."
"My sisters are grown, and time is slipping by quickly."
Freddie had missed much since he'd been away at school.
"I thought that was apparent only to me." Their father, who
wasn't all that old, sounded as if he were fast approaching
his dotage.
Muriel's failed Season would not be a disappointment to
her or to His Grace.
"I'd be delighted if you'd save me a waltz next time
you're at Almack's." Freddie's request sounded heartfelt.
"Of course." Muriel smiled and dipped into a shallow
curtsy. "I'd be delighted."
"I cannot believe how much you have changed. Now you
are a real lady. It's funny, really." Freddie chuckled. "I remember a time when you couldn't stand the thought of dancing."
The footman heralded, "The Earl of Brent," at the ballroom
doorway of Devonshire House that evening.
The announcement came as a shock to Muriel. She hadn't
thought her brother had received an invitation to the Devonshires' ball-but here he was.
Freddie stepped through the double-door portal and
glanced about the room. Once he spotted Muriel, there was
no stopping his progress to share her company.
"What are you doing here?" She regarded her brother's
slightly rumpled attire. He was wearing the very same clothes
he'd worn that afternoon! "I'm quite certain you bespoke a
dance at Almack's. I had no idea you were to attend tonight's
ball."
Muriel had been busy looking for Lord Caldwell, who
was to partner her for the next set. Across the room she spot ted Sherwin, making what she thought was a fairly inconspicuous attempt to capture her attention. Was it wrong of
her to wish to communicate with him rather than stand up
with Lord Caldwell or converse with her brother, who stood
waiting at her side? She could not say exactly what had
changed her opinion of him or when it had happened. But
to Muriel, Sherwin now seemed the best choice of companion by far.
He moved his mouth, forming words that she deciphered:
Do you think we should share a dance this evening?
"I hadn't meant to, but I've heard-" Freddie turned to
see what had captured Muriel's attention.
Muriel's answer to Sherwin was just as silent. After what
the Duchess put us through this morning, I think it would
be a good idea. I would hate to disappoint everyone. She
snickered, unable to believe she actually looked forward to
dancing. It was so unlike her.
Freddie acknowledged Sherwin with a slow nod. "Good
Gad, don't tell me Amhurst participates in that speechreading nonsense as well."
"It's far more private
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