A Lady of Talent by Evelyn Richardson Page A

in the theater.
    The more he thought about it, the more Sebastian decided that he might as well confer enjoyment upon himself at the same time he was offering it to Cecilia and her brother. It had been an age since he had seen Sheridan’s play. Furthermore, it was a play whose plot was such that even his frivolous fiancée was likely to find herself tolerably amused.
    But when he broached the subject to Barbara during a drive in Hyde Park at the height of the fashionable hour, she was not in the least bit interested. In fact, if the tragic droop to the lips that more than one besotted swain had compared favorably to a rosebud were any indication at all, his fiancée was not only disinterested, she was highly displeased. “Really, Charrington, how could you?”
    “But I thought you would be pleased that I am not wasting my time on business or in the card room at Brooks’s as you so often accuse me of doing.”
    The beauty softened, but only a little. “I am. But it is a Wednesday evening.”
    His blank look only exasperated her further. “Really, Charrington, even you should know better than that. We will be at Almack’s.”
    “Oh.” Sebastian did his best not to shudder at the daunting vision of Wednesday evenings for the rest of his life filled with meager refreshments and even more meager conversation. “But, my dear, now that you are suitably affianced—at least, I hope you consider yourself to be suitably affianced—surely there is no need to subject yourself to the rigors of the Marriage Mart.”
    His fiancée cast him a pitying look. “And Papa considers you to be one of the cleverest men of his acquaintance. Honestly, for a clever man you are remarkably buffle-headed. Now that you have made your fortune, have you stopped going to Garroway’s and the Exchange and left it all to chance? There!” She smiled triumphantly. “You see? Maintaining one’s position in society is no different than maintaining one’s position anywhere else.”
    Sebastian sighed. His wife-to-be was not clever in the standard sort of way. Her interests tended toward the shallow and frivolous, but where her own well-being was at stake, she often demonstrated an undeniable quick-wittedness that never failed to catch him off guard. “Very well. I fully acknowledge the error of my ways, and shall endeavor to escort you to the best of my poor abilities.”
    Barbara tapped him playfully with the ivory handle of her parasol. “I shall make certain it is included in our marriage vows, and then you are assured of remembering. Besides, I shall not require you to dance more than one or two dances with me, as I promised to save one at least for the Marquess of Shelburne.”
    “The Marquess of Shelburne will be there?” Sebastian hardly dared hope that the modish Neville would be able to prevail upon his reclusive sister to accompany him to the mecca of the fashionable world, but even the possibility that he might gave Sebastian hope that there might be at least one person who could offer him companionship among the marriage-mad misses, their equally marriage-minded mamas, the gossiping town tabbies, and all the other assorted social arbiters who attended that most exclusive and dull of gatherings.
    “He would not miss Almack’s for the world, or the opportunity to dance with someone he swears is destined to become all the rage,” Barbara confided happily.
    So it was, that, dutifully leading his fiancée to the floor on the evening in question, Sebastian kept a weather eye out for the Marquess of Shelburne’s lanky but elegant figure, and was quickly rewarded by the sight of his blond head towering above Lord Alvanley, with whom he was deep in conversation.
    Doing his best to maneuver them closer to the pair, Sebastian was astounded to see the Marquess of Shelburne’s sister standing at his elbow.
    In spite of the others who crowded around Alvanley in the hopes of overhearing one of the celebrated wit’s bon mots, Cecilia appeared to