irritation.
“But so much champagne, Brother!” She gasped, pretending to swoon. “Prisoners with metal files don’t make such an effort to escape. Has Kat been needling you about marriage again?”
More than you know. “Don’t try to avert attention, Florence. It is you who are the current fly in Kat’s web.”
“Ugh. Don’t call me Florence.”
“Everyone calls you Florence.”
“Everyone else. I hate when you do it.”
Sam grinned. “I know.”
It was only a few minutes later Kat came gliding up to them with a pinch-faced Sir Ewan in tow. He was in his early thirties and a pleasant enough fellow, but he was also hideously wealthy and followed his mother’s dictates to the letter. Meaning he would never be a suitor for Flor.
“Sir Ewan, you are too kind,” Flor said with a plastered smile. She shot Sam a glance before heading out to where the other dancers were taking positions for a quadrille.
“Kat,” Sam said, drawing her name out.
“What? He’s a fine gentleman, and his estate is only thirty miles from yours. She would be able to keep most of her acquaintances at home.”
“Sir Ewan is beyond wealthy, and that mother of his looked as if she’d eaten a lemon when I presented Flor to her at that ridiculous garden party. It’s a pointless idea.”
Kat huffed a sigh and opened her fan. “I’ll have you know that Sir Ewan’s mother always looks like that, no matter who she’s meeting. And as to the other thing, well…let us just say that Sir Ewan’s wealth is a bit exaggerated of late.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Or let us just say the facts straight out. He lost it all, didn’t he?”
“Really, Sam,” she chided. “He did not lose it at the gaming tables, or whatever else you may be thinking. There was a bad investment, as I understand it. Something to do with sugarcane and shipping? In any case, something went horribly wrong, and, let me tell you, Sir Ewan was not the only gentleman affected. Quite a few notable families, I hear.”
He had heard nothing about this. “What families? Who was the investment broker?”
“I’ve only just learned of it, but whomever they are, they won’t be able to keep it quiet for long,” she said. “The point is, there are several eligible, titled gentleman in the market for a wife.”
And just like that, they were back to the real issue. “Please do not tell me that you have been spreading tales about Flor’s dowry.”
“It isn’t a tale if it’s true. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Flor has told me herself that she knows her dowry will see her married. If she’s resigned to the fact, you should be too.”
“She will be chased by fortune hunters who will not give a twopenny damn about her,” Sam countered, then shrank as he realized he had spoken too loudly. Several guests shot him haughty looks.
Kat fixed her gaze on him, and he thought he saw something sad pass over her light blue eyes. “Gentlemen may ignore the realities of the ton because those realities tend to suit them. Believe me when I say beauty is no guarantee to a happy marriage any more than money is. Flor will be chosen for her wealth, and those pretty things out there will be chosen for their face and figure. At least Flor’s money will last longer than their looks.”
Sam stared at her, unsure what to say. She rarely spoke about her marriage or her late husband, perhaps with good cause.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you were at least discreet with it.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “By tomorrow evening everyone will know the amount and no one will have any idea how they learned it. We can’t make it seem as if we’re announcing the fact, after all.”
“Heaven forbid,” he mocked and wished he had a fresh glass of champagne in his hand. The four he had swallowed already were doing a fine job of swaying the world, which was probably not the best thing. He rarely drank to the point of drunkenness. He had a tendency to
“But so much champagne, Brother!” She gasped, pretending to swoon. “Prisoners with metal files don’t make such an effort to escape. Has Kat been needling you about marriage again?”
More than you know. “Don’t try to avert attention, Florence. It is you who are the current fly in Kat’s web.”
“Ugh. Don’t call me Florence.”
“Everyone calls you Florence.”
“Everyone else. I hate when you do it.”
Sam grinned. “I know.”
It was only a few minutes later Kat came gliding up to them with a pinch-faced Sir Ewan in tow. He was in his early thirties and a pleasant enough fellow, but he was also hideously wealthy and followed his mother’s dictates to the letter. Meaning he would never be a suitor for Flor.
“Sir Ewan, you are too kind,” Flor said with a plastered smile. She shot Sam a glance before heading out to where the other dancers were taking positions for a quadrille.
“Kat,” Sam said, drawing her name out.
“What? He’s a fine gentleman, and his estate is only thirty miles from yours. She would be able to keep most of her acquaintances at home.”
“Sir Ewan is beyond wealthy, and that mother of his looked as if she’d eaten a lemon when I presented Flor to her at that ridiculous garden party. It’s a pointless idea.”
Kat huffed a sigh and opened her fan. “I’ll have you know that Sir Ewan’s mother always looks like that, no matter who she’s meeting. And as to the other thing, well…let us just say that Sir Ewan’s wealth is a bit exaggerated of late.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Or let us just say the facts straight out. He lost it all, didn’t he?”
“Really, Sam,” she chided. “He did not lose it at the gaming tables, or whatever else you may be thinking. There was a bad investment, as I understand it. Something to do with sugarcane and shipping? In any case, something went horribly wrong, and, let me tell you, Sir Ewan was not the only gentleman affected. Quite a few notable families, I hear.”
He had heard nothing about this. “What families? Who was the investment broker?”
“I’ve only just learned of it, but whomever they are, they won’t be able to keep it quiet for long,” she said. “The point is, there are several eligible, titled gentleman in the market for a wife.”
And just like that, they were back to the real issue. “Please do not tell me that you have been spreading tales about Flor’s dowry.”
“It isn’t a tale if it’s true. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Flor has told me herself that she knows her dowry will see her married. If she’s resigned to the fact, you should be too.”
“She will be chased by fortune hunters who will not give a twopenny damn about her,” Sam countered, then shrank as he realized he had spoken too loudly. Several guests shot him haughty looks.
Kat fixed her gaze on him, and he thought he saw something sad pass over her light blue eyes. “Gentlemen may ignore the realities of the ton because those realities tend to suit them. Believe me when I say beauty is no guarantee to a happy marriage any more than money is. Flor will be chosen for her wealth, and those pretty things out there will be chosen for their face and figure. At least Flor’s money will last longer than their looks.”
Sam stared at her, unsure what to say. She rarely spoke about her marriage or her late husband, perhaps with good cause.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you were at least discreet with it.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “By tomorrow evening everyone will know the amount and no one will have any idea how they learned it. We can’t make it seem as if we’re announcing the fact, after all.”
“Heaven forbid,” he mocked and wished he had a fresh glass of champagne in his hand. The four he had swallowed already were doing a fine job of swaying the world, which was probably not the best thing. He rarely drank to the point of drunkenness. He had a tendency to
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