Mr. Rodrick Edwards threw a forest green, velour jacket onto his shoulders and examined his expression in the looking glass. The jacket did well to highlight the olive green in his eyes, and his gold-brown waistcoat did the same to the thin ring of gold around his pupils. He didn’t notice this as much as he noticed the intensity and the determination that his eyes also conveyed.
He knew that his cousin, James Edwards, the Viscount of Easton, was due to arrive any moment. They were to be guests at the Duke of Salisbury’s ball that evening and as such he wanted to look his best.
He ran his hands through his short black curls, mussing them up a bit in a way that managed somehow to look even more pleasing than they had a moment before. He smirked. “That will certainly do,” he said to himself.
If the duke’s ball was to be like the usual parties in the London ton, then it was hoped – at least by Rodrick’s mother – that it would be a veritable marriage mart. Such events were usually teeming with fine young ladies … the trouble for Rodrick was always that none of them seemed to be the right lady for him, or he the right man for them.
James was always held in a much higher regard, both because he was titled and destined to be an earl someday and also because he was a great deal more amiable than Rodrick, who was more brash and had a bit of a sharp tongue. If he was ever to find a bride at one of these balls, he hoped that he’d find someone who was genuine and not in it for the glitz and glamour of a title that he couldn’t bestow.
The nephew of an earl was not destined for much, but Rodrick was guaranteed a comfortable and wealthy life for the rest of his days. In his heart of hearts, he longed to share that life with a loving wife. But he would not voice this desire, because his mother would never let him hear the end of it. She hardly did as it was.
Smyth, their butler, knocked lightly upon the open door before coming into the room. He bowed low. “Sir, you have a guest downstairs in the lounge.”
Rodrick turned from the mirror, a surprised smile on his face. “Lord Edwards?”
The butler shook his head. “No, sir. It is Lord Drake. I have already requested some tea for the man. Though I daresay he doesn’t intend to stay long …”
Right, Rodrick thought. He intends to go to the ball as well, surely.
“Very well, thank you, Smyth,” he said. “Please do inform him that I shall be right down. And let me know when James arrives.”
Bowing again, Smyth then left the room.
Rodrick hoped that he might greet the Marquess of Fairfax downstairs before his mother got to him. Alphonse Drake was a good-natured fellow who wouldn’t mind chatting up Mrs. Edwards if given the opportunity.
The trouble was that he didn’t wish his mother to become too chatty with him. Giving his reflection one final look of appraisal, he left his bedchamber and walked down the staircase at great speed.
He could hear his mother’s giggle before he could see her. “Oh, Lord Drake, you are too kind. And too silly.”
Rodrick rolled his eyes a bit before straightening his posture and entering the lounge. His mother caught his eye and beamed back at him. She was wearing an elegant, gold-colored dress with little dark green ribbons tied about her waist and the bottoms of her short sleeves.
She also wore long, shimmering gold gloves. She was dressed as if she was going to be on the marriage mart herself, though she was a woman of sixty years, and a widow to boot. Mrs. Eleanor Edwards was a lady who loved a good ball, even if she was past the prime of life when men might ask to dance with her.
She never seemed the least bit discomfited by this, however, choosing to enjoy herself rather than worrying about her age. Normally, Rodrick was happy that his mother got on well at parties, though there was also often a lingering fear that she was setting out to embarrass him. She was fond of boasting about him to anyone who would listen.
“Rodrick!” she exalted as if she was surprised to see him in his own house. “You look well, my darling son. Very well indeed. I was just telling Fairfax here that we couldn’t wait to attend the Duke of Salisbury’s ball.”
Lord Drake turned at once the moment that Mrs. Edwards announced that her son was in the room. He grinned a perfect, white smile at his friend.
The Marquess of Fairfax was a tall and debonair gentleman. He was dressed in a fine, black jacket with long tails, white breeches, and a crimson waistcoat. His hair was the color of straw and he wore closely-cropped sideburns of the same color down the side of his face and resting upon his cheeks, framing his grin quite neatly.
His icy blue eyes danced a bit as he regarded his friend and could seem to find only mirth. “Upon my word, Rodrick. You look a rather dashing scoundrel today. Planning to break a few hearts tonight, eh?”
Rodrick smiled at his friend, a deep dimple appearing in his left cheek. It wasn’t uncommon for Alphonse to tease him and butter him up at the same time. The two of them had been friends since they attended boarding school at Harrow.
Rodrick liked Alphonse a lot, though he wasn’t blind to the other man’s follies. Lord Drake had made a rather poor impression in society of late, and rumors flew about his rakish escapades. Indeed, if he was attending the evening’s festivities, then he must have somehow made one of few good impressions that he’d made in the past few Seasons.
“You do me credit, Fairfax,” he said in a friendly manner, stepping forward and shaking the man’s hand. “And you look well. You’ve been taking care of yourself, I trust?”
“About as well as the old man will let me,” Alphonse replied with a laugh and a wink.
It was well known that he and his father lived alone in Stone Hill Manor ever since his mother had died and his little sister had been sent off to boarding school. The Duke of Cumberland didn’t make many appearances since his wife’s death and it was rumored that he was in ill health now as well, though Alphonse continued to perpetuate stories of his father’s adventures and misdeeds in order to keep the healthy memories of him alive.
“Do you know what he said to me before he sent me on my way this morning? He told me to not come back unless I have a wife.” Alphonse sniffed, still grinning away as if this news wasn’t scandalous and rather harsh.
“Goodness!” Mrs. Edwards said. She was now sitting on the sofa and helping herself to some of the tea that one of the maids had set out for them. “But do you suppose he was serious?”
Lord Drake shrugged. “Who knows? But I don’t want to take my chances. I plan to stay at my London apartment until he’s had a chance to forget about it.”
Rodrick’s mother gasped and then shook her head, taking a sip of her tea and looking over at them as if she was waiting for them to go on. Gently, Rodrick took hold of his friend’s shoulder and led him out of the room and into the hall so they could have a bit more privacy.
“Surely it’s not as bad as all that,” he said sympathetically, hoping to think up a solution for his friend’s predicament at once. “You are coming to the Salisbury ball, are you not?”
Alphonse looked Rodrick in the eyes and shook his head. “In truth, I wasn’t planning on it.”
Rodrick made to gasp a bit, but Alphonse cut him off.
“You know how it is at those balls,” he said. “And you know how it is that I am treated. No. If I am to find a wife, I’m not to find one there where the entire ton is watching and waiting for me to make some blunder or faux pas.”
He sighed softly. “And besides, I find those balls rather boring. Once you’ve attended one in this town, you’ve attended them all. The same useless banter, the same droll women…”
Now Rodrick had his chance to gasp softly. “But Alfie, if not this ball then where? If your father wishes for you to marry…”
“Then he is going to have a very long time to wait.”