Sophie clapped her hand to her forehead. “Don’t say another word, Mother. I really do not want to know anything about the intimate details of my parents’ lives.” She sighed deeply. “I would really prefer to think of both of you as completely chaste beings.”
“If we were completely chaste, my dear”— Eugenia chuckled and unceremoniously poked her finger at her daughter—“you would not be around now to talk about it.”
Sophie flushed. “All the same, I’d rather not hear about it.”
Eugenia patted her daughter comfortingly on her upper arm. “If it makes you feel better, my dear.”
“It does, believe me. I simply cannot believe you’re telling me this.”
Eugenia smiled and shook her head. “Propriety, I’m afraid, has gone the way of scruples.” With that, she wandered off into the crowd, in search of Lady Worth.
Belle and Dunford, meanwhile, were having a marvelous time waltzing around the ballroom. The waltz was still a rather new dance, and some considered it scandalous, but Belle and Dunford rather enjoyed it, and not just because it annoyed the more staid members of society. Their love of the dance stemmed mostly from the fact that the waltz allowed a couple to actually carry on a conversation without one or the other having to continuously turn his back. They were taking advantage of this feature, rather heatedly debating an opera they had both recently seen when Dunford abruptly changed the subject.
“He’s in love with your cousin, you know.”
Belle was widely regarded as one of the most graceful dancers among the ton, but this time she didn’t just miss a step, she missed three. “He told you that?” she asked, agape.
Dunford gave her a little tug to get her back into the rhythm of the dance. “Well, not in so many words,” he admitted, “but I’ve known Ashbourne for ten years, and believe me, he’s never been so silly about a female before.”
“I’d hardly call falling in love silly.”
“That’s not the point and you know it, Arabella dear.” Dunford paused for a moment as he smiled innocently at Alex, who had just spotted him from across the ballroom. Turning back to Belle, he added, “The fact is he’s absolutely crazy over your cousin, but I fear he’s got it so firm in his head that he’s not going to marry until he’s nearly forty, that he won’t do anything about it.”
“But why is he so dead-set against marrying now?”
“When Ashbourne first made his appearance into society, he had already inherited his title, and he was also fabulously wealthy.”
“And quite handsome.”
Dunford smiled wryly. “It was a veritable feeding frenzy. Every unmarried lady—and quite a few of the married ones—set her cap for him.”
“I should think he’d find the attention flattering,” Belle surmised.
“Quite the opposite, actually. Ashbourne isn’t blind, you know. It was excruciatingly apparent that most of the women who were fawning over him were more interested in becoming a wealthy duchess than they were in getting to know Alex himself. The whole experience quite turned him off the social scene. He left to fight on the Peninsula soon after, and I don’t think his desire to go was entirely due to patriotic fervor. He doesn’t exactly hold most women in the highest regard.” Dunford paused and looked Belle straight in the eye. “Even you must admit that most ton ladies are really quite ridiculous.”
“Of course, but Emma’s not like that, and he knows it. I would think he’d be thrilled to find someone like her.”
“That would be the sensible thing, wouldn’t it?” The music came to a stop, and Dunford took Belle’s arm and led her to the edge of the dance floor. “But somewhere along the way, this mistrust of women got translated into a decision to avoid marriage as long as humanly possible, and I imagine he’s quite forgotten why he became so dead-set against getting married in the first place.”
“If that isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”
Before Dunford could answer, they heard a deep voice chuckle. “I have heard a lot of stupid things in my life, Belle. I’m intensely curious to hear the stupidest.”
Belle looked up in horror at Alex, who was standing before her to ask her to dance. “Um,” she improvised wildly, “Dunford here seems to think that, um, in operas, um, that people should sing less.”
“He does, does he?”
“Yes, he does. He thinks that they should talk more.” Belle looked at Alex hopefully. He didn’t believe a word she was saying and she knew it. Still, she didn’t think he’d heard them discussing him, and for that she was blessedly thankful. Unable to think of anything else to say, she gave Alex what she was sure must be a rather weak smile.
“My mother has ordered me to ask you to dance, Belle,” Alex said frankly, grinning and ignoring her obvious distress.
“Goodness,” Belle replied, “I had no idea that my popularity had sunk so low that men had to be forced by their mamas to ask me to dance.”
“You needn’t worry. My mother is simply trying to get rid of me so that she and my sister can arrange my life without my interference.”
“Plotting your marriage, I imagine,” Dunford surmised.
“No doubt.”
“To Emma.”
“No doubt.”
“You might as well just give in and ask her.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Alex took Belle’s arm and prepared to lead her out onto the dance floor. “After all, I’m not the marrying kind.”