How to Seduce a Bride

There won’t be room to pick up a coin if you drop it. It’s just a fashionable do, with food and conversation, and it would never do to go to it dressed to the nines.”

“Gads!” the earl exclaimed, looking at the torchlights outside and the windows inside the house ablaze with light. “It looks like an anthill that was set on fire.”

“It will feel like one, too,” Leland said. “We won’t have to stay long but I think you ought to attend, my lord. You’ll be the belle of the ball. Everyone in my mama’s circle wants to see you; you’ve made yourself scarce to them. I can’t blame you for that, but it makes it an excellent place to bring Daisy. They’ll be so busy quizzing you, they won’t have a chance to gape at her. She’ll be eased into Society and plucked out again before her feet get too wet.”

“Very well,” the earl said, “If it’s for Daisy, I’ll do it.”

He smiled, and so did Daisy. But Leland, watching them, did not.

“My lord, how kind of you to come to my little soiree,” the viscountess said, as the earl bowed to her.

The babble of voices was so loud, Daisy could hardly hear what her hostess said. Still, when Geoff gestured to her, she inclined her head in a brief bow to the viscountess. She didn’t like this kind of party any more than Geoff did, but while he knew he’d always be accepted here, she had to find out if she could be.

“Mrs. Tanner,” the dowager said coolly. “How lovely you look this evening.” She ignored Helena completely, and turned to speak to her son. “Haye,” she said, “so you grace us with your presence, do you?”

He bowed. “As you see, Mama.”

For a moment there was, in the middle of all that babble, a complete silence among the viscountess, her son, the earl, and Daisy. Then the dowager turned to greet another new arrival.

“It’s done,” Leland told Daisy as they moved away. “Now, all you have to do is make nonsensical conversation with anyone who speaks to you. Don’t worry; no one will talk to you above a minute or two. The idea is to talk to as many people as possible, so you don’t miss anything.”

“Gads,” the earl said.

Daisy looked around. There were masses of people everywhere: on the stairs, in chairs, and standing in groups that kept changing. The men dressed in black, blue, dun, and gray, with only an occasional glimpse of a red waistcoat to liven them up. She was surprised to see so few dandies, tulips of the ton, or Corinthians, because she’d expect those paragons of fashion to be at such a party. But most of the male guests were older men, and most were dressed conservatively.

She’d also expected to see gaggles of young women in white, as befit ladies in their first Seasons on the Town, and had wondered if there were any she could speak to since she wasn’t that much older herself. But she saw only a few dispirited-looking young girls. There were many more women of a certain age, wearing gowns in every color of the rainbow. Many wore large plumes in their hair that bobbed up and down as they talked, as though they were weird birds of some sort, pecking at something on the ground. And how they talked!

It wasn’t hot so much as airless, or loud so much as deafening.

Daisy nodded her greetings to everyone she was introduced to, but none of them seemed interested in her. It was the earl they’d come to see. He was immediately cornered by a pair of old neighbors who kept asking him questions about how he’d been keeping. Then an elderly couple greeted him and told him stories about their son, whom he’d evidently known in his youth. And then a trio of gentlemen, friends from his schooldays, wanted to know if he meant to stay on in London or if he’d visit with them in their country homes.

Daisy found herself standing apart, not knowing what to do. She tried to entertain herself. There was no way to see what the viscountess’s home really looked like because of the crowd. She could only see that the ceilings were embossed, gilded, and high. If this was the ton’s idea of a gala, then Daisy decided she’d prefer a tankard of sudsy beer with a few roistering friends on the beach, like in the bad old days in the colony.

Helena had been lost in the crowd; one moment Daisy had seen her, the next, she’d been swallowed up in the throng of guests. And so all Daisy could do was pretend to be interested as she stood and smiled until her jaw ached and her head swam.

“They’ve opened the doors to the terrace,” Leland said as he appeared out of the crowd and came to her side. “Come along.”

She hesitated.

“You look like you need the air,” he said. “I realize you want to make a splash, but swooning at a party has been done, and it’s such a cliche.”

Daisy glowered, but put her hand on his arm and let him lead her away. “Where’s Helena?” she asked.

“Hired away by my mother. Carried off by Gypsies. I’ve no idea. She won’t come to harm wherever she is. She might even be enjoying herself; do you begrudge it to her? Ah, here we are,” he said without giving her time to answer.

She stopped before a long windowed door, dug in her heels, and glared at him.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked. “No stigma need be attached to your stealing away with me, at least not here. It’s as crowded in my mama’s garden as it is indoors, but there’s more air there.”

She went with him.

The terrace was not as crowded as the salon. It was also not as bright; only a few torches lit the plain, square garden. But though there was enough room for a couple to speak privately, there were no deep shadows where anything illicit could be going on. The whole area was filled with partygoers.

He was right, Daisy thought as she stepped out; at least there was fresh air. She took a deep breath and felt a little better. “Do they really think this is having a good time?” she asked him quietly.

“Yes and no,” he said, leaning on the low balustrade of the marble columns that marked off the terrace. “Yes, because if they hadn’t been invited, they’d have been crushed. And no, because they are being crushed, and that means it was a party they’d have hated to miss. But most of them are too old for this.

“Mama’s soirees usually have a broader cross-section of the ton,” Leland murmured, as his eyes roamed over the guests. “It might mean that she fancies Geoff.”

Daisy’s head turned around so she could meet his eyes.

“Young women are harder for her to compete with,” he said blandly. “You’ll note there are few here, which means she wishes to compete. Mama is rich, titled, and however cold at heart, warm of body. Excessively so, to judge by her past record. She’s been a widow for a long time. I believe she’s bored with it now. Affaires of the heart are fine when you’re young, but now I think she might prefer someone to sit around the fireside with. And Geoff is rich, titled, intelligent, and good-looking, for his age.”

“For his age,” Daisy repeated in a fierce whisper. “The man is not eighty. I don’t know why you keep going on about his age.”

“Don’t you?” he asked mildly.

She was still.

His voice softened. “Daisy, my dear,” he said quietly, “he isn’t ancient but he is nearly twice your age. Why should that rankle? It’s only truth. Those years have made him what he is, and he certainly isn’t ashamed of them. Why should you be? Oh well, I might as well ask now as ever. What are your intentions?”

She stared at him.

“I know that’s what a papa asks of his daughter’s suitor, and Geoff’s a man whose papa is long gone,” Leland explained. “But I have a care for him. As do his sons. They like you; indeed, I do, too.”

“Oh,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Such a care for him that you attempt to seduce his friend?”

“How else to find out her intentions?” He laughed. “Not so. I tried for my own reasons. Gloves off then, Daisy, because you and I are too intelligent to hint and feint and bluff, at least at something like this. I’m asking your intentions toward him. Are you merely a friend, or are you angling for more? You must know it’s odd for a woman of your youth, beauty, and wealth to be making such a dead set at a fellow like Geoff. Or at least, to give him credit, because he is a remarkable man, for you to do so the minute your feet touched England’s soil again. There are other suitable men, and you haven’t even tried to meet one. Do you mean to marry him?”

She was as startled by his presumption as by how direct he was. She knew she could slap him and storm off. But she didn’t want to create a scene. She darted a glance around. No one seemed to notice them, but if there was a quarrel, they would. She could laugh and say something cutting and witty. But she didn’t feel very witty. Or she could pretend to blush and hide her face. That was paltry.

Instead, she could only stare.

His eyes never left hers, and his voice was so soft and confidential that she’d forgotten other partygoers