“I’m looking for a partner,” a woman said with a bright smile and holding her hand out for him to kiss. “Miss Octavia Hennington. Lord Warwick’s sister.” A beauty with sparkling blue eyes and brown hair. “It would be my pleasure to dance with you.”
The invitation was unusual and forward, and put him in an odd position where he would be extremely rude to refuse. “It would be an honor.” In fact, he didn’t know how he felt about this surprising development. Instead of dancing with Eliza, he was now dancing with this forward woman. Her beauty suggested she wouldn’t have trouble finding a partner, but perhaps she was the kind of woman who liked to get to know all the eligible bachelors in the room.
A bell chimed. “Supper is served,” the woman said. There was a slight resemblance between her and Lord Warwick. Finn vaguely recalled seeing the other brother with Lord Forthill’s daughter, but they hadn’t been introduced. “I suppose we had better find our seats,” she said expectantly, waiting until he offered his elbow to her.
“Please, let me escort you,” he said, slightly acerbically. This was being forced on him, after all.
“So kind.” There was a distinct sharpness in her voice too. Finn got the feeling she disapproved of him. Almost as if she was privy to his thoughts. It could be that she was aware that his acquaintance with Eliza had gone beyond mere tenant and landlord, to friendship, with the suggestion that it could go beyond that.
This was the rear guard, he realized. He was being kept away from Eliza. A ludicrous notion. If the relationship was so fragile, it had no chance. For a moment, he wanted to say something to that effect, but why bother? Instead, he escorted her diligently until she found her place along the extended table. It might be the longest table he’d ever seen, and still they were squeezed in with not much elbow room.
It turned out Octavia had been placed at the very center of the table, which was distant from both Lord and Lady Forthill. An interesting position, which suggested she wasn’t particularly embraced by either the host or the hostess. It was the deadman’s land for spinsters and unpopular guests. Now that was interesting.
“It’s a bit of a squeeze, isn’t it?” she said, sounding less than impressed.
There was a bit of a cut intended with her placement along the table. Someone was unimpressed with her. Perhaps a little petty for Lord Forthill, but then someone had to be placed in these seats. More likely it was Lady Forthill, or Miss Forthill, her soon to be sister in law.
Finn struggled for something nice to say about it, but it even appeared less well-lit than the rest of the table. The woman taking the seat opposite was definitely of the spinster category, a thin, nervous woman in her forties.
For a moment, he felt sorry for her, because this was a maneuver of some kind. “I look forward to our dance after,” he said.
“Yes, quite,” she said tartly and snapped her fan shut. Perhaps his sympathy was misplaced, and she’d behaved in a manner to deserve the dismissive treatment by her future sister-in-law’s family.
After she’d taken her seat, he found his own, which was close to Lady Forthill’s end of the table. This was a thought-out placement too, close to the favored eligible young women. In fact, he was sitting next to the other Forthill daughter, who smiled when he sat down. She was pleased, it seemed.
“You missed the introduction, Lydia. This is Lord Fortescue. My other daughter, Miss Lydia Forthill,” Lady Forthill said, completing the introduction.
“A pleasure to meet you,” the young woman said. Pretty, with shiny blond hair, and fine features. Like her sister, Finn suspected she knew her place and power in the world.
Eliza was placed somewhere closer to the center as well, but not as concisely as Octavia Hennington. Her husband was on the other side of his brother, next to Lord Forthill. Definitely a statement of inclusion in the family. The connection was being advertised.
This is what he hated about society—the games, the perceptions and the manipulation. Some people thrived on this, and a cut like Octavia had received was devastating. Octavia didn’t look the least concerned, and she laughed at something her neighbor said, seemingly having a perfectly pleasant time.
He gave her credit for her fortitude. She seemed not the least bit affected by this.
The soup course was served and the conversation quieted down in some quarters. A few people seemed more focused on their drinks and continued chatting. As expected, the food was nice, drawing on the finest ingredients and a skilled chef.
Conversation wasn’t thrilling. Lady Forthill spouted the virtues and skills of her daughter. The girl was beaming being the center of attention. Even so, Finn found it difficult staying engaged in the conversation of how skilled Lydia was with driving carriages. Not all young ladies were taught to do it, but her parents felt a girl should be able to step in and carry herself away if the situation was ever required. It was a good notion, and he thought better of the Forthills for it.
By the time supper was over, Finn had had his fill of Lydia Forthill’s accomplishments, but he told Mr. Forthill what a marvelous meal it was when he approached the man.
“Thank you kindly,” he replied. “I believe you have some investments in Africa. The Gold Coast, is it?”
“Yes,” Finn replied. “Infrastructure, predominantly.”
“There are some lucrative mining opportunities, I understand. I’ve been approached by one or two.”
“I tend to contain myself to infrastructure.” The mining investments could be extremely lucrative, but they were also much riskier. Finn preferred the safer investments with
