The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,22
their charges, and young gentlemen of good family of an age to marry, and as such were events at which gentlemen of Ryder’s proclivities never appeared; tonight, she would have a clear field.
Tonight, she would make up her mind, one way or another, on the subject of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh.
Mary followed her oldest sister into Lady Hopetoun’s music room. While Amanda, Countess of Dexter, swept forward, touching fingers and cheeks and merging with her own circle of acquaintances, Mary hung back just inside the door and looked around.
They’d been delayed by Amanda needing to check on her youngest, who had developed a cough, which, thankfully, was subsiding. Now an old hand at motherhood, Amanda had declared herself satisfied, enough at least to travel to Hill Street and the musicale, yet as a precaution Amanda had sent Mary on in their parents’ town carriage, which had ferried Mary to Dexter House in Park Lane, and had followed in the Dexter carriage, just in case.
So all the other guests should be in attendance by now. Indeed, the members of the chamber ensemble who were to perform that evening were tuning up their instruments, and while the majority of guests still mingled and chatted in knots in the clear space closer to the door, others had already moved down the room to the velvet-upholstered chairs arranged in serried ranks before the dais.
Randolph. Where was he?
Mary scanned the heads once, then, frowning slightly, strolled to the room’s side to search more closely—
“They’re not here.”
She congratulated herself on not jumping. Barely turning her head, she cast Ryder a brief glance as he prowled up to stand beside her. After a second’s consideration, along the lines of whether she wished to cut off her nose to spite her face, she surrendered and asked, “They who?” Tall as he was, he could search those present more effectively than she could.
“Rand and his set.”
She blinked. “All of them?”
“I think they took fright.”
Fright. There was that word again. Nevertheless, she asked, “Fright over what?” Resigned, she turned to face Ryder.
His customary lazy lion expression in place, he met her gaze, then arched a brow. “Everyone knows this sort of event, especially when held at this time of year, has only one real aim—and that aim has nothing to do with music.”
She didn’t dispute that; it was why she’d come. But . . . “Randolph and the others attended the ball last night. And he told me they—all of them—attended such events, events like this, to keep peace with their mothers, the hostesses, and the grandes dames.”
“Admitted that, did he?” Ryder’s grin turned proud. “There’s hope for him yet.”
She shot him a discouraging look. “In your terms, perhaps. But accepting Randolph’s statement as true, which I do, why aren’t he and his friends attending tonight?” She glanced swiftly, but comprehensively, around. “I’m sure their mothers would have wished them to. Just look at all the young ladies and their mamas and sponsors—and there’s a good showing of other younger-than-you gentlemen, too.”
“Most of whom, if you look more closely, are a year or so younger than Rand and his set.”
She had noticed that. As, frowning slightly, she considered the guests again, Ryder continued, answering the question that was forming in her mind, “I suspect that last night Rand and his cronies reached the point of actually looking into the chasm yawning at their feet.”
“And them not being here is them stepping back?” She glanced at Ryder.
His lips twisted lightly, not so much mockingly as in understanding, both of his brother and her, too. “I believe you would be correct in interpreting their absence as a declaration of sorts.”
Somewhat to her surprise, she felt nothing more than resigned acceptance. “Well, in one sense that’s made my way forward clearer.” She met his eyes, slightly narrowed hers in warning. “As much as it pains me to acknowledge your prescience, clearly your brother is not the gentleman for me.”
Ryder fought to keep his smile within bounds. “So glad we have that established.”
“Yes, well.” Swinging to face the room, Mary stated, “So now I must move on.”
Ryder blinked and promptly moved with her as she matched action to her words. “Ah . . . where to, exactly?”
“To further assess the gentlemen of the ton to discover the right gentleman for me, of course.”
“I . . . see.” He trailed her to a row of chairs halfway down the room, then followed on her heels down the row until she drew in her skirts, swung around