The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,65

in this case, this household has to juggle your engagement event with Henrietta’s wedding.”

“Oh, but”—Mary glanced at Henrietta—“the wedding takes precedence, surely?” She looked at Louise. “Can’t we leave any engagement ball until after the wedding?”

“We could,” Louise allowed, “but it would have to be at least a week after, and then we run into the question of when your wedding would be held.” She waved her hands. “It’s become something of a logistical nightmare, what with all those of the family who have traveled to town for Henrietta’s wedding, and who would feel compelled to remain for an extended time if we put off your engagement ball, and so pushed back your wedding, too.” Louise grimaced and met Henrietta’s, then Mary’s, eyes. “We—the ladies of the family—all gathered at Horatia’s yesterday and discussed the subject at length. It was agreed that if you and Ryder are amenable, then the most felicitous timing for all would be to hold your engagement ball and dinner before Henrietta’s wedding, with your wedding following a week or so after Henrietta’s.” Louise paused, then added, “Unless, of course, you and Ryder were content to put back your wedding until September or so.”

Both Henrietta and Louise looked inquiringly at Mary. Considering the prospect, she pulled a face. “While I can see some benefits in a longer engagement”—such as giving her time to learn how to better deal with Ryder before she let him put his ring on her finger—“I can’t imagine either he or I will be . . . comfortable with waiting until September.”

“Indeed.” Louise nodded. “That was the consensus of feeling yesterday—and really, no one could see any great sense in delaying formally acknowledging your engagement.” Louise nodded at the paper Mary still held. “Especially as the announcement has already been made. It’s taken people by surprise, and although that’s neither here nor there, compounding surprise by delaying a formal engagement ball was something we all saw as simply unnecessary. And making you and Ryder wait until September to marry seemed equally senseless. So!” Louise drew breath and faced Mary. “What do you think, and how do you think Ryder will see it?”

“I don’t know—as I said, I hadn’t thought of it, so we haven’t discussed the subject at all.” Lips firming, Mary looked at Henrietta, then met Louise’s gaze. “But clearly he and I need to do so. When, exactly, were you thinking of holding our engagement ball?”

“With the wedding six days away, the latest we could manage it is four nights from now.”

“And our wedding?”

“It was suggested, from our Cynster point of view, that a week after Henrietta’s would be the earliest date that would suit, but that’s more flexible, of course. We need to consult more definitely with Ryder and his family on that.”

Mary nodded. “Very well—I’ll suggest that. Our engagement ball four nights from now, and our wedding a week after Henrietta’s.”

“Good!” Louise rose. “Now, we really should be on our way to Covent Garden. The florist suggested we visit her shop and see the blooms for ourselves, just to make sure we’re happy with the flowers we’ve chosen.”

Henrietta rose with alacrity, but Mary was slower coming to her feet. When Henrietta arched a brow at her, Mary grimaced. “I was going to come with you, but four nights from now isn’t all that much time.” She met her mother’s eyes. “I suspect my morning will be better spent determining Ryder’s thoughts on the timing of our engagement ball and our wedding.”

That the Marchioness of Raventhorne had elected to breakfast at the small table before the fire in her boudoir in company with Claude Potherby, who had called to keep her company, was the only thing that saved her Sèvres tea service from certain destruction.

Perusing Lavinia’s copy of the Gazette, Claude glanced at her, then folded back the paper to reveal the Announcements section and held it out to her. “Here—you’d better read this.”

Setting down her teacup, Lavinia accepted the news sheet and focused on the print.

“Argh!” She shot to her feet, overturning her delicate hoop-back chair, which smashed on the polished boards.

She stared at the paper. “Damn it! Why didn’t they stop it?”

Claude smothered a sigh. “My apologies, but I thought it better you see that now, rather than hear about it later—in public—but, after all, you knew it was coming.” He frowned. “And they who? Who would want to even try to put a stop to it?” Other than her, but Claude knew Lavinia’s wishes were neither