won’t they?” And that was the last of it, the countess decided. “I am going to greet the latest arrivals. The girls should be here any moment.”
AS BEATRICE FOLLOWED the footman she saw the countess leave a room up ahead, walking purposefully in the other direction. As she expected, the footman opened the door to the room the countess had just left.
“Papa!” Cecilia exclaimed, hurrying over to her father before the footman had even closed the door. “Is everything all right?”
“Why are you still here?” Beatrice asked with much less tact. “Where is Roger? Is he still here, too?”
“Roger is in the study on the first floor, where he cannot find anything but books to flirt with.”
Abel Brent dominated the space with his size and the aura of power he carried with him. He had the kind of presence that made people stop on the street and ask each other who he was. Not a gentleman by birth, he was still a man who commanded respect.
“Roger never flirts! He is a complete gentleman. The finest I have ever met.”
“So you remind me whenever I want to dismiss him.” Papa folded his arms and looked down at her.
Beatrice mimicked his stance but had to look up, which did spoil the effect. “You would never find another machine designer half as talented as he is.”
“Precisely why I let you convince me to keep him on.”
His smile made Beatrice smile in return. She did love her papa, even when he was annoying.
Cecilia came between them and took her father’s arm. “Did you have us come so you could wish us well one last time, Papa?”
“Of course,” he said as if that thought had just occurred to him. “And the countess insisted that I give you the guest list. She says one’s memory is never perfect when dealing with so many new faces. A dozen guests in all. I have added two and scratched out one who had to send a regret at the last minute. So it’s to be twelve,” he said again, “though not all are arriving today.”
He pulled the thrice-folded list from his pocket. “Now tell me the names you recall,” Papa demanded, draining a little more fun from the air.
“There was a gentleman with a red scarf. Ceci recognized him.” Beatrice prompted her sister with a nod.
“Yes.” Cecilia’s panicked expression eased. “It was Viscount Bendasbrook, who has another title now.”
“He is the Marquis Destry. His father is the Duke of Bendas. Destry is his heir.”
“I do believe we saw Mrs. Wilson and her daughter,” Beatrice went on, guessing at the two women who had arrived with that flirtatious man.
“Miss Wilson is not yet out and this will be her first exposure to the ton. I want you girls to be kind to her.”
Papa did have a soft spot for the newcomer, being one himself.
“Papa, we would not be anything but kind,” Cecilia insisted. “After all, we are in the same position.”
“Baron Crenshaw, of course,” Beatrice said. They all knew him a bit. His estate was near Birmingham and she had danced with him more than once at the Assemblies.
“A fine gentleman,” Papa acknowledged, “even if he has spent most of his time in London until recently. Birmingham society is lucky to have a man of his stature in residence these days.”
“The Earl of Belmont,” Beatrice continued, though she knew nothing about him but his name.
“Who is not worth a guinea,” their father said, consulting a seemingly ever-present mental ledger. “His father invested in hot-air balloons as a means of transporting goods. A disaster in more ways than one. Still, an earl would give you an entrée to society.”
Both girls nodded. They knew what was coming next.
“Your dowry and his title would make a nice package, eh? I think that’s entirely possible.”
“Yes, Papa,” Ceci answered as Beatrice tried to control her annoyance at such an absurd suggestion. How many times would she have to tell her father that she was not interested in marrying someone with a title, if she married at all? And Ceci should not be subjected to such a fate, either.
“Not that I would have you marry for a title,” he added, giving Beatrice a knowing look. “But I want you both to be secure and comfortable in society, for I will not always be with you.”
“Oh, Papa,” Ceci said, as if everyone knew Mr. Brent would defy death forever.
Her father briefed them again on the good and bad points of the rest of the men and women