His mother nodded regally at the Duchess of Skeffington and Lady Harlow. Julian knew his mother was not fond of the gossipy pair. He wasn’t either, and had no qualms about pretending he did not see them.
‘You are shocking people tonight with your presence, Lyonsdale,’ his mother said from behind her fan. ‘They see a man in search of a wife. Perhaps you might consider announcing your intentions and quelling their interest?’
‘Madam, tonight I have no intention of announcing anything.’
His mother pursed her lips together and looked away. Julian was surprised she hadn’t broached the subject of Lady Mary sooner. He assumed she was here somewhere. Lady Morley would not be remiss in displaying her daughter to the eligible men of the ton. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Tonight he would speak with Lady Mary and discover if he would be able to endure sitting across the breakfast table from her each morning.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the mixed floral scents and the body odour that permeated the room. There would be no escaping to the terrace for some cleaner air tonight. He scanned the room for Lady Mary and stifled a yawn. With all these masses of white spinning about the floor he would never be able to identify her unless she was standing directly in front of him.
He leaned over to his grandmother. ‘Please tell me they have begun serving something more fortifying here than that insipid lemonade.’
‘I wish I could—but that is what flasks are for, my boy,’ she whispered, patting her reticule.
From the corner of his eye he spied Lady Morley, heading their way. Before he was able to summon an excuse to avoid having to speak with the woman his grandmother came to his rescue.
‘Oh, look—I believe I see Lady Cowper,’ she said. ‘Will you excuse us, Beatrice?’ Without waiting for a reply she tugged on Julian’s arm and they began walking towards one of the patronesses who ruled Almack’s.
‘Now you see why I avoid these evenings,’ Julian said, studying the crowd in front of them and trying to determine the least dangerous route to Lady Cowper. ‘They can be most trying.’
‘Chin up, my boy, I believe this night is about to become quite interesting.’
He glanced down at his grandmother. Why did he have the feeling she was privy to something he was not?
They approached the affable Lady Cowper, and the ladies exchanged pleasantries. Then she turned her full attention to Julian. ‘What a pleasure to see you, Your Grace. It has been some time since you’ve been in attendance.’
‘Yes, I suppose it has.’
‘It appears we have caused quite a stir this evening,’ his grandmother commented, glancing around.
‘Yes, in fact I believe your arrival has surpassed tonight’s latest sensation.’
His grandmother stepped closer and lowered her voice. ‘Really, Lady Cowper? Do tell.’
‘That American author Vandenberg is here, with his daughter. I understand the man is entertaining, and his daughter is quite accomplished.’
Julian’s heart skipped a beat, and he fought the urge to scan the assembly room for her.
His grandmother’s eyes widened a little too much. ‘Really? They are here tonight? I would enjoy making the man’s acquaintance. A Traveler’s Tale is a most enjoyable read.’
‘I am certain Madame de Lieven can introduce you. She has sponsored the family.’ She leaned in close and lowered her voice. ‘We were astonished when she promoted the Americans. However, I find they comport themselves surprisingly well.’
‘Americans are not the provincials some imagine them to be,’ Julian stated firmly, feeling an inexplicable need to come to their defence.
Both women stared at him in surprise, before Lady Cowper narrowed her gaze. ‘Surely you’re aware that we have seen very few American women in our circles? It was difficult to determine how they would behave.’
His grandmother began to cough, and Julian would not have been surprised if she had dramatically thrown herself on the floor to enhance the effect.
‘My word, do you require assistance?’ Lady Cowper asked with true concern.
His grandmother shook her head and the coughing miraculously stopped. ‘A glass of lemonade should help ease the tickle in my throat,’ she said, patting her chest. She grasped Julian’s sleeve and gave it a subtle tug, leaving him no choice but to walk with her to the refreshment table.
He handed her a glass and held back a laugh when she poured in some clear liquid from a small silver flask. He wasn’t certain what she had added, but as long as it was potent he didn’t really care. Selecting a glass, he held it out to her, and she added a generous splash. The smell of gin reached Julian’s nose as he raised the glass to his lips. If his father had been alive now the man would have had an apoplexy, knowing the matriarch of their family carried gin on her person. However, if it would help Julian survive an evening in the marriage mart he would not admonish her.
‘Do you see her?’ his grandmother asked as her gaze trailed over the room.
He had known she was up to something! He took a long drink. ‘To whom are you referring?’
‘Oh, I think you know.’
‘What exactly are you plotting?’
‘Why do you believe I am plotting anything?’ she asked, arching an inquisitive brow.
‘I am not dim-witted,’ replied Julian, and he arched his brow in return.
‘No, you are not.’
‘That was not an answer.’
‘What was the question?’
He momentarily closed his eyes. When he looked back at her the glass in her hand was empty. ‘I’m trying to decide if it is wise to give you more lemonade.’
She reached behind him and took another glass. ‘You do not need to attend to me all evening. You should look around. You might find someone of interest.’
Julian eyed his grandmother in annoyance. Why did the women in his life seem to have this need to meddle in his affairs? He stood near her, refusing to give any indication that he was in search of a wife. However, this time when his gaze travelled across the room he easily spotted Miss Vandenberg amid the whirl of white. He was transfixed as he watched her attempt to move gracefully through a quadrille with that idiot Lord Boreham.
‘Are you going to dance with her?’ the pest at his side whispered.
He glanced down at her. ‘I have no desire to dance this evening.’
‘Forgive me. I thought you had found something that held your attention. I must have been mistaken.’
‘You most certainly were,’ he replied, his eyes inexplicably drawn back to the dancing couple.
She lowered her voice even further. ‘If that is Miss Vandenberg, Madame de Lieven will
