Page 15 of The Gilded Masquerade

“I am not entirely opposed to the frivolity,” he stiffly said in defense.

“So, it would appear,” she remarked, lifting her gaze to his. “The young lady in gold has quite altered your opinion. It seems you have consigned yourself to become one of society’s less polished savages to win favor.”

“It is not amusing, Mama. The American is quite polished—and if invited to your ball, she is evidently not a savage.”

Bearing a sly smile, she shook her head. “You always fail to understand my attempt at witticism, Fitzwilliam.”

“Who is she?”

“My dear, it is a masquerade.”

“And you are the mistress who extended the invitation—all the way to America.”

“I shall keep my secrets.”

“Will you at least inform me who her aunt is?”

“And why should that be of consequence?”

“It is not,” he conceded. “As the master of Pemberley, I should like to not be wholly ignorant. In fact, I am quite perplexed at your willingness to receive so many Americans. Why the alteration of heart?”

“It was not for my benefit, nor yours, but rather entirely for the financial interests of Derbywent House and Clanswell Hall. I consider it my civic duty to provide the means in which our neighbors’ estates are no longer a blight on the Peak District.”

“That is quite generous of you,” he half teased. “I failed to recognize your elevation to matchmaker on behalf of all eligible gentleman in the district.”

She smiled. “You did not secure a dance with Anne this evening,” she remarked, on point.

“She was indisposed. Dr. Bingley is attending her above stairs.”

“Your friend, the herbalist?”

“He does not practice botanical medicine. Rather, he is a brilliant graduate of the Royal College of Physicians and attends at the London Homeopathic Hospital.”

“The poor child. All hope is lost, then. She needs to be in Edinburgh with real physicians.”

Feeling peckish, he did not reply.

Passing the music room where a guest performed at the piano, she said, “Have you and Anne come to a formal understanding at last?”

“Pray, do not press me on a decision I do not make lightly.”

“And if her passing is nearer than expected?”

“Then I am at liberty to look elsewhere, and Rosings will pass to Sir Lewis’s second cousin in Australia.”

She sighed softly. “Very well. Enjoy your admiration of the American, but be advised, Fitzwilliam, however lovely and polished she may be, it is highly unlikely you will see her again.”

“Can you be so certain?”

“Indeed, I can.”

“Then it would not displease you if I should solicit her hand once more?”

“For what end?”

“For none beyond the duties of Christmas hospitality and because she dances exceedingly well for our guests—(and me)—to enjoy.”

“I do not think it is prudent.”