“And that is the very reason I will never wed a gentleman who does not agree that I may keep my own property,” a second lady proclaimed. “Especially now that I have my own wealth.”
As he strolled on, Miss Stern came to mind. She would no doubt agree with the ladies when it came to property. He’d never considered the matter before, but now that he did, why should a female, especially one with wealth, become a beggar to her husband after marriage? In the past he would have said because that was the way it had always been. Yet now, he wasn’t at all certain he believed that. He had seen how women could well handle the purse strings. His own mother was an excellent example. How many other things had he taken for granted as some custom or practice that should be accepted simply due to the fact that it had always been that way? He remembered visiting an experimental farm in Norfolk and returning with new ideas, and having to prove to his tenants that the new way was better that what they had been doing. How strange that he’d been changing how he thought about the old ways and never even knew it before.
After finishing the pastry, he began to go by another group when a lady’s hand stopped him. “Fotherby”—he’d completely forgotten his mother was here—“would you come with me, please? There are two people I would like you to meet.”
“Yes, of course.” He felt his brows draw together on their own accord. “Mama, do we have a copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Women in our library?”
Her eyes widened. “Um, yes. Yes, we do. What do you intend to do with it?”
“What?” What did she think he’d do? “Read it. I just heard an argument regarding a woman’s property and I wish to read her arguments on the matter.”
“I see.” She patted his arm. “I will fetch it for you when we return home. Here we are. Duchess, may I present my son?”
Ah, Lady Fitzwilliam, better known as the Duchess of Bristol. He should not be surprised she was here. Seeing her next to Miss Stern intensified the resemblance between her, her grandmother, and her sister. The duchess’s eyes twinkled as she inclined her head. “Fotherby. I can see why your mother is so pleased with you.”
“Your grace.” He bowed, but was perplexed by her statement. He had made a mull of their last meeting. Next to her, Miss Stern gazed at him, but her expression told him nothing.
“Henrietta,” the duchess said. “Shall I introduce Lord Fotherby to you, or have you previously made his acquaintance?”
“We have met.” Miss Stern held out her hand. He took it and bowed.
“Excellent. I believe you might have a great deal in common.” The duchess smiled like a cat with a bowl of cream.
The problem was now that he held Miss Stern’s fingers in his palm, he did not want to give them back. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Stern.”
“I am glad you are here.” She glanced around. “It is a little thin of company. Are you having an entertaining time?”
“I am.” He realized that his polite answer was the truth. “I’ve been listening to some interesting discussions.”
The corners of her lips tipped up, and her eyes reflected the smile. “But you have not joined any of them.”
“No. I fear I don’t yet have the requisite knowledge.” He was still holding her hand, and Nate decided to keep it unless she let him know she wanted it back. “However, I intend to remedy my lack of understanding.” He grinned. “Now, if you can show me a circle that is discussing agriculture, I am more than able to hold my own.”
Her smile widened. “Probably not this time, but as the Season draws closer, there will be one.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He looked around. “Would you like to stroll around the room with me?”
“Go on, dear,” her grandmother said. “I wish to chat with my friends, and you would be in the way.”
That could only mean they intended to gossip about topics Henrietta was not supposed to know about. She almost rolled her eyes, but the laughter in Fotherby’s eyes let her know he understood. Her lips started to twitch as she held back her laughter.
At first Henrietta was surprised that her grandmother knew Fotherby’s mother. Then she was shocked that Grandmamma was willing to present him. But allowing—nay, encouraging—Henrietta to stroll with him was almost unbelievable good luck. The question was, should she? Would her sister view it as a betrayal? Before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “Yes, I would love to.”
He released her hand, but put it on his arm. She was not certain how she felt about that. She had liked the sensation of his strong fingers around hers. For some reason, his touch made her feel safe. Or maybe that was not the right word. “Effervescent” was more how he made her feel. No other gentleman’s touch made her skin tingle. Whatever that sensation was, she enjoyed it. So much so that she wished they were not wearing gloves.
Fotherby bent his head, and his warm breath caressed her ear. Henrietta stifled the sudden urge to take a sharp breath. “Perhaps you’ll be able to introduce me to some of the other guests. I don’t know any of them.”
“If there is anyone here I know.” She saw there was an addition to the usual group of artists who came to argue, eat, and drink. The gentleman dressed much better than did the others.
“I stopped to listen to them,” Fotherby said. “But they were discussing a French artist of whom I had no knowledge.”
“We shall pass them by. They can be entertaining at times, but mostly when they flirt.” Henrietta grinned up at him. “I don’t think you would be interested in that.”
“Not at all.” His tone was dry, but he did not seem to take it amiss that artists would flirt with young ladies.
Still, she did not particularly wish to be pulled into the artists’ conversation. “I must assume you began your last circuit on this side of the room. Rather than retrace your steps, let us start on the other side.”
“I like that idea.” He turned them around and they passed by her grandmother, his mother, and their friends.
They found one group discussing music, another debating poets, and four older men comparing their Grand Tours to their recent travel. Most of those present were her parents and grandmother’s age. “I do not see anyone I know.”
“I’m surprised there is no one discussing politics.”
“That is because the Lords is in session, and the other interested parties are not yet in Town.” She glanced up at him, once again struck by his blue-green eyes. They had to be the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Henrietta led him to a window seat. If they were not interested in any of the other conversations, they could have their own. “Why did Toby come to fetch you yesterday?”
If he was startled by her question, he did not show it. “I went to see Mrs. Perriman to find out how the babe was doing and ended up offering to help when she needed it.” He gave Henrietta a rueful smile. “I did not, though, give her my current name. I told her I was Mr. Meadows. The name I had before I became a peer.”
“I assume you did that to avoid my sister and brother-in-law discovering you are in Town.”
“Yes. You might not think it was well done of me”—he paused and stared out the window for a few moments—“but I believe Merton will remember when I was Mr. Meadows. In any event I am attending a vote in the Lords tomorrow and shall probably see him then.”