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“While I keep up with the latest fashion magazines, I rarely spend my time reading.” She sniffed, as if turning her nose up at the thought of reading.

So she was not a reader. What else they could safely discuss? “What do you enjoy doing while in London?”

“All the correct things, I suppose. Going on calls. Shopping on Bond Street. Attending dinners hosted by the right people. Occasionally I visit Hyde Park. Oh, and attending balls is always important.”

What did the girl mean by all the correct things? “And do you enjoy those activities?”

Lady Lavinia, face pinched and drawn, looked at him as if he was being cruel or confusing. Did she think he was trying to catch her out? He felt like there was a game at play yet he did not know all the rules. He much preferred more straightforward talk.

Lady Lavinia bit her lip for the smallest fraction of a moment, but then schooled her features into a serene expression. “I am afraid I do not quite understand you.”

Though he had preferred that one second of truth to everything else he saw that evening, Theodore felt bad for making her uneasy. Trying to set her more at ease, he changed tactics. “I merely wondered which you enjoyed the most. You listed quite a few things.”

“Well then, I suppose I do not have a favorite among them. What do you enjoy, my lord?” Lady Lavinia smiled when things seemed to get back on track.

“I enjoy spending time with my cousin Darcy and his family, and a well-executed play at the theater is something I truly enjoy.” Theodore returned her smile, but noted the conversation was cumbersome at best.

“I love the theater, as well. What plays do you enjoy? The comedies or the dramas?”

Theodore studied her expression. It seemed to be schooled to perfection, but there was something about it that did not ring true.

Was she hesitant to share her preferences because she was waiting to see what he liked?

Why could no one answer truthfully? Instead they felt the need to follow some odd, unspoken script that seemed to proclaim what the ton liked was best.

“I enjoy comedies more than the dramas.” Taking a small sip of wine to fortify himself, Theodore bit back a sigh. He had been right before—it was going to be a long night.

Leaning back into the cushion of the carriage, Theodore closed his eyes while his mother prattled on their way back to Matlock House. “I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Mother. It looks like you have several friends in that group.”

“Oh, there were several ladies that I have known for simply ages. It is always lovely to chat with old friends. What did you think of your dining companions? I do not know Mrs. Meadowbrook very well, but her husband died in a hunting accident not long after she was married to him. This is her first season since she came out of mourning. And Lady Lavinia, of course, is always lovely. Always correct and proper and so very pretty.” The shushing sound of Lady Matlock's fan filled the darkness as Theodore mulled over her choice of words.

Why were people in his mother’s set so focused on that word?

Correct seemed to be a code word for acceptable to a chosen view.

Shaking his head in the dark, Theodore tried to point out yet again why he was not fond of these gatherings.

“They were nice enough, though I was happy when the dinner was over. Lady Lavinia, for example, was so afraid of saying the wrong thing that she refused to express any opinion on anything at all.”

“You are too harsh on the girl. She possesses a faultless sense of decorum.”

Sighing, Theodore looked out the window and realized they were closer to home than he had assumed.

Hopefully, this night would soon be over.

“I fault the fact that I could not have a genuine conversation with her. I would rather she have been original or say something unfashionable in her speech than parrot everything.” It was all just so superficial, and it left him wanting something real.

The experience made him compare the people to the meal, which prioritized aesthetics over taste, leaving him desiring a humble, homemade creation.

In the darkness of the carriage, he could barely make out his mother as she rolled her eyes. “Why would you want her to say the wrong thing? You gentlemen are so nonsensical sometimes. I say she has the best manners I have ever seen in a debutante in an age.”

“I fear we will not agree on this, Mother.” Not bothering to wait for the footman to bring down the steps, he jumped out of the carriage and away from his mother.

Though as much as he wished to escape, he refused to be rude.

He waited and offered his arm to escort her into the house.

Once they were inside, he moved to the stairs and in the direction of his room, but could hear her footsteps echoing behind him and paused.

Turning to her, he bowed in her direction. “Goodnight, Mother.”

Despite the lateness of the hour, Theodore's mind refused to shut down and allow him to sleep. Barnes had brought him tea and a hardy snack at his request, so he sat at his window munching while he looked over the dark landscape of the city.

Yanking at his cravat haphazardly, he allowed his mind to wander.

He could not help but draw comparisons between Miss Catherine and Lady Lavinia.

His mother was of the opinion that Lady Lavinia was a remarkable debutante, and yet he could not like her.

He wondered if she even knew her own mind or if her own thoughts had been entirely trained out of her.

Though Lady Lavinia was known for her pleasing looks, he found her uninteresting and dull.

Miss Catherine, however, was not a popular sort of woman.

In a world obsessed with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an angelic disposition, she was out of place with her brown hair and sea-green eyes.

Theodore had noted that her eyes seemed to sparkle with a thousand secrets, and it was only now that he admitted those sorts of thoughts were decidedly more than friendly.

He had tried to ignore his reaction to Miss Catherine while at the dinner, but now that he was back home, he could not avoid the memory of her blush.

It haunted him. Could he really be falling in love with her?

And if so, what was he to do about? Did he want to pursue Miss Catherine?

Could she ever grow to like him in return?

His mother was always slightly disparaging of the Bennet ladies, Darcy too, for that matter, but he could not care.

He had seen the happiness that Darcy had found with Elizabeth and wanted that for himself.

The kind of relationship he desired was not something most society women were capable of providing, and he was aware of that.

Most society women had internalized the belief that love and close relationships were a frivolous pursuit for those who lacked ambition.

Was it possible that he could find what he wanted with Miss Catherine?

What actions could he take to make sense of the feelings that were growing between him and Miss Catherine? His mind turned to tactics. One always did better with more information and not less. He would have to spend more time with her to get the answers that he sought.

It was a pleasant prospect, and he was able to finish preparing for bed with unusual enthusiasm.

For once, he seemed to have something to truly look forward to.

In his dreams, he and Miss Catherine laughed and talked for hours, and in what seemed like the first night in forever, he slept peacefully.