Page 11 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

As the evening progressed, Darcy found himself increasingly grateful for his uncle’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the ton.

Lord Matlock had spent the better part of an hour providing succinct, often ruthlessly accurate assessments of various gentlemen who approached their party, his murmured commentaries ranging from approving to scathingly dismissive.

It was not mere gossip, Darcy knew, but valuable intelligence.

With three young ladies under their protection, such information might prove crucial in separating worthy suitors from fortune hunters and libertines.

“You see the gentleman in the midnight blue coat by the far pillar?” Lord Matlock indicated with a subtle inclination of his head.

“Edward Westfield. Third son of the Duke of Bridgewater. Charming manners but unfortunate habits at the gaming tables. His father has paid his debts twice already and vowed never to do so again. Currently seeking an heiress with more fortune than discernment.”

Darcy followed his uncle’s gaze to the young man in question, noting the immaculate cut of his coat that nonetheless showed signs of having been carefully tended rather than recently purchased.

Despite the young man’s superficial elegance, there was a calculating quality to his assessment of the assembled company that set Darcy’s teeth on edge.

“I shall ensure Elizabeth is aware,” he said quietly. “Though I doubt Georgiana would be drawn to such a character in any case.”

“It is not always the obvious rakes one must guard against,” Lord Matlock replied sagely.

“Some of the most dangerous fortune hunters are those who present a thoroughly respectable facade. Ah, speaking of which, you might wish to observe the entrance hall just now. I believe we are about to be treated to quite a spectacle.”

A sudden increase in the volume of conversation drew Darcy’s attention to the ballroom’s entrance, where a commotion of sorts appeared to be unfolding.

A young man had paused dramatically at the threshold, his posture suggesting a self-conscious awareness of the eyes turning in his direction.

His evening attire, while conforming to the basic requirements of proper dress, veered into the territory of the theatrical, with a waistcoat of such vivid emerald silk that it was visible from across the room.

“Viscount Shandly,” Lord Matlock supplied, a hint of amusement colouring his tone.

“Grandson of the Earl of Roxworth. His elder brother died unexpectedly last year, leaving Edmund as heir to the earldom. Roxworth called the lad home from an extended Grand Tour; he didn’t want to leave Florence, I’ve heard.

Fashionable, artistic temperament, fancies himself a patron of the theatre.

Not unintelligent, but possessed of an unfortunate tendency toward dramatic gestures and grandiose declarations. ”

As if to confirm this assessment, the viscount proceeded into the ballroom with a flourish that stopped just short of an actual bow to the assembled company.

His progress through the crowd was marked by effusive greetings and expansive gestures that drew every eye, precisely as he appeared to intend.

“Good God,” Darcy muttered, watching this performance with growing dismay. “Surely he cannot be serious.”

“Oh, entirely serious,” Lord Matlock assured him.

“Though whether about anything of substance remains to be seen. His father died young and his grandfather is in declining health, so Edmund will soon inherit both title and considerable estates. Quite a prize on the marriage mart despite his idiosyncrasies.”

Darcy observed the viscount’s progress with increasing concern as the young man made his way unerringly toward Lady Matlock’s circle, where Georgiana and Kitty stood alongside Elizabeth and Anne, who had finally been persuaded out of her alcove.

Mrs. Jenkinson hovered nearby, her expression sharpening with interest as she recognised the approach of a titled gentleman.

“I should join them,” Darcy said, straightening from his position against the wall.

Lord Matlock placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Allow Margaret to handle the introductions. She will ensure all proprieties are observed, and your immediate intervention might appear overbearing. Besides, I have several more gentlemen of note to bring to your attention.”

Reluctantly, Darcy remained in place, though his gaze did not waver from the unfolding scene across the room.

Lady Matlock performed the introductions with her customary grace, and Darcy was relieved to note that Elizabeth stood close beside Georgiana, her presence a steadying influence as the viscount bowed over each young lady’s hand with elaborate courtesy.

“While we’re discussing potential suitors,” Lord Matlock continued, “you might direct your attention to the gentleman standing near the orchestra. The one who appears to be conducting the music with his fingertips, though thankfully not his entire arm.”

Darcy shifted his gaze to the tall, lean figure at the edge of the dance floor.

The young man in question stood with an air of absorption, his attention fixed entirely on the musicians.

His fingers tapped lightly against his leg in perfect time with the music, and his expression suggested genuine appreciation rather than mere social obligation.

“Mr. Alexander Townend,” Lord Matlock said.

“Third son of a wealthy merchant family with connections to the Duke of Norfolk. Recently came into an unexpected inheritance from his maternal grandfather, making him suddenly rather eligible. Educated at Cambridge, where he apparently spent more time composing music than studying law, to his father’s eternal frustration.

Considered eccentric in some circles for his passion for music and occasional public performances, though he has largely abandoned the latter since inheriting. ”

Darcy studied the young man with renewed interest. Unlike the viscount’s calculated showmanship, Mr. Townend’s absorption in the music appeared entirely genuine, almost unconscious.

There was a certain integrity in such unselfconscious enthusiasm that Darcy could not help but respect, despite the impropriety of displaying one’s passions so openly in polite society.

“He seems unusually fixated on the music,” Darcy observed.

“Entirely,” Lord Matlock agreed. “I attended a private concert where he performed his own compositions on the violin last season. Surprisingly accomplished. His social manners can be abrupt, particularly when music is not the topic of conversation, but he is generally considered honourable, if somewhat impractical.”

“He might actually appreciate Georgiana’s musical talent,” Darcy mused aloud. “Unlike many who merely pay lip service to feminine accomplishments.”

“A fair observation,” Lord Matlock conceded.

“Though whether his appreciation would extend beyond her playing to encompass her as a person remains to be seen. Ah, now here comes someone of a very different stamp. The gentleman entering now, with the expression suggesting he has discovered something unpleasant on his boot.”

Darcy turned to see a tall, distinguished man of perhaps forty years surveying the ballroom with evident disdain.

His clothing, while of the finest quality, had a slightly dated cut that suggested careful preservation rather than fashionable renewal.

His features might once have been handsome, but years of what appeared to be habitual discontent had etched permanent lines of disapproval around his mouth and between his brows.

“The Marquess of Byerly,” Lord Matlock explained, lowering his voice further though the subject of their discussion was well out of earshot.

“Family title dates back to the Restoration, but the fortune that once accompanied it has been significantly diminished over the generations. The current marquess inherited estates burdened with debt, a situation he has neither improved nor entirely worsened. He has avoided outright financial ruin through rigorous economies and the gradual sale of family treasures, but his situation remains precarious.”

“Hence his presence in the marriage mart at his age,” Darcy deduced.

“Precisely,” Lord Matlock confirmed. “He has resisted matrimony thus far, claiming he would not dilute his ancient lineage with anything less than an impeccable match. However, necessity appears to have finally overcome pride. He is widely understood to be seeking an heiress this Season, though he masks his intentions beneath a veneer of aristocratic indifference.”

Byerly progressed through the room with deliberate dignity, acknowledging acquaintances with the minimum courtesy required.

His calculating gaze swept over the assembly, pausing briefly where groups of young ladies congregated before moving on.

When his eyes fell upon their own party, Darcy observed a flicker of interest that the older man quickly disguised.

“I believe we have been noted,” Lord Matlock murmured. “No doubt he is well aware of both Georgiana’s and Anne’s respective fortunes. Let us circulate in that direction, shall we? I should like to observe his approach more closely.”

They made their way casually across the ballroom, timing their arrival near Lady Matlock’s circle to coincide with that of the marquess.

Introductions were performed with proper formality, though Darcy noted that Elizabeth’s usual warm smile had cooled several degrees as she curtseyed to their new acquaintance.

His wife’s judgement of character was seldom mistaken, and her evident reserve only confirmed his own misgivings.