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CHAPTER FIVE

He still wasn’t sure what caused him to accept not only the invitation to dinner and the opera, but also to escort Miss Oldstone to the dinner at her father’s home.

Not that he had any particular objections to Miss Oldstone.

Dizzy (as her family called her) was a delight.

Lovely, soft-spoken, but witty and clever.

He was surprised she had the approval of the duchess, but stranger things had happened within the ton.

Her father would be watching him like a hawk, and even though he had no objectionable designs on the lovely Desdemona, he planned on being on his best behavior.

Still, he’d enjoyed their conversations and hoped they would be able to converse as freely as they had before.

His father eyed him with suspicion when he stopped by to tell his mother he would not be having dinner with them Tuesday evening.

In his family, he was notorious for not only seeking out excuses to dine at his family home (their chef was a wonder) but also for not attending the opera.

Yet he’d begged his mother’s forgiveness because he was not only missing a favorite dessert, but also asking if they’d be using the family box for that evening.

“But you hate the opera, Ambrose,” his younger brother, Damien protested. After a moment, his confused smile turned into a full-blown smirk. “Who is she?”

His parents turned to him, his mother with a knowing smile, his father studying him carefully. Ambrose glared at his brother. “There is no ‘she.’ I am going to the opera with a group of friends, and I wanted to make sure there would be room for all of us.”

“What friends will you be entertaining?” his father asked. “I’ll not have a pack of doxies sullying our family box.”

“I am not entertaining a pack of doxies, Father,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Then who will be accompanying you?” His mother pierced him with her stare.

He sighed loudly. “The Duke and Duchess of Clearfield, their family, and friends.”

Damien’s jaw dropped open. “Clearfield?” He ran a hand over his jaw. “How the devil did you manage an invitation from them?”

“Through a friend.”

“What friend?” His father this time.

“A friend, father.” He shot up from his chair and walked towards the sideboard. “Just a friend.”

“Was it Montverre?” his mother asked, watching his expression. The Marquess of Montverre, Clearfield’s heir, had the reputation of being a gambler and a libertine. Of course his mother wouldn’t approve of him.

So of course, he would be the perfect answer. “Yes, mother, I lost a bet with Montverre and he made sure I was invited to his family dinner party and to the opera. I was hoping I’d be able to escape to our own box.”

Damien started coughing suspiciously, earning him glares from the other members of the family. His father nodded at Ambrose. “We weren’t planning on going that evening, so I suppose that would be fine.”

His mother then asked, “Do you have any notion of whom will be attending this dinner? Perhaps any young ladies?”

Ambrose closed his eyes in an effort to stave off the rising headache he felt behind his eyes. “I really have no idea, mother. Montverre just said it would be a dinner of family and close friends, followed by a trip to the opera.”

“Very well,” she mumbled. “Though with both Montverre and the younger son still single, there may be several unattached ladies attending as well, Ambrose…”

“I believe that is why Montverre wanted me to attend; to stave off any marriage minded ladies.” He finished his drink and rose to his feet. Walking to his mother, he kissed her cheek then patted his father’s shoulder. “Thank you mother, father.”

“Ambrose,” his father cautioned, “Clearfield is a very influential peer. He could ruin us in the blink of an eye.”

“Yes, father, I know,” Ambrose sighed again. “I promise to be on my best behavior, the perfect picture of decorum and dignity.”

“You can come for dinner Wednesday, Ambrose,” his mother called, “And tell us all about your evening.”

“Perhaps, mother,” he replied, knowing she would hound him for every detail of the evening. Bowing to his parents, then cocking his eyebrow at his brother, he left.

Tuesday evening, Ambrose hopped down from the carriage and headed to the door of the simple townhome.

He’d sent a note to the shop asking her direction and was surprised to find she would be at her mother’s home, whom lived among the artists and poets that populated the neighborhood.

The door opened and he was greeted by a dark-haired man with dark skin and bright blue eyes.

“May I help you, my lord?” he said, his voice deep and rich.

“Yes, thank you,” Ambrose replied. “I am Lord Ambrose Silvers, here to escort Miss Oldstone to the Duke of Clearfield’s.”

“Of course, my lord,” the butler replied. “She and her mother are waiting for you in the library.”

He followed the man down the hall to a brightly lit room.

It was warm and welcoming, with simple but elegant furnishings.

Madame Viellepierre was seated on the settee dressed in a dark blue gown with silver lace trim.

Miss Oldstone sat across from her, dressed in jade green, with jet beading along the slightly low bodice and hemline.

Her dark hair was done up with jade green and jet ornaments that matched her bracelet and necklace.

Long gloves completed her outfit, along with a small reticule looped around her wrist. Desdemona rose to her feet with a smile.

“Lord Silvers,” Madame Viellpierre said, “Right on time”

Ambrose bowed to both women, his gaze lingering on Des. “Madame Viellepierre, Miss Oldstone, you both look lovely tonight.” He smiled at the faint blush that colored Desdemona’s cheeks.

“And you, my lord, look so handsome,” the older woman said, “Doesn’t he, Dizzy?”

Desdemona looked embarrassed, then lowered her gaze. “Yes, your lordship, you leave me quite speechless..”

Ambrose had been called handsome and dashing before, but this simple, bashful compliment made his own cheeks grow warm. It was then he noticed her mother also gathering her things to accompany them.

At his surprised look, she chuckled. “You do not think her father would let you escort our daughter without a chaperone.”

“Not at all, madame,” he answered, recovered quickly. “I just find myself surprisingly fortunate to be escorting not one, but two beautiful women tonight.”

As the ladies gathered their things, he wondered what would happen tonight, having dinner with the Duke and Duchess, their sons, the duke’s mistress, and their daughter. If nothing else, the evening would be interesting.