“We wandered around China for three or four months,” Mr. Sterling was saying, “making our way from village to village at night, reeking to high heaven.”
“We managed to find the tea groves,” Lord Alaric interjected. “Pekoe is a form of Bohea tea, which is mixed with small white flowers until their perfume infuses the leaves. In comparison to our scent at the time,” he added with a rueful twist of his lips, “the tea was delightful.”
“I can imagine,” Lavinia said, gurgling with laughter.
“When we returned to Canton, we filled the hold of our ship with pekoe and cloud tea, which I will brew for you one day,” he said, looking directly at Willa. She had the sense that he was leaning forward, though he hadn’t moved a muscle.
“I doubt we shall have time for that,” she said, picking up a cucumber sandwich.
Just then the resident peacock crossed the lawn toward them. He was the most magnificent bird Willa had ever seen, even with his long train furled. His throat was bright cobalt blue and his feathery crown was equally dazzling.
“How beautiful he is!” Lavinia exclaimed. “Is there any way to entice him to fan out his tail?”
“Peacocks show their tails to attract a mate,” Mr. Sterling drawled, glancing at Lavinia as if to suggest that she had something in common with a peacock.
Willa swallowed a grin. One could say Lavinia’s bosom was akin to a peacock’s tail, but with the sexes reversed. She wasn’t wearing the blue dress, but her bodice was quite revealing.
“I’ve offended you again,” came the voice of a beguiling devil in her ear. “I didn’t mean to do so. I’m making a hash of what can and cannot be said in polite society. Do you mind if I call you Willa, by the way?”
“Yes,” she said flatly.
“You could call me Alaric.”
“No, thank you.”
“I find formality tedious.”
“I find boredom indicates a lack of application,” Willa replied, keeping her voice steady, though she felt as if she were trembling all over. “Life is always interesting, if you pay attention.”
“I am not at all bored at the moment,” he said.
His gaze burned right down Willa’s spine and she felt color rising in her cheeks. “That is beside the point,” she managed.
“You didn’t mean to imply that men and women should carry out flirtations in order to avoid boredom?”
Lavinia clearly found Mr. Sterling irritating; she’d hopped up from her chair and accepted some grain from a footman. Now she was bent over the balustrade, trying to bribe Fitzy into spreading his tail.
“No, I do not,” Willa said. “Society is interesting, because people are interesting. There is always more to learn. Conclusions to be drawn, rightly or wrongly.”
They watched as Lord Peters joined Lavinia. “I’m not sure there’s anything very riveting about Peters,” Lord Alaric said in a low voice. “Is that an example of Miss Gray’s spread plumage, by the way?”
Willa frowned. “That is not only improper, but downright rude,” she whispered. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“That,” Alaric responded, unconcerned by her rebuke. He nudged her with his elbow.
Lavinia was leaning toward Fitzy, who was regarding her with a beady eye, but showed no inclination to spread his tail.
Willa looked back at Alaric, mystified.
“Look at Parth,” he said.
Mr. Parth Sterling had showed no sign of being charmed by Lavinia—rather the opposite. But now he was staring at her as she leaned over the rail. The small side panniers she wore under her gown merely enhanced her already generous curves.
As they watched, Lord Peters laughingly put his hands around her waist, presumably to keep her from toppling over the parapet.
Mr. Sterling made a rough sound, snatched up a cucumber sandwich, and got to his feet.
“Is a cucumber sandwich a more effective bribe than grain?” Willa asked Lord Alaric, unable to stop amusement from sounding in her voice.
“Fitzy loves cucumbers. But more to the point, the peacock responds to other males, even the human variety.”
Sure enough, as soon as Mr. Sterling moved to the edge of the terrace and barked, “Fitzy!” the peacock made a burring sound, shook himself, and fanned out his tail in a spectacular display of purple and green feathers.
Then he stalked to and fro, obviously daring Mr. Sterling to show some plumage of his own.
Instead Mr. Sterling tossed the sandwich toward the bird, said something to Lavinia, and returned to his seat.
“Thank you!” Willa said. “His tail is quite remarkable.”
Mr. Sterling shrugged. “Fitzy is decorative, for all he’s an irascible fellow.” He gave her that quick, rare smile of his. “May I be so bold as to guess that you and Miss Gray are very high society, indeed? She just gave me a look that would have done a queen proud.”
“Mr. Sterling,” Willa said, “do you think that you might be romanticizing your position? You were raised by a duke, and remain best of friends with his sons. I would guess that you have a formidable estate. Could it be you are simply avoiding the reality that you would be perfectly welcome at society events?”
“I was raised to believe that rank is contingent on blood.”
“That certainly used to be the case,” Willa said, “but from what I have observed, it is less and less so each day. A fortune, together with excellent breeding and powerful friends, is a great leveler.”
“Huh,” Mr. Sterling said.
“This house party celebrates the betrothal of a future duke to a woman whose grandfather was a grocer,” Willa said, proving her point.
She glanced at Lord Alaric for support in her argument only to see faint irritation on his face. Evidently, he didn’t like it when she spoke to other men, even his childhood friend.
“I will take your idea into consideration,” Mr. Sterling said.
“Take what into consideration?” Lord Alaric asked.
“I merely told Mr. Sterling that I think he would be welcome in high society,” Willa said.
At that moment a hush fell over the party; the duke and duchess had arrived. As they stepped onto the terrace, a cluster of footmen moved among the guests, offering glasses of champagne. A chair was quickly brought, and the duchess carefully lowered herself onto it.
“The last of our guests arrived this morning, and thus we are complete,” His Grace announced. “I would like to officially open this party in honor of my son’s betrothal to Miss Diana Belgrave by offering a toast to the happiness of the betrothed couple.”
He turned to Lord Roland, who was standing beside Diana at the far end of the terrace. “In centuries past, we would have gathered to make certain that Miss Belgrave had not been kidnapped by my son. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that North had been forced to kidnap such a beautiful, intelligent woman.”
Everyone laughed, but Lavinia’s eyes met Willa’s. In view of Diana’s lack of enthusiasm for the match, that was a tactless remark.
“My father has an odd sense of humor,” Alaric said in Willa’s ear.
His Grace raised his glass. “I offer this toast to my future daughter-in-law, whom I have discovered to be a gentle, thoughtful warrior, with an impeccable flair for dress and an even more impressive skill at chess.”
“She beat him,” Alaric supplied in a low voice.
“Welcome to the family,” the duke concluded. Everyone drank.
“I should like to add my voice to His Grace’s,” Alaric said, rising.
The heads on the terrace swiveled in his direction, like poppies toward the sun.
He kept his eyes on his brother’s face. “I am very fond of a fourteenth-century Persian poet named Hafez. I’ll ask your forgiveness in advance for butchering this translation, but he says that we are all holding hands and climbing. Not loving, Hafez says, is letting go.”
Lord Roland nodded.
“So don’t let go,” Alaric said, his deep voice holding everyone captive, “because the terrain around here is far too dangerous for that.” He raised his glass. “To my future sister-in-law, whom we are honored to welcome into the family.”
“I will never let go,” his brother said into the silence, as everyone drank to the betrothed couple. Diana turned visibly pink.
Willa thought it sounded like a vow. “Are your books as eloquent as that?” she asked Lord Alaric, when he was once more seated.
The question seemed to startle him. “As the poet, Hafez? Not at all. I wouldn’t describe myself as eloquent.”
“ ‘The terrain around here is far too dangerous for that,’ ” Willa quoted. “I’m hopeless at understanding poetry, but he wasn’t talking about Persia’s mountain ranges, was he?”
He smiled at her, a smile so intimate that Willa drew in a breath. A girlish part of her soul that she hadn’t even known existed cheered.
“No,” he said. “No, the terrain he was referring to is quite different. I haven’t been there myself.”
“Ah.”
“But I hope to in the very near future.”
“Girlish” was not a strong enough word for what Willa was feeling. “Giddy” came closer. Something about that made her suddenly cold, despite the warm sunshine.