Rhonda Woodward Read Online Free PDF Page B

excellent food kept her from yawning with boredom.
    As she gazed around, she secretly hoped some of the understated style would rub off onto her mother. The room proved a serene contrast to Mama’s overwrought taste in furnishings. The coved ceiling, painted with a realistic pastoral scene, made Mariah sigh with admiration.
    As the chatter of the guests swirled around her, she looked across the table to her brother. She could see by his expression that he was enjoying himself immensely. She knew Steven loved this world. He found it exciting and challenging—challenging because he wanted to prove himself a real gentleman.
    Mariah knew that part of the reason Steven had managed to wheedle an invitation from the earl had nothing to do with helping her find a titled husband. He wanted the chance to spend time with the aristocracy so that he could learn their modes and manners. Steven wanted to be a part of this world.
    An intense feeling of love and exasperation tugged at her heart.
Why does he care so much?
she wondered. But she knew why. From birth, they had been taught that it mattered terribly to be accepted by the right people—the important, powerful people. Having money was not enough. Being part of the beau monde, the beautiful world, was what really counted.
    Tonight Mariah refused to allow herself to ruminate on this old subject. Instead, she continued to observe her dinner companions.
    Steven, seated next to the lovely Lady Davinia Harwich, looked relaxed and happy, no doubt because of Lady Davinia’s wonderful company.
    To Mariah’s surprise and pleasure, Lady Davinia had indeed remembered her from their brief time in Bath. Before dinner she had greeted Mariah with great warmth, asking after her health and their mutual friend, Julia, the new Duchess of Kelbourne. Lady Davinia had also introduced Mariah to her cousins Mr. and Mrs. Spence-Jones, an engaging young couple whom Mariah liked immediately. Unfortunately, Lady Davinia was sitting too far up the table for Mariah to converse with her easily.
    For some minutes she picked at her food and allowed the conversation to roll over her without really hearing the words.
    She had given up trying to chat with the gentleman to her left, a corpulent man introduced to her as Lord Stothart. From the moment they sat down at the long table, Lord Stothart had focused his complete attention on each perfectly prepared dish the footman set before him.
    The gentleman to her right, whose name she had forgotten, had been in deep conversation with the woman on his other side for most of the evening. This left Mariah to quietly take in the rest of the guests. Fifteen people graced the earl’s table. She knew this because, out of sheer boredom, she had counted heads between the first and second courses.
    As she slowly ate tender bites of roast grouse, she shamelessly listened to bits of the conversation above the clinking of glass and the splashing of wine.
    At the head of the table, the ladies seated on either side of the earl caught her attention. Elegant and beautiful, both seemed to laugh quite a bit at whatever he said.
    To his left sat Lady Charlotte, a petite, delicate blonde. Before dinner, Mariah had met all of the guests, and Lady Charlotte had greeted her with nothing but a dismissive smile.
    The lady to his right, Mrs. Ingram, had deep red hair piled high atop her head. From half-heard snippets of their chatter, Mariah surmised that both ladies were widows.
    For his part, Lord Haverstone did not appear as enthralled with his table companions as they were with him.
    As she examined him over the rim of her glass, Mariah grudgingly conceded that no criticism could be made of him as a host. He gave supreme attention to everything going on around him. From the way he had greeted her family earlier, she realized that he was much too polished to let his mien of politeness slip. He was also better-looking than she had thought him when they had met in Bath. Though his face was