“Unbelievable! I cannot comprehend why women find you so irresistible... Lord Jared,” I muttered under my breath.
“Is that so? I am handsome and charming, I suppose,” he smirked at me, his smile widening as he noticed the exposing redness on my cheeks. “At least that’s what all the rich matrons say.”
“Brother!” Edith spat in horror. “This truly isn’t the time nor place to talk about your outrageous lascivious daily habits!”
He dramatically rolled his eyes at her before he finally stopped in front of the group of young aristocracy. Two breathtakingly beautiful brunettes - apparently twins stood in the middle, surrounded by young men. Even their gowns matched, sewn in a light-yellow color that radiated across the ballroom like a spark of sunshine, making them noticeable to the young and keen gentlemen.
Both of them wore a wide smile as Edith and I approached them. “Lord Jared! At last!” One of them said enthusiastically before clasping Edith’s hands in hers. “I was wondering when your little sister will be introduced to the society,” she gave her a warm and welcoming smile - quite a pleasant contrast compared to the Duchess’s behavior. “Oh dear!” The brunette giggled. “Pardon my ill manners. My name is Alison,” her hand elegantly moved to her twin. “And this is my sister Bonnie.”
“Who is the Lady in your company?” Bonnie looked at me, wearing the same kind of expression as her sister, but with a slight twinge of mischievousness glinting in her eyes.
“My name is Ashlyn, My Lady,” I said politely, while I lowered myself in a polite curtsy.
“Oh please! Drop the formalities. Ladies, I sense we will be great friends, won’t we Bonnie?” Alison looped her arm through her twin’s.
“Since this is your first season, you have much to learn from us,” Bonnie nodded seriously and pressed a long elegant finger to her heart-shaped lips.
“Oh dear, don’t listen to them, girls.” Jared stated mockingly. “This is their third season and still, they remain unwed.”
“Perhaps because all of the eligible bachelors are too busy chasing skirts to be willing to settle down!” Bonnie spat, smiling at the nearest scandalized matron who accusingly glared at her loud outburst.
“Oh, Bonnie dearest, now where is the fun in that?” Said one of Jared’s friends, a man with a curly dark hair. “My name is Andrew Richards, Duke of Edinburgh,” he slightly lowered his head in greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to be acquainted with you, Your Grace.” Edith and I curtsied before the man. I instantly noticed how Edith’s eyes lingered on him a second too long before she timidly averted her gaze.
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“The pleasure is all mine, ladies,” his eyes were like a molten dark chocolate when they travelled from me to Edith all the while he kept his full lips curved into a lopsided smile.
“Don’t mind him, girls. He’s just an irredeemable Casanova,” Alison frowned at his vulturous gaze. Her voice morphed into a confidential tone as she leaned in to whisper into our ears. “Whatever you do, do not fall for his charm. He is as bad as Jared - if not worse.”
Alison’s advice apparently fell on deaf ears as Edith – completely mesmerized by the Duke’s attention – nervously addressed him. “Have you known my brother for a long time, Your Grace?”
“For a few years now, we’ve met at White’s,” he cleared his throat, his face betraying embarrassment as he realized his transgression.
“White’s?” I asked eagerly.
“Yes, a gentlemen’s club for private members here in St. James’s,” Edith hurriedly quenched my curiosity.
Andrew’s brows rose in question. “My Lady, I hope for your sake that you aren’t privately acquainted with the establishment.”
Edith’s cheeks flamed in horror. “Oh no, Your Grace! Absolutely not! It’s just that my father used to be a member and my brother is very outspoken about his whereabouts,” she bit her lip in distress, peaking at him from under her long fiery lashes.
“It’s just a horrible excuse for men to squander their profits on ridiculous wages and poker games,” Bonnie shook her head in distaste, her brown curls furiously bouncing about her face.
“Oh, Lady Burton, no wonder you are still unattached, no gentleman in the right man would propose marriage to such an uptight Lady as yourself,” Jared snickered behind her back.
“My Lord!” Bonnie quietly cried out. “Mind your language! I will be more agreeable when I meet a certain affable gentleman – without all these atrocious quirks,” she stubbornly lifted her chin. While raising her tastefully groomed eyebrow, she gave him a dismissive look, indicating that he most certainly wasn’t the one.
“Then you are searching on the wrong side of the ballroom, my dear,” Jared’s hand signified at the right side. “You should be looking over there.”
Alison laughed at her sister’s horrified expression. “Now, now, calm down you two,” she petted Bonnie’s shoulder, hoping to cool down her offended sister. “Don’t mind them. They are always like this,” she smiled at Edith and me. “I swear they are bound to fall in love and marry someday.”
“Absolutely not!” Bonnie gasped with shock before her beautiful full lips curled in distaste.
I couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of pain at the thought of Jared and Bonnie becoming a couple.
“So!” The bubbly twin – Alison clasped Edith’s and my hand in hers. “If you are to find the right spouse you absolutely must be searching on the left side of the ballroom.”
“How come?” Edith’s forehead creased in confusion as her hazel eyes darted across the vast space. “What is the matter with the right side?”
“Everything,” Bonnie grimaced after sharing a look with her sister. “Here on the left side, you have your fair share of handsome, rich and young men,” she glared at His Grace Andrew who tried to hide his laughter behind a glass of champagne.
My eyes darted to the dancefloor, comparing the two sides. Instantly I recognized she was telling the truth. The left side was brimming with eligible gentlemen – indeed young and handsome. On the other hand, the right side was a total opposite. Men were rarely dancing and even if they were, they were either wed or their partners consisted of older matrons. Others just stood at the sides – like wallflowers drowning and paling compared to the beauty of the grand tapestry - or simply diving into the boundless bottoms of Scotch.