“Very well then, I shall see you both later,” Talbot bowed and went off to wherever men disappeared to.
“Every time I see him, I think of his poor father.” Lady Violet sighed.
“What do you think they talk about?” Lizzie said absentmindedly, too absorbed by her own thoughts to register her words.
“Who, dear?”
“Men, when they go to libraries, or card rooms, or smoking rooms, wherever there are no women. What do you think they talk about?”
“Bah, who knows?” Violet shrugged like it was of no consequence.
Soon, Nicholas and Sophie joined them, and they all enjoyed a pleasant meal together before the dancing started.
Corporal Harding was looking particularly dashing in his dark navy coat, white shirt, and nankeen breeches. His blond hair, on the edge of being longer than was fashionable, was starting to curl at the ends, but Lizzie hoped he wouldn’t cut it anytime soon.
He most likely has no valet, or he would have cut it for him by now. Is he unable to afford one?
Elizabeth closed her eyes to shut out those thoughts and tried to focus on the feeling of her hand in his as they danced.
“How do you spend your days here in London?” she asked him, wanting more insight into who he was.
“In the mornings, I deal with affairs concerning my estate, then I make social calls, or go to my club. The rest of it you know – promenading, the Opera, balls,” he shrugged.
“It must be so different from your usual days at home,” Elizabeth remarked. “I think I can guess what you prefer.”
“It is difficult to enjoy everything the Season has to offer when one has as many obligations and decisions waiting back home as I do.” Oliver sighed, seeming weary for the first time since she’d met him.
She understood him very well. For him, every day spent in London most likely signified spending money he didn’t have in order to find a wife who did.
“Some of us don’t have the luxury of time,” Elizabeth said compassionately.
Oliver gave her a grateful smile. “You seem to understand that very well. What about you? What does the day of a lady look like?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve found the life of a lady difficult to adjust to in certain aspects. There is a lot of…fluff.” She tried to wave the hand that he was holding, but he squeezed it with a smile.
“Fluff?”
“Yes, soft, feathery fabric that’s really airy and light,” she explained.
“I see. And you’re yearning for something like… coarse canvas?”
Elizabeth laughed softly.
“You’re clearly struggling to pick out the right kind of fabric, but yes. Something more substantial, more tangible, would be welcome. It’s what I’m used to. Or used to be used to.” She frowned.
“I went to a pugilist’s parlour the other day, what kind of fabric would that be?”
“Is that a place for prize-fighters?”
“A place for gentlemen who want to playact prize-fighting,” Oliver clarified. “Duke Talbot mentioned being a member in one when we were up in Winchester, so I decided to try it. It wasn’t too bad, I might go again.”
Elizabeth couldn’t imaginethe Dukeengaging in fisticuffs. Then she remembered his broad shoulders and the way his body felt when they danced, and she reconsidered.
“That sounds very interesting,” she said, wisely reigning those thoughts in. “Shall you have the opportunity to continue that activity back in Wexcombe?”
“Only if I start arranging fights with my tenants,” he said wryly.
Elizabeth grinned. “Better yet, with your creditors. Both parties would be extraordinarily motivated to inflict injury on each other.”
