That statement was a bit of a surprise. “You don’t strike me as someone who would read the gossip news.”

“I’ll read anything. It was no doubt lying about at my sister’s and I saw it there.”

“Well, I don’t give much credence to gossip, and he seems rather nice. Three of the young debutantes have welcomed me. I visited with them for a bit. The matriarchs are keeping their distance.”

“Matriarchs are always disapproving and difficult to win over.”

“My mum isn’t. She was strict when I was growing up, but always managed to make me feel that I could achieve anything I wanted. Sometimes I think it might be easier to simply invite them all here so they can see who I really am. If I hosted an affair, would you come?”

He shifted in his chair as though suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t blame him for his hesitation. If one wasn’t groomed to move about among the aristocracy, it could make for an uncomfortable situation when every word, action, and expression was judged. Glancing over at Dickens because it was easier to look at him than Matthew, she confessed, “You were on my mind often tonight, particularly when I waltzed.”

She heard his foot hit the floor, a moan of the chair. Then he was kneeling before her, taking her free hand in both of his. Why could she get no lord to look at her as he did, like the moon and stars revolved around her, that she existed for his pleasure and his alone?

“I thought about you. Nearly ran mad wondering with whom you were waltzing.”

“Dukes, marquesses, earls, and viscounts. We conversed. I asked them questions, tried to get to know them better, worked to determine if they would ever make me laugh. My mum has advised me to find someone who makes me laugh.”

“She’s a wise woman, your mum.”

“I can’t tell if any of these gents are taken with me. Oh, they say the right things, do the right things, but I can’t stop thinking about your favorite Aesop’s fable, and I find myself wary of their compliments.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He angled his head slightly and brushed his lips over hers. “They no doubt adore you as much as I do.”

“Do you?”

“I very much would like to kiss you, Miss Trewlove,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over her cheek.

“I would very much like you to, but perhaps I should close Dickens off in my bedchamber.”

“No need. He’ll not interfere. The furry fellow and I are friends now. I fed him a tin of sardines.”