Today's Reading
A few guests, seeing that he was now alone, began to make their way through the crowd to greet him, and he was hurriedly recalling all of their names when a haughty voice called him.
He spun on his heel, recognizing his father's ancient aunt's voice. The lady herself leaned on the arm of a younger woman, who looked as beleaguered as anybody would when dealing with Lady Georgiana Phipps. She was nearing seventy years old, and refused to be the kind of old lady who sat at home doing various needleworks.
"My lady," he replied, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it. "And Miss Toynbee." Miss Toynbee blushed at his greeting; some people of his class would have disdained to greet a lady's companion, but Lucian liked making everyone around him happy. Besides, it required too much energy to process who did and did not deserve a greeting—he could better use his energy elsewhere.
"Of course you would be here," Lady Georgiana said with a fond smile, gesticulating to the glittering ballroom. "I just met with your father's secretary. I do so appreciate your thinking of me." She waved a dismissive hand. "Your father needs my guidance; he doesn't have the same acumen as I when it comes to matters before the House of Lords."
Lucian answered with a modest nod of his head. His father had made an attempt to get him to take an interest in reviewing draft bills, public policy, and government oversight, all tasks for a responsible member to do. But Lucian had quickly finessed it so that Lady Georgiana was the designated assistant. She had long chafed at how little she was allowed to do and had already donated a large portion of her vast fortune to various charitable causes. Giving her something that would occupy her intellect was doing her a favor.
That it meant Lucian didn't have to do that work was merely an added fillip of pleasure. Two birds, one stone. Or many laws, as it were.
Transferring duties to people who would actually appreciate them, would be fulfilled by them, was doing them all a favor. It brought him joy as well, to pair people with responsibilities that would suit them.
"I'm off to the card room," Lady Georgiana said, beckoning to Miss Toynbee. "Lucian, I will see you later."
Lucian bowed, then scanned the room, searching for the bridegroom, his friend Samuel, Viscount of Alston. It took a certain skill to maintain distantly friendly eye contact with all who wished to speak to him—something he was quite adept at by now.
Musicians were on the second-floor gallery that overlooked the ballroom and were playing some sort of lively tune, while couples spun on the dance floor, skirts whirling to reveal a glimpse of ankle, the gentlemen's black-and-white evening wear a stark contrast to the colorful gowns the ladies wore.
It was Lucian's world, the place he felt most at home. A party filled with convivial guests, plenty of food and drink, nothing planned for the next day, and none of his dour, unfun-loving family in attendance.
That last part was the most salient.
He wished he'd known his father before The Event, as his father referred to it, when he'd been, by all accounts, at least as wild as Lucian. If not more. But then Halley's Comet—the titular Event—had appeared in the sky, and his father had taken it as an omen to change his wild ways, marrying a woman nearly as dull as he, and spawning a brood of serious-minded children.
Except for Lucian, who'd arrived in the world laughing and hadn't ceased since. Sometimes he wondered if he had been swapped out at birth with some dullard, but since he looked just like his father, he didn't entertain the thought for long.
Finally, he spotted his friend, who had just picked up a glass from one of the passing footmen. "Get me one of those too, will you?" he called.
His friend's head snapped around, and then he grinned, taking another glass off the tray. Samuel advanced toward him, his grin growing impossibly wider.
"Eldridge, you're here!"
Lucian stretched his hand out to take his glass, then tilted his head toward his friend. "And you look remarkably happy for someone who's been joined for life to another person, Shammie." He accompanied his words with a mock shudder.
Samuel's nickname had come about when his younger sister hadn't been able to pronounce his name; he was Shammie to everyone except for his parents.
...
