Lord Satyr jolted in surprise, turning to look at her with his eyes alarmingly wide. “I don’t think—”
“What an interesting idea,” Aunt Isabelle purred. “But I thought you had no interest in money matters.”
Gwen shrugged. “My curiosity drags me in several directions. I have wondered about banking, but Mama thought finance inappropriate for a girl in search of a husband.”
“Men do get touchy when faced with a woman of means,” Aunt Isabelle agreed.
“But Mama informs me that I am now a spinster. Therefore, she cannot worry if I interest myself in more masculine pursuits.”
Her aunt rolled her eyes. “Your mother does have a singular vision for your future.”
“One in which I have been a resounding disappointment.” She pulled off her ill-chosen face mask and stared glumly at it. That had been a significant error in judgment.
“Oh listen,” Lord Satyr said suddenly. “The orchestra is beginning another set. Please, Lady Gwen, would you do me the distinct honor of joining me for a dance?”
Gwen looked to the crowded dance floor. The last thing she wanted was to display her lack of dancing ability among that many people. She was likely to cause a disaster the first time she forgot a step. “I’m afraid I have always been clumsy on the dance floor.”
“Never fear. I am quite capable of seeing you safely through the experience.”
His smile was mesmerizing when he spoke, especially when coupled with his nearly naked torso. Gwen found herself allowing him to grasp her hand, but she stiffened when her aunt pressed her own darkly gloved hand a top both of theirs.
“What he means, Gwendolyn, is that he does not think it appropriate for you to learn the basics of how to survive in a masculine world, and he means to distract you. Such is ever the way with men. They think they know our minds better than we do, and they have succeeded in breaking the wills of women like your mother. She cannot see that a woman has value outside of marriage, but you and I know differently, do we not?”
Well, that was certainly true. Mama saw no purpose to any female beyond marrying a titled, wealthy man and bearing him the next generation of arrogant men and obedient women.
“I assure you,” Lord Satyr said, “I have no such thoughts in mind.” He gently lifted off Aunt Isabelle’s hand, but the damage was done. She was well aware of the tension in the man. He did not like her talking with her aunt, and that alone set up her back.
“And I assure you,” Gwen returned, “that when you realize how badly I dance, you will be thankful I declined your offer.” She took her hand out of his and turned to address her aunt. “Would you like to stroll about the gardens with me? I fear my family has wandered to the four corners and I have been left as a burden to Lord Satyr.”
“On the contrary,” Lord Satyr began, but Aunt Isabelle didn’t give him the chance.
“You have ever been the niece with the most promise,” she said. “I should be delighted to wander with you, provided you leave that dreadful mask behind. Whyever would you chose such a terrible costume?”
“It was an error in logic, I’m afraid. I thought if I wanted a husband, I should dress as something they adore. I could not come as a horse—that would invite all sorts of ridicule, not to mention the expense.”
“So you came as a dog?”
“Of indeterminate breed. I thought it would allow the gentlemen to pick out the characteristics they most enjoyed—”
“And dance with you?”
“And speak with me,” she corrected. “I thought to engage them in scintillating conversation.”
Lady Isabelle arched a brow. “And the error in logic was what?”
Gwen shrugged. “Two-fold. The first is that men are not interested in marrying their dogs.”
“Very true. And the second?”
It was embarrassing to confess, but Aunt Isabelle had always rewarded honest confessions. “I could not find any scintillating conversation topics to entice them.”
“Entirely their fault,” inserted Lord Satyr, which was kind of him. And then Aunt Isabelle delighted her by reinforcing the sentiment.
“On that we agree. Now come along, Gwendolyn. I should like to hear everything about what is happening at home. It has been too long since I visited your mother.”
Gwen smiled and was about to fall into step with her aunt, except that Lord Satyr was abruptly between them, offering an arm to both women. “Pray allow me to show you the sights. I can think of nothing more delightful than to wander about the grounds with two beautiful ladies upon my arm. Indeed, one might say it’s distinctly Satyr-like.”
“As long as you do not expect me to dance about you like a nymph,” Gwen said, “I should enjoy your company.” It was her way of saying that she did not harbor any ill will toward him for trying to stop her from meeting with the bankers tomorrow. Aunt Isabelle, however, was not so kindly inclined.