“Wonderful.” The old man slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. I remember back in the day when the brewery was running. Made a damned good ale. Perhaps your relative left the recipe somewhere.”
“I will have to look.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. Plenty of young ladies eager to meet a fine buck like yourself. I’ve heard that your war injury has only increased your appeal to the ladies.” Lord Rathborne winked. “At least that is what my wife tells me.”
His host’s words did little to settle the wave of nausea that threatened to erupt. Good lord, he felt like a lamb being sent to slaughter. All the mamas were sharpening their knives, getting ready to sink their teeth into him. With nowhere in mind, Heath wandered over to the far side of the ballroom.
“You look horrified.” Jasper Dawkins came up from behind, nearly making Heath jump out of his skin. He had to calm down.
“I must confess I’m a little out of my element.” Heath sipped his champagne. Even after attending a handful of small dinner parties, one shooting party, and a few afternoon card games, Heath still felt like an outsider.
“Don’t worry. Alice and I will protect you.” Jasper led his friend toward the outskirts of the crowd.
Heath had met Jasper’s wife, Alice, a week after his arrival. The lady was as friendly as her husband, and Heath could see they adored one another. She had even saved Heath a time or two when some enthusiastic single ladies had tried to corner him.
"Protect Heath from what?" Alice came up beside her husband.
"We must protect him from the vultures that will no doubt be circling soon." Jasper chuckled.
“At least I don’t have to worry about dancing with this lame leg.” For once, his injury was a godsend. Heath would not have to make the endless rounds with various dance partners. Instead, he could blissfully watch from the sides.
Alice looped her arm through Heath’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll only allow a select few women to get close enough. They will have to pass by me first.”
Heath smiled at Alice’s fierce protection of him. A pang of sadness hit him. His sister, Victoria, would have loved to come to such a party. She had always stood by him, calming him when he got nervous around others, just like Alice was doing now.
The trio stood off to the side, chatting amiably, when a group of businessmen approached them. Alice politely excused herself, feigning boredom at the prospect of listening to the men drone on.
Jasper made the introductions. Even though Heath had been in residence for over a month, there was always someone new to meet. Being near Dover, the nearest English city to France, there were new merchants or guests arriving on a weekly basis.
“Sir Heath Foster, may I introduce Monsieur Duvall,” Jasper said. “He’s a favorite of the ladies since he works for a Parisian fabric maker.”
“How do you do?” Heath extended his hand.
“It is a pleasure, sir,” Duvall returned the greeting.
“What type of cloth does your company trade?”
“We make French silk and lace primarily, but also other high-end fabric for clothing, undergarments, gloves, material for hats. I oversee the shipments that arrive, and work with our clients here, including in London.”
“You must be quite busy.”
“Yes. I travel a lot, including back and forth from France. I was in the area when I received the invitation from his lordship. We are business associates since my company uses his ships.”
“Fascinating. I must admit, I am still learning about the business world. I grew up on a farm until I enlisted in Her Majesty’s Navy and now here.”
The Frenchman smiled. “Ah, yes. I heard that you recently inherited your title.”
“Word travels fast.”
“It is the country, sir. There is nothing speedier than gossip.”
They shared a laugh. The group fell into a discussion about shipping, politics, and an array of other topics. Heath mostly listened, giving a comment only when asked. During the conversation, he had consumed a second glass of champagne, but his liquid courage was fading. He dared not drink another glass, for fear he might get drunk. The last thing he needed was to stumble with his cane and be a laughingstock. Perhaps it would be best to retire early. There would be dancing into the night, and seeing how he could not partake, he thought it was an opportune time to leave.
Heath excused himself from the group. When he turned around, he was amazed at how many more guests had arrived. The men he had spoken to had been off in a quiet corner, but now the buzz of voices threatened to overtake him.Calm yourself.Heath tried to even out his breathing. It would be most unbecoming to pass out. Once the pounding in his chest and head quieted, he gripped his cane, determined to make a hasty retreat. Heath took one step when a young lady with golden curls came up to him.
“Good evening, Sir Heath.” She curtsied.
He was speechless for a second.