Free Finding Bliss by B L Bierley Page B

their intended destinies with
little fuss or evidence that she was even involved. But it didn’t take much
time for her to be singled out as the missing link between the reluctant men
and matrimony.
    The St. Patrick’s Day Ball of 1811 proved the theory to even
the most doubtful. Bliss was standing near the refreshment table, sipping a
glass of sherry when Lord Attinger appeared beside her.
    “Lady Bliss, how delightful it is to see you,” the
middle-aged gentleman exclaimed the moment he realized who his neighbor was.
    “Good evening, my lord. How are you enjoying our fine
party?” Her eager smile caught him a little short.
    “Um, it’s quite splendid as always. I noticed you danced
with Captain Lorring’s son earlier. He is quite upset. What exactly did you
tell him that has him deep in his cups before nine-thirty?” Lord Attinger asked
with a wary look.
    “I only said he was lucky to have Lady Stilton’s affection. She’s
quite the catch this season, you know? Apparently he didn’t agree with my
pronouncement. But I suppose some people are reluctant to accept the path
they’re given. It’s unfortunate that he took umbrage with me. Lady Stilton is a
lovely woman with a decidedly firm family fortune. He could do much worse,”
Bliss added with a sigh.
    Lord Attinger choked on his port. When he finished
sputtering and coughing, he asked her bluntly, “Is he to be married? When? I
hadn’t heard any announcements?”
    “There haven’t been any. I merely pointed out that she was
quite fond of him, and he considered it a sentence of nuptial death. Honestly,
you gentlemen are a troublesome bunch, the lot of you,” Bliss chuckled.
    “The lot of … surely you don’t mean to imply that I have a
similar … No, no, please don’t say a word, my lady! I beg you!” Lord Attinger
began backing away in haste. He nearly crushed the foot of a man as he made his
retreat in earnest.
    Lem, the man of the endangered appendage, clucked his tongue
in polite teasing as the frightened lord hurried off in the direction of the
veranda. Bliss looked up, her face a mask of innocence.
    “What have you been up to, my lady? Scaring off the local
swains with premonitions of their intendeds again, are we? Tsk, tsk, that’s not
very sporting of you,” Lem said as he bowed over her hand. Bliss looked around
for Lettie.
    “Where is Mrs. Lemuel Murphy tonight? Feeling a mite peckish
these days? Well fear not, my friend. The happy day is well beyond your next
contract with the publisher so you’ll have the necessary funds to line the
nest!” Bliss said in happy triumph.
    “And now I expect you want me to ask you again if the new
member of my young family is a boy or a girl? Well, fie upon you! I wouldn’t
even if you begged me. I’m perfectly content with both of my little girls! I
couldn’t give a ripe fig whether it was a boy or not. I merely wanted to ask if
the child will be healthy,” Lem said with little sincerity to hide his
burgeoning curiosity.
    “Of course the baby will be in excellent health. But the
name will cause a bit of bother. A word of advice, choose the namesake
carefully this time, it could have a windfall effect if the godparent gets
proper respect.”
    Bliss didn’t budge an inch. The subject of children, gender
in particular, was a curiously satisfying secret to keep. Bliss was privileged
to know most outcomes nowadays with unfailing accuracy, but telling them would
take all her informed teasing away. And where was the fun in that?
    Lem and Lettie’s oldest daughter was christened Leticia Bliss,
in honor of his valued friendship with her. But she knew he harbored a burning
desire to have a son and heir to his growing fortune.
    Lem proved himself a worthy author of prose in the past
three years. The Bradshaw’s and Murphy’s both benefited from his good fortune
each time a new book received its due in the bookmaker’s stacks. And his witty
stories were among some of the most favored titles in