Free Winter Is Past by Ruth Axtell Morren

“Yes, we did. I think Mrs. Coates and Cook have things well under control. I believe all the replies have been received. There should be thirteen in attendance aside from yourself.”
    He was thankful he’d put her in charge; maybe it wouldn’t be a complete fiasco. Why was it, when he could wield power from his bench in the House, he felt absolute terror at the thought of hosting those same men and their wives in his home for an evening?
    Althea spoke again. “That is a good number for a dinner party, particularly if one hasn’t entertained in a while. It is better to start small.”
    â€œIs that a small number?” he asked, doubts assailing him.
    â€œNo, not all. It is a good number, as I said, neither too small nor too large a party, so that you will be able to give your attention to each one of your guests.” She added, “Mrs. Coates has drawn up the seating arrangements. She will be seeing you about one or two names that remain in question as to rank.” She hesitated. “There is only one problem, as I see it.”
    He looked inquiringly at her, wondering what else he must worry about.
    â€œThe gentlemen outnumber the women. We are lacking two females to make the numbers even.”
    â€œIs that an unforgivable social blunder? I confess to having more male acquaintances than female. It comes from working in Parliament and not having had much time up to now to mingle in society.”
    She nodded. “That is understandable. There is one other thing. You had expressed to Mrs. Coates the desire to have Lady Stanton-Lewis seated at your right. Since the Duke and Duchess of Belmont have sent their acceptance, I felt obliged to give them prominence. We placed Lord and Lady Stanton-Lewis just below them. Does that meet with your approval?”
    He waved a hand, his mind wearied with questions of social etiquette. It had been a momentary whim to ask to be seated beside Lady Eugenia. Now he couldn’t care less. “Do whatever you deem appropriate. You are the expert on these matters.” Realizing Althea was really doing him an enormous favor in undertaking this responsibility, he tried to show some interest in the topic. “Will I be in disgrace for the uneven numbers?”
    â€œOnly with the very proper hostesses.”
    He looked at her more closely, noting the humor in her eyes. He’d never shared a moment of humor with her. “Since I am probably not acquainted with them, I suppose I shall survive.”
    â€œAnd give many more dinner parties,” she quipped.
    He gave her a crooked smile, running a hand through his hair. “If my first proves not to be an unmitigated disaster.”
    â€œOh, I’m certain it shan’t be.”
    Her tone was oddly comforting. Simon stretched out his legs before the fire, thinking of his earlier meeting with the chief whip. “I don’t know,” he began. “If my standing with my colleagues is any indication, I’ll be lucky if anyone shows up.” After Simon’s speech on the Corn Laws, the chief whip had taken him aside and given him a thorough dressing down, with warnings that came down directly from Liverpool himself, he intimated. If Simon didn’t toe the party line, he might find himself back in the upper tier. He had succeeded in his party because of his gift for oratory, but if he used it against his own party, he could forget about a junior lordship.
    Simon sat in silence, gazing at the fire, contemplating this dilemma.
    As if reading his thoughts, Miss Breton’s soft voice penetrated his hearing at last. “How…how are things in the House?”
    He sighed deeply, giving her his attention once again. “Much debate and little real action. The Tories don’t want things to change.”
    â€œBut you…are you not a member of the Tory party yourself?”
    â€œOh, yes. The party in power,” he added with irony. “It doesn’t mean