Young Eligible Men

She placed her hands behind her and danced slowly away from Mr. Jones before returning, as did other dancing ladies. Mr. Jones smiled at her and she broadened hers in return, pushing her cheeks higher until they wouldn't lift anymore. They would hurt later, that was certain. He turned her and she again mirrored his dance, falling into steps with him. His hand stayed above the small of her back. At least he was a gentleman. He would make a good husband, she thought.

"I don't think I have had the opportunity to be in your presence before today. Is this your first time at Carlisle crest?" He initiated a conversation.

Gwen obliged his attempt, raising the pitch of her voice. "It is. It is my very first time. I take it you have been here many times yourself."

"I have. The Dowager Duchess invites us, my family and I, every time there is a ball. I dare say she is fond of us."

"I see." She nodded, thinking. 'Did not everyone get invited to Carlisle Crest?' She turned on the spot as did other dancing ladies, obeying the rule of the tune.

They held hands again. "You know, it is a great place. And although my mansion is not as great as this, it is still quite a beauty itself, if I do say so myself. And I do!" He laughed. Gwen giggled with farce. "My ancestral home, even better! You should visit it someday."

It was an invitation to meet after the ball. She nodded again. "I would very much love to." Perhaps, she might just be married as soon as she was eighteen. He smiled, bringing his hand lower on her back. She raised her eyes to his and noticed how much his glint had changed. He was no gentleman. She gave a snide chuckle. He missed it. "If a reason ever arises." When he agreed with a nod of his own, she scoffed and chucked condescendingly. He missed that too.

After a moment. "How big is your home?"

"It should…" She thought for a second. "I presume it to fit into one-third of this mansion."

"Your father is not at all successful then."

She was taken aback. What a conclusion! "My father is successful, I would have you know. He has simply fallen on hard times."

"I think not. I judge success on how great one's fortune is, and how well they can manage it to prevent 'falling on hard times' as you say."

What a view! She scoffed. "Of course you do."

"How many children do you want?" He suddenly asked.

Gwen was at a loss. "I do not know... yet."

"Perhaps ten or twelve." Gwen's eyes popped. "I want a big family. Don't women love big families?"

She quickly realized she would very much lose her mind being married to Mr. Jones. "Yes, we do. And twelve is a perfect number." She agreed with him only with the words of her mouth.

And then there was another to dance with her.

"No. I do not enjoy reading much." She replied her partner. "I prefer to play…"

"You do not read? What a shame!" He commented. Gwen's eyes bulged. "I am well read and in my opinion, someday, in a faraway future I pray, capitalism would be either our saviour or our doom, depending on how well we are prepared."

She nodded. "I agree, but families depend much on income as much as on inheritance to live so easily." He let her go and clapped twice, as did other men to the dance and they continued. "My sister loves to read too. She loves to study maps as well. You would quite enjoy a conversation or two with her." She almost stepped on his foot, missing it by a hairline.

"Is she the one with the red hair?"

"That is her." She agreed. Another distinct feature she did not share with them. Beth and Lucy inherited their hair colour from their Fitzgerald grandmother, whilst Lucy's hair was as stringy as Uncle Fitzwilliam, Beth's tried to remain calm, although it wasn't. Gwen thought of her hair; it was golden, a reminder that she was not a Fitzgerald.

He hummed. "She is not as beautiful"

The words pulled her from her soliloquy. "Begging your pardon."

"I believe women should be beautiful. It should be a crime to not be."

"I see." She did not, but there was nothing else to say. "And what should be expected of men?" She turned and let him hold her again.

"What else?" He continued. "The sense of acquiring wealth. Or be born into wealth, like me."

"Great for you to have luck." She smirked. "You are an interesting man, Lord Byron."

"I know. I amaze myself as well."

She couldn't manage anymore. As soon as the dance was over, she refused his request for another and quickly accepted the dance offer of Sir Princeton.

Again, the conversations took place.

"Are you and the Duke acquainted with each other?" She asked.

"I would not say so, but I have been invited to many balls hosted by him and his mother. He is hardly present you should know, but I very much enjoy the balls. The brandy room, the cigars, the wine and of course, discussions on politics, what's not to like?"

Her interest was piqued. "Discussions on politics?"

"Yes. How one Earldom could be of great help to the people in its locale. How to help the poor, needy and homeless, tax reduction; by and by, we discussed on many topics, but you would not be interested." He said.

Gwen kept her smile. Why would she not be? It was a righteous course, one worthy of attention. "Such discussions should reach the ear of the King. They would be quite helpful. For example, how to reduce the effect of taxes on the people and creation of reliefs for the homeless."

"That is a grand idea." Then, "I must say you are very beautiful.

He had dismissed her and her 'grand idea'. She forced the smile to remain in place and spoke through clenched teeth, her words dripping with sarcasm. "How kind of you."

"You are here with your family?"

He was asking for her family! Why was he asking about her family? Perhaps a proposal! Did he intend to propose after one dance? Did he want to make his intention known to her family? To her Uncle? "Yes, I am. Well, with my relatives. We are visiting. My Uncle is Fitzwilliam Gallagher." She added.

"I know him. The Lord of Rosethorn Hill. He raised quite a controversial topic two nights ago at White's. How could he think that women should be allowed their own opinions?" he chuckled. "His wife must be the head of his home." He chuckled again.

Gwen was taken aback. "I see no reason not to." Why should a woman be made to sit and not make decisions? And why would he conclude that Aunt Marrily ruled the house? He was wrong! Aunt Marrily might be a bit outspoken, and opinionated, but she respected Uncle Fitzwilliam a great deal and would never undermine his authority. She did not rule the house, Uncle Fitzwilliam did. "Women, as much as men, have opinions too. We should indeed be allowed to speak every once in a while."

"You would think for yourself? That is such a silly thing to say." He laughed.

Shocked as she was about his view, she laughed too, with false gay and fell in silence. He was not worthy of her conversations, or her hand in marriage, she decided. For herself. She could never survive a day with such a man, a lifetime was off the topic. It would be unbearable.

After minutes of silent steps and fake smiles, the dance ended, and again, Aunt Marrily manifested immediately, introducing her, Beth and Lucy to another group of men and another round of dancing. Each man was as boring as the last. False smiles and untrue agreement were her weapon against them all. How was she to find a husband amongst them if she couldn't survive long in their presence to allow another dance? How was she? She questioned herself.

Her dance partner laughed and she did the same, laughing with amazing enthusiasm, even though she had not heard what he said. Nothing he said interested her. He was as the others, wanting one thing or the other; great wealth, little or no knowledge and immerse beauty. She scoffed. They were unbelievable! She was a beauty, but she would not waste it on disappointing men. She wasn't vain, neither did she glory in her beauty – except when necessary. She had tried to learn the art, to use her beauty to whet the appetite of men, making them want her. If she was brave enough, she might have been a coquette, a debutante when she came of age. She was neither and being inexperienced in the ways of men was a stumbling block, but tonight, she was on the hunt.

She was out to catch an unsuspecting prey into marriage. A marriage with her.