The Viscount's Husband

Two

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, "Yes. I've become quite accustomed to it, alas."

"Oh, I can tell," Clemensia gives him a look of understanding, "They are quite persistent. By the way, has anyone caught your interest lately?"

A short, sarcastic laugh leaves his lips, "Would I be talking to a married woman if I had?"

"Fair enough," Clemensia smiles, "It is quite nice to no longer be paraded around. I sympathize with your lot. My own mother was quite... dedicated to finding a husband for me."

"Ah, but you did not need her help, did you?" It's only a tiny bit of an insult, but Clemensia won't mind. It's how they'd always operated, on the thin line between friend and foe.

His friend's smile turns into a slight smirk as she replies, "Oh, hush. I caught my husband in a perfectly... acceptable manner."

"Caught indeed," Coriolanus says, taking two glasses of champagne from a tray a servant offers him and handing one to Clemensia.

She takes it graciously before returning the subject to him, " Is there really no one who you're interested in?"

Coriolanus takes a long sip of his champagne, thinking of an appropriate answer, landing on, "No one who ticks off all the boxes."

"Maybe you are too picky," Clemensia points out, hiding a smile behind her champagne flute.

Coriolanus doesn't fight the roll of his eyes this time, "I think I'm well within my right to be picky."

Clemensia laughs, the sound a bit irritating. Before she can respond with her own quip, the party's attention seems to shift toward the entrance, where an unfamiliar man, flanked by an older man and woman, stands.

He's tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair. His two older companions are similar in appearance, likely indicating close familial relations. The trio is dressed in perfectly fashionable, new clothing, all looking exceptional—possibly better than most of the regular participants of the current circle.

People continue to stare, including Coriolanus and his companion, as the family moves into the party.

"Who is he?" Coriolanus finds himself asking Clemensia, quite to his surprise.

Clemensia looks at her friend with interest, "What makes you think I know?"

Coriolanus looks at her, "Because you're a terrible gossip, Clemmie."

Clemensia glares momentarily before saying, "Livia told me he's a wealthy businessman, an American. His father, the older gentleman, is interested in an investment in England."

"How wealthy?" Coriolanus whispers back.

Clemensia's eyes dart to him, "Why do you care?"

"I'm simply interested in the possible new addition to society," he says, twirling the liquid in his glass in a manner that feigns disinterested.

"Livia was told... they are quite wealthy," Clemensia finally responds, "It is just a rumor, but she said someone mentioned their wealth... exceeding even the Ravinstills."

Coriolanus ponders over this new information, this new... potential suitor, and the bountiful funds he possesses. On the one hand, he was handsome and supposedly wealthy if Livia and the state of his splendid clothing were to be trusted. On the other hand, he was foreign to Coriolanus's world. What if he was ghastly and couldn't hold a proper conversation? Or had practically any other bad habit that could not be corrected at his age?

It was risky-- but the prospect of this wealth-- rivaling one of the wealthier families in the Ton, intrigued him greatly. Accounts like that could restore his family's name ten times over, pushing the Snows to the top once again. If these Americans were truly serious about making a place in this circle, they could use someone like him, a connection to title and prestige. Certainly, they wouldn't fit in as is, even if they dressed and acted like those in Society.

Really, they needed him.

"What are you thinking?" Clemensia asks, raising an eyebrow in interest.

"Simply that, it would be polite to greet the newcomers, wouldn't it? We are quite influential... they require friends, no?"

Clemensia pauses, looking at him hard as if she is trying to read his mind-- and his intentions.

"If you insist, Coryo," she waits for him to offer his arm before taking it and walking toward the misfit three.

Coriolanus spots the younger man looking in his direction, his dark eyes trained on the duo as they move gracefully toward him and his parents.

He can't help but feel a thrill run up his spine. Perhaps this would be easier than he anticipated.

Perhaps the Snows would be quite comfortable by the end of the season after all.