Miss Landon and Aubranael (Tales of Aylfenhame Book 1) by Charlotte E. English Page A

social mores would soon tarnish his glowing reputation.
    In short, he could only rely on his wealth and beauty to carry him so far. He must rely on good behaviour for the rest.
    But as Sophy could not be got at through her father, and as she had no mother, no siblings and no friends to whom he could have any access either, his respectability and his good behaviour did him little good. He still could not see her. What was the use of his handsome face if he could not approach the one woman he had hoped to impress? The charm of his newfound popularity soon wore thin after that; he cared little for the good opinion of the neighbourhood if it could not afford him any access to Miss Landon.
    His spirits sank lower and lower under this enforced separation, and his patience wore thin. The marks of special favour that had so delighted him several days before began to irritate him instead; he realised that even he had been temporarily beguiled into thinking himself of consequence, and that made him a fool.
    ‘This is not what I had in mind, Grunewald,’ he said on the morning of his eighth day in Tilby. He had been pacing the drawing-room carpet for some time, having failed to find any occupation to interest him much within the confines of Hyde Place.
    ‘I daresay it isn’t,’ replied Grunewald cheerfully, ‘but it is rather excellent in its own way, is it not? You cannot tell me you are not enjoying yourself.’
    ‘I was , for a time. But it is all so absurd.’
    Grunewald raised his elegant brows at him from across the room, where he was seated in an armchair. ‘What is? Oh, you mean society! Yes, of course it is. But it is absurd in an entertaining way, and therefore I shall not hold its inherent ridiculousness against it. Do you not appreciate being universally adored?’

    ‘For no particularly good reason,’ Aubranael retorted. ‘If they knew what lies under this borrowed face, they would reject me again soon enough.’
    Grunewald pondered this. ‘No,’ he said at length. ‘Probably not, entirely. You are still wealthy enough (at least by report) to merit an invitation to any drawing-room in the town.’
    ‘Ah yes; money. Perhaps that is where my mistake lies. Instead of securing a new face, I should have bent all my efforts towards the noble goal of acquiring more things. ’
    Grunewald chuckled. ‘How very cynical you are today.’
    ‘It is a cynicism born of years of hard experience.’
    Grunewald rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘You are perfectly right, of course, but since neither of us can do anything about it, I suggest you try to enjoy yourself.’
    ‘I cannot. The time for that is past. I care only to see Miss Landon.’
    ‘I am unable to assist you there.’
    Aubranael kicked vaguely at a log in the fireplace, too sunk in gloom to reply. Was this how he was to live out his month in England? Fawned over for the things he did not really possess, by people he did not care about? And all the while kept at a distance from Miss Landon?
    ‘How do people usually go about these things?’ he asked abruptly.
    ‘I am not sure what “things” you are referring to.’
    ‘Courtship. How in the blazes does anyone ever get married, if they are never permitted to meet with unmarried women?’
    ‘Of course they are allowed,’ Grunewald said in a tone of mild irritation. ‘I have already told you: once properly introduced , and always supposing they are not entirely alone, then conversation is perfectly allowable.’
    ‘Yes, yes, but how do they become introduced? Miss Landon cannot be the first young lady with no useful connections in that respect.’
    Grunewald did not answer. Aubranael began to suspect him of ignoring the subject altogether, when suddenly he spoke.
    ‘Balls!’ he announced.
    Aubranael blinked at him. ‘Balls…?’
    ‘Balls, parties and assemblies! Social events, you know. Gatherings. There is always someone to whom the duty of general introductions falls. In some