No Gold or Belle this time, but enjoy some beta couple action that will become far more important later on in the story.

Gaston was rapidly becoming more sympathetic towards deer he'd chased on hunts. He'd been spared the worst of London's social season by being engaged, but now here he was in the middle of a New York ballroom while debutantes swanned across the dance floor in more shades of white and pastel than he'd ever seen in his life. He was going to have to dance with someone - ideally, he was going to have to marry someone. He hated dancing, and he'd never been good at talking to women. This was bound to be an absolute disaster. It wasn't the first time he'd been homesick for the country estate on this trip, but it was the first time he'd ever been abroad and the feeling seemed so much more acute now.

He scanned the room again (being among the tallest men in the room having more than one benefit), resisting the urge to make a run for it. As the heir to a title (even one that wasn't particularly prestigious at home) he was a frequent point of interest. Everyone knew why he'd come, and he knew precisely what they wanted from him. It was all so damn mercenary.

At least the punch was decent. And the American girls were very friendly, if a bit more forward than he was used to. He'd heard as much from friends who had been to both countries, but hadn't been prepared for the truth of it. In England, young ladies of quality would scarcely look at you without a proper introduction. Their American cousins, however, would march right up to him and offer their names. It had taken some getting used to, but he rather thought he might like it.

The previous dance had come to an end and he waited for the music to start up again before he made his way out to the fresh air. It was far too hot inside, and he wanted to savor one last moment of freedom before he went back and did the right thing for the estate. He just couldn't quite face the future quite yet. His hosts had a beautiful garden visible from the patio, and he found himself staring at it for the longest time. He wished he were home. He wished there'd never been a need for any of this. He was supposed to be married by now, and with any luck would have been well on his way to an heir. Everything had been laid out ahead of him, until suddenly it hadn't been. Gaston hadn't ever felt as unmoored in his life as he did now, standing on the patio of a near-stranger in the dark.

"You had the same idea, huh?" he heard from his left.

He hadn't realized that anyone was nearby, though that was silly in hindsight. It was a busy party, of course he wouldn't be the only one who needed a quiet moment.

"Forgive me," he said, making a little half-bow to the woman in red who was standing nearby. "I hadn't heard you come out."

"I'm pretty stealthy," she said with a little quirk of her eyebrow, holding her hand out for him to kiss. "So you're the Earl everyone's so interested in meeting, then?"

He supposed the accent gave it away, though the idea of yet another debutante to make small talk with was exhausting.

"Heir to a viscount, actually," he replied. "And you are?"

"Miss Lucas," she said. "But you can call me Ruby."

"Gaston," he said almost on instinct. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ruby."

"Well," she said with a wry smile threatening to overwhelm her face. "My grandmother heard there was a young - what did you say? - heir to a viscount in town looking for a bride and seeing as I'm just about on the shelf she thought it would be a brilliant idea to insist we attend just on the off-chance I could catch his eye."

"Ah, of course," he replied, feeling sick of this conversation already and looking for an out. "And this is the part where I'm supposed to ask you to dance?"

"No," she said. "This is commiseration, not seduction. If I'd set my sights on you, you'd know by now."

Strangely, her vaguely affronted tone intrigued him. He'd spoken to more than a few other women tonight, and without fail every single one of them had flattered and giggled and tried to pretend like he was the man of their dreams. Ruby Lucas was friendly, but didn't seem to be trying to flatter him. She was almost definitely another one of the girls who was chasing a title, but this was a novel approach, at least, and he had to leave New York with someone.

"My apologies," he said at last. "So if you're not here to find a husband, what brought you?"

"It was easier to come than to argue about it," she replied. "My granny is dedicated to marrying me off before it's too late."

She said the last words with a little grin that had his heart in his throat for a second before he remembered this was essentially the prelude to a business arrangement.

"She hasn't quite come to terms with my decision not to marry," Ruby continued, and it was a struggle to keep the shock at her words off his face. Ruby was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, with silky black hair, grey eyes, and a brilliant smile. He'd always thought of spinsters as women who for whatever reason couldn't quite catch a husband, not as a woman as lovely as Ruby Lucas.

"I can imagine she hasn't," he said at last. "May I ask what put you off the male sex?"

"You may," she replied cheekily. "But that doesn't mean I'll answer. Like I said, I thought I'd offer commiseration and the last friendly face who isn't scheming over you that you're going to see this side of the Atlantic."

"Well," he said, finding himself absolutely intrigued by her in spite of himself. "In that case, would you like to share any advice as to who I should ask to dance next?"

She hummed a little bit, looking at him for a brief moment before turning her attention through the glass doors to the ballroom beyond.

"Margaret is nice," she said at last, gesturing towards a blonde girl who was talking animatedly with a brunette, both of whom were wearing the frilly white debutante gowns that seemed to be the order of the evening and making Ruby in her dark red stand out so much more for contrast. "So is her friend Jade there."

"Interesting," he replied. "Why are you so sure I'll favor a debutante?"

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, looking up at him with a faux innocence belied by her wolfish smile. "They're both lovely girls, and plenty wealthy besides. What else are you looking for?"

The question itself caught him off-guard. He'd never put much thought into what sort of wife he wanted. His wife was supposed to be Belle, and once that had been changed he'd known that he would have to choose someone with money. Any other qualities were secondary considerations at that point, but he suddenly felt truly sad that Ruby Lucas had sworn off marriage. Not that he wanted to marry her after a ten minute conversation, but he'd have liked to at least dance with he. If nothing else, she was warm and witty and he wanted to know more about her; he wanted to know if she had a good sense of humor and what her interests were and see if he could make her smile again. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to dance, when he realized it was a fool's errand. He needed a bride, she didn't want a husband. It would be a colossal waste of both their time. She could, however, be a vital asset to him while he tried to make a choice. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Nothing," he finally managed to answer her. "I'm not looking for anything else."

"So there you go," she said triumphantly. "Go inside, ask one of them to dance and then ask the other one. You won't know if you like any of those girls until you talk to them."

"Right," he replied, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the proceedings. "I'll just go do that, then."

"I'll leave you to it," she said as she took a step backwards and dropped into a shallow curtsey before turning to leave. "Have a good night, Mr. Heir-to-a-viscount."

"Goodnight," he said to her retreating form, unsure if she'd even heard him or not.

All things considered, that had not been a productive encounter.

Gaston made his way back inside, seeking out the two young ladies who he'd been directed towards and asked both to dance in turn. Ruby Lucas had been right, and they were both very charming young women, wealthy and sweet - though Margaret seemed a bit more interested in the music than in him. If he'd had any damn sense at all, he would have chosen one of the two, made a few calls and spoken to her father. Then he could have gotten this whole nightmare of wife hunting over with and returned home.

He had a duty to pick a wife, but something in him was refusing to just pick someone at random. The one thing Ruby had most certainly done with her good natured teasing was remind him that he had no idea what kind of woman he'd have chosen to marry if duty hadn't made the choice for him. When he returned to his room late that night with sore feet and weary eyes, he resisted the siren song of his bed. Instead, he got a pen and marked a new page in his journal. There were choices to be made, and he wouldn't be able to sleep until he got what was in his head onto a piece of paper.

It began as a simple list of qualities he'd look for in a wife - cheerful, good humor, even tempered, clever, witty, patient, industrious, kind. Rapidly, though, it turned into longer entries which became more specific to his own interests - likes to hunt, prefers to be outside than inside, enjoys children, doesn't need to be sheltered from the world. As he wrote, he realized something that hadn't occurred to him before, if he'd been able to choose a wife he probably wouldn't have chosen Belle. He loved Belle, truly he did. He'd grown to manhood as her protector and friend, but he wasn't sure he'd ever loved her as he was supposed to love a wife. It had been taken for granted that the two of them would grow to love each other, but their interests had never aligned. Aside from the last year when she'd been taken with garden walks, she'd always preferred to be inside reading while he chafed if he had to be indoors too long. He was at his happiest outside in the sun and the country. They'd shared very separate spheres of interest, and that hadn't bothered him, but if he was allowed to have a preference…

Those were dangerous thoughts indeed. He had to choose correctly, he reminded himself. Whether his wife liked riding as much as he did could not be a factor in his decision. He moved on to another portion of his list, physical attributes. Here again he couldn't help but compare a potential bride with Belle. She'd been so small, sometimes he wondered how he would ever kiss her once they were older and his back not as strong. A taller wife, perhaps, would suit. Unbidden, his thoughts returned to Ruby Lucas - she'd been about the right height to be easily kissable.

He let out a sigh of frustration at his continued focus on the girl. He knew nothing about her except that she apparently had no interest in him. It was hardly an auspicious start to his American adventure, but he was determined not to become disheartened. Tomorrow he could go for a stroll and see if some time outside might put his thoughts back into order. Anyway, there would be plenty of dinners to attend in the following weeks and plenty of other balls. Surely, there had to be one woman in all of New York who could hold his attention.