Too Many Matchmakers

by Allison Lane

  “How would he know?” she asked lightly through a wave of anger. Two courtesans? Within twenty-four hours of his own betrothal? The man was sick – and she was lucky to be free of him.

  “Someone must have pointed them out.” Chloe stifled another giggle. “I doubt he ever met one.”

  “Didn’t Forester object?”

  Chloe shook her head, looking puzzled. “That’s odd. He and Lady Forester argued for most of the second act, but they seemed to reach some sort of accord. They refused to open the door during the second interval, and left together at the beginning of act three.”

  Diana nodded, realizing that it all made sense. “My maid claims that they sent round notes this morning canceling all their engagements. It seems they are leaving for Paris. They won’t be back for a year or more.”

  “Lucky.”

  “You’ll get your chance, Chloe. So how was the play?”

  “I don’t know. Between listening to George and watching the other boxes, I never saw it.”

  Charles arrived to find them laughing.

  * * * *

  Turning down the next aisle at Hatchard’s, Diana nearly ran into Nicholas. Speak of the devil. She had heard whispers about his theater antics at every stop this afternoon.

  “Congratulations on your betrothal,” she said, grateful that her voice remained composed even though the meeting had been unexpected.

  “Thank you.” His eyes glittered, but after his performance at the theater, she knew his excitement had nothing to do with his nuptials. He nodded toward her books. “Quite an eclectic assortment.”

  Her selections ranged from a collection of Coleridge’s literary critiques to Peacock’s latest novel, an exposé on the cruelties inflicted upon climbing boys, and one of Maria Edgeworth’s improving books.

  “I enjoy reading,” she said calmly. “And I like to challenge my mind.”

  “So you deliberately search out writing you can disagree with?”

  “I’m not above admitting that I am wrong if I find a compelling argument.” She added Hazlitt’s Characters from Shakespeare to her stack. “Have you set a date?”

  “Not yet. How about you?”

  “The fourteenth of October,” she quipped off the top of her head. “What books have you found today?”

  She glanced at his titles, a collection just as esoteric as her own. Poems by Keats, a novel by Scott, a treatise on crop rotation, and another on gas lighting. Her comment died when she noticed that he was staring at her bosom, which was resting atop her stack of books.

  “Shame on you,” she chided him. “Though I suppose one cannot expect a libertine to change.”

  She tried to escape down the next aisle, but he followed. He was again radiating that blatant masculinity that played havoc with her senses and sent tingles along every nerve.

  “Are you running away from me?” he demanded, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Why would I?” she countered. “I was trying to finish my shopping before my arms get tired. Books are heavy.”

  “Oh.” He sounded oddly disappointed. “Let me carry those.” Before she could object, he had scooped her books into his own arms. His hand brushed her breast in passing.

  “There is no need,” she protested, clamping down on the wave of heat started by that inadvertent touch. At least she hoped it was inadvertent.

  He sighed. “There is if I wish to speak to you.”

  “Why should you? We’ll just end up arguing again. And this place is too public.”

  “Then forgive me instead.”

  “We’ve had this discussion—”

  He freed a hand to cover her lips, stopping her words. Its heat burned, instantly drying her mouth.

  “No, we haven’t. I was out of line at Harrison Court. You know me well enough to have recognized my determination. Did my pressure drive you into accepting Langley?”

  “No one forced me into anything,” she declared hotly, letting her anger shield her reaction to his touch. “Your offer was unwanted, but I am capable of deflecting advances without hiding behind a protector. You would be better served by forgetting me and concentrating on your own affairs.”

  “I suppose you mean that fiasco at the theater last night.”

  “Actually, I didn’t. That fits your reputation so well that I hardly noticed.”

  He flinched. “I suppose I deserved that.”

  “You did. Exchanging your original questionable escort for a pair of courtesans the day after you betrothed yourself to yet another lady was cruel, insensitive, and totally selfish. No one believes your vows of distress. Certainly not me.”

  Anger flared in his eyes. And pain, though she barely registered that through her own. “Actually, I was attempting to reconcile a pair of idiots who were so full of pride that they couldn’t admit what stared them in the face.”

  “Really?” Perhaps that had been the result, but she doubted it had been his intent when he invited the lady to accompany him. All of London knew her reputation.

  “You don’t believe me.” His eyes caught hers and held them.

  She tried to close her mind to the jumble of emotions swirling in his head. Whatever his purpose in pressing her, it did no good. Friendship was impossible. Understanding would be worse, for it could only feed her pain.

  Wrenching her eyes away, she reached for her books. “My beliefs don’t matter, my lord. Good day. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  But he didn’t relinquish the volumes. “Is this all you need?”

  She nodded.

  “Then allow me to escort you to your carriage.”

  She could think of no argument against it, though her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by their exchange. And her need for distance would not be met any time soon.

  Already this meeting had raised new questions that demanded to be heard. Why was he parading his guilt before her? She had decided his original apology had been made to set up his seduction, but now she had to wonder. This one had no ulterior motive – at least no obvious one. Was he serious? If so, the guilt must be real, which conferred a heart on the man. And gave him a measure of maturity, reviving the admiration she had once felt.

  She bit her lip, struggling against tears as she fought to suppress the questions. The only way to function was to forget him and get on with her life. Surely he would retire to the country once he wed. As would she. With luck they could slip into a routine that would prevent them from visiting London at the same time. A few years of not seeing each other should suffice to bury the past.

  * * * *

  Nicholas suppressed the urge to bolt as Lady Hardesty made her determined way across Lady Lipton’s drawing room. He had nothing to fear from the woman now.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Woodvale,” she said once she reached his side. “How such a supposedly intelligent man could make such a hash of his life, I will never understand. Given your experience with women, how could you choose such an unsuitable wife? You have nothing in common and can only make each other miserable. Bounty would be disappointed.”

  “You will keep your opinions to yourself,” he said coldly, scowling at his persecutor. It was her pressure as much as anything that had pushed him toward marriage. Why couldn’t the tabbies mind their own business? And what was that comment about Bounty? Few people knew of any connection.

  “I won’t. You need to know more about the girl if you ever hope to get along with her. She is selfish, self-righteous, and determined. Did you hear about that incident in Hyde Park last month?”

  “What incident?”

  “I thought not. It happened before you returned to town. She all but attacked Miss Jennings, accusing her of immoral conduct, then cutting her dead.”

  “Your point?”

  “Her only complaint was that Miss Jennings had taken a turn about the terrace with Lord Jefferson Janssen during Lady Jersey’s ball. All very proper. I was out there myself.”

  “Surely there was more to it than that,�
�� he protested. Sophia was not stupid. And she couldn’t be jealous about Jeff. By her own admission, she’d turned him down twice.

  “That was all. Nor was it the first time she had taken it upon herself to criticize the behavior of newly presented girls – all of whom were quite proper even in the eyes of high-sticklers like Mrs. Drummond-Burrell.” That Almack’s patroness was usually the first to condemn any misbehavior.

  “Youthful exuberance,” he said in excuse. But he knew he would have to discuss it with her. Scenes like the one Lady Hardesty had just described would make her a social pariah.

  “Excessive priggishness,” she corrected him. “Lady Wharburton ceased inviting her two years ago, especially to her masquerades.”

  “Why? The only people she eschews are those of questionable morals, but Sophia is far too proper to fall into that group.”

  “She is far too outspoken to make a comfortable guest. You’d best take her in hand, Woodvale. She is fast becoming a harridan who will soon find herself ostracized.”

  Having delivered her warning, she withdrew.

  Nicholas left the rout soon after, unwilling to wait until Sophia arrived. He had much to think about before he spoke with her again. Lady Hardesty’s words had a ring of truth he could not ignore. His own observations should have drawn similar conclusions, but he had not bothered thinking about them.

  Sophia was not only self-righteous and filled with her own conceit, she was remarkably short-sighted, never considering the inevitable results of her actions. Her outspoken criticism of accepted standards was already affecting her position in society. As he had once pointed out to Diana, the ton did not allow anyone to rip away its facade of propriety.

  His mind veered to Diana. Even a passing thought of her raised his temperature. She had been actively avoiding him in the two days since they’d met at Hatchard’s, ducking out of rooms when he entered, leaving early if he seemed to be headed her way.

  She obviously didn’t trust him, which hurt. He only wanted to talk to her. He had abandoned his other schemes when she announced her betrothal, but conversation stimulated his mind. Especially with her.

  He sighed. He should never have tried to seduce her. Diana had always been different. He should have known that she would eschew illicit liaisons.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “That’s my limit for tonight,” announced Justin, rising from the whist table at White’s.

  “And me,” agreed Shelford. “Luck’s out.”

  Nicholas shrugged, straightening the pile of vowels in front of him. He had joined the game to occupy his mind, too blue-deviled to care if he won or lost. Lady Luck had responded by giving him the best hands of his life.

  “Want to try piquet?” asked Langley before Nicholas could rise. “Perhaps I can do better in a different game.”

  He shrugged. Langley was ahead on the evening, though not by much. Since he wasn’t ready for his own company, he opened a deck of piquet cards. Blue devils still crowded close, promising another sleepless night. Not even dalliance had been providing relief.

  Problems pressed heavily on his spirits, bringing new burdens every day. The week since his betrothal had been the longest of a life that was suddenly racing out of control.

  Bankleigh’s solicitor was making demands far above what he had expected, and he feared he would be stuck meeting some of them. He had lost leverage when the betrothal announcement had appeared. All he could do to regain ground was to drag the betrothal out for years if Bankleigh got too insistent.

  But even that plan was unlikely to succeed. Lady Bankleigh and his mother were already corresponding over wedding plans. Both expected an early marriage, preferably in St. George’s at the end of the Season. And his mother had already vowed to redecorate Woodvale Abbey for his bride. His protest that Sophia should have a voice in any changes had been a mistake. Today’s mail had announced that she would arrive next week to accompany Sophia to furniture warehouses and linen drapers.

  Even worse, both of them expected him to stay at the Abbey from now on. It didn’t take a genius to discern his mother’s devious manipulation. She had written to Sophia, agreeing that it was London’s sordid influence that had driven him to raking and wagering. It was exactly the support Sophia needed to press for a permanent return to the country. In the meantime his mother had offered to move into his town house, since he would no longer need it. Doing so would give him the privacy men desired during the important early months of marriage. Of course, she had no intention of ever vacating it again. With two such manipulative women on his hands, he could see years of strife ahead.

  Damn! Contrary to what he had told Eastbrook, he did not plan to keep a mistress after marriage. But neither would he eschew social and intellectual gatherings or renege on his Parliamentary duties. Both required frequent stays in London. And if he wasn’t to go crazy from abstinence, Sophia would have to accompany him.

  He cut the cards, shaking his head at his own stupidity. What had possessed him to offer for her? Surely he hadn’t been that drunk. Marrying her far surpassed his responsibilities as head of the family. He had not considered her temperament before proposing – just as he had never considered his mother’s before letting her move in with him. And he had regretted it every day since.

  Langley dealt the cards, suggesting lower stakes than was usual for White’s, but he accepted without comment.

  He had known that Sophia was both stubborn and particular – why else was Bankleigh reduced to forcing her into marriage? But he had not considered how that would affect him. After his talk with Lady Hardesty, he had tried to lay down a few rules. He could not afford a wife who was not accepted in society. Even his title couldn’t protect her from the subtle snubs of people like Lady Beatrice and Lady Debenham, who knew everything about everyone and thus wielded tremendous power.

  But Sophia was unwilling to compromise. Nor would she consider any opinion but her own. Her criticism already infuriated him.

  She hated London – which he had already known – but she expected him to hate it too. She despised socializing with anyone who did not conform to her standards, which she expected him to adopt. She was appalled to discover that he read novels, Byron's poetry, and a broad spectrum of newspapers, including the Whiggish Examiner. The prudishness that made her adopt euphemisms even for kissing signaled that she was disgusted by intimacy, he admitted grimly as Langley won what should have been his trick. Sophia would submit to his touch out of duty, but she would make sure that she never enjoyed it. How could he have been so stupid? Her idea of rubbing along together was that he should become her ideal mate.

  “My game,” he announced, winning the last trick.

  He should have expected it. He and Langley were alike in many ways. Sophia openly despised Langley, so why should she feel better about him? If he changed, he would hate himself. If he didn’t, she would hate him.

  His mind couldn’t cope with that conclusion, turning instead to Diana. Was that why she had chosen Langley? Because he was much like the man she had once loved? But she had also loved Bounty, who was unlike both of them. His lips nearly twisted into a snarl, but he suppressed it.

  Langley sighed. “Your luck is better than mine. One more game. But if I lose, I am done for the evening.”

  “Is this quarter’s allowance late?”

  “Canceled.” He grimaced, obviously annoyed at revealing that, but he followed it with a shrug. “It no longer matters. Everyone will know the truth soon anyway. I’ve accepted a position with the East India Company. I sail in a fortnight.”

  “Why would you do that when you are betrothed to an heiress?” The question was out before he had a chance to censor it. Such prying was hardly gentlemanly.

  But Langley did not seem to mind. “I refuse to live on her money.”

  Nicholas knew his face registered surprise, but he couldn’t control it.

  “I have always meant to support myself,” Langley stated, evoking new shock. “But my father refuses
to understand me, and my mother throws hysterics at the mere mention of trade.”

  “Which explains your secrecy.” He dealt.

  “Leaving before it becomes general knowledge should minimize the scandal.” Again he shrugged.

  And that was yet another similarity between them. Both had ignored parental pressure, determined to make their own way in the world. He had to admire the man even as his fingers longed to wring his neck.

  Sophia must have recognized Langley’s determination and known she could never deflect him from his course. But she believed she could control Nicholas. And who was to say she was wrong, he admitted grimly. He had exerted no control over any aspect of his life since his uncle’s death. Had she deliberately manipulated him into proposing, taking advantage of his inebriation to win herself a title?

  Later. This was not the place for deep thoughts. He recognized the subject’s closure, but could not resist one more question. “Will you wed before leaving?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of leaving my wife behind. She will love China.”

  “She actually told you that?” demanded Nicholas, slamming the cards onto the table. Diana loved reading about other lands, but she disliked travel – as she had confirmed only recently. All she had ever wanted was security and a husband she could love. Bounty had given her the first. Did she think Langley would provide the second?

  “We haven’t discussed the details. I only received the posting this afternoon, but I’ve no doubt that she’ll be pleased.”

  “If you think that, then you don’t know the lady at all! How dare you drag a gently bred female to a heathenish land where there is no society, no intelligent conversation, and where she doesn’t even speak the language?”

  “What business is it of yours, my lord?” demanded Langley in return. “Do you suggest that I leave her here without protection for at least a dozen years?”

  “I would be pleased to look after—”

  “I’m sure you would,” he interrupted, fury erupting in his eyes. “I am not naïve enough to leave a lamb under the watchful eye of a wolf.”