Too Many Matchmakers

by Allison Lane

  “I should call you out for that,” growled Nicholas through the red mist that had engulfed him at the image of Diana alone in a strange land.

  “Be my guest.”

  He opened his mouth to comply, but reason intruded. He was not Diana’s guardian. She was no longer an ignorant seventeen-year-old. “Why are you wedding her if you refuse to make use of her dowry and are leaving the country immediately?”

  “My reasons are my own concern, my lord,” repeated Langley implacably. “As is my marriage. Do you wish to play out this hand or not?”

  He nodded, unwilling to insult the man further by refusing a game of cards. He had been out of line with his prying – way out – and was fortunate he wasn’t facing a duel because of it.

  But Diana’s future should have been his concern, he admitted half an hour later as he walked back to Berkeley Square, his need for fresh air outweighing the threat of footpads.

  The last ten years again paraded through his head, but this time his perspective was different. He had gone to London after leaving Warwickshire and immediately plunged into indiscriminate raking. Liaisons were nothing new for him, though he had previously chosen his contacts with care. But no more. Every encounter was less satisfactory than the last, leading to such carelessness that he was lucky he had not picked up a French disease or left a string of bastards in his wake. His loss of control should have warned him how deeply his emotions were engaged. But it had not. His only thought had been to put Diana and his dishonorable conduct behind him.

  What a bloody idiot he had been.

  He had loved her.

  He still loved her. Why else had his heart raced the moment he had seen her again? Why else had he returned to raking that very night, fully two years after he had abandoned that life? He was still trying to forget her, still burying his need for her, still failing miserably at both tasks.

  His curses grew harsher and more inventive as he strode across the square. He had lost her through his own stupidity. What had he gained in ten years without her?

  A title that carried more responsibilities than he had ever wanted. A fortune that eased anxiety, but provided no happiness. A reputation that still raised eyebrows in some circles.

  The only thing of real value he had ever possessed had been Diana’s heart. But he had rejected it, hurling it at her feet, shattering it and her in the process. Her pride might try to silence that admission, but he would never forget the agony in her eyes when he had left her in that clearing.

  It was too late to rectify his errors. Blindness and stupidity had hidden the truth. Even if she were not betrothed to another, it was too late. He had hurt her too badly. She would never forgive him.

  Are you sure about that? demanded an insidiously tempting voice.

  Yes. He knew Diana better than anyone – including Langley. Her betrothal was insurmountable. She would never have accepted Langley if she did not love him. No one forced Diana down any path she did not want. It was a fact she had thrown in his face too often to ignore.

  And she would indeed follow Langley to China if he asked. Her loyalty was unmatched.

  He sighed. He deserved Sophia. For a man who had long traded on his understanding of human nature, he was remarkably obtuse. Not once had he applied his knowledge to himself. A lifetime of Sophia was an appropriate punishment.

  But does she deserve you? demanded his conscience.

  Hope stirred. The girl was young, self-centered, and had shown poor judgment. But she did not deserve the misery she would find with him. He would not abandon the activities he enjoyed. Reading, art, intellectual discussion, London society—

  He left out raking. He wasn’t enjoying it. Now that he understood its purpose, he had no need to continue. But whatever miseries he must endure for loving a woman he could not have, he would not inflict them on another.

  He could not jilt her, of course. That would leave her reputation in shreds. The only possible future she would then find would be marriage to someone like Griswold.

  But neither could he wed her. So they would enjoy the longest betrothal in history. There were advantages for them both. He would be free of matchmakers. Sophia could move onto her own estate – he would insist on it – until the wedding. Their betrothal would protect her from charges of impropriety, and living alone was all she’d wanted anyway.

  It would work. He could travel for a few years, postponing any marriage until later. A belated grand tour, as it were.

  He nodded. And it was a good time to take care of his mother. He had already sent notice to his steward that she was to remain at the Abbey. Before he left, he would move her to a property he owned in Cornwall. A loyal staff would see that she stayed there. Since his dower house was already occupied, no one would question the move. A minor bit of blackmail over the discontinuation of her allowance if she complained to any of her correspondents should remove any potential problems.

  Finally feeling in control of his life, he climbed the steps to his house.

  * * * *

  As dawn intruded through the draperies, Nicholas gave up on sleep. His euphoria had lasted less than an hour. He had accused Sophia of not considering the effect of her actions, but he was guilty of the same thing. Sooner or later a permanent betrothal would harm her. At the very least, her reputation would suffer when he returned to England and did not wed her. Could he take that chance?

  Calling for his horse, he headed for the park, turning the question over in his mind.

  He couldn’t. Even considering it demeaned his title. He lived in a rigid world. The marquessate afforded him power, acceptance, and preferential treatment. But the price was conformity to the rules that governed aristocratic life. Failure to comply could collapse the social order.

  In truth, he was insignificant. His estates did not truly belong to him, for the land was entailed to the title. He could neither sell it nor mortgage it. He was merely a caretaker for future generations, enjoying the benefits, but obligated to maintain productivity and improve conditions so that his heirs could do likewise. Ignoring established conventions threatened his heirs with chaos and the loss of prestige.

  So he must honor the vow he had already made to Sophia. They would fight many battles until they reached workable compromises, but even a lifetime of misery was better than tarnishing the title he was obligated to respect. It was yet another reason he wished he had never inherited the honor.

  A wave of heat shattered his thoughts as he spotted Diana cantering toward the Serpentine. At times like this, he did not feel like an insignificant pawn in the game of life. Pushing his own horse faster, he moved to intercept her.

  “Good morning, my lady.” He chose formality today, both to hide his own feelings and to acknowledge his respect.

  Diana pulled her horse back to a trot. She had been trying to clear her mind after another sleepless night. How long would it be before she was free of pain?

  Nicholas looked better than ever this morning, with his green riding jacket reflected in his eyes, making them appear darker than usual. Or perhaps it was the circles beneath them that deepened the color. He had probably not yet been to bed.

  Blushing furiously at her image of where he had spent the night, she contented herself with a bland, “My lord.”

  “I ran into Langley last night. He said that he would be leaving for China in a fortnight.”

  “Wonderful!” In her excitement, she forgot to be distant. “So it finally came through. That was the posting he was hoping for. He has no real interest in India – at least not as a home.”

  “You approve?” he asked coolly.

  “Of course.”

  “He says you will accompany him.”

  Only then did she remember that Nicholas still expected her to wed Charles. But she could hardly tell the truth – especially since she need only play out the charade for two more weeks. Chloe would never forgive her if a loose tongue forced Charles to leave without her.

  “That is the plan.”


  “I never thought you would enjoy living in such an outlandish place as China.”

  “Why should you?”

  He frowned. “Do you love him, then?”

  A direct question that he had skirted more than once. Why did he care? “That is not your concern, my lord,” she managed, though every instinct was screaming no. The only person she loved – or had ever loved – was Nicholas. At least as he meant the question. She had loved Harry in the same way she had loved her father. But again she could not reveal the truth without destroying Chloe’s happiness.

  Besides, Nicholas was betrothed to Lady Sophia. A chill swept her at the memory. Did he love the girl? She could not see how, for Sophia’s rigid disapproval of everything Nicholas enjoyed could not possibly appeal to him. But she had never really known much about him beyond gossip, she admitted. Their old relationship had been based on the physical. Reputations often twisted the truth. Most of the personal things she knew about him had come out since meeting again in London.

  “I heard you have scheduled your wedding for St. George’s the first week in July,” she said to change the subject.

  Nicholas frowned. Was this another way Bankleigh was trying to pressure him? It wouldn’t work. He might have to go through with this farce, but he would do it on his own terms. “Pure speculation. The gossips must have nothing to do. Haven’t there been any juicy scandals lately?”

  “Besides Lord and Lady Means’s escape from the Caribbean last week?”

  “Temporary visit,” he corrected her with a laugh. “They did not flee for their lives, and will go back this autumn.”

  “Small news, to be sure. So when is your wedding scheduled?”

  “It isn’t – and won’t be until the settlements are completed. Who is handling yours, by the way?”

  “I am. The contract is quite simple.”

  He glared at her. “What about jointures, children’s portions, pin money—”

  “I am quite capable of handling my own affairs, my lord,” she said coldly. “Harry trained me well.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but changed his mind. Only after several minutes of silence did he again speak. “I only want you to be happy, Diana.”

  “I am.”

  He stared until she continued.

  “I have been offered many choices since Bounty died. Some were good, some bad, some merely different. In every case I chose the path that was best for me. Others may disagree, but I am satisfied.”

  He nodded, sagging into the saddle. She was right. Her affairs were not his business. It did neither of them any good to keep pushing the point.

  “If you will excuse me, Nicholas, I must return home. There is much that needs my attention today.”

  “Of course.”

  He watched her leave. If she was sailing in a fortnight, she would have plenty to do to get ready.

  He wished he could believe that she wanted this change. If only he didn’t know her so well. Others would not have heard the false note that had threaded her vow.

  Or was his self-interest creating phantoms?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Charles lounged in the corner of Lady Riverton’s ballroom, keeping one eye on the entrance while he traded quips with a half dozen friends. Tonight their shallow posturing and inane humor annoyed him. Had he really been that vapid, that boringly trite, that pretentiously silly for six-and-twenty years?

  “Lady Sheridan is wearing yellow again,” observed Lord Barkenton, ennui dripping from every word. “Shocking what it does for her figure.”

  “To say nothing of that sallow complexion. If she reduced her consumption of sweetmeats, it would improve both,” said Bradshaw, twirling his quizzing glass.

  “At least she doesn’t look like a corpse,” quipped Lord Philip, nodding toward Lady Oglethorpe. Her face was gaunt and paler than even fashion required, her emerald silk gown adding a greenish cast tonight.

  Bradshaw chuckled.

  “Albright drove Miss Havershoal in the park again,” reported Barkenton. “He’ll be wed before the summer’s out.”

  “Not likely,” said Mr. Mason. “He’s ducked his mother’s machinations before.”

  “Ten pounds he’s caught this time,” insisted Barkenton.

  “Done.”

  “Is Shelford thinking of posting a new record now that Naseby bested his time to Brighton?”

  Charles stopped listening. He had spent most of the day with officials from the Company, discussing his new duties. It had prevented him from seeing Chloe. Now he waited for George. The man always escorted the Parkers to balls, then escaped the crowd and found a quiet place where he could sleep.

  It was time to take matters into his own hands. Diana had given up on the Parkers. Chloe had likewise failed to gain a hearing. Neither the Parkers nor the Weymouths were willing to back down. So his last chance to avoid eloping lay with George. Surely the man could not want a wife who shared none of his interests. Even a dullard like Eastbrook must recognize their differences by now.

  Ten minutes later his vigilance was rewarded. Eastbrook delivered the Parkers to the door and left. Chloe was immediately swept into a set, so Charles slipped out of the room.

  This time George headed for the library, which was nominally closed to the guests. Despite his rigid conventions and determined propriety, George was not loathe to break a few rules in his own interests – which might make this job easier.

  He had thought long about his best approach. Since his reputation was wild – at least in Eastbrook’s eyes – claiming a personal interest in Chloe would serve no purpose. But his betrothal to Diana might explain his meddling in Chloe’s affairs.

  “Eastbrook,” he said in greeting as he stepped into the library.

  “What are you doing in here?” demanded George. “The library is closed.”

  Charles said nothing, but let surprise show on his face.

  “Lord Riverton assured me that I would not be disturbed.” His voice was frosty.

  He should have known that George would never break convention, conceded Charles as he sank onto a chair. Of course the man would have obtained permission.

  But that was irrelevant. “I wished to speak privately with you,” he admitted. “You are aware, of course, that Lady Bounty is a close friend of Miss Parker.”

  “A friendship I have never approved,” he countered icily. “It will end the moment we wed. Her bizarre ideas corrupt innocent ears and could destroy the very fabric of society if they were allowed to stand.”

  “You are speaking of the lady who will be my wife.” He glared daggers until George dropped his eyes.

  “My apologies.”

  “Lady Bounty cares deeply for Miss Parker,” he continued. “The girl has run tame in her home for years. They are closer than sisters. Lady Bounty has been trying to soothe Miss Parker’s fears, but in truth the girl is quite unsuited for the life you can offer her.”

  “I have long suspected that she had filled Chloe’s head with nonsense,” George muttered darkly. “Which is why I must sever the connection. Once Chloe is removed from her influence, she will be content enough.”

  Charles fought down his fury. Sanctimonious bastard! But losing his temper would serve no purpose. “I beg to differ,” he managed calmly. “I will be blunt, Eastbrook. You know nothing about Miss Parker. Her parents know nothing, either, because they willfully ignore anything they do not wish to believe. Nor have they spent time with her beyond duty visits since she was a child. After ten years in the sole custody of a governess and one more at a strict school, they expect her to be exactly like Lady Parker. But they have never paid enough attention to see that she is nothing like her mother and never will be.”

  “What possible interest could this hold for you, Langley?” demanded George, angrier than Charles had ever seen him.

  “What interests my wife interests me,” he replied bluntly. “You are deliberately blinding yourself to what is before your eyes. Miss Parker is an adventurous young la
dy who craves excitement, revels in society, and longs to travel. Her education already surpasses that of nearly every lady of my acquaintance, and she thrives on expanding it. She can speak intelligently on any subject and hold her own in debates with both males and females. Is that the girl you would willingly choose for a wife?”

  George sputtered in protest, but Charles ignored him. “Ask yourself these questions before it is too late, Eastbrook. How will you cope with a wife who has endured her parents’ staid country life only because she had neighbors she could turn to for lively discussion? Are you willing to beat her hard enough and often enough to break her spirit? That is the only way you will ever get her to accept your life. You do not impress me as a man who enjoys being a tyrant, but that is the only role that will keep Miss Parker under control, because you can offer her nothing that she desires. And what kind of home will your children find with parents who hate each other?”

  George’s mouth moved, but not even sputters emerged now.

  “Arranged marriages rarely work, Eastbrook. England is littered with aristocratic couples who pretend tolerance in public but live separate lives in private. You need look no further than your own parents. Is that what you want for yourself?”

  George’s fist jerked, but his face had paled alarmingly.

  “Think about it,” suggested Charles as he rose to leave. “Her parents are among the few who made an arranged marriage work, so they believe she can, too. They are forcing her to accept you, despite that she has protested against it since she was old enough to understand what they were demanding. They ignored her opposition because they believe that she is incapable of rational thought. But I have met her often at Lady Bounty’s house. I recognize intelligence when I see it. Marriage will not change her character. Force might produce surface compliance, but do you really want a wife who despises even the thought of you?”

  He left without another word. This was his last chance for an honorable marriage. Had he chosen the right approach? Eastbrook was dense. Anger would slow his thinking even further. He might not calm enough to think rationally for days, and by then it would be too late. Even immediate agreement might not be enough. Would he conclude that the Parkers’ force was dishonorable enough to excuse jilting Chloe?