Too Many Matchmakers

by Allison Lane

  His prospects did not appear favorable – Lady Luck had been a fickle friend of late. Arranged marriages had a long history of acceptance, and George was very traditional.

  * * * *

  Nicholas watched Langley escort Diana off the dance floor. He waited until the man left, then eased closer.

  “Are you free for the next set?” he asked.

  She jumped. “I did not hear you approach, my lord. You must move like a cat.”

  Or her mind was too wrapped up in Langley, he thought grimly. But still he wanted to waltz with her. Already his hands tingled at the thought of touching her. He was in worse shape than he had thought. “Would you dance with me?”

  “I had meant to sit this one out, for I am still recovering from that last reel.” She smiled to remove the sting from the words, though he felt it anyway.

  “If you are overheated, then perhaps we could take a turn about the terrace.” He held out his arm. “I won’t assault you, Diana,” he added when she hesitated.

  “Very well.”

  The slight pressure of her fingers on his arm sent shivers clear to his shoulder. Why was he doing this? Proving that they could meet socially was a weak excuse at best. But he could no more avoid escorting her than he could cease breathing. The stark truth was that she would leave England in a fortnight. He wanted to amass as many memories as possible. He would need them in the coming years. So he set himself to be lightly entertaining.

  “Did you hear about Miss Uxbridge’s fall from grace?”

  Surprise filled her eyes, but her quick gasp exploded into laughter. “Rogue! I had forgotten that her mare’s name was Grace. She must have been mortified!”

  “Why? She only had an audience of forty or fifty high-sticklers when she—”

  “—made her Graceless landing.”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “At the height of the fashionable hour in Hyde Park. She should have remained in a carriage. She has never been a rider.”

  “But she has been casting sheep’s eyes at Shelford for at least a fortnight. Perhaps she thought to impress him with her skills.”

  “No Corinthian of any note would consider her skillful.”

  “True, but infatuation so often distorts one’s judgment.”

  As he well knew. He could barely restrain himself from dragging her into the shadows and plundering that sensuous mouth. It didn’t help that he could recall her taste as clearly as his own. Nor that tonight’s gown made her bosom appear more voluptuous than usual.

  “Have you seen the latest exhibit at the Royal Academy?” she asked, deflecting his thoughts. It had to be deliberate, for her eyes bore into his own. She was reading his mind again.

  He could only pray that she never saw past the lust to the love that lurked beneath. That knowledge would benefit neither of them. He tried to deflect awareness of the lilac that always enveloped her. Pulling himself together, he discussed the Royal Academy exhibit, comparing it with the one at the British Institution and agreeing that Turner’s private sales room often contained better paintings than those he exhibited elsewhere.

  From there they compared Richard Trevithick’s latest advances in locomotives to Stevenson’s newest engine design, and speculated on the impact they might eventually have on transportation; mentioned the recent news that Princess Charlotte was carrying an heir to the throne; and finally discussed the increase in subversive activities that had so many government officials fearful.

  Long before he was ready to stop, the set ended, and they had to return to the ballroom. As they turned back, a couple emerged from the folly at the back of the well-lit garden. Eastbrook and Miss Parker. Both were laughing. They indulged in a warm embrace before Miss Parker turned toward the house.

  Nicholas stiffened.

  “They are betrothed,” Diana reminded him, though her voice sounded odd – almost as if she were shocked.

  “True.” He said no more, but that embrace had been genuine. Thank God he had not let Sophia talk him into interfering. It would only have hurt both parties – and Sophia would still have lost. But perhaps she would now admit that she was following a false dream and turn her attention to making the best of their marriage.

  * * * *

  “Guess what!” Chloe had dragged Diana away from the ballroom the moment Nicholas had taken leave of her. Now they shared a tiny antechamber.

  “Did you decide George would make an acceptable husband after all?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Keep your voice down. These walls are thin. I saw you in the folly just now.” What had happened? Chloe was so excited that even her assumption had not annoyed her.

  “George took me walking during the last set. Your suggestions worked, Diana!” She must have spotted the frown, for she stopped long enough to explain. “Surely you remember telling me to show him my real interests, but do it a little at a time.”

  “That was nearly a month ago. I had despaired of him responding.”

  “So had I, to tell the truth. But he sought me out, escorting me outside during the last set. Then he asked me all sorts of questions – did I enjoy living in the country; why did I prefer London; what books had I read, and where had I gotten them? And he actually listened to my answers. He was not overly pleased when I confirmed that you have been teaching me, but in the end, he admitted that we did not suit. I assured him that I agreed. He is going to speak with my parents and his. With luck they will listen to him.”

  “That is good news, but do not be too optimistic. After making so much fuss about rescheduling the wedding so they could hold it in town, I cannot imagine your parents canceling this close to the new date. Even if the Weymouths agreed, such a breach of propriety would appall them. They will pass the whole thing off as wedding nerves.”

  “Surely not!”

  “I may be wrong, but do not count on it. Have you spoken with Charles tonight?”

  The gloom abandoned her eyes. “Only briefly. We’re going to China!”

  “I know. And the ship sails at dawn on the fifteenth, so even if your parents are adamant, you will be gone in good time.” The wedding had been scheduled for the fifteenth. By slipping out during the night, Chloe would be able to escape.

  “You have given up all hope of doing this in the open, haven’t you?”

  “Not yet, but time is pressing. We must be ready for any contingency – and that includes eloping. Can you leave the house without being detected?”

  “Yes, but how will I manage the luggage? I can hardly sail to China with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

  “I have been thinking of that ever since Charles told me the details of his appointment. The easiest way would be to solicit George’s help. Since he now agrees that marriage would not suit, he might be willing – once he exhausts all the other options. By then he will be desperate.”

  “I hinted that I had formed an attraction to another gentleman,” said Chloe slowly. “He was not pleased, but accepted it. I claimed to have ignored my feelings and refused to name the gentleman. But that gives him more incentive to be rid of me.”

  “Good. This is looking better. If he is willing to help – and I think he will be by the time we must ask him – then he can collect your trunks the day before the wedding. But instead of sending them ahead to his estate, he can deliver them to the ship. They will contain heavy woolens that you will not likely need in Canton, but I can see no help for that. And you should be able to get silks at an excellent price once you arrive. Is your maid trustworthy?”

  Chloe frowned. “No. She answers only to Mama, even when I wish otherwise. I wanted my hair in waves tonight, but Mama said curls, so here I am in curls.”

  “So we cannot trust her. Charles will find a maid who is willing to travel. In fact, my own maid’s cousin might be just the thing. I will speak with him about it.”

  She would also discuss Chloe’s wardrobe and insist on providing funds for several gowns to be made up on arrival. It would be her wedding gift.
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  They continued their planning until the end of the set. Chloe had already promised the next one, so she headed back to the ballroom, supposedly returning from the retiring room. But it would not do to look like they had been plotting together, so Diana paused at the window to admire the garden.

  Nicholas and Sophia were embracing in the shrubbery, less than ten feet away.

  Pain knifed her chest. Tearing her eyes from the sight, she fled. So he had not merely been after a fortune.

  Fool! she berated herself, whipping up fury to drive away pain. She had never wanted a man she couldn’t trust, and Nicholas was certainly such a man. He had given no hint that he would remain faithful to a wife. The fact that she loved him wouldn’t change that.

  Yet a tiny voice had kept hoping that somehow they could be together, that he returned her love, that his courtship during that long-ago summer had been real.

  Idiot! Based on nothing more than wishful thinking and a love that should never have started and certainly shouldn’t be encouraged, she had planned to seek Sophia out and drop hints about Nicholas’s real nature. Someone as rigidly proper as Lady Sophia would hardly relish being tied to a seductive rake and profligate gamester. Nor would she enjoy spending every Season in town – and probably every autumn as well. Nicholas had passed much of the year in London until mourning forced him home, leaving only for summers in Brighton – with one regrettable exception – and occasional weeks in hunting boxes. The role of a country gentleman was anathema to him.

  But if he truly cared for Sophia – and if she returned his regard – then interference could only cause trouble. Love would lead to whatever compromises were necessary to accommodate their differing tastes. She ought to know. If he appeared at her elbow right now and offered her a permanent place in his life, she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

  She had to forget him. Two weeks. The words echoed in her mind. In two weeks Charles and Chloe would be gone. His elopement would tarnish Diana’s reputation enough that no one would be surprised when she left town. She would stay at home until she could meet Lord and Lady Woodvale without pain and without losing her composure. Maybe in another ten years.

  Swallowing a burst of nausea, she found her next partner and pleaded a headache. But returning home accomplished nothing. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Nicholas pulling Sophia into a tender embrace.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nicholas paced the library of his town house. Anger had replaced the blue-devils that had plagued him for the past month. He felt like he had just emerged from a heavy fog. The scenery was shocking, and the future looked grim, but it was time to dig in his heels and address both.

  Within moments of returning Diana to the ballroom last night, Sophia had dragged him into the garden. She had also seen Miss Parker and George emerge from the folly.

  “How can he care for a bluestocking hoyden?” she had sobbed. “He’ll be miserable. She’ll force him to town and embarrass him with her antics.”

  “Maybe he wants a little excitement in his life,” he said, refusing to offer any comfort. “Miss Parker is beautiful and eminently beddable—”

  “How dare you!” she gasped.

  “Because it’s true.” He pulled her behind some shrubbery to avoid drawing the attention of the other guests. “Love matches frequently involve people who appear very different on the surface. Few people bare their souls to the world. Frankly, I doubt you know anything about Eastbrook beyond his facade. A man who endorses propriety would never reveal his core to a girl not his betrothed.”

  “You’re wrong!”

  “Forget it, Sophia. He was never yours and never will be. Accept it and move on.”

  But her ensuing tirade betrayed her. Far from moving on, she had cultivated her desire into an obsession. Nicholas must use his title and position to build her into a powerful social figure and arbiter of conduct – preferably as an Almack’s patroness. She would make George pay for ignoring her. She would miss no opportunity to show Miss Parker up for the frivolous hoyden she was. George would regret his choice every day of his life.

  Her rant finally collapsed into tears. Being Sophia, it had not taken her long to control her emotions, though she had let him draw her face against his shoulder to muffle the sobs.

  “Feel better?” he asked as the music stopped in the ballroom. He patted her back, then put her aside. “The set is over. You cannot remain out here without drawing notice.”

  She nodded. “You will help me, won’t you?”

  “Of course not. I will not be a party to such adolescent foolishness. He clearly cares for Miss Parker. Even if she disappeared, he would find another girl who filled the same needs. Nothing you do will affect him, and I refuse to help you make an utter cake of yourself.”

  “Why you selfish, sanctimonious—”

  “Watch it, Sophia.” He was already leading her across the terrace. “Do you wish to treat society to a tantrum?”

  She had immediately quieted, schooling her face into an acceptable mask as they had entered the ballroom. But he had felt the rage quivering in the hand gripping his arm. Their next meeting would not be congenial.

  Now he paused in his pacing to stare out his library window.

  It would be a bigger confrontation than she thought. Selfish. It was long past time he considered his own desires. Yes, he had responsibilities to his title, to his dependents, to the future. And yes, he was only a caretaker for most of what he had inherited. But he was also a man, with needs and interests of his own. Hopefully, he could meld all his duties into a tolerable life. If not, his own needs came first. If that made him selfish, then so be it.

  Wedding Sophia was clearly a mistake. Only a burst of insanity would have suggested it. She was a harridan who would grow worse with age. He did not want to spend his days with a demanding, disapproving woman who was in love with another man. Nor did he wish to pass his nights with a dedicated martyr.

  Yet he could not jilt her. He sighed. No gentleman could do so and hold his head up in public. He still couldn’t explain why he had thought that marriage to Sophia would work. He had not known her well, but everything he did know ran counter to his image of a good wife.

  Idiot!

  They would both have to make some serious compromises. And they would have to start now. Neither could afford to walk into this arrangement blind. For himself, compromise meant giving up his belief in marital fidelity. If Sophia wanted children, he would father them, but he could not spend his life tied solely to a martyr.

  Sophia would have to give up trying to reform him. Not only must she accept his interests, but she must cease embarrassing him in public. Which meant that she must abandon criticizing accepted practices. And not just in London. If she wanted his name, she could not turn herself into a laughingstock.

  Would they live together? It was too soon to say, but he was determined to avoid the nagging that his mother had inflicted on his father. At least Diana would be out of the country, so he could pursue his usual activities without fear of running into her. Constant reminders of what he had lost would destroy him.

  * * * *

  Charles sauntered through Green Park, deep in thought. He avoided the more popular paths, for he did not want to speak with people. Too many doubts assailed him.

  The image of a laughing Chloe embracing George remained engraved on his soul, having already robbed him of a night’s sleep. He knew that she was pretending to get along with her betrothed, but he did not believe that she was capable of such superb acting. That embrace had been genuine.

  Myriad questions pounded in his head, none with answers. By the time he’d returned to the ballroom, Diana had unaccountably disappeared. He had already danced his set with Chloe, so he couldn’t ask her to explain it. Approaching her a second time would raise suspicions he could ill afford this close to leaving.

  George had departed, and not to the library. His fears built. Had his confrontation failed? Had his own feelings shown throug
h the facade of a concerned third party? Perhaps he had pushed George into staking a firmer claim.

  He shuddered.

  Did Chloe care for George? Had her protestations of love and her willingness to engage in a surreptitious courtship been a ploy to make George jealous? If George approached her with anything like passion, would she respond? She had long been troubled about the prospect of alienating her family and causing trouble with the Company. Maybe her fears had pushed her into accepting the life her parents decreed. But if she was that fickle, could she survive the hardships of months at sea and years in a foreign country? Could she anyway?

  The doubts ate into his heart, leaving gaping wounds. What had George done to bring such a carefree laugh to her face?

  Yet he loved her. Ever the fool, he still loved her.

  Sophia burst from the shrubbery and all but threw herself into his arms.

  “Thank heavens you are here, Charles,” she gasped. “I need help.”

  His hands automatically clasped her shoulders to keep her from falling from the impact. “What is wrong?”

  “My maid. A dog tripped her. She can’t walk, and I fear her ankle may be broken. There was a loud crack when she went down.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “Relax, Sophia.” He patted her back. “Where is she?”

  “Just down the path.”

  He had not noted the narrow walk that joined his just beyond a large shrub. It took only a moment to reach the maid. The girl was in great pain. Already the ankle was swollen to more than twice its usual size.

  “Dr. McClarren lives quite close. Or would you rather I carried her to your house?”

  Sophia appeared undecided. “Dr. McClarren,” she said at last. “We have never used him, but I have heard good reports of his skill.”

  He nodded. Carefully lifting the maid into his arms, he led the way to the doctor’s house. A footman was dispatched to fetch Sophia’s parents, so he left her in the hands of the housekeeper and took his leave.