“Yes,” she said quietly. “The fortune.”
Mrs. Lymington nodded impressively. “Thirty thousand! A dowry any girl would be proud of, and we have laid thirty thousand for each of our girls.”
Theodosia could not help but be impressed. “That is a significant fortune.”
Fortune of thirty thousand pounds.
After a moment of introspection, she underlined the last three words. She had heard no ill of Miss Olivia Lymington, and thirty thousand pounds would be enough to tempt an earl or even a duke. After all, it worked for her twin sister.
“My question to you, Miss Ashbrooke,” said the matronly woman in a mock whisper, leaning toward her, “is simple. Is the earl still available?”
Something jarred in Theodosia’s heart, but she managed to reply airily. “Earl, Mrs. Lymington?”
“You know the one I mean,” she said, waving her hand. “The Earl of Lenskeyn. I know he is on your books, and so I ask you. Is he available?”
A smile crept over Theodosia’s face, but she forced herself to be serious. “I am afraid not.”
“Really? You do surprise me.”
It was no surprise that Mrs. Lymington wanted an earl for her daughter. Who would not?
“Well, I am afraid he is not. I have heard from the best possible source he will be married in two weeks,” Theodosia said as calmly as she could. The sooner they could announce their engagement, the better. The last thing she wanted was for her ladies to hope for her own intended.
“My goodness, I thought you were good, but I had no idea you were that good!” Mrs. Lymington had leaned back into the soft embrace of her sofa, now staring at Theodosia with an appraising air. “The Earl of Lenskeyn is notorious, as I am sure you well know, for bedding then running! You mean to tell me that he has already picked a lady—and more, that she has consented?”
A prickle of doubt, unwanted and immediately squashed, tore at Theodosia’s heart. It was not a piece of gossip she had heard, but then, there would always be tales about the rich and titled of society. Even if they were not true.
“Well, I can assure you, he will be married within a month,” she said aloud.
She was going to be happy. She had found her match, and no schemes from Mrs. Lymington, any of her daughters, or anyone else was going to take him from her.
Chapter Fourteen
Albemarle rose stiffly as his mother swept into the Bath Assembly Rooms, his legs stiff and his back sore.
That would teach him. A wry smile crept over his lips as he watched his mother berate a poor footman. He was not as young as he once was, and his wild dalliance with Teddy, though delicious, had pushed his back beyond his limit.
He would have to make sure she broke him in gently.
His body twitched at the very memory of her eyes when she realized this was their future.
“Stay with me. Love me.”
“And I hope you remember that!”
Albemarle sighed. Sometimes his mother was too much. She was a creature of the last century and had not adapted to the modern sensibilities of the Regent’s England. She had been born in 1746 when King George II was on the throne. It had been a different country, and in some ways, she still longed for a return to those days.
“Really,” the dowager muttered as she walked across the Assembly Rooms, weaving in and out of tables, “the layabouts they have for servants these days!”
Albemarle still stood by his chair. He had arrived on time and had been waiting for over twenty minutes for his mother.
The Dowager Countess of Lenskeyn had been the countess for too long to care about other people waiting for her. She was always late. It was part of being a countess.
He could remember, as though it had been yesterday—though in truth, it was almost thirty years ago—when she had taught him that valuable lesson.
“Remember, Albemarle,” she had said, her parasol blocking out the blinding summer sun. “If you are always late, then everyone recognizes you as the most important person there. You are the Baron Trewessyn, and you will be the Earl of Lenskeyn one day. You will always be the most important person in any room.”
He smiled and waved as she caught his eye. The Master of Ceremonies had approached her, offering her his arm.
Albemarle almost smiled as he watched heads turn to see her progress.
Always ready to make a scene. Why had she worn those damn feathers in her hat? She looked as though she was about to take a turn at a grand ball.
“I hope this is urgent,” she snapped at her son as she reached the table. “I had to cancel a bridge game with the Duchess of Axwick for this, and you know how delightful she is. Far more pleasant than you.”
“Hallo, Mother, ’tis good to see you.”
“Hmm,” was the only response he received, but she did allow him to place a kiss on her cheek as she sat down.
“I see you have gone to the trouble of ordering tea. Without me. You are an adult now, and I suppose I cannot teach you anything new, but I hope you realize how rude that is, Albemarle.”
He knew his mother far too well to be offended.
“Yes, I do. And yet, I remembered how you hate tea when it is scalding hot,” he said as he sat. “And so, I thought tea a little early might be the answer. This pot has been cooling these last ten minutes and should be ready to pour. Shall I, Mother?”
She glared for a moment, taking in his jovial expression.
Their table had been laid in the finest style of the Bath Assembly Rooms, one of the most prestigious locales in the whole town. Albemarle had been fortunate to secure a table at such short notice, and he had gone to great expense to ensure this conversation with his mother went well.
It had to go well. How could it go wrong?
She broke into a smile. “You know, ’tis times like this I see just what a good job I did raising you.” But her smile faded as she saw the additional chair at the table. “Really, what are these people thinking?” she muttered, clicking her fingers in the air.
Within an instant, a footman appeared by her side. “Your ladyship requires assistance?”
Albemarle was impressed. How had he managed to get so quickly across the room?
“This chair should be removed,” she said haughtily. “Or else any rapscallion might attempt to join us.”
“Of course, your ladyship,” bowed the footman.
Albemarle placed his hand on the back of the chair. “No. Thank you for your offer of assistance, much appreciated, but leave the chair.”
The man looked between the earl and his mother, unsure who had the greater authority, but there was no shifting the chair with Albemarle’s hand on it.
“Whatever you wish, your lordship—allow me to pour you some tea.”
The dowager stared at her son. “Keep the chair? Whatever for?”
Albemarle smiled. It was all coming together, his plan to make this day one of the most memorable of her life.
“Whatever for?” he replied with a smile. “Why, where else will my future bride sit when she is to be introduced to you?”
If his mother had not been incredibly well-bred, her mouth would have fallen open.
As it was, the footman finished pouring their tea and hovered uncomfortably. “Is—is there anything else I can—”
“Of course not, go away,” she said without even looking at the man. Her gaze had not left her son as she slowly smiled. “Well, well. Four weeks! That did not take nearly as long as I thought it would.”
Albemarle nodded. “I thought you would be pleased. After all your badgering, Mother, and I call it badgering for that is precisely what it was, I have acquiesced. I found the best girl, and I want you to meet her as soon as possible.”
“To think, Albemarle Howard, engaged to be married,” she said tartly. “I assume you have asked her, and she has agreed? I do not want some wild miss to arrive here under the impression that you are merely taking tea with her. She has expressly agreed to be your wife?”
&nb
sp; “I do not want to turn back. I want to marry you. I will be your wife.”
Albemarle nodded with a grin. “I had to propose…I think on three separate occasions. She kept saying no, for some strange reason.”
His mother snorted. “Now that I can believe. What was it that finally made her agree to marry you?”
What was it that had pushed Teddy over the edge? It was wicked of him to remember the delicious things he had done to her, especially in public, but it could not merely be pleasure that had changed her mind.
No, it was his dedication, he was sure of that. He had not merely accepted defeat and then wandered off to find another woman to court.
He had been determined to have her, and have her he did.
“My charming nature,” he said aloud.
It was fortunate his mother had finished sipping her tea, or else it could have been sprayed across the table.
“I am not a fool, Albemarle, and I will not be treated as one,” she said stiffly. “’Tis no matter, I suppose, how you forced her into it. And was it Miss Ashbrooke who found her?”
The mention of her name made his body tingle. She would not be Miss Ashbrooke much longer, and the anticipation of his mother’s reaction when she discovered that it was Teddy herself who would be the new Countess of Lenskeyn was enough to make him shiver.
“Yes,” he said carefully. “Yes, it was Miss Ashbrooke who found my bride.”
The dowager countess nodded appreciatively. “She is worth her weight in gold then—though I must admit, and I can tell you this now, Albemarle. Her services did cost quite a pretty penny.”
“I would not worry about that,” he said, trying not to smile.
“I knew it would be difficult to find someone for you,” she continued, utterly ignoring him as she examined the tray of sandwiches, which had just been brought to their table. Her fingers hovered over the cucumber sandwiches indecisively. “You are just so difficult, Albemarle. You get that from me. I know that, but I needed the services of a professional to find a woman who would put up with you.”
Picking up the cucumber sandwich, she raised her gaze to meet his. “She has done it then. Brava, I say. I will not be the last to thank her. I thought Miss Ashbrooke a little gruff, but she has managed to trick some poor chit into marrying you, so she cannot be foolish. Pretty, is she?”
The memory of sunlight pouring through a window and illuminating Teddy’s face seared through Albemarle’s mind. He thought of the way she laughed, how she raised her eyebrow when she thought he was being ridiculous…
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Very.”
The dowager countess sniffed. “Well, that is not everything, Albemarle, and it soon fades. I hope you will not count on it too much. Is she wealthy? Titled?”
“I…” Albemarle laughed as he opened his mouth automatically to respond but had no words.
He had no idea. They had never spoken about her family. For all he knew, Theodosia Ashbrooke had sprung out of the ground, fully formed!
It had just never seemed necessary to know. He was sure that really, as an earl, he should have requested a four-generational family history. But he did not care. She was a miss, and that was probably all he needed to know.
But wealth? Fortune? Dowry?
Money did not interest him. He had more than enough for the two of them, after all.
“You know, I have not the faintest idea,” he shrugged.
“Oh, really.” His mother sighed, rolling her eyes. “Trust you, Albemarle, not to pay attention to the important things! But it is no matter. Here is Miss Ashbrooke. She can tell me all about her.”
Albemarle rose to his feet as his heart swelled. There indeed was Teddy, speaking to one of the footmen near the door.
It had been…what, a day since he had last seen her? Perhaps less. Twenty-two hours, but each moment without her was a loss.
Now she was coming back to him, weaving her way through the tables, and it felt like coming home. Every step she took eased the weight in his chest.
Teddy Ashbrooke. Soon to be Teddy Howard, Countess of Lenskeyn.
He bowed low as she arrived at their table. As he rose, he saw a nervous smile on her face as she glanced at his mother.
“Have you…?” Teddy’s voice trailed away, evidently unsure whether to continue.
“Not yet,” he said bracingly. “Here, sit yourself down.”
Teddy allowed herself to be guided into her chair and glanced once again at his mother.
“Good to see you again, Miss Ashbrooke,” said his mother stiffly. “Ah, young man, we require another chair.”
She had accosted a footman as he passed by their table.
That excited flutter in his heart soared as Albemarle realized this was the perfect opportunity. It was now, the moment to reveal all to his mother. He could not wait.
“Mother, that will not be necessary.”
The footman escaped as the dowager stared at her son, utterly uncomprehending. “Do not be foolish, Albemarle, of course, it is—you cannot surely be expecting your future bride to stand!”
“I do not,” he said, a smile dancing across his lips.
“Albemarle,” said Teddy quietly, but he ignored her.
She could not see how wonderful, how hilarious it was going to be when his mother finally realized his future bride was already sitting right before her!
“If this is the way you are going to treat your future bride, Albemarle, I will have to start thinking of ways to encourage her to stay wedded to you,” his mother said tartly. “Miss Ashbrooke has worked hard to find you a bride—well done, by the way. I was a little unsure whether you would be able to manage it, to tell the truth. You can see what a difficult and disagreeable man he is.”
“Mother!”
“Well, you are,” she said sharply. “Still, you were recommended to be the best, Miss Ashbrooke, and you have worked a miracle.”
Teddy silently implored him to intervene.
“And when is this mysterious woman to arrive?” His mother gazed around the room as though hoping to spy her. “What time did you tell her, Albemarle?”
He swallowed, excitement pouring through his veins. This was it.
“It does not matter,” he said quietly. “She is already here.”
The dowager turned, confusion across her face. “Here?”
Without replying, Albemarle reached across the table and took Teddy’s hand in his. Her smile grew as he squeezed it, that reassuring pressure he could see she needed.
Then he looked at his mother, and all the color drained from his face. What had been a very funny joke—an interesting way to introduce the woman who had raised him to the woman who would raise the next generation of Lenskeyns—seemed to be going wrong.
His mother looked like she had been struck by lightning. Her face was devastatingly serious, a glare that could cut through metal.
Albemarle swallowed. It had all felt like a very clever jest when the idea had come to him. Tease his mother about his intended, have Teddy show up, and then surprise both with the announcement of their engagement.
It had only taken a few seconds to see that he had been wrong. Heart sinking, lead pouring into his heart, it was too late now.
“I forbid it.” His mother’s words were spoken quietly and firmly.
“I am of age,” Albemarle snapped, his temper rising to the surface almost immediately. He could feel Teddy’s hand attempt to pull away from his, but he kept a close hold. “Almost double the age of independence, I think you’ll find.”
He had done it now. He would be no gentleman if he could not face the consequences.
“You cannot forbid me to do anything,” he continued. “I love her. I love Theodosia, Mother, and I have proposed to her—several times, in fact. She was quite of your mind for a while. I am going to marry her.”
A medley of shock and disgust spread across his mother’s face, and shame filled his own heart.
He had gravely underestimated this;
he could see that now. But there was no turning back. He would not relinquish Teddy. He would fight for her with his dying breath.
“You may not have to listen to me because of your age,” his mother said quietly, fury under the surface of every word, “but perhaps your respect for me, as someone much older, much wiser, and as your mother, will make you listen to me. I forbid it, do you hear me? She is—she is in trade!”
“She is a gentlewoman,” Albemarle said firmly. “More—she will, by the end of two weeks, be a countess. My countess.”
“She has no title, no fortune, no family, no connections!” she spat. “You think I can accept her? You think anyone in the family will accept her? You think society will expect this—this chit to become one of the greatest women of the land?”
Teddy had pulled her hand from his as Albemarle snarled, “You embarrass yourself, Mother! You think anyone will care?”
“I am going to go,” came the calm words of Teddy.
His gaze shifted to her immediately. “No, Teddy. I want you to stay.”
His mother sniffed at the nickname. “What nonsense!”
“I apologize, Mother, if you do not like my choice of bride,” he growled, glaring. “If you recall, I had not wished to marry at all! It was you who put Theodosia Ashbrooke in my path and you who encouraged me to spend time with her to find a bride. Well, your wish is my command!”
“But—but not like this!” she spluttered.
They were attracting attention now. Heads were turning to see what all the fuss was about, and Teddy’s cheeks were starting to pink.
“I have the greatest of respect for you,” Albemarle said, lowering his voice. “Greater respect for you than I ever had for my father, you know that. But no amount of respect permits you to choose my bride. I have chosen her, and I have chosen well.”
“This—this hoyden?”
“I love her,” he said fiercely.
His mother threw up her hands in exasperation. “You cannot possibly! A matchmaker, the mother of the next Earl of Lenskeyn! A mere woman, no title, no honor, no fortune? I will not allow it.”
Always the Matchmaker (Never the Bride Book 8) Page 15
