Perfectly Mismatched With The Duke (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  I bet if I was a lady of the ton, they wouldn’t have done that. Alexandra pondered, Why must people act in such a ghastly fashion? So unbecoming, no matter your station. Another ten minutes passed, and she was beginning to feel as though the Duchess had changed her mind about meeting her. Perhaps she was busy with another caller?

  Etiquette called for the present caller to depart as soon as another presented themselves, especially one who was expected. But, of course, this did not apply to Alexandra, for to the Duchess she was little more than a servant. Still, it was rather rude to be left waiting in such a manner.

  * * *

  After a considerable amount of time had passed, Alexandra was roused by the sound of a door opening in the back of the house. She glanced around and saw a man exiting the room behind the dining room.

  He was tall, his blond hair kept out of his face by a considerable amount of pomade. She noted he had neatly trimmed side whiskers which framed his face in a rather pleasing fashion. He wore a lovely bottle-green, double breasted tailcoat with a matching patterned waistcoat. A large cravat, tied in a Romantic style knot, and cream-colored pantaloons completed his outfit.

  It was easy to see from his dress that he had to be the Duke. Alexandra was rather surprised to see him here. She’d assumed since the butler had gone to fetch the Duchess, rather than the Duke, who was the head of the household, that he was out.

  She did not quite know how to react. She would not normally be in such an awkward position. Normally, she would have already been formally introduced by the butler. Though since the butler was nowhere to be seen, and the Duchess had not made an appearance yet either, she was left in an odd predicament. Should she introduce herself? Certainly, that was not proper manners.

  The man stopped in the hall when he saw her. Clearly, he did not know how to proceed either. They stood and looked at each other for a long moment until he took a cautious step towards her. Alexandra wondered again why the butler had not informed the Duke of her arrival, as it would have been customary.

  “Good day, My Lady. May I inquire your name?” His voice was deep, yet soft. He had the kind of voice theater actors often had, the sort that captivates the audience and makes you pay attention while also soothing you.

  “I am Alexandra Evans, Your Grace.” She gave him a half curtsey, which he acknowledged with a nod, although she could not help but note the grimace he made when he discovered who she was.

  “Oh, the matchmaker?” He seemed decidedly displeased to see her.

  “That is correct, Your Grace. Forgive me, I was under the impression I would be meeting with you and your mother today, but it appears you are both otherwise occupied, for I have been kept waiting for nearly a half hour.”

  “I see. I was not aware you would be calling upon us. I was under the impression the Duchess and I would be visiting you at your office this evening. Alas, I assume my mother was simply attempting to keep me from finding occasion to postpone the meeting.”

  “Postpone? If this is an inopportune time for you, I am happy to return or meet another time.” Alexandra was beginning to feel rather perturbed. It was a costly journey to come to Mayfair from her office and if the Duke was indisposed, she’d rather have been told in advance.

  “It is not inopportune. My mother knows I am rather reluctant to proceed with this whole farce. I imagine she wanted to ensure that I did not happen upon any other engagements that would take precedence.”

  Alexandra felt a hot sensation in her belly upon his use of the phrase “farce.” While she herself did not believe in marriage, this was her business. and if this man thought he could waste her time he was sorely mistaken. The last time she had a client who was not entirely ready for a courtship, it had ended in disaster. She would not allow this to happen to her a second time.

  “I assure you, Your Grace, there should be no event more important than that of choosing one’s future wife. If that is indeed what you would like to accomplish.”

  “No event more important? Try telling that to my brethren in the House of Lords.”

  Alexandra rolled her eyes which amused the Duke.

  “In any case, it would have been rather rude to not keep your appointment with me simply because you wish to shirk your responsibilities of finding a wife. Perhaps if Your Grace is so opposed to marriage, then this matchmaking is a mistake.”

  Alexandra chided herself for allowing such a slip of her tongue, but the man was infuriating. Still, she did not want to waste her time if he was not willing to proceed. Despite knowing that she had better hold her tongue, the words kept flowing.

  “It would be rather shameful to raise the hopes of the young lady who, I believe, is an impeccable match. If His Grace is opposed to marriage in general, it would be best to abandon this quest and allow me to match the young lady with a suitor who is actually willing to make her his wife.”

  The Duke chuckled at her speech. “It appears you rather enjoy speaking your mind, don’t you, Miss Evans?”

  She shrugged. “Excuse me for being forward, but I have had experience with another gentleman of the nobility who engaged my services under false pretenses, and I do not intend to repeat the experience. Thus, I have vowed to only take on clients that are fully committed to the process of the courtship and eventual marriage.”

  “You are rather committed to your business.” He seemed to get an odd amount of pleasure from teasing her, which only infuriated her further.

  “As Duke of Gatterlen, I am sure you are familiar with the importance to being committed to one’s business.”

  “I am. I can respect your commitment. Perhaps you can also respect my reluctance to the process. Marriage has never been my goal in life. However, as you have stated so eloquently stated, it is my responsibility to wed and provide an heir. To that end, I am willing to proceed with your services, however I hope the young lady you have in mind is well aware that I am no romantic hero, and that this is a business decision only.”

  “As are most matches among your class.” Alexandra lowered her eyes. She thought of the young Lady Frances. It was rather a shame that she would not be able to provide the young Lady with the kind of husband her heart truly desired. It was clear to Alexandra that the Duke was everything the Earl of Cladborough wished for, yet none of what Lady Frances hoped for. Unfortunately for the Lady, her social circle and her father’s needs outweighed her wants by far.

  “Indeed, they are,” the Duke agreed. “As long as the young lady knows what awaits her, I have no trouble proceeding with this… arrangement.” Alexandra knew that Lady Frances would do her duty and proceed with the match to ensure her family’s needs were met. She sighed. Sometimes this business made her feel rather empty. While matches like the Marquess of Chatterley’s and Lady Isabella Brown’s made her heart happy, matches such as this cast an air of sadness on her heart.

  “Certainly, becoming the Duchess of Gatterlen and residing in a home as magnificent as Woodley House will ease the Lady’s burden,” Alexandra said. Before the Duke could reply, he was interrupted by footsteps coming down the grand staircase.

  The butler stopped short at the bottom step, a look of shock on his face.

  “Your Grace! I was not aware you were home, otherwise I would have alerted you to your visitor. The Duchess indicated to me that you had gone out to the club.”

  “It is quite alright, Lester. We all know the games my mother enjoys playing. Does she have a caller?”

  The butler nodded. “The Lady Havisham.”

  “Would you please inform the Duchess that the Lady Havisham can return at a later time? We have an appointment with young Miss Evans here, and we have already made her wait longer than is acceptable in polite society.”

  The butler departed in haste, leaving the Duke and Alexandra standing in the hall.

  Chapter 6

  This woman is deliciously infuriating. Such a fiery temper!

  Maxwell laughed to himself as he thought of their exchange. She certainly did not a
ppear to care that he was far above her in station. He liked that. Ever since inheriting the title, people had shown him the greatest amount of restraint. People spoke to him in a manner which was respectful to his position, but his position also kept them from saying what they really thought. Well, with the exception of his mother and Lord Hendley, who was not known to hold back his thoughts.

  It was refreshing to have someone speak their mind. The young woman had a fire in her eyes he was not accustomed to seeing among the ladies of the ton. It was considered ill-mannered to speak to a gentleman the way Miss Evans had spoken to him. Still, he had to admit, he was rather disappointed when Lester appeared and broke up their banter. Maxwell heard the butler ascend the stairs towards his mother’s drawing room.

  Moments later, he heard a door open and muffled voices.

  “So, who is the lady you intend to make my wife? The daughter of Cladborough?”

  Miss Evans shook her head. “Perhaps we can discuss the details with your mother, so I do not have to repeat myself. But yes, it is Lady Frances.”

  Maxwell nodded. “Yes, Lady Frances. That is her name. Perhaps you may...” He got no further, for Lester came down the stairs again, followed by Lady Havisham. The old woman was dressed in black, having mourned her departed husband in that manner for a number of years. Maxwell felt bad for having to force her to leave, for he knew the social calls she made to his mother were among the highlights of her day. Few other ladies allowed Lady Havisham to extend the usual half-hour allotted to morning calls the way his mother did. Some days, Lady Havisham would remain in his mother’s drawing room, attending to her needlework for in excess of an hour, only departing when another, more important caller was announced.

  “Lady Havisham,” Maxwell bowed to the woman who returned his gesture with a curtsey.

  “Your Grace.”

  “How is your daughter, the Lady…” Oh darn. He’d clear forgotten her name. How embarrassing. He desperately searched his head for the name but came up blank, when suddenly Miss Evans whispered, “Charlotte, Lady Charlotte.”

  “Lady Charlotte,” Maxwell said out loud.

  “She is well,” Lady Havisham replied. “She is in Scotland for a visit, leaving me by myself. A travesty. If not for your dear mother, I would not know what to do with my time.”

  Maxwell already regretted asking, though there was no way around it. It would have been considered rather impolite not to inquire after her daughter.

  “Yes, my mother is rather a wonderful woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Havisham. I must attend to important business with the Duchess.” The old woman put on her shawl and bonnet.

  “Ah yes, you are meeting with the matchmaker. I am glad you finally decided to seek a wife. No life is complete without a mate.” She stopped, tears in her eyes. “It is no life at all.” She rushed out of the house before Maxwell could utter words of condolences.

  * * *

  When the door had closed behind the woman, Maxwell and Miss Evans ascended the stairs to the Duchess’s drawing room.

  “The Lady Havisham is rather a curious creature,” Maxwell said. “Her husband has passed several years ago, yet she acts as though it happened yesterday. She still wears black every day.”

  “When one truly loves one’s mate, that response is rather natural. You would not know this, of course, given your opposition to marriage.”

  “And you would? I believe you are not wed yourself.” The young woman glared at him.

  “I do not need to be wed to know how love can devastate a person. I have seen it with my own eyes.”

  “And yet you wish to impose it upon me,” Maxwell said. He didn’t know why but he felt the need to provoke the young woman in order to maintain the conversation’s intensity.

  “I do not impose anything upon you. I would be perfectly happy walking away and finding another match for Lady Frances. The Duchess may feel differently about the matter.”

  “The Duchess may feel differently about what, Miss Evans?” His mother stepped out of her drawing room, looking perturbed. He knew she had not enjoyed having her visit with lady Havisham cut short, however, this whole farce with the matchmaker was all her doing.

  “Miss Evans was just lecturing me on the importance of my marrying and my responsibilities and duties to my class.” The Duchess pursed her lips and inspected the young woman.

  “As well she should. Her livelihood depends on it, after all. Now. Let us retire to my drawing room and discuss the matter of Lady Frances.”

  Maxwell motioned for the matchmaker to enter ahead of him, following his mother. As she moved past him, the light coming in through the grand French windows caught her hair, giving it a lovely golden glimmer. He was momentarily mesmerized by it and by her lovely shaped neck.

  When they had entered his mother’s drawing room, he noticed that a luncheon spread was still set out on the table by the window. His mother had been entertaining Lady Havisham over a lunchtime meal, it appeared. Again, he felt slightly guilty about forcing the poor dear to leave, but it was not right to invite the matchmaker over and the leave her waiting. True, she may only be a matchmaker and thus several steps below them on the social ladder, but that was no reason to be rude to her.

  He really disliked how his mother looked down upon people who were of a lesser station. He was aware of his position in society, especially since assuming the title, but he still tended to believe that the severe distinction between the classes was somewhat extreme. At the end of the day, humans were created by one God, and therefore equal. Not that he was in the habit of letting people know that those were his private thoughts.

  However, he felt sure that there were those within his circles who felt the same. You just never knew what kind of things life might throw at you. There were many examples where those of noble birth were left penniless. One only had to anger the Prince Regent, which might lead to being stripped of one’s title and lands. In the same vein, one perceived scandal could get you expelled from the ton.

  This was one of the reasons why he’d insisted upon supporting his friend, Lord Hendley, after it was revealed how little he had inherited from his father and how poorly off he was. He knew his friendship with the younger lord did not please some of his more conservative peers. He knew for a fact that it gave his mother heart palpitations whenever Hendley was around.

  She would’ve preferred if he had surrounded himself only by fellow dukes and marquesses, rather than a lowly viscount. But she was his mother and her opinion could not be changed. And he was not often in a position to oppose her. If he was, he would not be sitting here, opposite the matchmaker, listening to her gab about this woman she’d discovered for him. Maxwell only half listened.

  He knew the Earl of Cladborough well. He frequented White’s and was a member of the Tories, same as Maxwell. That was where their acquaintance ended. He had never met his daughter, Lady Frances.

  “The Lady Frances is a lovely young woman from a good family. Devoted to good manners and social etiquette. She’s beautiful but also talented. She can speak French, plays the pianoforte, and also writes poetry.”

  As does just about every other lady in the ton. Maxwell nodded but said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

  “She is also a keen conversationalist and…”

  “Alright. That’s enough. She is wonderful.” Maxwell could stay silent no longer. He’d heard quite enough of this ethereal mystical creature he was to wed.

  “Miss Evans, you may not realize but I am a keen parliamentarian and I attend each session of the House of Lords, unless there are extenuating circumstances. As such, I will need to depart in short order, for it is already quarter past the hour and we begin daily at 3:45 p.m.”

  “I was not aware Your Grace was in such a rush, otherwise I would have rearranged out meeting to a more convenient time. There is much yet to discuss.” Maxwell sighed dramatically. How much more could there be to discuss? We are planning a courtship, not a Grand Tour.

&nb
sp; “I agree to the courtship. Please just arrange the details with my mother, for I am already exhausted by it all.” In reality, he wanted to leave the room because he found he had trouble concentrating. He was mesmerized by the matchmaker and could not take his eyes off her. He noticed how her blue dress complemented her skin tone and how graceful she was when she moved. A stray curl hung in her face and he had the urge to gently stroke it back behind her ear. What was happening to him? This was most unusual.

  “Your Grace, I believe Miss Evans still needs to arrange a time to meet and inform you of the etiquette of the courtship itself.” His mother was perturbed but he did not care.

  “I am quite certain the Duke will know how to handle himself. He is, after all, a shining light in the leadership of our country and therefore of impeccable manners.” The matchmaker paused and fixed her honey-brown eyes on him. “Or so I presume.” She blinked at him and pursed her lips. There it was again, that feistiness he’d so enjoyed earlier today. His mother had also noticed it and was about to speak up, no doubt to put the young lady in her place, but Maxwell would not allow that to happen.