“I don’t have the bloody pox,” Tristan grumbled. There was no way to conduct a discreet liaison now. If he took a mistress, everyone would know, including those girls’ fathers. Tristan fingered his tight cravat, imagining their furious reactions.
Damnation, he needed a woman to slake his lust. And he needed one badly. Last night, he’d awoken from a dream about her ripe mouth. Clearly he was a hair’s breadth from losing what remained of his sanity.
Thanks to the mischief-maker, he could look forward to even more infamy. The thought seared his brain. He took a swig of brandy. The liquor burned his throat, but he refused to cough.
“What the devil ails you?” Hawk asked.
“Nothing.” Tristan set the glass down with a decided thunk.
Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about the courtship. Have you lost your wits?”
Probably. “I retained Miss Mansfield to find a bride who suits me.”
Hawk snorted. “You wouldn’t dream of allowing anyone to choose your horse, but you’d let a stranger pick your bride?”
“It’s not as if I can ride her before I buy her,” Tristan muttered.
Hawk gave him a dubious look. “Old boy, you’re my friend, and I have to ask. What is Miss Mansfield expecting in return for this service?”
“Nothing. She says she doesn’t need the money.”
“I heard she inherited Wentworth’s fortune.”
Tristan leaned forward. “As in the late earl?”
“One and the same. She was his only living kin.”
“She told me she has no family,” Tristan said.
“She’s as independent as any man and purported to be one of the richest women in England.” Hawk shook his head. “I don’t like this matchmaking business. She’s in it for something other than money. What does she stand to gain by helping you?”
He’d no idea, but he’d never admit it to Hawk. “What does it matter? All I care about is finding a wife.”
“Be careful,” Hawk said. “Don’t let her trap you into something you’ll regret.”
Tristan scoffed. If she made one more misstep, he’d dismiss her and expose her as a fraud. She’d never hold her head up in society again.
“There’s a lot of speculation about her,” Hawk said. “She has a reputation for being far too clever for her own good.”
“You think I can’t handle a clever woman?” he gritted out.
Hawk grinned. “Since you put it that way, I suppose Miss Mansfield has met her match.”
Chapter Four
In moments, Tessa must face the grand dragon of the ton.
Her heart pounded as she followed the footman up the curving staircase. After receiving the terse summons from the Duchess of Shelbourne this morning, Tessa had surmised the sensational reports in the scandal sheets had prompted this meeting.
Of course it was unfair of the duchess to blame her. After all, the duchess had refused to help her son find a wife. But fairness did not signify. The curt tone of that missive left no doubt in Tessa’s mind that the duchess meant to rip her to shreds.
Upon reaching the landing, Tessa drew in an unsteady breath. She could not afford to let fear overwhelm her. Above all else, she must remain poised, regardless of what the duchess said.
After the footman opened the drawing room doors, Tessa lifted her chin and walked inside. A sea of red greeted her. The crimson sofa and chairs, cherry damask wall coverings, and red draperies threatened to overwhelm her.
This must be the duchess’s favored room for drawing blood.
Tessa turned her attention to the dark-haired woman glaring at her from one of the sofas. The duchess wore a mauve striped gown with a high ruff collar. Only a few silver threads marred her fashionably short curls. She looked much too young to have a grown son.
Tessa curtseyed. “Your Grace.”
The duchess lifted a quizzing glass hanging from a ribbon and inspected Tessa with a curled lip. “So you are the infamous matchmaker my friends told me about.”
She inclined her head, but said nothing. Her uncle had taught her never to feel compelled to fill a silence.
When it became apparent the duchess would not invite her to be seated, Tessa decided to thwart the woman’s intimidation tactics. She perched upon the sofa directly across from the duchess and forced herself to smile.
The duchess released her quizzing glass. “I did not give you leave to be seated.”
Tessa met her gaze. “I assumed you did not wish to keep me standing.”
“I most certainly did. This interview will end shortly after you resign as my son’s matchmaker.”
Tessa clasped her trembling hands hard. “I beg your pardon, but I made the agreement with your son,” she said in as neutral a tone as she could manage. “Any decision to discontinue must involve him.”
“Impudent gel,” she said.
“You flatter me,” Tessa said. “It has been many years since anyone has referred to me in such youthful terms.”
“I meant no compliment to you. Your reputation as a spinster precedes you.”
With considerable effort, she ignored the insult and kept a serene smile on her face. “I can hardly keep my single state a secret.”
The duchess gave her a freezing look. “How dare you address me in such an insolent manner? If you had even a modicum of sense, you would tremble in fear of what I can do to you.”
Tessa swallowed hard, knowing the duchess had the influence to ruin her. Then her gaze lit on the newspaper on the sofa next to the duke’s mother. With sudden insight, Tessa realized the courtship had humiliated the duchess. “I meant no insult to you,” she murmured.
“Miss Mansfield,” she said. “Your services are no longer required.”
Tristan’s brain seared like a hot coal upon reaching the drawing room door and hearing his mother’s words. He’d warned his mother not to interfere. Clearly she’d defied him and gone behind his back. Determined to keep his anger in check, Tristan strode inside to find his mother glowering at Miss Mansfield.
Miss Mansfield stood, curtseyed, and lifted her chin. Despite her bravado, crimson flags marred her cheeks. Obviously, his mother had given her quite a tongue-lashing.
He bowed. “Miss Mansfield, this is a pleasant surprise.”
The duchess remained seated. Her lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Miss Mansfield has delighted us with her presence.”
He knew without a doubt his mother had summoned her.
Miss Mansfield kept her gaze on him. “Your Grace, I must take my leave now.”
“I understand.” It would be distasteful to subject her to his family squabbles.
The duchess sniffed. “Tristan, you will release her from this ridiculous matchmaking scheme. I am the rightful person to find you a bride.”
“Is my memory failing? As I recall, you refused.”
The duchess picked up a newspaper beside her. “Word has spread to the scandal sheets.” Her voice shook with anger.
He shrugged. “That is nothing new. I’ve been a daily gossip item for weeks.”
She slapped the paper on the sofa.
Miss Mansfield’s uncertain gaze flitted from his mother to him.
The devil. His mother meant to have her way, even if it resulted in a scene. He turned his attention to Miss Mansfield. “I will call on you tomorrow to discuss our business.”
“Business?” the duchess said in an outraged tone. “How can you refer to marriage in such cold terms?”
“Marriage is my duty,” he said.
“This is a matter of the heart. When your father and I—”
Tristan held up his hand. “Enough.”
His mother jerked her face away. Why she continued to mourn a man who had never deserved her mystified him. She’d conveniently forgotten her late husband’s many transgressions and often spoke lovingly of him. Tristan’s refusal to agree with her assertions remained a source of friction between them, but he would not aid and abet his mother’s illusions.
“An apology will not suffice. If you are truly sorry, you will resign,” his mother said.
“Mama, it is not your decision,” he said.
The duchess’s countenance darkened as she stood. “You will regret this, Miss Mansfield.” Then she whipped past Tristan, jerking the door closed behind her.
He walked over to the red velvet sofa his mother had vacated. “Please be seated,” he said to Miss Mansfield.
He sat across from her and drummed his fingers on the rolled arm of the sofa. “I apologize for my mother. You should not have had to witness that.”
Miss Mansfield smoothed her skirts and said nothing.
He considered her through narrowed eyes. “You are not thinking of quitting, are you?”
“No, but something must be done.”
“I assume she forced you to come here. In the future, do not respond to her overtures without consulting me first.”
She met his gaze. “I will do my best to abide by your wishes. There may be times, however, when it is not possible. In such cases, I will use my best judgment.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Let me assure you I did not reveal our previous discussions to your mother. As I promised earlier, I will maintain the strictest confidence about our dealings.”
“My mother will not interfere again.”
“We cannot exclude her,” Miss Mansfield said. “Doing so will only humiliate her further.”
He scowled. “I will not allow her involvement. After the way she insulted you, I’m surprised you would suggest it.”
“She struck out because she felt mortified. Imagine her embarrassment when she learned from her friends that you’d retained me and then read the news in the paper.”
“My mother’s objections do not signify. She will have no part in this courtship.”
An earnest expression filled Miss Mansfield’s eyes. “I understand you are angry. However, if your mother doesn’t feel she has a role, she will never accept your bride.”
“She’ll feel the brunt of my wrath if she doesn’t. And she knows it.”
“Your Grace, there is one more point you should consider. You need to choose a bride who can stand up to your mother. The best way to find out who is capable of that is to observe how the girls deal with her.”
Tristan drummed his fingers again. Involving his mother would make no difference. None of those young women would dare naysay a duchess.
“Your mother’s role will be restricted to occasional observation,” Miss Mansfield continued. “We can listen to her opinions, but that doesn’t mean we must take her advice.”
He’d never met a more persistent woman in his life. Tired of her arguments, he decided to placate her. “I’ll reconsider the matter after I narrow down the field of candidates.” Since he intended to choose someone in a fortnight at the latest, the subject did not merit further debate.
“Very well,” Miss Mansfield said. “Now, I have an idea for the courtship. I believe you should pay calls on each of the candidates in order to discover more about their characters. Of course I will accompany you.”
“I have more important things to do than dally in twenty drawing rooms next week.”
She widened her eyes. “Are you planning to conduct an absentee courtship?”
“I’m objecting to your ridiculous plan.”
“Have you ever courted a lady?” she asked.
He figured mistresses didn’t count. Besides, they chased him. “A man doesn’t court a lady unless he has serious intentions.”
She sighed. “Nevertheless, it is clear to me you need lessons.”
Where the devil had she gotten that infernal notion?
“Your Grace, I must be honest. Ladies expect gentlemen to display some tenderness. Thus far, you’ve demonstrated a sad lack of the finer feelings. I know this embarrasses you.”
“Dash it all. I am not embarrassed.”
She gave him a pitying look. “You needn’t pretend with me. I’ll instruct you in the ways to please and attract a lady.”
Tristan bit back laughter at her ludicrous insult and decided to have a bit of fun at her expense. “What a generous offer, Miss Mansfield.” He considered her with a lazy grin. “Shall we begin now?”
“Tomorrow is soon enough,” she said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Her agitation tickled him. “But we’ve so little time,” he said. “I’m anxious to benefit from your vast experience.”
She leaped up. “I will not tolerate your teasing.”
He rose as well. “Come here, Miss Mansfield.”
She hesitated.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” He deliberately lowered his voice to a sensual rumble, expecting her to rebuke him.
She sniffed. “How ridiculous.”
Unable to resist, he beckoned her with his fingers, knowing she would refuse. To his surprise, she marched over to him like a general on a battlefield. He held out his hand, certain she would slap it. Silly little spinster, she took it without question. A current like the charged atmosphere before a storm sizzled his palm. Her gasp let him know she’d felt it, too.
Their gazes locked. She moistened her plump lips and knocked the breath out of him. His brain fogged. In one fluid movement, he tugged her up to his chest.
Her feminine gasp emboldened him. The urge to claim her luscious mouth gripped him. Pulling her closer, he lowered his head. When his cock stirred, a warning clanged in his addled brain. At the last second, he turned his head and whispered in her ear. “How am I doing so far?”
He might not know how to court a lady, but he’d certainly honed his seduction technique.
Shock reverberated through Tessa. Unable to move, she focused on the soft rise and fall of his breath near her ear. Heat emanated from the solid wall of his chest, blanketing her senses. A clean scent clung to him, like sunshine and soap. And something far more primal. Something undeniably male.
Propriety demanded she reprimand him for taking such liberties, but she couldn’t form the words. She should be outraged, but his big, muscular body enthralled her. The slight brush of her breasts against his coat made her sensitive flesh ache.
He turned his head slightly, and his breath whispered across her cheek. Involuntarily, she followed the sound, until their lips were inches apart. Wicked anticipation thrummed through her blood.
As if bitten by a viper, he dropped her hand and stepped back, leaving her unbalanced. A fleeting, disturbed look flitted through his blue eyes. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the window.
Shock cascaded over her. She’d fallen for his rakish ruse. And he had walked away.
Tessa cringed. She’d not even tried to stop him. He’d probably concluded she’d encouraged him. And why would he not? Recalling the events, she realized how provocative her words must have sounded. I’ll instruct you in the ways to please and attract a woman.
Dear God, she’d melted in his arms with nary a thought to the consequences. If he’d not had the sense to step back, she would have let him kiss her.
“We need to resolve next week’s business,” he said.
His voice startled her. For a moment, she could not speak, but she must recover quickly. Taking an unsteady breath, she forced herself to reply. “You have an idea for the courtship?”
He turned to face her, his expression stoic. “I agree it’s important I get to know the candidates, but paying individual calls is out of the question.”
Thank goodness he’d said nothing about what had transpired between them. Then why did his sudden aloofness prick her like a hundred needle jabs? She thrust aside her strange feelings, determined to regain her poise. “Did you have something in mind?”
“Yes. Gather all of the candidates in your drawing room. I will interv
iew those who interest me.”
“But it will be difficult to converse in such a large group.”
A stern expression entered his eyes. “My goal is to eliminate at least half the candidates, possibly more, next week.”
She gaped at him. “How can you make such a decision before you have even spoken to them?”
“I can. And I will.”
Her temper flared. “Very well. I’ll inform the candidates to prepare for a very long afternoon.”
“Two hours,” he said. “No more.”
“In two hours, you won’t be able to spend even ten minutes with each candidate.”
He raised his brows.
“I need more time,” she said, growing exasperated.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Two hours. Next Tuesday. Your town house. And do not invite my mother.”
“It cannot be done,” she said.
“It can, and it will.”
She pressed her nails into her palms. Let it be just as he requested. He’d see how ludicrous his demands were.
Lady Anne Broughton sat beside Tessa on the settee. “I have news, but first, what is this I hear about your making a match for the Duke of Shelbourne? Everyone is talking about it.”
“Anne, you know I never discuss the particulars of my matchmaking efforts.” Tessa poured tea, secretly pleased word had spread. Already her matchmaking career was benefiting from helping the duke.
“Is it true he is courting twenty-four ladies?”
She ignored Anne’s question. “Cream?”
“Yes, please.” Anne sighed. “You think to evade me, but you cannot.”
Tessa added a dollop of cream to both cups. She’d never intended to invite so many ladies, but somehow two had turned into five, and five into ten, and she could not leave off Lady Elizabeth Rossdale or Miss Caroline Fielding. Before she’d known it, she’d invited twenty-four of the most elite belles in society.
Anne took her cup and bit her lip.
Tessa frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Were you discussing matchmaking with Shelbourne at my ball?”
Tessa sipped her tea and said nothing.
“Why did you not tell me?” Anne said in a hurt tone.
Tessa focused on her cup. Because he’d lured her with his gaze, and she’d not wanted Anne to know she’d fallen so easily for his wiles.
How to Marry a Duke Page 5
