by Quinn, Ella
“I would be delighted.” A feeling of satisfaction welled inside her. She had not embarrassed herself with Lord Quartus, or he with her. She had been more than a bit concerned about this Season she was having, but all appeared to be smooth sailing. As long as a squall didn’t come along to disrupt her, all would be well. She simply needed to fall in love with a man and wed him. The question she must start considering was what type of man would be the best match for her.
Chapter 2
“Come, I’ll escort you back to your aunt.” Lord Quartus offered her his arm.
“Of course.” Generally, Anna chafed at the close chaperonage she was under, she was not a young lady, yet this evening she had no desire to go wandering off by herself. That would likely change once she began to make friends.
When she and Lord Quartus reached her aunt, several gentlemen Anna had not previously met were standing about.
His lordship had no sooner taken his leave, when her aunt said, “Your Grace, may I introduce you to Lord Capell of Tewkesbury”—a baron then as the title was not mentioned—“My lord, my great-niece, the Duchess of Wharton.”
“My lord.” She held out her hand wondering why her aunt thought she would be interested in a portly older gentleman.
“His lordship has a son who was unable to attend this evening,” Aunt commented.
Well, that explained that. Anna was about to respond when Aunt Tatiana continued. “You will be able to meet Mr. Capell at their ball later this week.”
The next gentleman was much younger and tall with an ascetic look about him.
As he bowed, her aunt said, “Viscount Hatton.”
Again she held out her hand. “A pleasure.”
“May I hope you have a country dance available, Your Grace?”
“I do indeed,” she replied as she retrieved her hand.
By the time the fifth gentleman, the Marquis of Markville, had been introduced, Anna was glad she had worn gloves. At least two of the men had left wet marks on her fingers, but, at least, not on her bare skin. All but Lord Capell claimed a set, and even though they danced well, she missed the easy conversation she’d had with Lord Quartus.
“May I have the next set?” Lord Markville regarded her with an almost proprietary air.
Anna gave a cursory glance at her dance card. As she suspected, the next set was the supper dance. “Unfortunately my card is full, my lord. Perhaps another time.”
“You may count on it, Your Grace.” His tone was hard, and although he bowed gracefully, he seemed angry.
Well, good. She did not like his attitude and made up her mind to stand up with his lordship as little as possible. What right had he to assume she would save a dance for a gentleman she did not even know?
“Who has claimed that one?” her aunt asked in a sharp tone once the marquis was out of hearing.
“Lord Quartus,” she replied, trying not to look to see if she could see him.
Aunt Tatiana’s lips scrunched up as if she had eaten a particularly sour lemon. “You’d do well to stay away from him.
“Good heavens, whatever for?” Anna tried not to let her exasperation show. Though she had not known her aunt for long, she had never seen the woman take an immediate dislike to anyone. Generally she was an extraordinarily fair woman. “He is an excellent dance partner.”
“As long as that’s all you want him for. There is bad blood in the Trevors. Mother’s family is good enough. Cunninghams. But the Dukes of Somerset act as if they are royalty.”
Chances are they sprung from one king or another or a close association with one. Most dukes did. She would have liked to ask for more information, but Lord Quartus was almost upon them. “I would not worry yourself, Aunt. I have no designs upon him other than a waltz.”
At four and twenty, she was old enough not to let a man turn her head. Even if he was handsome with curling blond hair, and summer blue eyes, and lips that curled nicely when he smiled.
He kept his eyes on her as he wove his way through the crowd.
“Lord Quartus”—she smiled as he approached—“you are in good time.” Placing her hand on his arm, she glanced at her aunt. “I shall see you after supper.”
The older lady harrumphed, but did not argue.
“I have the distinct impression that she does not care for me,” he murmured.
“I believe it is your sire that she doesn’t like.” And all the other dukes before him.
A wicked grin appeared on his firm lips. “In that case, she is in excellent company. I can name a score of people from duchesses on down who loath my father. And, from what I can see and have been told, he brings it all upon himself. The problem seems to be being tarred with the same brush. I simply hope that those I meet understand I am much more like my older brother than my father.”
“Yes, indeed. Well, if anyone should ask me, I shall speak up for you. What do you do when you are not in Town?”
“I am or was the rector of the church in the market town near one of my father’s estates. As soon as I completed my education in the clergy, he placed me in one of his livings. I had not even attained the age of three and twenty.”
She fought to keep her jaw from dropping. How could such a strong, virile man be in the clergy? Well, there was the Pirate Priest on Tortola. Still, that was back home. None of the rectors and vicars she had met here looked like Lord Quartus. But what was he saying about age? “I beg your pardon? What does your age have to do with it?”
“Only that under the rules I was too young for the position. My father used his influence to get what he wanted.”
“Do you like being a clergyman?”
He was silent for so long she thought he would not answer, then he said, “In many ways I do. I enjoy taking care of others. Nevertheless, I feel as if I am meant to do more.” His fingers tightened on her waist, and for a moment she wished she could simply sink into him. That would cause her aunt to suffer apoplexy, and cause a scandal. Perhaps if she pretended to stumble she could feel how strong his arms actually were. “In what way?
“All of our lives my father’s narrow view of politics has been force fed to us. Yet when I was at university, I became aware that I do not believe as my father does. Only Hawksworth is in a position to defy the duke by holding political parties. I would like to do more.” His sharp blue eyes focused intently on her. “To help more people.”
“That is an admirable ambition—” Anna would have said more, but the music stopped.
For a few moments longer, Lord Quartus held her as if he was not ready for the set to end. Truth be told, neither was she. And, although she had given her aunt to understand that she would sup with his lordship. He had not asked her.
“I believe,” he said slowly, “it is customary for one to have supper with one’s partner for the supper dance.”
What a relief. “I believe you are correct.” She tucked her arm in his. “Are we joining your brother and sister-in-law?”
“That would be best. From what Meg tells me, Hawksworth is an expert at ensuring they have the best of the delicacies on offer.”
The duchess’s eyes twinkled and a lovely smile graced her lips, and Quartus wished that he was in a position to see what could grow between them. But it could not be. He had heard what his father had done to both his brothers and their wives. Making a woman he loved go through possible abductions or being placed in compromising positions was not something he was willing to do. Not that he thought any lady could or would overlook his lack of wealth and property. Although he did not care for the idea, he would most likely end up single or married to a lady of his father’s choosing. With luck, that would give him some measure of independence.
Once again he glanced at the duchess, and wanted to drag her into his arms. Whoever captured her heart would be a lucky man. Perhaps he had been born a few centuries too late. There was a time when younger sons could capture the lady of their choice.
They caught up with Meg and Hawksworth as they made their way
down the stairs. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if I would lose you in this crush.”
“Knowing your appetite,” Hawksworth said, “I did not doubt for a moment you would find us.”
“Ah, yes. All this dancing has made me a bit peckish.”
“I as well,” her grace added, looking at Hawksworth. “I have been told that no one can best you at finding sustenance.”
Meg laughed. “And I can attest that no one will go hungry with Hawksworth near them.”
She launched into a story about the Christmas house party they had attended, and how, ever since his time in the Army, he made sure he had provisions.
Quartus was glad to see the duchess was enjoying herself. Several moments later, he and his brother had found a table for them all. After the ladies were seated, they went off to the supper table.
“She appears to like your company,” his brother commented in a low tone.
He glanced at Hawksworth who was regarding Quartus with that intent stare of his. “I am enjoying her company as well, but that is all there can be. She will look for a much more advantageous match than one to a penniless younger son.”
“Perhaps she wishes to marry for love. That seems to be all the crack these days.”
Love matches had gained in popularity. Although, many still believed they were vulgar and only for the lower classes. Certainly, his father did. Yes, after seeing his brother and Meg together, Quartus was beginning to think he would like a love match as well, but he wasn’t counting on it. “You know as well as I that few of us will be able to wed whom we wish. Especially after you and Frank defied Father.”
“Once you fall in love, you will understand we had no choice. But here is the supper table. Come, you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”
Quartus followed Hawksworth’s lead in selecting the best of the offerings. Soon they were making their way, two footmen in tow, back to the table where the ladies had their heads close together.
“The conquering heroes have returned,” Hawksworth said in a jovial tone.
“Excellent!” Meg sat back from the table allowing the footmen to place the various dishes down. “I am famished.”
“As am I.” The duchess’s eyes grew wider as each plate was positioned. “Goodness, what a lot of food!”
“I did tell you that Hawksworth lives in dread of starving.” Meg motioned for her husband to sit next to her as if he would really take any other chair.
Quartus sat next to her grace and commenced to help her find the foods she would most enjoy before filling his own plate. “Somehow, I do not think there will be much left.”
While they dined, the duchess entertained them with stories of living in the West Indies. Hawksworth talked of his travels to Greece where he had met his mother’s family for the first time.
“I have been nowhere of interest.” Meg pulled a face. “What about you Quartus?”
“I suffer from the same fate. Once Hawksworth was gone, father kept the rest of us close until Nonus began acting up. He was the only one other than Hawksworth to be sent to the Army.”
“Nonus?” Her grace’s brows rose. “You were serious about your father numbering his children.”
“Only the boys.” Quartus took a sip of the excellent champagne. “I think our mother would have defied him if he had attempted to number the girls. Although, the first three are named for the three graces. Nonus is Octavius’s twin, but their temperaments are vastly different.”
“Do you see him often?”
“Not as much as we would like. Now that the war is over, he has got himself attached to the embassy in Paris.” Quartus seldom found himself talking about his family, but it seemed natural to tell her about them. “I think he would like to go farther afield, but the duke would have a fit, and Nonus does not want our father interfering in his career.”
“Not as much of a fit as if he found a French lady to marry,” Hawksworth added drily.
“If Father even suspected something of that sort of thing occurring,” Quartus said, “Our brother would find himself firmly on British soil. And Nonus is well aware of that fact.”
The duchess set her glass down. “I must say, I am not at all sure I can blame my aunt for disliking him as she does. He seems to be a thoroughly disagreeable man.”
“If only you know the half of it,” Meg muttered, mostly under her breath. “What”—her voice rose cheerily—“have you seen of London?”
Oh, no! That was how Meg managed to throw his brother Frank together with Jenny. She was not going to try her matchmaking on him. “I’m sure her grace has more important things to do than sightsee.”
“I am quite busy, but I would love to see the marbles I have heard so much about. In fact, I believe it is my duty to visit them.” She slid a look toward him. “If only not to be considered provincial.”
“Excellent.” Meg clapped her hands together. “Perhaps the day after tomorrow you will be available for a tour of the museum.”
The duchess tilted her head to the side for a few moments, then said, “I am indeed free at eleven in the morning.”
“Quartus, you may take my curricle.” He could not read anything in his brother’s face, but the meaning was clear. Start getting to know the lady. “I trust you remember how to drive it.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” Frank had shown up in the carriage when he was looking for help rescuing Jenny from one of their father’s abduction attempts. Quartus had put them on the stage coach to London. The next day, he had driven the curricle to Hawksworth’s house.
“It is all settled then.” Meg had a satisfied look on her face. “You should visit Gunter’s for an ice afterward.”
“What a fabulous idea!” her grace cried. “I have been wanting to taste them.”
Quartus almost groaned. How could his brother and sister-in-law not see how impossible a match between the duchess and him would be? Yet, there was nothing else to do but smile politely. “I would be delighted.”
“Belling, bring me the list. Thornfield was at a ball last evening and noticed Lord Quartus in the company of a woman who will do me no good at all. He waltzed with her twice.”
“Two waltzes.” Belling’s eyes widened. “Extraordinary. I shall have it in a moment.”
Somerset waited while his secretary trotted off to find the folder. The Whitestones had caused enough trouble for his family. None of the women acted properly, especially the duchesses. If they had, the Wharton duchy would have been part of the Somerset holdings. Seething at the insult, the Duke of Somerset waited as his secretary fetched the folder containing the names of ladies he considered suitable for Quartus. A lady who knew her place and brought something to increase the wealth or the dukedom. Damn the Duchesses of Wharton. The last one had been a thorn in his side. Women had no right being peeresses in their own right. It went against the natural order of things.
Once the folder lay open before him he settled in to make his choice and saw what he wanted to find. A lady who was content to remain in the country, approaching her last prayers, and had something he wanted. Ah, there. He placed his finger on a name. She came with a property that bordered his Surrey holding. “Lady Sarah Martin should be suitable.”
“Isn’t she a bit quiet to be a rector’s wife, Your Grace?”
“Quite. However, I have decided Quartus should take over Francis’s old duties as my steward.”
“Ah, yes. In that case she is perfect. I understand that she does not care to be in company.”
“I shall approach Markville. He’ll probably be glad to have the girl off his hands.”
Less than an hour later, Somerset received the reply he’d wanted. “Send a note to Lord Quartus that he is to call on Lady Sarah tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
“Straightaway, Your Grace.”
His secretary left the study, and Somerset leaned back in his chair. Markville’s missive had been short and to the point. Foreseeing a mutual benefit to both families, he would be happy to
entertain a union between their two houses provided Lord Quartus and Lady Sarah agreed.
Somerset scowled. He’d make damn sure Quartus agreed. Markville would have to bring his sister around.
A few minutes later, Belling placed a piece of pressed paper in front of Somerset.
* * *
His Grace, the Duke of Somerset
Somerset House
Mayfair
My dear Quartus,
I have found a suitable wife for you.
You shall meet with her tomorrow at ten in the morning at Markville House in St. James Square.
Do not disappointment me.
* * *
Somerset signed the letter. “Have a footman take this around. Then contact Mrs. Grayson.”
“The actress, Your Grace?” Belling’s tone indicated his shock. “I thought you had decided not to keep a mistress this Season. I am positive we let the house you used.”
“Not as my lady-bird. I’m too old to have need of another one. I have a role for her to play.” One that would guarantee his fourth son married where Somerset wished.
Chapter 3
“Have you even been introduced to Lady Sarah?” Concern colored Meg’s voice as she held a note from his father in her hand. “She is said to be quite reclusive.”
They had been sitting down to tea when the letter arrived. After Quartus had read it, he’d handed it to Meg and Damon. Her glower had managed to dim even the bright yellow morning room, and Quartus had no doubt that she was holding back some very colorful descriptions of his father.
“No, never.” She handed the heavy pressed paper back to him, and he glanced down at his father’s command. “I suppose I should be happy he has not ordered me to propose on the spot.” He suppressed a sigh. It was not as if he hadn’t expected the duke to do something of this sort. His father had been furious that Damon and Frank had chosen their own brides. Yet, ladies such as Meg and Jenny, an American heiress, were few and far between.