Too Many Matchmakers

by Allison Lane

  “No more,” she begged brokenly. “If you care even a little, leave me alone. An affair would destroy me.” She scrabbled about for a rock she could use as a mounting block. The one she had sat on was too close to where he still stood.

  “Let me help, Diana,” he said. His voice was huskier than usual, but he had regained control of everything else. “You’re safe enough. I’ve never yet taken an unwilling woman, and I won’t start with you.”

  She had no choice. Steeling herself against his touch, she nodded. And for once he spoke the truth. He lifted her easily into the saddle, then released her and stepped back.

  “This isn’t over,” he promised. “None of it.”

  She said nothing, galloping toward the stables, tears again wetting her cheeks.

  * * * *

  Nicholas stared at the path until he no longer heard her hoofbeats. Then he returned to the rock, dropping his head into his hands. What the devil had happened?

  He should have slipped quietly away and left her in peace. But she had stirred so many memories that he hadn’t been able to do it. Not that he had intended to touch her. He had only wanted to talk, to share a moment of friendship.

  Right! Like everything else in recent weeks, the situation had rapidly escalated out of control. Within moments he’d been kissing her senseless.

  To say nothing of himself. He was still quaking.

  He grimaced. She had destroyed his reason. Again. Just as she’d done in Warwickshire. He had never intended to get involved with her. She’d been a pretty girl who shared some of his interests. Funny to remember that now. Their liaisons had started because both enjoyed watching the birds. She had not originally affected him sexually.

  But it hadn’t stayed platonic for long. He could no longer remember why he had kissed her the first time, but that one act had changed everything. Never had a simple kiss felt so good. That had been the start, of course. One kiss had turned to two, then more. He couldn’t get enough of her – touching, tasting, smelling the lilac she always wore.

  Was that what had triggered his reaction today? Her perfume had reached out to draw him in. It still lingered faintly around the rock.

  Answers eluded him. What should he do next? Somehow, he would have to keep his hands to himself, letting her settle down and get used to him again. She was as skittish as a newborn colt right now.

  But the one indisputable result of the morning was his renewed determination. He would have her. His reaction was too powerful to ignore. He still hurt.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By the time Diana descended for breakfast, she had stopped shaking. Allowing his kiss had been the height of stupidity. And allow was exactly right. He hadn’t forced her. There had been a moment when she had known he would kiss her if she didn’t turn away. She hadn’t. A tiny voice inside her head had wondered if it would be the same.

  Fool! It was not the same. She could have controlled her reaction to his old kisses. But this was beyond her wildest dreams – so far beyond that she doubted she could have controlled herself even if she had known what to expect.

  Worse was the admission that he made her feel alive in a way she had not been for ten years. Even arguing with him left her glowing for hours. But his goals had not changed. He had no use for her beyond sex. He could still seduce her, she admitted in despair. Somehow she must prevent that from happening, for accepting his attentions would betray Harry.

  “How I wish you were here, Harry!” she whispered.

  But he wasn’t. And she was too weak. So she must avoid Nicholas – and if that meant avoiding London, she would do it. Let him think what he would. It no longer mattered. She could not handle another broken heart.

  It had been Harry who had repaired her last one. She doubted her father had even known.

  All the old guilt returned. She had been so wrapped up in Nicholas that she had paid little attention to her father beyond gratitude that she was able to slip away so often. Her mother had died four years earlier, and her governess had left in May. Only the two of them had remained at home, but he spent most of his time dealing with estate matters, seeing her only at dinner. Not until a week after Nicholas left did she learn the full truth.

  Sir Walter Winslow had made a series of bad investments that had put him on the verge of ruin. He had hoped to convince a distant cousin to bear the expense of presenting her to society, but that was not to be. So there would be no London Season.

  In her grief over Nicholas, she had actually been glad. Seeing him in London would have destroyed her. But his next statement had driven even thoughts of Nicholas away.

  He was dying.

  She had really looked at him then, shocked to see how thin he had grown, appalled at the waxy pallor that underlay remnants of tan. She had hardly taken in that reality before he announced that Lord Bounty had offered for her. When he pressed her to accept, she could only agree. Shock and grief had made thinking impossible.

  But she knew she could not go to Bounty without admitting that her heart was engaged. And so she had bared every detail of that summer to the near-stranger who asked for her hand. She could still feel his comforting arms close around her as he gently dried her tears.

  “There, there, child,” he had murmured as she cried on his shoulder. “Time will lessen the pain. I’ve known the lad since he was in leading strings. While he is often heedless and impulsive, I’ve never known him to be deliberately cruel. It pains me to find that he hurt you, but I will help you forget.”

  And he had, though their marriage was nothing like she had expected. He had showed her more respect than any man she had ever known – including her father – starting in that same interview, for he refused to wed her under false pretenses.

  Her father would be gone within two months. Knowing his brother and heir all too well, he had tried to find her a husband, but the hundred pounds he could scrape together for a dowry brought no acceptable suitors. So he had approached his good friend Bounty.

  Bounty had no real need for a wife. His only son had recently died, but he was already grooming a grand-nephew to take his place. The boy’s greedy father would get the title first, but little of the property was entailed, so it could be passed directly to Jeremy. He’d already established a trust for that purpose.

  But he owed Winslow several favors. Caring for Diana would repay them. He was no longer capable of consummating a marriage, but he would protect her, and he hoped they would become friends.

  And they had become friends – even closer than friends. He had taught her much – how to judge people, how to handle money, how to run an estate, how to hold her own in debates on any subject. When he died, she mourned him far more deeply than she had mourned her father. And his will had surprised her, for she had not expected more than a jointure. Only later did she realize that he’d used it to pull the wool over Humphrey’s eyes. It directed that all unentailed possessions remaining after bequests to servants be placed in trust for his wife, to be administered by her. The wording hid that she was already helping administer the trust holding the wealth he’d set aside for Jeremy.

  Sighing, she smiled at the quartet of ladies in the breakfast room. Ten minutes later she had to subdue a ridiculous spurt of pique when Nicholas appeared. He included her in a general greeting, then joined Lady Sophia.

  She was acceptable for private dalliance, but he was still courting the virgin heiress. Had that interlude by the river meant nothing to him?

  All he wants from her is money and an heir, reminded that voice. He’ll take his pleasure elsewhere. He can’t know that you could give him all three.

  Appalled at where her thoughts were heading, she ruthlessly suppressed them. She had never corrected the popular misconception that her failure to provide Bounty an heir proved that she was barren. Nor would she now. Revealing his condition – which had existed for thirty years – would tarnish his memory, even among his friends. Gentlemen placed inordinate importance on sexual prowess. It was yet another reason she m
ust avoid Nicholas. Despite understanding his motives, she was weak around him. Eventually he would breach her controls and seduce her, uncovering her secrets and dishonoring Harry.

  Tamping down the lingering pain, she averted her eyes from the sight of Nicholas laughing with Lady Sophia, finished her unwanted breakfast, and retired to her room.

  * * * *

  Sophia strolled aimlessly through the gardens, vainly trying to believe that Woodvale would free George from Miss Parker’s clutches. His report at breakfast had been even more pessimistic than his earlier ones. Lord Weymouth had secured a wife for his heir, and that was that. Whether they cared for each other or merely rubbed along together was irrelevant. A wife’s only use was to produce an heir. Chloe would do that quite well.

  With every passing hour, her hope faded further. Weymouth didn’t care. The Parkers were adamant. George was too proper to cancel the arrangement. Miss Parker seemed resigned – though Sophia still believed the girl could not wish to marry George. And Woodvale refused to consider the only approach that might work.

  Her own situation seemed worse every day. Despite her parents’ claims, Charles did not want her, so any offer he made would be under duress. His feelings should be obvious to any observer. He avoided her whenever possible and missed no opportunity to deride country living. He wanted nothing to do with running an estate. With luck he would refuse to offer for her, but she couldn’t take chances. If he decided that her fortune was too attractive to pass up, he would use it to set himself up in town, keeping her with him until she produced an heir. He might even sell her estate to raise more cash.

  She shuddered. It was all too much. Aside from her hatred of London, she had plans for that estate – and for a good portion of her fortune. She could not accept anyone who might disapprove of those plans.

  But even if she avoided Charles, her parents would resort to the same ultimatum with a more willing suitor next Season. So she had to free George. No other husband would do. George shared her ideals and her love for the country. He would support her projects and take pride in her efforts to counter the modern laxity that produced flighty, novel-reading girls and rakish, wastrel boys. She would serve as a model of propriety for neighboring children and a voice of reason for their parents.

  She rounded a corner and gasped. A picturesque Grecian folly overlooked a lake. Protected by trees and shrubs on two sides, it was nonetheless open to view by anyone on the lake or approaching from the formal gardens. Yet its current occupants were indulging in a heated embrace. Scandalous! Precisely the sort of conduct that must be stamped out if society was to endure in any civilized manner. The very fabric that had made England great was threa—

  Identifying the culprits deflected her outrage – Charles and Miss Parker.

  What a perfect opportunity to end George’s betrothal! And to get rid of Charles. She could solve both problems and teach the other guests a lesson about loose morals, all with one stroke.

  Ducking out of sight, she rapidly retraced her steps. In response to her prayers, God had provided the ideal solution. Lord and Lady Parker were in the garden. All she need do was to invite them for a walk around the lake. They were such sticklers for propriety, that finding their daughter compromised by a gentleman would lead to an immediate marriage.

  George would be free.

  * * * *

  Diana strolled through the knot garden, forcing her mind onto Chloe’s problems so she wouldn’t think about Nicholas. Talking with Lady Parker had accomplished nothing. The woman was convinced that Chloe shared her every interest, and nothing would dissuade her. She looked at her daughter and saw herself.

  Even worse, she accused Diana of corrupting Chloe with unladylike ideas. George was still pushing to move the wedding forward. Lady Parker had balked lest the change raise questions about Chloe’s chastity. But she was reconsidering her opposition. Lord Parker was anxious to leave London, so he would readily agree that the Season was doing Chloe no good.

  Diana sighed. After that diatribe, she had not dared push. The Parkers would forbid further contact if they decided she was leading Chloe astray. It was clear that they were on the verge of that decision already. Her reputation as an intellectual was far stronger in London than in Wiltshire, so they were only now discovering the full range of her interests. They would never believe that by teaching Chloe to think for herself and offering reading material beyond innocuous improving literature, she had channeled the girl’s restless yearning into positive activities. Chloe had so chafed at her parents’ restrictions that Diana had once feared she would run away and come to harm.

  Lady Sophia rushed toward the gardens from the direction of the lake. She looked disheveled – and quite rattled. Diana frowned. Had Nicholas been taking unwelcome liberties with her? His kisses were enough to rattle even the least propriety-conscious miss. But she couldn’t picture him overstepping the bounds with a potential wife. He reserved that for prospective mistresses.

  And Sophia’s distress might not arise from advances. She was so prim that even finding herself alone with a gentleman would rattle her.

  But the problem could not be serious. The girl spotted other guests, instantly dropping her pace to an elegant stroll as her hands smoothed her gown and tucked a wayward curl under her bonnet.

  Diana was turning back to the house when Lady Sophia stopped to speak to the Parkers. They seemed surprised, but a gesture urged them to accompany her to the lake. Her words were unintelligible, but her tone carried an undercurrent of spite – or possibly cunning.

  Chloe!

  Dear Lord, the girl had wandered toward the lake twenty minutes earlier. Had she arranged an assignation with Charles? Despite his honorable intentions, Charles was little different from Nicholas when it came to getting his own way. She should have expected him to meet Chloe even while they were supposed to be ignoring each other.

  If the Parkers found them together, Chloe would be wed to George before the week was out. They would never countenance giving her to a rake. Nor would they tolerate the slightest tarnish to her reputation.

  Shortsighted, hedonistic idiots! Couldn’t they think beyond the moment? With prissy misses like Lady Sophia about – to say nothing of the Parkers – they could not afford to take chances.

  Racing along a servants’ shortcut through the shrubbery, she prayed she could find the pair before their indiscretion ruined any chance of marriage.

  The path emerged next to the folly, but the scene that greeted her was far more intimate than a kiss. Charles held Chloe in his arms, his head resting atop hers as they silently communed. They presented an image of such perfect amity that Diana blinked back a tear. But there was no time for sentiment.

  “Your parents are headed this way,” she said, appearing so quickly that they both jumped in alarm. “Chloe, take that path through the trees, get back to the house, and pretend you’ve been there all afternoon. Hurry!”

  Chloe grabbed her bonnet and bolted.

  “You had best head around the lake,” she told Charles. “If they spot her, you cannot be anywhere nearby. I’ll remain here and admire the view.”

  “Surely if other guests found us together, they would have to accept me,” he protested.

  “Idiot! They are the most pigheaded fools alive. I don’t care if the Regent and the Archbishop of Canterbury found you naked in bed! The Parkers would see her wed immediately – to George. Now, go.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a quick hug. “I didn’t know the risk I was running.”

  “Appalling!” snapped Lady Parker.

  Charles stiffened.

  “Indecent!” added Lady Sophia.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Lord Parker. “I thought better of you, Lady Bounty,” he added as he stepped into the folly and identified her.

  Charles’s eyes filled with panic.

  “Do it,” whispered Diana so only he could hear. “It’s your only hope. We’ll straighten it out later. You needn’t fear I’ll h
old you to it.”

  Charles pulled himself together and grinned. “Wish me happy. Lady Bounty has accepted my hand in marriage.” He gallantly raised her fingers to his lips.

  Something akin to horror flashed in Lady Sophia’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly to identify it. More likely it had been surprise. She had expected to find Chloe here – though why she had sought to get her in trouble, Diana did not know. The two girls had never met, so there should be no reason for enmity. Now she would assume she had been mistaken. Chloe’s gown was nearly the twin of her own. It was the first break of the day. Without seeing their faces, a distant observer would not differentiate them.

  The Parkers’ shock instantly changed to delight, for they had long urged her to remarry. Despite her demonstrated expertise, they did not believe a woman was capable of running an estate. And her refusal to hire a chaperon offended their strict propriety. If they had known that she also directed her own investments – through the offices of Harry’s man of business – they would have gone into hysterics.

  Thus they welcomed the news. By the time the party returned to the house, nearly every guest had been apprised of the betrothal.

  * * * *

  Nicholas ducked into the woods. He had successfully avoided Diana since she had left the clearing yesterday. Now he wished he hadn’t. Less than three days after swearing off both dalliance and marriage, she had been caught in the former and forced into the latter.

  The force had been obvious. He had reached the edge of the trees just as the Parkers had arrived. Langley’s embrace had hurt, though even a casual glance detected no passion in the gesture. But Langley had stiffened when Lady Parker spoke. Panic had flashed across his face. Diana’s had been turned away, but she must have been equally surprised. Had she willingly met Langley, or had the man cornered her in the folly and pressed attentions on her?

  The very thought that she might welcome Langley left him reeling. Leaning against a tree, he fought for breath. But she must have, he admitted. He had caught a glimpse of them fifteen minutes earlier. Distance had blurred the image enough that he had not recognized either party, but that passionate embrace had been two-sided. So perhaps Langley’s face had reflected surprise rather than panic. And pleased surprise at that. He had been courting Diana’s fortune since receiving his parents’ ultimatum.