by Ella Quinn
“I doubt it.” Quorndon flicked open an elegant enameled and jeweled snuff box, took a pinch, and sniffed. Nasty habit, that. “She was meant to come out last year, but her father died. She is the elder of Rothwell’s sisters. I believe her name is Lady Lucinda. Yes, I’m certain that must be it. My mother has mentioned it enough for me to remember.”
If one were looking strictly at bloodlines, it was an excellent match. “What does Rothwell have to say about it?”
“Why, nothing at all. If he even knows.” One of Quorndon’s dark blond brows rose. “Strangely enough, the dowager duchess is the lady’s sole guardian.”
How had that come about? Normally, a lady would have two guardians, and one of them would be her brother. At least in this case. Still, there was nothing objectionable about Quorndon, after all. “I wish you luck.”
“Thank you.” Quorndon inclined his head. “However, I doubt luck will have anything to do with it. I shall meet the lady to establish if we would get on well enough to produce heirs. If that is determined to my satisfaction, we shall wed.” He settled back into the chair. “Now, about the Lords.”
Gerald studied the other man as he briefly reviewed what had or had not occurred over the past several weeks; Quorndon didn’t appear to care about any of it. His snuff seemed to hold more interest for him than bills that would change the lives of the common people of England. In fact, just about everything seemed to bore him. Gerald hoped Quorndon had more interest in the lady he might be marrying, but even that was doubtful.
Perhaps he might benefit from a change. “Why don’t you travel the Continent now that Bony is secured again?”
Quorndon gave an elegant shudder. “My dear Elliott, no thank you. I enjoy my creature-comforts. I have been told the highways in France are worse than our country lanes. Once they have been repaired and the French court has regained its former elegance, I may visit.”
Well, there was no pleasing some people. Particularly when they did not wish to be pleased.
When Gerald married, he was determined to take an extended wedding trip to France, and Italy as well. He gave himself a shake. Until recently, he’d not given marriage much thought, but it seemed to be cropping up in his mind a great deal lately. If that was what he wanted, he’d better make sure the lady would like to travel as well. He’d also better hope he recognized the lady. This becoming attracted to ladies who were already attached really wasn’t doing him any good.
A breeze moved the air, and he glanced up. Rothwell. Gerald’s friend grinned at him, but merely nodded to Quorndon. If that was the way the wind blew, the marquis would have a harder time courting Lady Lucinda than he’d thought. Rothwell might not be his sister’s guardian, but Gerald would bet his purse that he had a great deal of influence, and so would the new Duchess of Rothwell.
“Quorndon, I see you made it to Town,” Rothwell said rather impatiently as he strode into the morning room.
With a sardonic smile, Quorndon spread out his arms theatrically. “As you see. My mother informed me that my presence is required.”
“Matchmaking, is she?” Rothwell signaled to a waiter.
Quorndon’s brows snapped together. “You don’t know then?”
Shaking his head, Rothwell asked, “Know what?”
“It appears our mothers have decided your sister and I would make a good match.” Quorndon took another pinch of snuff.
“Hell and damnation!” Several heads in the room turned toward them, and Quorndon’s visage became a mask of barely suppressed fury. “Forgive me.” Rothwell rubbed one temple. “It has nothing to do with you in particular.”
“Indeed?” The marquis’s tone could have frozen a pond.
“Don’t fly up into the boughs. I would simply like my sister to find her own husband.”
“Ah, yes. I had forgotten that you have a love match.” Quorndon brushed a non-existent speck of lint from his jacket. “Not all of us are so lucky as to find a suitable lady with whom to fall in love.”
Rothwell looked as if he would say something more, but instead turned to Gerald. “Elliott, well met. I’d like a word, if you have time.”
“Certainly.” He turned to Quorndon. “I shall see you again, I’m sure.”
“I rather expect you will.” They had both risen when Rothwell addressed them, and Quorndon resumed his seat.
Gerald motioned Rothwell to the other end of the room. The thick carpet muffled their footsteps, and they took chairs next to each other.
Once Rothwell had been served a glass of wine, he said, “Drat my mother. I wish she would leave well enough alone. I want my sister to be happy. If Quorndon and she decide they would suit, I will be glad.” He shrugged. “If not, I’ll have yet one more problem with which to deal.”
“Truth be told,”—Gerald hesitated, debating whether he should involve himself or not—“Quorndon is not looking for a love match. If Lady Lucinda pleases him, he will do as his mother wishes.”
Rothwell scowled. “Bloody hell. He won’t be the only gentleman who won’t care what she wants or thinks. I can tell you, I am not looking forward to this Season.” He took a long draw from his wine. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask a favor such as this, but I have no experience chaperoning a young lady.” He swirled the claret, the liquid coating the sides of the glass. “I was gone so long I am not even sure who is on the hunt for an heiress and who isn’t. Quite frankly, I don’t see how Worthington managed three young ladies. If you could help me keep an eye on my sister, I’d be grateful. I will not have her forced into anything she does not wish to do. Especially marriage.”
“Certainly, I’ll help you.” Not that Gerald knew quite what he should do. He was not a member of the family, and therefore had no real authority. Yet he could warn the duke or duchess if he thought there was a potential problem.
“Thank you.” Rothwell heaved a sigh. “I should go home now. The ladies will be done shopping.” He rose from his seat. “I’d like to invite you to drink tea with us later this afternoon. You can meet my sister, so that you’ll recognize her at the events.”
“My pleasure.” Gerald felt sorry for his friend, and more than glad that his sisters were already married. All he had to do was pull his younger brother out of trouble every once in a while.
He was glad to do Rothwell a good turn; helping him watch out for Lady Lucinda would also put Gerald in the way of ladies wishing to wed. This Season, he would keep his eyes open.
CHAPTER TWO
“You want me to marry the Marquis of Quorndon?” Lucinda echoed her mother’s sudden suggestion. “I haven’t even been to my first ball yet.”
“Indeed.” Mama’s hands fluttered nervously. “His mother and I have been friends for ages. Since we were mere girls.” She avoided Louisa and Lucinda’s astonished gazes. At least, Lucinda thought her sister-in-law had the same look on her face as she did. “His title is not as old as ours, but it does date back to the fourteenth century. That is something, I suppose.” As if Lucinda cared how old a peer’s title was. If she fell in love, she wasn’t even sure she would care if the gentleman was a peer. Mama gave Lucinda a polished smile, and immediately the back of her neck prickled. What was her mother up to? “His mother and I have been corresponding, and she happened to mention that Quorndon should wed soon. After all, the succession has not been secured. A peer must look to filling his nursery. And I…Well, with you coming out, you will, naturally, be looking for a husband.”
Her mother glanced at her hopefully. There was more to this than Mama was saying. “Naturally.”
She took a sip of her tea. “You can see how we thought a match between our houses would be extremely desirable.”
“I can?” Lucinda cut a look at Louisa, who had a dubious expression on her face.
“Yes. It is entirely sensible. It will also take the burden off you to find a husband, as I have done the work and found one for you.” Her moth
er smiled again, and this time Lucinda saw the desperation in Mama’s face.
Lucinda was quite sure finding a husband would be a great deal of fun. She had to tell her mother how she felt, yet she hated to disappoint Mama. Still, this would not do. Lucinda might end up marrying the marquis—if she found herself in love with him—but she wanted to have a full Season. And she wanted to pick her own husband. From beneath her lashes, she peeked up at her mother, but Mama’s face had hardened. She was truly serious about this match!
If only Louisa had had the baby earlier. Although, Lucinda did not know how that could have happened. They had been married a mere nine months when the baby came.
“When was the last time you met Quorndon?” Louisa asked in a deceptively soft voice, drawing Lucinda out of her thoughts.
“Not long ago at all,” Mama said, drawing a raised brow from Louisa. “Well, perhaps it has been some time.” Mama huffed. “A number of years, if you must know. Still, he was a very engaging little boy. Surely he is not much different now.”
“I suppose it would depend on your perception.” Lucinda waited for her sister-in-law to elaborate, but Louisa returned her attention to a piece of embroidery. That was disappointing.
The conversation seemed to be over, but Mama smiled again. “All one must do is simply compare Rothwell now to the way he was as a child.” Mama’s lips turned down at the corners. “Come to think of it, he was much more obliging as a boy than he is now, and not nearly as dirty.”
The last time Lucinda had seen her brother he was wearing a cravat so white it blinded one. “I do not find Rothwell at all dirty.”
Louisa’s lips twitched.
“No, no, my dear. Not now. When he was a little boy. He was always tearing something. I despaired keeping him in clothes. Quorndon was never dirty, as I recall.”
“Now, that does not surprise me at all,” Louisa pronounced.
“In any event. We have been invited to Quorndon’s house for dinner in two days’ time.” Mama quickly glanced at Louisa, smiled at Lucida, and left the room.
“That is the evening of Lady Bellamny’s party for the young ladies.” Louisa had raised her voice enough to be heard, but Mama did not reenter the room. “She must find another evening. I cannot be made responsible for deciding which events you are to attend and have her making other arrangements.”
The moment Lucinda could no longer hear the soft padding of her mother’s slippers, she turned to Louisa. “What about the Marquis of Quorndon do you dislike?”
“I shall not tell you.” She put her embroidery aside. “It is for you to decide if you like him or not.”
That was not fair. If Louisa—who had a great deal of good sense—did not like the man, she should tell Lucinda the reason. “But why?”
“My very good friend, Dotty, now the Marchioness of Merton found something to like in my cousin, Merton, when the rest of us despised him. He has changed a great deal since he met her. Therefore, I shall not attempt to influence you. You will see if you like him.” Louisa rose. “I must see to Alexandria.”
A few moments later, one of the nursery maids came running into the room. “Her grace?”
It was amazing how Louisa always seemed to know to attend to the baby just before she was called. “On her way to the nursery. She should almost be there.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The maid bobbed a curtsey and dashed out again.
If the servant had taken the main staircase—an unlikely event—she would have met Louisa and saved herself the errand. On the other hand, having servants running up and down the main staircase would create a problem. Mama, for example, would not like it at all.
The low rumble of male voices filtered from the hall. Rothwell must be back. Maybe she could get her brother to tell her what her sister-in-law would not.
Lucinda hurried up the corridor to meet him as he started to climb the stairs. “A word with you, please.”
“Of course.” He turned to her.
“In the morning room.” It was the room farthest from the hall, and they were less likely to be heard.
Moments later, they entered the room. “Shall I ring for tea?”
Her brother studied her for a moment, then frowned. “Mama told you about Quorndon.”
“Er, yes.” Rothwell did not respond at first, so Lucinda waited. She never knew him that well, by the time she was out of the nursery, he was at school, but in her limited experience, men would speak if given an opportunity.
“I’ve known him for years, and have nothing against the man. I do not like that Mama has decided to arrange a match. However, she is your guardian, and I cannot go against her wishes unless the gentleman she chooses would be a danger to you.”
So, there was not anything wrong with the marquis. If there were, her brother would know. She supposed anyone could take anyone else into dislike. That must be what Louisa had done. “Thank you.”
He nodded and strode toward the door. Probably headed to the nursery to be with his wife and child. Hopefully, by this time next year, she too would have a husband and child.
Her brother reached the door and paused. “Lucinda, I have invited a friend, Lord Elliott, to drink tea with us. Elliott is someone you can depend upon if you require help.”
What a strange thing to say. “Thank you. I shall strive to do you credit.”
Rothwell grinned, stepped toward her, then tapped her nose as he used to do when she was a child. “I never thought otherwise. I’ll see you later. Louisa will be waiting for me.”
How in the world did he know that? They must have developed a secret form of communication. Or did all married couples know what the other one wanted?
Lucinda glanced at the gilt-edged, alabaster mantel clock. She had enough time to discover more about both Lord Elliott—it would have been helpful if her brother had mentioned his title—and Lord Quorndon before she dressed for tea.
She entered the library and was surprised to find a box of new books being shelved by the under-housekeeper, Mrs. Reid. “Good day. I wanted to find a copy of Debrett’s, but I do not wish to interrupt your work.”
A quick smile came from the woman. “I haven’t seen it, my lady, but you’re welcome to look through these boxes. Her grace sent us a list, and I know Debrett’s was on it. There is an older copy on the shelf to the right of that window.” She pointed to the north side of the room.
“Thank you.” Lucinda glanced at the boxes. It would take longer than she had to go through them all. “I’ll see what I can find in the old copy.”
“As you wish.” Reid turned back to her chore, and Louisa found the book.
As luck would have it, it was only four years old. Finding Quorndon was easy, and told her very little she had not already surmised. His bloodlines were desirable, as was the title. The current Lady Quorndon was the daughter of the Duke of Melbrough, and she was the same age as Lucinda’s mother. They had probably come out together.
Finding Lord Elliott was a bit more difficult. In fact, the only one who matched—a gentleman of an age near her brother’s and who was not married—was one of the rare earls who was not an earl of somewhere. The titles included the Baron Elliott of Bittlesbrough, Viscount Elliott of Bittlesbrough, and Earl Elliott.
Bittlesbrough must be his main estate. Possibly his only estate. The title was relatively new, having been created less than a hundred years ago, making the current Earl Elliott the Third Earl Elliott. Even though his line was not ancient, the first Earl Elliott had been a younger son of the Duke of Suffolk, and that title went back to the fourteenth century.
She shut the book. It would be more helpful if Debrett’s included information as to hair color, or eye color, or how tall a man was. Although she knew more than she had before, it still was not enough.
For goodness’ sake. He is only coming to tea. Rothwell specifically said he was not matchmaking
, only introducing me to other gentlemen. Not only that, but he said I should make up my own mind.
Lucinda straightened her shoulders. There was no reason to rush into marriage, or an attachment. After all, marriage was for life.
The clock struck the hour, and she realized she had stayed in the library too long. Her maid would be looking for her.
When she got to her room, Greene had laid out three gowns. “These are the ones that arrived while you were out. I think the blue and cream would be nice, but the green almost matches your eyes. The yellow will brighten things up a bit.”
“It has been dreary.” In fact, the weather had been worse than dreary. It was too cold for the beginning of April. At this rate, Lucinda would be wearing heavy cloaks all spring. “I shall wear the yellow.”
Her maid quickly helped her out of her day dress and into the yellow gown, which was embroidered with violets and vines. Once her hair had been redone into a softer style, she put on her pearl earrings. “I do not think I shall need a necklace. I shall want my Norwich silk shawl with the large flowers on it.”
It was pretty, and she wanted to make an impression on Lord Elliott, even if her brother was not matchmaking.
CHAPTER THREE
Louisa, Rothwell, and Mama were already in the drawing room when Lucinda entered.
“You look lovely.” Her mother beamed with delight. “I must say, Louisa, that the modiste you chose is extremely talented.”
Louisa caught Lucinda’s eye and grinned. “Thank you, but I cannot take any credit at all for finding her. Lady Rutherford gave my brother the recommendation. Madam Lisette has become quite popular in the past few years.”
“With her way of making a lady look her best, I can understand the reason why.” Mama beamed at Lucinda again. Probably thinking about her upcoming betrothal.
Rothwell was standing by the fireplace, leaving the seat next to his wife empty, so Lucinda sat on the sofa next to Louisa.
Keeping her voice low, Lucinda asked, “Have you told my mother about Lady Bellamny’s party?”