The Matchmaker and the Duke Read online

  ‘No one is forcing me into anything.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear it. But do you plan to make her an offer? You really need to make up your mind, Jasper.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Leave the matter with me.’

  She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I knew I could count on you to do the right thing.’

  That was what everyone knew about him. That he always did the right thing. Always did his duty.

  * * *

  ‘Will I be permitted to waltz tonight?’ Charity asked Amelia a little too casually as her maid finished pinning her hair.

  Since the Vauxhall debacle, Amelia had resided at the Mitchell town house and would do so for the rest of their stay in London. Clearly, she needed to keep a closer eye on her charges and it would be fair to say that Mr Mitchell was not especially pleased with her. Though it did seem they had escaped any sort of repercussions from that little adventure thanks to Jasper frowning at anyone who even hinted it might not have all been above board and perfectly respectable. Clearly, he was a man who did as he pleased with impunity. A cold chill trickled down her spine at the thought.

  Yet...he did not seem to use his power for ill. And he had given up his own pleasure in order to aid Charity. Not something every gentleman would do. Certainly her husband had never given up anything he wanted to do, not even for her sake. According to him, marrying her had been enough of a sacrifice.

  Still, the big question in her mind was what Jasper planned with regard to Charity and the future. Because if he did not plan to come up to scratch, then Amelia needed to look elsewhere.

  Oh, dear, was that a little bit of hope she felt in her heart?

  Tonight being Wednesday, they were off to Almack’s Assembly. If Jasper was there, it would give her a chance to thank him properly.

  ‘You may waltz, provided the right gentlemen asks,’ Amelia said.

  Charity’s shoulders slumped. ‘You mean the Duke.’

  Amelia forced herself to smile gently. ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘What about me?’ Patience said. ‘I want my first waltz to be with Mr Dobson.’

  To Amelia’s surprise, Mr Mitchell had given his approval to Mr Dobson’s suit. Apparently, he knew Dobson’s father. He’d had business dealings with him and thoroughly approved of him, and therefore approved of his son.

  ‘If he is in attendance, I see no reason why you should not waltz with him.’

  Patience, who had completed her toilette and now sat on the bed trying not to crease her skirts, beamed. ‘He will be there.’ The girl glowed.

  Whereas Charity looked pale. Almost sickly.

  ‘Do you have a headache, Charity?’ Amelia asked. The girl had been looking peaky since they got home from Vauxhall. ‘Shall we stay home this evening and attend Almack’s next week instead.’

  ‘Oh, you cannot mean that, Mrs Durant,’ Patience exclaimed, jumping to her feet. ‘What a let down.’

  ‘But if your sister is not feeling quite the thing—’

  Charity straightened her shoulders. ‘No, indeed. I am well. A little tired, perhaps, but no doubt I shall feel better directly.’

  Amelia frowned, then shrugged mentally. Surely the girl would regain her spirits once she was among her friends.

  The housekeeper popped her head through the door. ‘The carriage is waiting, Mrs Durant,’ she said. She beamed at the girls. ‘My, don’t you ladies look a picture.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Amelia replied. She ushered the girls downstairs and out of the front door. She was surprised when Lord Sherbourn stepped into their path. He thrust a bunch of flowers at Charity. ‘My humble apologies, Miss Mitchell. I had no intention to cause you distress the other evening.’

  Startled, Charity stepped back.

  The footman holding the carriage door open for them and waiting to assist them inside lunged forward. ‘Step aside, you,’ he said thrusting an arm between the young lord and Charity.

  Sherbourn turned bright red.

  ‘Oh, Danvers, it is perfectly all right. This gentleman is a friend.’

  Sherbourn gave the man a dark look, then must have realised what Charity had said because his brow cleared and he smiled at her shyly. ‘You may ever count on me as such, Miss Mitchell.’

  ‘We are going to Almack’s,’ Charity blurted out. ‘Will we see you there?’

  He glanced down and winced. ‘Not dressed for it, I am afraid. Although—yes, perhaps I shall.’

  Amelia refrained from rolling her eyes, though she very much felt like it. The pair of them were so...so...innocent. Had she ever been that way?

  Perhaps. In that very first Season, though it was hard to recall that distant time.

  Sherbourn dashed off. No doubt to change into knee breeches.

  ‘What is going on?’ Papa Mitchell’s voice boomed from the open front door. His face was mottled dark red.

  ‘Nothing, Papa,’ Charity said.

  ‘You’ll have nothing to do with that rascally fellow,’ Mr Mitchell boomed on his way down the steps.

  ‘But, Papa,’ Charity said, ‘he is my friend.’

  Papa stuck out a bottom lip. ‘If he is such a good friend, he would not have put you in harm’s way.’

  ‘Harm’s way,’ Charity gasped. ‘What can you mean.’

  Her father glared at her and then at Amelia. ‘You know exactly what I mean. She is not to have anything to do with that fellow. Not a thing. Or you will return home in disgrace. Do you understand me, missy?’

  Charity was back to looking wan and miserable. ‘Yes, Papa. I understand,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, Mr Mitchell,’ Amelia said.

  * * *

  The journey to Almack’s was accomplished in silence until just before they arrived. Charity pressed her hands together. ‘How can I give him the cut direct, Mrs Durant? He will be so hurt.’

  ‘It would also be seen as extremely rude,’ Amelia said. ‘Do not worry, I will explain to your father that you must observe the common courtesies or it really will cause a scandal.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Charity said, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘You are too good and after I played such a trick on you.’

  ‘We all make mistakes, Charity,’ she said comfortingly.

  ‘I’ll wager you never did anything so foolish,’ Patience said.

  ‘Oh, I did.’ She’d let a man convince her to go apart with him late at night, knowing full well if she was caught it would bring certain ruin. She’d paid the price for that piece of foolishness. She did not want Charity to suffer the same fate.

  The carriage drew to a halt and they climbed down. They changed into their slippers in the cloakroom and mounted the stairs to the assembly rooms.

  There was a short line of people waiting to show their tickets and Charity kept looking over her shoulder. Hoping for a glimpse of Lord Sherbourn, no doubt.

  They entered the ballroom and Amelia looked around for Jasper. He was not among the guests, unless he was in the gaming room.

  She found a chair with some of the other chaperons and settled down to keep a close eye on her charges.

  She was surprised when Sally Jersey joined her a few minutes later. The young woman sat down beside her with a soft sigh. ‘I am glad to see you here, Mrs Durant,’ she said. ‘It would not do to turn tail and run.’

  Amelia’s heart sank. ‘What can you mean, Lady Jersey?’

  ‘The Duke was seen leaving your abode in the early hours of the morning a few nights ago. Speculation is rife.’

  The relief that it was not Vauxhall she was speaking of turned to chagrin as she realised the import of the words.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Do not bother denying it, my dear.’ She patted Amelia’s hand. ‘No one will blame you one bit. Stone is a very attractive man and a bachelor to boot. For the time being at least. I have it on good
authority he is ready to settle down to the business of marriage. Very good authority.’

  Amelia’s shoulders stiffened. She forced a pleasant smile. ‘I certainly hope you are right. The Season will soon be over and, if Stone does not come up to scratch, I shall be forced to seek an alternative match.’

  Sally Jersey nodded. Her gaze rested on Charity, who was as usual the centre of a group of young people who seemed to regard her with awe. Particularly the young gentlemen. ‘Do you think Miss Mitchell will make him a good wife?’

  Amelia wanted to scream. No, she did not think the girl would make Stone a good wife. Charity would never stand up against his autocratic ways. She would do exactly as he demanded. And no doubt he would be bored to death within the year. But that was not her concern.

  What did it matter if she thought neither of them would be truly happy? As long as they rubbed along reasonably well, that was all that was required in a marriage. Truly, she had thought Stone long past the age when his head could be turned by mere beauty, but had not experience taught her that men did not use the head on top of their shoulders when it came to women?

  Certainly the world would think her mad if she tried to talk Charity out of the match. Indeed, how could she when she herself had fallen for his charms? People might even accuse her of trying to snare Stone for herself, given the gossip now rife. Besides, what girl would not be happy when offered a coronet of eight strawberry leaves? Papa Mitchell would be in alt.

  Yet she had the feeling Charity would far rather settle for a rather romantic young man named Sherbourn.

  But if the Duke had decided to make Charity an offer, what could Amelia do? He must have decided she would suit him. And there was no more to be said.

  ‘Miss Mitchell will make any man a good wife,’ she said, ignoring the pain around her heart. After all, it was the truth.

  Lady Jersey nodded her agreement and drifted away, leaving Amelia to ponder her future.

  Good lord, was she moping about having accomplished the most advantageous match of the Season? Certainly not.

  She was thrilled.

  Then why did she feel so empty inside?

  * * *

  It did not take Jasper a moment to spot Mrs Durant engaged in deep conversation with Sally Jersey. Whatever they were discussing, the topic seemed to cause Mrs Durant a pang, for she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  Next, his sought out the whereabouts of Miss Mitchell. He simply had to look for the largest clutch of debutantes and their swains to locate her. And of course, she was the reason he was here this evening. He paused, watching her, chatter to her friends. He also noticed the way she continually darted glances towards the door, as if she was expecting someone. Unfortunately, she was going to be disappointed. He’d made sure of it.

  The dance in progress, a country dance, was reaching its conclusion.

  As he made his way across the dance floor, he had no doubt that everyone present made a note of his arrival and the fact that he had made straight for this Season’s most admired beauty. The crowd around Charity parted to let him through.

  There were some definite benefits to being a duke.

  He bowed over Charity’s extended hand. ‘Good evening, Miss Mitchell.’

  She managed a smile. ‘Good evening, Duke.’

  ‘May I have the next waltz?’

  She glanced around, visibly swallowed, but nodded. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  He breathed a sigh of relief. The first hurdle had been successfully got over. He smiled and nodded at the other members of her group. Looking uncomfortable, they drifted away. ‘How are you enjoying this evening?’ he asked.

  ‘Very much. Thank you.’

  ‘Good.’ Hearing the opening bars of a waltz, he held out his arm.

  Like a lamb led to the slaughter, she took it and they moved on to the dance floor. She danced beautifully, light on her feet and her gaze fixed on his face. The fact that her smile was a little stiff would likely be apparent to no one but himself.

  ‘Relax, Miss Mitchell. This is, after all, your first waltz at Almack’s. It should be a memorable experience.’

  ‘I am sure it will be, Your Grace.’

  ‘Why so formal, my dear? I thought we were friends.’

  She blushed. ‘Indeed. You have shown yourself to be a good friend.’ She emphasised the word. ‘Mrs Durant said I should express my gratitude when next I saw you.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Miss Mitchell, to extract you from your difficulty the other night and I will not hear another word about it.’ He had more important things on his mind.

  Her smile eased.

  She became more pliant in his arms, more at one with the music. She really was a lovely girl. ‘What are your plans for when the Season is over?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose it will depend on what happens,’ she said quietly. ‘Patience has been invited to spend a few weeks with Mr Dobson’s parents in Worthing where they have taken a house for the summer. They invited me also. I am not sure if Papa will agree to us going.’

  ‘Do you like the seaside?’

  ‘I like it well enough.’

  ‘And do you like the country? I have a mind to make up a party at Stone Hall. Three weeks or so of bucolic entertainments for a few select acquaintances.’

  A crease formed between her eyebrows. ‘Are you inviting me?’

  He chuckled. What a delight she was. ‘I am feeling my way, Miss Mitchell, seeing if you would prefer a visit to the country over a stay at the seaside.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I have not spent much time in the country.’ She smiled shyly. ‘I rather think I should like to do both,’ she said, smiling. ‘Papa was not quite pleased when he realised that the Dobsons did not stay in Bath. I believe he was tempted to refuse. Poor Mr Dobson has been on tenterhooks awaiting his decision. I think Papa might be more inclined to accept their invitation to Patience, if I accepted yours.’

  And so she was prepared to martyr herself for the sake of her sister. Her loyalty was admirable and, as always, he found her complete honesty refreshing. He would look forward to her visit. ‘You will bring Mrs Durant as your chaperon, of course, and your papa will also receive an invitation, naturally.’

  She looked startled. ‘You would invite Papa? Are you sure? Oh, I do not think he will come. He hates the country. It is too slow for him. He is a city man.’

  ‘I myself rarely come to town apart from the Season and most years I do not come to London at all unless the business before Parliament is of interest. I am what many call a bit of a hermit.’

  He negotiated around the end of the dance floor and gently turned Miss Mitchel beneath his arm, giving her time to think about his words.

  Indeed, having absorbed his words, she looked horrified. ‘Is that true of all gentlemen?’

  He smiled. ‘I think you have seen for yourself it is not. But I have several country estates and all demand my attention.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I look forward to showing you Stone Hall this summer.’

  Her smile faltered, but she caught herself and brightened. ‘I am sure I shall enjoy it immensely.’

  That remained to be seen.

  Chapter Ten

  From the corner of her eye, Amelia watched the Duke dance with Charity. He was clearly pleased and if his good friend Lady Jersey was convinced he was about to make her an offer, then Amelia had no doubt that he would.

  They made a handsome couple. He so tall and dark and she so dainty and fair. It would be the marriage of the year, if not the decade.

  Resolutely, she turned her gaze away and listened to the conversation of the other ladies sitting on the sidelines. They were discussing the latest fashion in widows’ caps. She hoped she looked interested for it would not do too be caught staring at Stone. With Charity. People were already gossiping about Stone leaving her house late one
night. If they thought she was lovelorn, they would have a field day. And she wasn’t. She was worried for them both. But matters were now out of her hands. If the Duke had decided on Charity as his bride, no one, least of all her, could prevent it from happening.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts.’

  Her heart leaped at the deep voice so close to her ear. She whipped her head around. ‘Stone! You startled me.’

  A nearby lady tittered.

  Amelia’s face heated.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Durant. I came to request your hand for the next waltz.’

  Puzzled, she almost refused, but the intensity in his blue eyes had her changing her mind. ‘I shall be delighted.’

  He nodded. ‘In the meantime, may I bring you some refreshment?’

  He was such a kind gentleman. One did not see that about him until one got to know him better. ‘Thank you.’

  He sauntered off, yet his step had such an aura of purpose, others gave way at his approach. Amelia forced herself not to watch him and once more paid attention to a conversation that had now moved on to the right time to wean a child. Not something about which she had anything to contribute. In her salad days and early in her marriage she had liked the idea of being a mother. Sadly, no issue had resulted from her marital congress.

  ‘My children are such a blessing,’ the lady who tittered was saying. ‘Never a day passes without one or other of them paying me a visit.’

  ‘How many children do you have?’ Amelia asked.

  The woman beamed. ‘Eight and five grandchildren and another on the way.’

  ‘Your family breeds like rabbits,’ one of the other ladies said with a sniff. ‘I have two. And that was quite enough for me.’

  At that moment, Stone returned with her glass of ratafia. Amelia rose to her feet. After a quick glance to make sure Charity and Patience were back on the dance floor, she smiled at Stone. ‘Do you think it might be quieter in the supper room?’