The Matchmaker and the Duke Page 4

  * * *

  When they reached Hyde Park the entrance was teaming with both carriages and pedestrians and they had to wait their turn to pass through the gate. Both girls looked charming in their bonnets, spencers and summery gowns, for today was as lovely a spring day as one could wish for on a drive. And that meant the world and his wife were here at the fashionable hour of the promenade.

  It was not long before they were greeted by people they had met over the past few weeks. Amelia was proud of how well her charges had been received by the ton who made every effort to acknowledge them. With a slight pang, she had to admit some of that was due to the Duke of Stone’s condescension at Lady Jersey’s ball.

  And...there he was, riding towards them. There was no mistaking his broad-shouldered figure in a snug-fitting navy riding coat or his easy masculine carriage. Her heart picked up speed and her stomach fluttered in a most disturbing manner. She took a deep breath and quelled such ridiculousness. She was fearful for the hearts of her charges, that was all, and, knowing the Duke, he had likely forgotten he had ever met them.

  She pretended not to see him.

  ‘Oh!’ Charity exclaimed, sounding shocked.

  Amelia’s heart sank, anticipating a snub from Stone.

  ‘There is Lord Sherbourn,’ Charity went on. ‘I am sure that is him. Walking with the lady in blue.’ She squinted and pouted. ‘A very pretty lady.’

  Amelia took in the couple. ‘Lady Augusta Framton. This is her second Season. I believe her family’s estate is close to the Sherbourn home. Likely they are friends.’

  Charity twirled her parasol and looked unconvinced. ‘He saw me and pretended he did not.’

  Oh, dear. Amelia did not like the stubborn set to Charity’s chin. She was usually the most obliging of girls, but that particular look often signified she was annoyed and prepared to do something about the issue.

  A shadow fell across the carriage. The Duke of Stone had fallen in beside them. ‘Good day, ladies,’ he said, doffing his tall hat with an elegant bow.

  Amelia hid her surprise as they greeted him in turn.

  ‘A fine day for a turn in the park,’ he observed when the niceties were concluded.

  ‘It is,’ Charity said brightly. She sounded a little brittle to Amelia’s ears. ‘Nice enough for a picnic. I do hope we are not using up all the good weather so that it rains when we go to Greenwich.’

  He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘You are attending the Dobsons’ party, then?’

  Amelia’s heart clenched. A sharp little stab of pain that stopped her breath. Was she wrong about Stone? Was he truly interested in Charity? Why else would he have made a point of speaking with them? Perhaps the girl’s beauty had turned his head, as it had those of other gentlemen. She took a deep breath to ease the pain in her chest. Papa Mitchell would be thrilled if it was true. It would be the wedding of the Season, should it come to pass.

  She just wished she did not have the feeling he would be making a terrible mistake in marrying Charity. No, no. It was Charity she worried for. The Duke was such a cold man and Charity was so sweet, she feared the young woman’s spirit might be crushed by the weight of his power.

  ‘We are,’ Charity said. ‘Patience is hoping to see the telescope in the observatory, but you need a special invitation.’

  Stone looked surprised. ‘Are you interested in astronomy, Miss Patience?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Patience said. ‘Very much. It doesn’t matter if we cannot go into the observatory. Being so close to where Mr Halley made all his observations will be thrilling enough. And I hear the view from there is quite remarkable.’

  Oh, dear. Patience was beginning to sound a little too effusive. Hopefully the Duke would not take offence at her youthful enthusiasm, when the fashion was for ennui. But from his expression it seemed he was amused rather than disgusted.

  ‘It is, indeed,’ he said. ‘Let us hope for fine weather. And do you go to Almack’s on Wednesday?’

  ‘Yes,’ Charity said. ‘We received our tickets from Lady Jersey.’ She smiled at him shyly. ‘I believe we have you to thank for that. I hope I don’t break any of the rules.’

  ‘You will not,’ Stone said, sounding indulgent. ‘Not with Mrs Durant to show you the way.’ He nodded at Amelia and heat rushed to her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she said, hoping she sounded normal and not as breathless as she felt. It was idiotic. All the man had done was pay her a commonplace compliment. ‘I assume we shall see you there?’

  His eyebrows rose and she realised she had sounded rather challenging. Well, it really would be nice to know his purpose for asking, would it not?

  He bowed. ‘You will indeed.’ He turned to Charity. ‘May I request a country dance if you have one available?’

  For a moment, Charity stared at him, then she nodded firmly. ‘I shall be delighted, Your Grace.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Please, I am Stone to my friends.’

  Charity blushed and nodded.

  He turned to Patience. ‘And may I request the fifth set from you, Miss Patience?’

  Patience frowned. ‘You want to dance with both of us?’

  A quizzical expression crossed his face that Amelia could not interpret. ‘I think my aunt would take me to task if I danced with only one of the beautiful Mitchell sisters. It would not be polite.’

  Charity tilted her head. ‘Is your aunt so strict in her notions, then?’

  He chuckled as if sharing a joke known only to the two of them. ‘She is indeed, Miss Charity.’

  And, clever man, he was being careful not to show favouritism to one sister or the other. A way of keeping the gossips firmly at bay for his sake and theirs. Amelia had not expected him to be so considerate. Had he changed over the years?

  Charity smiled back at him. ‘I expect your aunt is like Mrs Durant, then, and knows exactly how one should go on. So, we will follow their instruction and I am sure Patience will be happy to save the fifth set for you.’

  He bowed. ‘Thank you. I bid you good day, ladies.’ He eased his horse away from the carriage and proceeded in the opposite direction.

  He had stayed at their side the exact appropriate amount of time to acknowledge their acquaintanceship without arousing any curiosity, or at least, too much curiosity.

  Amelia could not help but admire his savoir faire. He was certainly the most polished gentleman she had ever met. Or he was now. When they were younger, she had thought him rather rude.

  ‘There is no denying that man looks exceedingly well on a horse,’ Charity said, watching him ride off. ‘And I had never noticed before how bright blue his eyes are.’

  It seemed the attraction went both ways. Again, her heart gave that painful little squeeze.

  Really? She ought to be rejoicing. It seemed very likely she had only one sister left to place.

  * * *

  Travelling through the streets of London with his aunt the following Wednesday evening, Jasper could not recall the last time he had gone to Almack’s. He glanced over at his companion. Aunt Mary had been visibly surprised when he asked if she would like him to escort her and visibly thrilled. It wasn’t that he disliked dancing, he simply disliked all the trivial conversation that went with it. He always found himself at a loss for words once the formalities were over. And Almack’s was at best a dreadful bore. He could not fathom why the ladies liked it so much.

  Fortunately, Miss Mitchell chattered on quite happily, leaving one only the necessity of inserting a word or two at the appropriate interval. Besides which, she really was a lovely and sweet girl. Not a mean bone in her body. Perhaps Aunt Mary was right and she would make some man an excellent wife. But would she make him a good duchess?

  The carriage slowed and then inched its way towards the front door of the hallowed halls of Almack’s assembly rooms. Lady Jersey would not be surprised to see
him, but the other hostesses would. And after he danced with them tonight, no one would question the appearance of the Mitchell sisters at all the best parties.

  The carriage halted and he helped his aunt down into the street, waited for her while she changed her shoes and escorted her up the stairs to the subscription room. The porter at the door glanced at their tickets and gestured for them to go through. Jasper glanced around. Nothing had changed over the years except perhaps the ladies’ fashions.

  While he pretended not to notice, he was not unaware of the ripple of his name spreading through the assembled guests. It had been at least three or perhaps four years since he had made an appearance at what was, without doubt, the hub of the marriage mart. It was here that all hopeful mamas paraded their daughters and sons in hopes of catching them a spouse. And that was the reason he had stopped coming. There had been too many caps thrown his way.

  He and Aunt Mary joined Lady Jersey and a group of friends a few feet inside the door.

  His gaze sought out the Mitchell girls. As usual they were in the middle of a group of fresh-faced young people with their chaperon hovering nearby. He let his gaze pass over them. It would not be good to be seen paying too much attention. He still wasn’t sure...

  Lady Jersey was observing him with interest, even as she listened to his aunt. When she realised she had his attention, she smiled. ‘Is there anyone to whom you wish to be introduced this evening, Duke?’

  She was a naughty minx and he’d always liked her for that. He grinned back. ‘None at the moment, Sally, thank you, but I anticipate you will keep me supplied with a feast of young women I haven’t yet met.’

  Sally narrowed her gaze on him. ‘And some you have, no doubt.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’

  She fluttered her painted fan. ‘So, your Aunt Mary is right? You have finally decided to take the idea of marriage seriously?’

  He tried not to stiffen at the question. It wasn’t impertinence. It was the curiosity of a friend. ‘It is high time I settled down and did my duty.’

  Aunt Mary shook her head at him. ‘You have never been one to shirk your duty, Stone. It is my wish to see you happily settled.’

  There it was again, that word. Happy. ‘Surrounded by such a plethora of lovely ladies...’ he bowed in the two ladies’ direction to ensure them they were included in his description ‘...how could one fail to be happy?’

  One of the other men in the group frowned. ‘Surrounded by a plethora is about as far away from happy as I could imagine. It is the presence of the person you care about that makes one happy.’

  ‘When did you become such a romantic, Charles?’ he said, unable to stop himself from looking down his nose. A reflex. Self-defence. He regretted it the moment he did it.

  ‘When I found my wife,’ the man said cheerily.

  The couple smiled fondly at each other.

  To Jasper’s surprise, he found himself envying the look passing between them. The understanding without words. He quelled the unwanted sensation. He did not envy anyone anything. He was glad for anyone who thought themselves happy.

  The musicians began the introduction for the next dance and Miss Mitchell was escorted on to the floor by one of her court. Jasper spotted Lady Augusta Framton, who clearly had not yet found herself a partner. ‘Excuse me. I need to do my duty and find myself a partner or Sally will have my hide.’

  Sally laughed. ‘I will indeed.’

  He danced with Lady Augusta and with another young lady who Sally brought over to meet him, then went to claim his dance with Miss Charity.

  She was standing beside Mrs Durant. Once again, he was struck by the difference in their own particular form of beauty: Miss Mitchell the classic English rose and Mrs Durant as exotic as an orchid.

  ‘Good evening, Stone,’ Miss Mitchell said upon his approach.

  He bowed. ‘How are you enjoying the evening?’ He glanced around. ‘I saw your sister earlier. She seemed to be in good spirits.’

  Miss Mitchell beamed. ‘It is exactly as we imagined. I am enjoying myself immensely and so is Patience. The balls at our local assembly were just as crowded, but not nearly as refined.’

  He glanced at Mrs Durant, who was smiling fondly at her charge. She had a right to look pleased. The girl was not only lovely, her manners were delightfully free of affectation and the silliness that marked so many of her age.

  Once more he had the urge to ask her to dance. He quashed it.

  He held out his arm to Miss Mitchell. ‘Shall we?’

  They strolled on to the dance floor to join the nearest set.

  * * *

  To Amelia, Almack’s was proving to be an unmitigated success. The girls had danced every set. Stone had clearly been pleased by both girls and even Mrs Drummond-Burrell, one of the starchiest of patronesses of Almack’s, had unbent enough to compliment her on the demeanours of the girls. She’d also congratulated her on setting their feet on the path to making extraordinarily good matches.

  Soon her task would be done. So why was she not pleased?

  Given the girls’ beauty and the wealth of their papa, Amelia had not expected to have any difficulty finding suitable husbands for the sisters, but Stone? And Charity? Something about it was making her feel uncomfortable. Never before had she felt so worried about a match she had arranged.

  Nothing Stone had done or said led her to believe he meant Charity harm, but one careless word from him, one small indiscretion by her, could ruin the young woman’s reputation for ever more. Men did as they pleased and women trod warily. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way of the world.

  When the girls took tea in Almack’s antechamber set aside for the purpose, Stone had not joined them and their friends, but instead had been seated with his aunt, Lady Mary, and Sally Jersey. Amelia had joined Lady Dobson and some of the other matrons while keeping a close eye on her charges. One of the matrons had approached her about finding her son a wife. Amelia did not usually take on young gentlemen, but had, after the woman pleaded with her, agreed to consider making an exception.

  After supper there would be waltzing, but both sisters would sit out, although Sally had said she would approve of them dancing, if Amelia wished. Amelia had thought it better to wait until they had been in society a little longer, especially since she had not had an opportunity to observe them in the dance. It turned into a sad romp if it was not done properly with the right partner.

  ‘May I have this dance?’ a deep voice said beside her.

  She started. ‘Your Grace?’ Her heart tumbled over. No. No, she must have misheard. ‘I beg your pardon, I was wool-gathering.’ She frowned. ‘You did not just ask me—?’

  ‘At the risk of being refused yet again, I did.’

  People were looking at them and he was holding out his arm, making it impossible for her to refuse without seeming rude.

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Do you have to look so cross about it?’

  Indignant at the accusation, but worried he might be right, she smiled. ‘You took me by surprise. I suppose you asked Charity and she told you she does not yet have permission.’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘Oh, but—’

  He raised both eyebrows.

  She put her hand on his sleeve and they strolled on to the dance floor.

  No one would call Amelia diminutive. She was a little above the average height for a woman and, while most men were an inch or two taller, the Duke made her feel small and feminine. Perhaps that was what had attracted her to him all those years ago. She pushed the thought aside. Back then she had been young and full of romantic notions. She now saw the world through the eyes of experience and, in her experience, romance wilted faster than roses. Suitability and compatibility were far more important than sentiment.

  She was not sure why Stone had asked her to dance, but perh
aps it was part of his strategy to ensure she favoured his suit with Charity. Why would she not? And Charity’s father would be exceedingly pleased, but deep in her heart she had trouble believing that the remote Duke of Stone was suitable for a young lively girl like Charity.

  The music began and for the first few seconds she focused on her steps and becoming used to her partner. It had been a long time since she had waltzed, but she need not have worried. He danced beautifully and, with such manly athletic grace, it was easy to relax and let him lead.

  ‘You waltz better than most ladies I have danced with.’

  She frowned. ‘You flatter me, Your Grace.’

  ‘I do not flatter, Mrs Durant. It is not in my nature.’

  ‘Then I thank you for the compliment.’

  She glanced up and was surprised to find that while his face retained its usual expression of cool detachment, his blue eyes were dancing with amusement.

  ‘What is the jest?’

  His lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. ‘No jest. I do wonder, however, what I have done for you to take me in dislike.’

  She started and he somehow caught her before she stumbled and swung her into a turn beneath his arm. At the conclusion of the move they were face to face and exceedingly close. Close enough for her to inhale his bay-scented cologne and see the faint haze of dark stubble on his square chin. She really liked the firm set of his jaw. It showed character and purpose.

  She collected her wandering thoughts. ‘I have not taken you in dislike, Your Grace.’

  ‘Stone, if you please.’

  She nodded at his inclusion of her in his circle of friends, though she was sure his closest friends likely called him Jasper.

  ‘But you are reserving judgement,’ he said as he turned her and then glided down the length of the room with his hand firmly on her waist. There was nothing improper about his touch, but every nerve in her body seemed to tingle with awareness.