Too Many Matchmakers Read online

  “Is that what is troubling you? Few girls see more than you have before marriage, Chloe. And you have known all your life that you would wed George. It never bothered you before. In fact, you were quite excited at the prospect only a fortnight ago. What happened?”

  “He came to dinner last night.”

  “And?” she asked when the silence stretched.

  “I haven’t seen him since he signed the betrothal agreement six years ago. You know he stays on his own estate and never visits his parents.”

  No one had ever explained why, but Diana nodded. She had known both Chloe’s family and George’s since her own marriage ten years earlier, but she had met George only during his occasional breaks from Cambridge. She had paid him no heed.

  Chloe’s eyes shimmered with tears. “He is the most boring man I have ever met,” she said on a sob. “And tyrannical. Nothing pleases him. He has no sense of humor. And he is so proper that Papa seems dissolute in comparison.”

  “Good heavens!” Lord Parker was a staid gentleman who cared for little beyond his estate.

  “How can I marry such a man? I will die!”

  “Calm yourself, Chloe,” she demanded. “You should know better than to judge people on one meeting. Initial impressions are often false.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Think! Have I taught you nothing? If a gentleman first met you at your parents’ table, what would he think?”

  Chloe blotted her eyes and sighed. “That I was a boring, conformable widgeon.”

  “Exactly. You rarely open your mouth. You never dispute a statement. You repeat only the most innocuous gossip and never venture an opinion. In fact, I only heard you make three statements during my entire visit to your mother’s at-home last week.”

  “Sunshine is quite pleasant after a week of rain. Lady Brisbane was overset by encountering Lady Markleigh’s poodles in the park. Papa quite properly does not approve the raucous atmosphere to be found at Astley’s,” she repeated in resignation.

  “Exactly. And that impression would be reinforced when he saw you making calls with your mother.”

  “But if I don’t remain quiet and demure, she punishes me.”

  “I know,” said Diana soothingly. “I was not criticizing. It is often important to conform to people’s expectations. But did you consider that George might also be wearing a social mask?”

  “Why would he?”

  “He was visiting your family for the first time in six years. He knows their characters, for he grew up on the next estate. He would conform merely to make a good impression.”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t believe it. His eyes tell a different story – you are the one who claims that truth can be found in the eyes and hands.”

  She nodded. It was one of Bounty’s first lessons, and had stood her in good stead many times since. A lady alone had to keep her wits about her, and that meant knowing what her companions really wanted.

  “His eyes lit with fanaticism when he disparaged London frivolity – especially modern dancing – and his hands actually twisted his serviette into a noose.”

  “Was he speaking of the waltz?”

  She nodded. “Then he decried the fact that we will not wed until after we return to Wiltshire in July. By holding the wedding here next month, he could remove me from this decadent society before it turns my silly head. He would do it tomorrow if a special license cost less.” New tears rolled down her cheek. “I cannot believe he actually berated Papa for bringing me to town. And Papa let him!”

  Diana spent several minutes calming her hysteria. Chloe had a history of emotional outbursts, so it was unlikely that George was quite that haughty, but he didn’t sound very accommodating. Could his own nervousness have made him belligerent? She didn’t like that bit about the noose.

  Both the Parkers and the Weymouths were rigidly conventional and old-fashioned, proposing this betrothal just after Chloe was born. When George reached one-and-twenty, they asked him if he objected. He didn’t, signing the betrothal contract the same day. Two weeks later, he had left home.

  There had been no hint of a disagreement, but when years passed without another visit, Diana had concluded that an argument must be keeping him away. Or was it the betrothal? Perhaps George was less willing than anyone believed, not that it mattered. The settlements were signed, the announcement made public. Nothing could change things now, thoughut it did seem unfair that George had been given a chance to renege on the arrangement while Chloe had not.

  Diana suppressed a sigh. Chloe’s future was out of her hands. Despite their friendship, she was merely a neighbor. And she already walked a fine line with the Parkers. If she tried to meddle, they might cut the connection, leaving Chloe with no one she could talk to.

  * * * *

  Chloe’s betrothal chafed at Diana for the rest of the day, intruding into her thoughts even as she welcomed guests to her soiree. The girl was so young – and so innocent. Had introducing her to art, literature, and new ideas been wrong? Chloe’s curiosity had always been insatiable, but neither of them had considered the consequences of feeding her imagination. Longing for the moon and the stars would bring nothing but pain if her husband did not share her dreams – or at least tolerate them.

  Chloe couldn’t afford to fight an inevitable future. Instead of throwing tantrums and making threats, she needed to look past the surface to discover George’s worth. He might not be handsome or exciting, but he was solidly dependable and probably would be faithful. Chloe would never face unexpected poverty. Her children would not be stigmatized by their father’s unethical behavior. The sooner she accepted her marriage, the sooner she would enjoy her new position.

  Diana had learned that lesson through experience. Her father had squandered his fortune, forcing her into an arranged marriage that had also seemed quite impossible on the surface.

  Dear Harry. She still missed him, though he had been gone for four years. He had ignored her lack of dowry. When he learned that a callous libertine had shattered her heart, he had comforted her, healed her, then helped her to live again. He had honored her intelligence, expanded her education, taught her how to judge people, perfected her social skills, and welcomed her as an equal partner in their marriage. She had missed their frequent debates so much that she had started her weekly soirees as a way to recapture his spirit. Debate kept her mind sharp and her grief at bay, filling her need for stimulating conversation.

  Grief had now mellowed into contentment. She had good friends and the respect of everyone whose opinion mattered. And even in death Harry made her feel cherished. His will had given her financial security and independence. She split her time between London and the Haven. Life couldn’t get much better.

  “Lord Justin,” she said, offering her hand to the latest arrival. He was a regular attendee, though she hadn’t expected him this evening. He usually skipped anything political. “I’m delighted that you could come.”

  “How could I bypass the most interesting gathering in London?” He openly ogled her, his eyes lingering on her bosom. “Or should I say the most interesting hostess?”

  “You never change.” She lightly rapped his arm with her fan. An incorrigible flirt, he always tried to fluster her, and she made sure he never succeeded.

  “Nor do you. Delectable, as always, my dear. May I present the Marquess of Woodvale.” He stepped aside, providing her first glimpse of his companion.

  “My lord.” Somehow she kept her voice even, though it felt like every drop of blood had instantly vacated her head. Spots swirled before her eyes. She fought them down, refusing to faint, refusing to give him that satisfaction.

  “D-Diana Winslow!” His obvious shock helped preserve her own control. Never had she thought to see Nicholas Barrington nonplused.

  “Lady Bounty,” she said, correcting him firmly, then let a frown cross her face. “You look familiar… Ah, you are Gerald’s friend, aren’t you? How is he? I’ve heard nothing of him since I left Warwic
kshire.”

  She could not have astonished him more if she had kicked him in the stomach. Or someplace lower. For one long moment he stared at her, then his eyes blazed in fury.

  Lord Justin raised his brows, but prudently moved into the drawing room in response to an imperative thumb.

  “Gerald’s friend?” Nicholas snarled through gritted teeth. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her into the library and slammed the door. “Look familiar? I’m not stupid, Diana. You haven’t forgotten me. And you cannot have forgotten our last meeting – you vowed to love me for all eternity.”

  She managed a light tinkle of laughter that drove new flashes of fury across his face. For once, her composure exceeded his, though curses screamed through her head and dizziness still threatened to overwhelm her. She had known from the moment she ventured into London that this day would arrive, so she had planned for it, rehearsing the words until they rose automatically to her lips – and that was a blessing, for she had not known that he was now Woodvale. Such ignorance was proof that he finally meant nothing. Thank you, God.

  “Still as arrogant as ever, I see. Now that you mention it, I do remember you, my lord. But as you pointed out so eloquently at the time, I was suffering from a youthful infatuation that would quickly fade. In fact, my feelings were no more than a girlish fascination with your rakehell reputation. Love feels quite different, as I quickly learned. I married Harry a month later.”

  “It didn’t take you long to find a well-heeled lord and wheedle him out of a fortune.”

  Pain sliced through her chest, but she hid it. “Does a man of your experience actually believe malicious goss—”

  “Did you think I’d resume our liaison once you became a wealthy widow?” he demanded, cutting through her words as if she hadn’t spoken.

  Fury engulfed her, overwhelming the pain. He hadn’t changed a bit. Money and sex were all he cared about, so he assumed that everyone was driven by the same needs.

  Watch your tongue, warned a voice in her head. In addition to his lifelong quest for a fortune, he enjoyed a challenge, which explained his reaction just now. Pretending that she no longer recognized him had given her a great deal of satisfaction, but she must be careful not to push him too far.

  “Actually, you never crossed my mind after I married Harry,” she lied.

  “Right!” he scoffed. “A passionate young girl takes one look at an old man and falls hopelessly in love. Do you know any other fairy tales?”

  “I should call you out for that! Harry was the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. You are not worthy to kiss his feet.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she cursed. Damn Nicholas! He still had the power to destroy her control.

  “Do you really expect me to believe that you loved him?” he demanded skeptically.

  “I don’t care what you believe, though it’s true enough.” Make him accept the lie. Please? She turned aside to hide her trembling lips. Why was he so angry? It couldn’t be jealousy after all these years. He hadn’t wanted her, so finding that she had married elsewhere could hardly prick his conceit. And his own dishonor was safely buried. Revealing it would expose her naïveté, tarnishing her reputation.

  Nicholas stared. Her eyes had filled with tears before she’d turned away. Had she actually loved Bounty? He shuddered. He couldn’t believe it – didn’t want to believe it, despite his own fondness for the man. He did not want to picture Bounty bedding a seventeen-year-old – especially his seventeen-year-old. But if she lied, then he had forced her into a hideous union. Guilt stabbed his heart.

  “Congratulations on your new title.” Her voice deflected his thoughts. She again faced him, her face composed. “You must be delighted to have achieved the wealth and power you always craved without having to wed an heiress or abandon your raking.”

  Ouch!

  He grimaced, appalled to find his youthful words tossed back at him. “Yes, it was quite convenient,” he snapped, temper erasing his guilt.

  “I must see to my other guests,” she continued dispassionately. “I presume your purpose for dragging me in here was to demand silence about our previous acquaintance. I agree. As far as London is concerned, we first met tonight – though Lord Justin might need some convincing; you made quite a cake of yourself. You are welcome to stay, but I will understand if you prefer to leave.”

  She was gone by the time he formed a response. Clenching his fists, he stared out the window at her tiny garden. If nothing else, this encounter had disproved every word of Humphrey Reynolds’s calumny. Despite his taunts, he knew Diana was no fortune hunter. So why had she married Bounty? Please let it be for love. He had too many regrets over that summer already.

  He had left within hours of their last meeting, already wracked with guilt. And he had cut further contact with Gerald, so he would never see her again. Thus he had not heard of her marriage.

  Perhaps he was conceited – just a little. He had never imagined her turning to another man, and certainly not to one like Bounty. It hurt. And that made him angrier. She was no more than a youthful acquaintance, of no importance to his life. Her opinion would never influence him. And it certainly should not affect his temper – which he had last lost ten years ago, damn her!

  You must be delighted … wealth and power… Not once had he considered the Woodvale title as the fulfillment of his youthful dreams. Nor had he felt more than mild relief when he had inherited his grandmother’s money. He would forgo the lot if only he could have her back. She had been his rock during childhood, far more of a mother than his own.

  He hated the marquess’s duties for which he had never been trained. But he would swallow live coals rather than admit that aloud, especially to Diana. She had lied about forgetting him, but this meeting proved that it was far from her first lie. He couldn’t trust her. She had been sweet, loving, passionate, and very innocent that summer, but she had never revealed her intelligence or an education that would be considered extensive even for a man. He had heard too much about the breadth of Lady Bounty’s knowledge to believe that she had been uneducated when he knew her. Bounty would hardly have chosen such a bride. So why had she never shared her interests with the man she claimed to love? And how had she put their affair behind her so quickly? Had all her claims been lies?

  But this was not the place to contemplate the past. He could not leave without explaining to Justin, and that would never do. His shock had already raised enough questions for one night.

  Turning his mind to his old mentor, he moved about the familiar library, noting how many books had been added since he had last studied the shelves. He had passed many an evening here, talking, debating, sharing his studies. Their meetings had continued long after Bounty’s marriage to Diana. Why had Bounty never brought her to town with him? That was odd enough, but he had also never mentioned her to Nicholas. Had he known of the connection?

  But that was another question for later.

  He concentrated on recalling their last debate – on Wolf’s contention that more than one hand had written the Iliad and the Odyssey. The logical flow of point and counterpoint finally allowed him to reassert control over his emotions. Only then did he join the other guests in the drawing room.

  But he cursed when he awakened the next morning. He could remember nothing of the soiree after he had left the library. Why couldn’t he have forgotten the earlier scene instead?

  * * * *

  Diana gave up on sleep and stared out the window. Berkeley Square was quiet this time of night. Ladies had long since found their beds, but gentlemen were not yet stumbling home from clubs and boudoirs. Woodvale House loomed directly across the square. She had hardly noticed it before, but now she could not tear her eyes away. It threatened her as no building ever had.

  Somehow she had made it through the evening without disgracing herself. Nicholas had stayed, moving from group to group, just as she was, chatting amiably with some guests, debating heatedly with others. His arguments had been clear and concise – and preci
sely the same ones she herself was making.

  Not until she realized that he bypassed any group that included her did she finally relax. Thank heavens he was not interested in further discussion. Her inadvertent challenge had not prompted him to show her up in front of her guests by besting her in debate.

  Nor would she challenge him again. She did not need him disrupting her well-ordered life. If he ever learned how badly he had hurt her, he would prod the wound, exploiting any lingering attraction to feed his own conceit. He never ignored a potential conquest. Why else had he pounced on her admiration in the first place?

  He was still the unscrupulous scoundrel who had nearly destroyed her, still the answer to any maiden’s prayer – at least on the surface. Her eyes had often drifted to him as the hours passed. He had been two-and-twenty in Warwickshire, still gangly with youth. Maturity had broadened his shoulders and developed muscles in all the right places. His face was as handsome as ever, but more rugged than pretty now, despite that same black curl draped negligently over his forehead. His green eyes were lighter than she remembered, or perhaps they only darkened with passion. But whatever his emotions, he exuded a presence that was difficult to ignore. No wonder he was so successful a rake.

  She sighed, then reminded herself that she was no longer susceptible to his charms.

  So why did her safe, cozy world feel like it was crashing around her shoulders? She knew him too well to fall for his blandishments. Thus he could no longer seduce her. And having her ten-year-old misdeeds turn up among the latest on-dits was unlikely. For all his faults, Nicholas had never been one to brag about his exploits.

  So her discomfort must arise from shame. She should not have lied to him – Nicholas had always been able to see through the slightest prevarication. She had not loved Harry in the beginning, and lying about it revealed how devastating Nicholas’s rejection had been. What would he do with that knowledge?