Page 9 of The Duke's Promise to Her Child
“And you would act as my chaperone?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that not somewhat irregular? Is it not generally considered more proper for an elder female relative to perform such a role?”
“Do you have an elder female relative who would be suitable for the task?”
“I do not.”
“Your housekeeper, I think, is hardly the right choice. Someone must remain with your daughter, after all.” He watched her concede the point with a slight tilt of her head. “And then,” he continued, “you simply determine whether you care for the gentleman. If you do not, we continue searching. We search until we find the right one.”
She shook her head slowly. “Has such a venture ever actually succeeded? One conducted by a gentleman with no experience in the matter whatsoever?”
He grinned. “As it happens, it has. My friend Nathaniel, the Duke of Sinclair, once undertook to find a husband for one of the Langley sisters after her first husband met an untimely end. The venture was a great success.”
“The Duke of Sinclair.” She studied him. “Did he not end up marrying the lady himself?”
He cleared his throat. “Well. Yes. But only after they had exhausted every other possibility and established that none of the other candidates were remotely as suitable as he was.”
She examined him carefully, and he had the distinct impression she was enjoying herself.
“So you are preparing me for the eventuality that we shall exhaust all other options, and I shall ultimately be obliged to marry you instead?”
“I assure you that will not happen,” he said. “I will become the King of Spain before I become your husband.”
She leaned forward slightly, smiling now. “I suspect you said much the same thing about the likelihood of one day becoming a Duke. And yet here you are.”
Here he was indeed. The woman was thoroughly infuriating in her ability to call him out at every turn. And he could not deny that he rather enjoyed it. It was not often that anyone challenged him in quite that way.
He was also, he realized with some chagrin, somewhat disappointed that she had already deduced that his idea was not original.
It was true, of course. The idea had not been wholly his own, he was prepared to admit that. And yet, even though Nathaniel had ended up marrying Evelyn himself, Gideon remained convinced that this was the right approach.
Nathaniel, upon learning that Gideon intended to replicate his matchmaking endeavor, had roared with laughter loud enough to turn every head in the gentlemen’s club.
Besides, after his disastrous business with Cassandra, there was not a chance in all the world that he was ever going to marry again of his own free will. Not a chance.
CHAPTER 5
HELENA
2 days later…
Helena paced the length of the room, pausing at times to look out of the window. These had been a difficult few days. She had spent rather a lengthy period fretting over her decision to allow this young man, to act as her matchmaker. Even now the idea seemed ridiculous to her. A matchmaker. To find her, a widow down on her luck, a husband. It was too ridiculous for words.
She had written to Clara to determine whether she had made the right decision, but had not had a reply until yesterday. Clara had been away in Brighton for a few days and had only just returned that morning. Helena had originally planned to wait until Clara was back before proceeding with anything, so that she might talk it over with her properly, but Gideon, as he insisted she call him, had sent word that he was coming over today with a potential suitor. And so here they were.
“Pray,” Mary’s voice drew her from her thoughts, “what do we know about this gentleman? What is his name?”
“Sir Franklin,” she said.
“Oh, a knight,” Mary said from the doorway, with an approving nod. “How very respectable. And you know with knights, the title doesn’t pass to the next generation, so the man must have done something of merit to deserve it. Unlike?—”
“Unlike Huxley. Yes, I understand.” Helena had to admit that was somewhat comforting. She would like a husband who had earned something of his own, rather than one who simply bore a title that had belonged to his father, his grandfather, and who knew how many great-grandfathers before that.
Still, now that the day was upon her, she was nervous.
“Let me see,” she said, reaching for the letter that had arrived by messenger that morning. Gideon had a very neat hand, she had to admit. Her eyes moved over the words.
Sir Franklin. Age forty.She had thought that a man a little older may not be a bad match but he was almost fifteen years older than her. What could they have in common? But beggars could not be choosers.Never married, though he suffered the loss of a fiancée some twenty years ago. A religious scholar. In possession of a rather large fortune.
She read the words aloud and Mary nodded briskly. “Yes, that sounds promising. Let me prepare the tea.” She hurried away, and Helena settled in the drawing room to wait.
