Page 15 of A Mismatch Made in London

She frowned at him. “You are an intelligent man, Jeremy, but you are a very poor judge of character. How can you not see that Amelia is nothing like Miss Scofield? Amelia is the most kind and compassionate person. You think you must take care of me as if I were a child, and it’s clouding your judgment.”

“First of all, I am not a poor judge of character. And secondly, you should be grateful that you have me to watch over you.”

Juliet snorted. “Grateful?” She snorted again, the sound that used to get her quite a scolding from Mother.

They walked in silence, and finally, as they reached the front steps to their townhouse, Juliet climbed to the top step and turned to face him. “I’d be more grateful if you were chivalrous and less accusing. Amelia Moore is a good friend to me, and I will not have you chase her away. And if women had as much freedom as men, she and I could travel to France and Greece and Constantinople, and anywhere else I’ve always wanted to travel to, and you could not stop me.”

She whirled around, went inside, and shut the door in his face.

He took a few moments to close his eyes and draw in a deep breath before going in.

The night of the Kendalls’ ball came. Juliet had spent the day with me, and we were nearly ready—our hair dressed, our dresses donned—when my aunt came to remind us who would be attending.

“You must dance at least once with Lord Drummond, for he is a cousin of the king,” Mrs. Kendall told both of us.

But she pulled me aside when Juliet was out of the room to say, “How do you think things are progressing with Mr. Beaumont? Does he show any preference for you?”

“No, none at all,” I said. Nor did I expect he ever would. Nor would I ever want him to.

“Do you flirt with him?”

“Well, no. I do not think that would be well received.” To put it mildly.

“Wouldn’t be well received? Of course it would be well received. Every man likes to have his ego stroked. Just be friendly and agreeable and charming, my dear.”

Juliet came back into the room, and I leapt at the chance to ask her which necklace she was planning to wear, just to break away from Mrs. Kendall and stop her from speaking about Mr. Beaumont.

Juliet gave me a curious look. “You know I was planning to wear my pearls.”

“Oh yes. You told me that.”

Mrs. Kendall went downstairs to greet the guests. We waited until we heard carriages arriving.

As we went down the stairs arm in arm, we whispered about who we wished would ask us to dance.

I sighed. What could be better than a ball given by my own aunt? She’d told me half a dozen times, “It is being given in your honor, my dear.”

This made me a bit nervous, but it also meant that no one would dare snub me or laugh at my country manners.

The first face I saw as we descended the staircase was Jeremy Beaumont’s.

He stared up at us with what may not have been a scowl but was at least an unfriendly, serious expression.

What was wrong with him? Why was he so determined to be unpleasant? He may have been my dear friend’s brother, but he was a most disagreeable man.

Most sought-after bachelor, indeed.

I realized too late that I’d made a sound of disgust deep in my throat. Juliet turned to me with wide eyes.

“What is the matter, Amelia?”

“Nothing at all.” I smiled to show that I was quite happy and well.

“Doesn’t my brother look just ghastly with that sour expression on his face?” Juliettskedher tongue against her teeth. “He will never get a wife. Or he’ll have to settle for a widow ten years his senior.” She let out a little laugh at that.

As we reached him, Mr. Beaumont was well and truly scowling. He probably heard every word his sister was saying, as he was one of the first guests to arrive and the noise was minimal.

Mrs. Kendall’s friend, Mrs. Selkirk, was just arriving, and they both greeted each other with high-pitched voices, like schoolgirls seeing each other for the first time in months. Indeed, it had been months, as Mrs. Selkirk had been in the country and was just arriving for the London Season.