Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
—JANE AUSTEN, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
Agatha, Lady Salter, tapped her foot impatiently and glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. Twenty-six—no, twenty-seven minutes he had kept her waiting. So far.
Young people nowadays. No manners at all.
But she would not allow the duke’s rag-mannered behavior to distract her from her purpose. What was that line again? It is a fact, widely understood . . . No, that wasn’t it. It is a truth—yes, that was it, a truth.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single duke in possession of a large fortune, must be in want of a bride. That was the line. A very sensible observation to commence a very silly book.
Young gels deciding for themselves who they would marry or not. Ridiculous!
Had it not been for the commonsensical actions of an aunt, that foolish, stubborn Elizabeth would have whistled an excellent marriage down the wind. But her aunt had saved the day when she’d taken the gel to visit the young fellow’s estate. That had made the foolish gel sit up and take notice.
Lady Salter glanced at the clock again. Twenty-nine minutes. Disgraceful. She’d expected he might be reluctant to see her. But that was no excuse for tardiness.
He’d been more or less jilted at the altar—a little pique was understandable. Young men had their pride. But it had not been, after all, a love match. It was an arranged marriage between her beautiful niece Lady Rose Rutherford and the Duke of Everingham, the catch of the season. The match of the season.
Weeks of careful strategy on her part to get the two together. And when the betrothal was announced, she had basked in universal admiration. While it lasted.
Rose had let her down badly. A secret marriage! And to the veriest nobody. A scarecrow returned from the dead, ragged and dirty, in the middle of the ceremony! An absolute disgrace. It didn’t bear thinking about.
But she would not admit defeat.
The door to the sitting room opened. The duke stood in the doorway. Finally!
Lady Salter looked up and inclined her head graciously. “Good afternoon, Redmond.” She’d known him since he was in short coats. The use of “Redmond” rather than his title was to remind him of the fact.
Redmond Jasper Hartley, the fifth Duke of Everingham, strolled into the room. He’d kept her waiting a good half hour but he made no apology. He bowed over her hand and said in a bored voice, “Lady Salter, how do you do?” His cold gray gaze was indifferent.
Lady Salter came straight to the point. “I understand my niece has apologized for her disgraceful behavior.”
He raised a dark brow. “Niece?” As if he had no idea to whom she was referring.
Her lips thinned. So he was still angry. Coldly furious, under the indifferent-seeming facade, if she was not mistaken. Pride was one thing, incivility to his elders quite another. Besides, she was as much a victim of Rose’s carelessness as he.
“I refer to Lady Rose Rutherford, as you very well know. She came here last week, I believe, to apologize.”
The duke strolled to the window and stood looking out, his back to her. After a moment he said in a tight voice, “Is there a purpose to this visit, Lady Salter?”
“You are still in want of a bride.”
He stilled, then turned slowly to face her and in an arctic voice said, “And if I am, madam, what business is it of yours?”
Lady Salter lifted her chin and said what she had come here to say. “I have another niece.”
He didn’t move. His expression was carved in ice.
She continued, “She is also, of course, the daughter of an earl, though her mother was of the yeoman class. Georgiana herself is young, attractive, healthy and—”
“Ambitious.”
She blinked. “Not in the least—quite the contrary, in fact. She has—”
“All her teeth too, I’m sure. A picture of perfection, no doubt, but I’m not interested.”
She glared at him.
His lip curled and he continued with silken insolence, “We are not at Tattersalls, Lady Salter. There is no need to act the coper and enumerate your niece’s various qualities. I am not interested in furthering either her ambitions or yours.”
She bristled. Likening her to a horse coper indeed! “You forget yourself, young man—duke or not. Your mother would be appalled.” His mother was her goddaughter, as well as a friend.
He glanced pointedly at the clock.
His indifference was infuriating, as was his assumption that she was ambitious for her niece. She was, of course—Georgiana had no sense at all of where her duty lay—but the duke could not know that. He and Georgiana had barely even met. She doubted they’d exchanged a dozen words. It was yet another situation where an aunt was needed to step in and take control.
“Your mother and I—”
“—will, in future, kindly keep your noses out of my business. I’ve had enough of your interference.” In two paces he crossed the room and yanked on the bellpull. “Good day to you, madam.”
Interference? Madam? She almost choked on her indignation. Such ingratitude toward one who’d worked tirelessly—selflessly!—to arrange a suitable marriage for him.
The butler appeared in the doorway. The duke said, “Lady Salter is leaving, Fleming.”
Lady Salter rose and with great dignity stalked toward the door. As she reached it her temper got the better of her. She turned and in an icy voice said, “I was mistaken in thinking you and Georgiana would suit, Redmond. Far from being ambitious to marry you”—she gave a scornful huff—“the truth is, Georgiana did her level best to dissuade Rose from marrying you—”
“Wanted me for herself, no doubt.”
“Your arrogance is misplaced, sirrah! Far from wanting you, she was quite vocal in her dislike of you—and I see now she has a point. In any case the ridiculous child has declared far and wide that she would rather live with dogs and horses than marry.”
That silenced him, she could see. She added, with crisp satisfaction, “I had thought, your grace, that marriage to a young woman of good family, an independently minded young woman who would not hang off your sleeve, a girl who wants nothing more than to retire to a country estate and be left to breed horses, dogs—and possibly children—would be exactly what you required. A wife who would keep out of your way and give you no trouble.” She paused to let that sink in. It was exactly the kind of wife he’d described back when Rose was the bride being considered.