Suzette’s mouth gaped open for the briefest of seconds as additional temper flashed through her eyes. “You’re forgetting your place, Miss Brinley. You’ve been afforded an invitation to this ball only because you’re Mrs. Parker’s companion. Mark my words, you may consider your position in jeopardy, because I intend on speaking about your unacceptable behavior to Mrs. Parker at my earliest convenience.”
Miss Brinley gave a shrug of delicate shoulders. “I would expect nothing less. To set the record straight, though, I’m no longer a paid companion, having recently been promoted to Mrs. Parker’s assistant matchmaker. With that said, you’re probably right about my assistant-matchmaking position being in jeopardy. I’m sure you’ll take great pleasure in my termination, since that will spare you additional encounters with me when you feel compelled to aim future beverages in the direction of other ladies you may wish to embarrass, or step on trailing trains that send ladies tumbling about society events.”
Without bothering to wait for a response from Suzette, Miss Brinley returned her attention to Walter and grimaced as her eyes traveled the length of his dinner jacket.
“I truly am sorry about the state of your jacket, Mr. Townsend. You must allow me to assume the costs for having it laundered. But where are my manners? We have yet to be formally introduced.”
She set her sights on Mrs. Oelrichs, who was standing still as a statue beside him. “I believe it may be too much to prevail upon you, Mrs. Oelrichs, to perform a proper introduction, what with how you seem to be in a state of shock. Besides, there’s every chance you don’t recall being introduced to me at Mrs. George Norman’s picnic, even though Mrs. Parker did perform those introductions, before she broke her leg, but . . . no matter.”
She turned back to Walter and dipped into a perfect curtsy. “I realize introducing myself to you is going to be beyond the pale, but I believe the whole beyond-the-pale business got tossed out the window the second the punch began to fly. I’m Miss Gwendolyn Brinley.” She nodded to the young lady beside her. “This lovely lady is Miss Adelaide Duveen.”
Miss Adelaide Duveen dipped into a curtsy as well, although she struggled to straighten, probably because the bustle she was wearing seemed to be pulling her straight to the ground. Walter stepped forward and took hold of Miss Duveen’s arm, helping her regain her balance as the peculiar thought struck that the Astor ball was turning far more interesting than he ever imagined it could be.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Duveen,” he said, earning a smile from Miss Duveen in the process.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Townsend, although this is an odd way to meet anyone, what with all the dripping punch. With that said, and even though I know this will greatly disappoint my mother, I’ll now bid you a hasty adieu since I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of your clothes and into . . .”
Walter fought an unexpected laugh as Adelaide’s eyes widened and the guests surrounding them began tittering behind gloved hands—the tittering due, no doubt, to Adelaide’s suggesting he get out of his clothing. Before he could think of a single thing to distract her from her obvious discomfort—although given that her lips were now twitching in a suspicious manner, he had the feeling she was more amused by her faux pas than appalled—Gwendolyn gave Adelaide’s arm a pat.
“I believe it may be best for the two of us to take our leave,” Gwendolyn said. “But before I do that . . . ” She turned to Walter and settled a smile on him that left his mind going curiously numb. “If I may beg just a moment more of your time, Mr. Townsend?”
He managed a nod, which had her smile widening.
“How gracious of you,” she said. “This won’t take long, but as has been mentioned, I am an assistant matchmaker, who is most likely soon to be a former assistant matchmaker. Before a termination happens though, I would like to at least attempt to fulfill one of the tasks Mrs. Parker assigned me this evening.”
Walter’s brows drew together. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as matchmakers in society.”
Gwendolyn winced. “I’m sure I’ve just made a bit of a blunder by broaching the matter in mixed company. Matchmaking is probably one of those matters approached with the utmost discretion. However, since I’ve just tossed out discretion, quite like the former contents of Miss Tilden’s glass, allow me to make the most of my time here and get on with that task I mentioned.”
“And this task has something to do with me?”
She took a step closer, allowing him a whiff of her perfume, which left his thoughts scattering, until he realized she was speaking.
“. . . and the Four Hundred has become aware you’ve decided it’s time to remarry, although allow me to extend my condolences on the loss of your wife before I say another word.”
He tried to keep up with the conversation, but his senses were still reeling from the scent of perfume lingering in his nose, which made the simple task of listening somewhat difficult.
“From what I’ve been told,” Gwendolyn continued, “society, at least as pertains to the ladies, is all aflutter about your long-awaited return. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to learn you’re considered the catch of the Season, which should see you enjoying great success in your rumored quest of finding a wife.”
Walter’s brow furrowed, because to say he was now involved in the most unusual conversation he’d ever held was an understatement. “That sounds as if I’m one of those prized trout fishermen are anxious to catch at the beginning of trout season.”
“Oh, you’re a prime trout for certain, Mr. Townsend,” Gwendolyn said, her lips curving ever so slightly. “And because so many ladies are interested in reeling you in, Mrs. Parker wants me to learn what you’re looking for in a wife.”
“Because?”
“I probably shouldn’t divulge all the matchmaking secrets in one fell swoop, so allow me to simply say she needs to discover the answer to that particular question,” Gwendolyn returned, her green eyes twinkling. “I would consider it a great service before I find myself tossed out of Newport if you would tell me the key requirement you’re looking for in the future Mrs. Townsend.”
Walter gave himself a bit of a shake when he realized he was losing track of the conversation, and all because he couldn’t seem to pull his attention from Gwendolyn’s twinkling eyes.
“You want me to disclose what I’m looking for in a potential wife?” he finally asked, earning a beaming smile from Gwendolyn, one that left him feeling decidedly unbalanced, a feeling he’d never experienced in his life.
“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”
Given that Gwendolyn was still smiling at him, Walter found himself nodding even though he never disclosed personal tidbits about himself.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he took a second to consider her request. Truth be told, over the five years that had passed since Vivian died giving birth to their twins, he’d never considered marrying again . . . until he’d come to the realization his children had turned unruly, that state increasing over the past few months.
Oscar, his eldest son at nine, had gotten expelled from his boarding school a mere month before term ended. The reason for the expulsion had been failing grades mixed with pranks that entailed flooding a shared bathroom, taking all the doors off the dormitory rooms, and causing a fire in the chemistry lab, although Oscar swore that had been an accident because he’d not realized how flammable oil was.