Мэри Бэлоу - Someone to Romance

“Rumor has it he is very wealthy,” Althea said. “Unsubstantiated rumors are not always to be trusted, of course. And no one seems to know a great deal about him or what he was doing in America—or what he did before he went there, for that matter. There is a certain air of mystery about him. I daresay that is part of his appeal.”

“Are you thinking of him for Estelle, Viola?” Mildred asked.

“I am constantly thinking of everyone for Estelle,” Viola said with a laugh. “But she has a mind of her own. She has yet to show any real interest in marrying.”

“Girls are not as they were in my day,” the dowager countess said with a shake of the head.

“I hear of both Mr. Rochford and the American wherever I go,” Matilda said. “I assume it is Mr. Thorne you were speaking of, Althea? Lady Vickers has not been shy in putting it about that he is wealthy, so I daresay it is true. She would lose considerable face if it turned out that he was a pauper. I look forward to meeting both gentlemen. And I agree with you, Viola. Perhaps we really ought to start thinking of ways to throw Mr. Thorne into Estelle’s path again, and Mr. Rochford into Jessica’s.”

“We?” Mildred asked, her eyebrows raised. She took the cream pastry after all, since no one else had removed temptation from her reach, and bit into it with slow caution.

“Well, if the past few years are anything to judge by, they are not doing much to help themselves, are they?” Matilda said. “What they need is a helping hand. Not to attract the gentlemen. Good heavens, they are both unusually lovely girls and could not possibly be more eligible if they tried, one of them the daughter of a duke and the other of a marquess. They need a helping hand to narrow their choices to one and to fall in love.”

“I wish it could be done as easily as saying it,” Louise said with a sigh.

“Alexander and Wren are expected to arrive in town tomorrow,” Althea said, speaking of her son and his wife, the Earl and Countess of Riverdale. “Elizabeth and Colin are planning a small party to welcome them, though that is only an excuse, of course. Elizabeth loves entertaining and Colin does nothing to restrain her. I believe he loves it too. Perhaps I could suggest that both Mr. Rochford and Mr. Thorne be added to her guest list?” Elizabeth, Lady Hodges, was her daughter.

“Are we all playing matchmaker, then?” Mildred asked. “I thought we had stopped that after Matilda’s wedding.”

“It is not matchmaking when one arranges to throw together young people who may not have the good sense to throw themselves together,” Edith said. “ Is it? I daresay Jessica and Estelle have met so many eligible gentlemen since they left the schoolroom that by now they can hardly recognize a good catch when they see him. I agree with Matilda. And Viola. They do need a helping hand.”

“Aunt Edith,” Matilda said, wagging a finger in her direction, “you are talking just like one of us.”

They all laughed.

“I am sure Elizabeth can be trusted not to be too obvious about it,” Louise said. “But, Althea, can you make sure that Mr. Rochford and Mr. Thorne are not the only guests from outside the family? Jessica would realize the truth in a moment and she would be mortified. She would confront me with it too. She is very prickly about having her life interfered with.”

Althea’s eyes twinkled. “Elizabeth would never commit such a social faux pas, Louise,” she said. “But yes, I will make sure there are other guests outside the family.”

Louise sighed again as she surveyed the plates set out upon the table. “Oh,” she said, “whatever happened to the cream pastry I have had my eye on? Did someone eat it? It was you, Mildred, was it not? You always did that when we were girls. You would wait until there was one slice left of a cake we all adored, and you would take it without any offer to share. My waistline thanks you, however. I hope something will come of Elizabeth’s party, but I will not hold my breath. Behold a mother in the depths of despair. Hand me that plate with the jam tarts, will you, please, Aunt Edith?”

“It is a magnificent bouquet, Jessica,” Anna, Duchess of Netherby, said, sounding a little doubtful. “It is also a little hard to see around, is it not?” She got up from her chair across the hearth from her sister-in-law’s and sat on another. “That is better.”

The bouquet, lavish and enormous, and surely containing at least one of every species of flower known to mankind, had been awaiting Jessica in the drawing room when she returned from a morning visit to the library with Anna and her children, Rebecca, aged four, and Jonah, aged two. Six-year-old Josephine had not gone with them, though reading was one of her favorite activities, because her father, Avery, had asked if she would like to ride her pony and accompany him to Hyde Park. Horses and riding were Josephine’s passion.

The bouquet was from Mr. Rochford and was just the sort of thing Jessica might have expected him to send if she had thought about it. The dozen red roses from Lord Jennings, standing in their crystal vase upon the sideboard to one side of the door, were dwarfed in comparison.

“I wish it had been put somewhere else but here,” Jessica said. “It is almost embarrassing.” No, it was embarrassing.

Anna laughed. “I believe you have made a conquest,” she said. “A big one. All the other single ladies in London would surely go into collective mourning if they could see it.”

“He danced with me once ,” Jessica protested.

“Ah, but he had eyes for no one but you while he was doing it,” Anna said. “And at supper he conversed with no one except you. I would swear he did not even look at anyone else. Then, after escorting you back to the ballroom, he left abruptly, never to return. He strode out, in fact. I would not swear that he intended to draw everyone’s attention, but . . . Well, I would wager a modest amount upon it that he did.”

“He wanted to dance with me again,” Jessica explained, “and professed himself to be heartbroken when I informed him that the remaining sets of the evening were all spoken for.”

“You have indeed made a conquest.” Anna laughed again and poured them a second cup of tea. Luncheon was over and all the children except Josephine, who was still out with Avery, were in the nursery for their afternoon naps. Jessica’s mother had gone with Aunt Mildred and Aunt Matilda to call upon Grandmama and Great-aunt Edith. It felt good to relax.

Jessica was not quite sure she liked Mr. Rochford. She wanted to. He had certainly seemed like the answer to all her prayers when she first set eyes upon him last evening. He was young, dazzlingly handsome, charming, amiable, and very eligible—or was about to be. He seemed in a fair way to becoming the darling of the ton. Certainly all eyes had been upon him throughout the evening. And though he had danced every set before theirs, it had been impossible not to notice that she was the focus of much of his attention. She had been the focus of all of it during their particular set, as Anna had just observed, even when the figures of the dance had separated them for brief spells. He had been visibly crestfallen when she had told him, untruthfully as it happened, that she did not have a free set to offer him for the rest of the evening after supper. When he left, he had succeeded in looking somehow tragic. Had it been deliberate?

What was it she had not quite liked? Oh, there was absolutely nothing. Perhaps for the first time in her life she was powerfully attracted to someone, was in grave danger of falling in love with him, and had taken fright. But no, that was absurd. That was not it. What was it, then?