Matchmaking the Marquess (The League of Eligible Bachelors #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Northumberland, July 1816

Sometimes, Lady Amelia Chadwick thought, being a lady was rather vexing. It would be a lie to say she had not—at times—wished she’d been born a man. She’d have had so many more options open to her. But alas, she’d been born a female. And that was, as it were, the rub.

Rain battered against the glass of the library windows. Mia jumped up from her place on the settee and hurried over to adjust the pillows behind her father’s back. Grabbing a rug off the couch, she draped it across his lap. “There now, Papa. Are you comfortable?”

He took in a long, slow breath as he looked up at her. He pushed the blanket to the side but then reconsidered and pulled it back onto his lap. “Really, Amelia. The fire is providing enough warmth. You need not fuss over me. I am not an old man yet.”

She pushed down the exasperated sigh that wished to be set free. “I made no such implication, Papa. Besides, it’s my pleasure to take care of you.”

“I do not need you to take care of me. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.” He growled in his throat. He looked up at her with a scowl, but when their gazes connected, his face softened, and he patted her arm. “It is not what you should be doing, dearest. I fear you are wasting away your time. You should attend balls and musicales rather than spend your evenings at home doting over me as if I were an invalid.” He lifted his chin and raised his brows. “How are you to find a husband and have a family of your own if you are not out in society?”

Mia tightened her hands clasped in front of her. She wished to rail against his assertions, but she could not. She did not wish to upset him any more than she already had. Instead, she placed a trained, docile smile upon her lips and returned to her place on the settee. Of late, she’d been trying to overcome her instinct to argue. She was not always successful.

Her father lifted his paper and continued to read. “Have you changed your mind about the Season?”

Then he was not reading. Likely he just did not wish to look at her when he asked his question. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, her knuckles whitening as she clutched her book.

No. She had not changed her mind, nor did she have any intention of doing so. She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve already had a Season, Papa, and I found nothing about it I wish to repeat. I have no need for another, so you need not worry about that expense.” She tried to make it sound as though she were doing him a favor.

She’d been presented at court and had a London Season when she was eighteen—the year before her mother died. And from what she’d seen, it was nothing more than a bunch of peacocks preening and pretending to be more than they were—more interesting, more wealthy, and more desirable.

It had taken little more than a fortnight for her to realize how her parents had ended up leg-shackled in a loveless marriage and disappointed in life. However, Mia was certain her father must have felt the disappointment far more keenly. Papa was a dear—which was something she could not say about her mother. But then her mother had rarely been happy with anything, so perhaps it was she who boasted the greater woes.

“Besides, it is far too wet and cold to make such an arduous journey. You will surely catch your death before we even leave the county. You are my concern. Not some imaginary family I do not want nor need.” She gave a sharp nod and smiled at her father but was only met with the snap of the newspaper blocking her from his view.

“We are not speaking of me, Amelia. I will go to London, regardless of the weather. I do not intend to miss another session of Parliament. Your mother has been gone two years now. My mourning is long over. I will return to my duties at last. The question was if you would join me.”

What was she to say? Could she allow him to travel and stay in London without her? But if she went, he would expect her to attend all the social events. And she was uncertain she could accommodate him in that wish. She closed her eyes and tried to find peace and patience. “Now, do you wish to have a tray delivered to your chambers while you rest, or shall you take it here? You are looking a bit peaked.”

“I am not peaked, and I do not need rest.” He grumbled, pushing the rug off his lap, and sat up straight as if to emphasize his point. “What I need is to see you settled. I shall not feel content until that happens.” His scowl softened again when he looked at her. “I have concerns. What if something should happen to me?”

She lifted her chin. “Nothing will happen to you, Papa. I’m making certain of that.”

“Unfortunate accidents happen, my dear. And even you cannot stop them. And what will happen to you? What will become of you?” His voice softened.

Mia stood next to him and put a calming hand on his forearm. “You set aside a generous inheritance. I shall live quite well on it.” She frowned. “Do you doubt Lawrence will aid me if I should need it?”

He shook his head. “No, your brother is not the sort to withhold his help. But if I’m being honest, he is not showing the head for business I had hoped he would, although I’m hoping his grand tour will give him the education he needs to change my opinion.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let us hope so, at least.”

Mia twisted her hands. Why could he not understand her point of view? She did not need a husband. Her inheritance may not allow her to live in the manner to which she lived now, but she did not need a large house with dozens of servants. She needed only a small cottage with a few servants. And she could surely afford that.

What she did not need was a loveless marriage. A marriage to a man who only desired her dowry. It may have been the proper way of thinking for those of her parents’ generation, but it was not for Mia. Independent women were becoming more socially acceptable. And that is what she wished to be.

“And,” he held up a finger and wagged it at her. “I’m capable of ringing for my tea.” He brushed past her. “I’ll be in my book room.”

Mia turned her back to him so he would not see her fisted hands and taut shoulders. When would he accept her decision…accept her as she was? He had to know that she could make her own way in the world.

Or was there something more to it? Was it not simply that he wished her to marry for her own sake? Could it be for his sake also?

She pulled her lip between her teeth. Did she dare ask?

She turned around and called to his back. “Papa, do you wish me away? Do you not want me at Hedlund Hall any longer? Is it because I’m too much like her?”

He stopped and put his hand on the doorframe. His body sagged as he looked at her over his shoulder. His head shook. Turning back, he walked to her and took her hands in his. “Good heavens, no, child. I could never wish you away. I only wish for your happiness.”

It was not lost on her that he did not refute her assertion that she was like her mother. Her head dropped to the side. “And you believe I can only be happy with a husband and a family?” She swallowed. “You had those and were—” She bit off the rest of the thought.

He looked past her shoulder. “Ah, my Amelia. My marriage to your mother should have no bearing on your decision. We may not have been in love, but we managed. Your mother was a very proper countess. I cannot imagine anyone would have filled the position with such exactness.”

Mia’s body softened. “You managed? You made each other miserable.”

“Perhaps. But it does not follow that your marriage will be the same. Indeed, I should wager it will be very different.”

She stared at him. “But how can you know that for certain?”

He guffawed. “Because I will not allow any man unworthy of you to even grace the front entry of this house. I will see that your marriage is different.”

She smiled, even though she did not believe him. He may try, but her mind was still unchanged. She could only marry out of love. But she also could not marry anyone that she loved. She shook her head in frustration.

She need not dwell on this subject any longer. He did not wish her away. And that was enough for her.

Although, his assertion about marriage made her brow quirk upward. Could he truly believe her only hope for happiness was marriage? Did he not see it would surely be the opposite?

He dropped her hands and smiled. “And you are not completely correct, my girl. While your mother and I may not have gotten on as well as some, we did manage. You are right, ours was not a marriage of love and affection,” he raised his brows and added, “which is not so different from those of my generation. But I cannot regret my marriage to your mother.”

Mia stepped forward. “How could you not? Did you never wish for love? You are a passionate man, Papa. How could you not regret, even a little, what she refused to give you?”

He put his hands on both sides of her cheeks and pulled her toward him, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Because if not for your mother, I should not have you, child.” He released her and his arms dropped to his side. “And that makes all of it worthwhile.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Mia’s lips quivered ever so slightly, and she sniffed back the moisture forming in her eyes. Her mother would have found the show of emotion unpardonable and would have rung a peal over her head for it. Mia straightened her spine, even though her mother was no longer there to correct her. “But I believe you have made my point for me. If I marry, I shall leave and not be here to take care of you.” She threw a smile over her shoulder as she moved toward the bellpull. “Now, I shall send for your tea.”

He heaved a sigh and shook his head but did not argue.

Mia grinned to herself as she tugged on the cord. They’d weathered their discussion with barely a raised voice. Perhaps she’d made progress.

The door swung open before she’d even released the cord. Her father had not even made it three steps toward the corridor.

Mia’s brow creased. No one could have heard the bell and answered its call so quickly—not even Hastings. He was the most efficient butler she’d seen, but even he was not so quick.

But it was, indeed, Hastings.

He bowed quickly then stood stiffly at attention. “Lord Berwick-upon-Tweed, my lord.”

Her father turned and took a beeline back to his seat, his grin wide. “Ah, very good. Please see him in.”