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

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Mia sat on the settee with Lady Charlotte on one side and Franny on the other. They had rearranged the furniture so everyone in their not so little gathering could be near the fire—or at least as near as this large of a grouping could accommodate. The rain had picked up in earnest, and it was growing only colder as the day wore on.

Mia’s stomach twisted. Would they be confined indoors for the whole of the party? What of all her planning? What of her desires to spend the bulk of the time outside where there could be some distance between them? And if the fates were looking favorably on her—which they had not thus far—there would be enough space that she would only have to speak to a few of the guests. She glanced at the rain-splattered window and nearly cried. All of her carefully constructed plans literally ran down the pane.

Miss Newsome sat on the sofa next to her companion, while Ladies Stoke and Heatherton, along with Miss Bancroft, took the settee on the other side of the low table.

Ben, Lord Montcort, and Lord Stoke sat in chairs, while Lords Heatherton and Ponsonby sat on the couch opposite Mia, along with Mr. Bancroft. It was quite a sight to see—the men looking less than relaxed, even though their legs and ankles were crossed.

The ladies fared little better. Lady Stoke spoke to Lady Heatherton in hushed tones while Miss Newsome fingered the cording on the couch cushions. Everyone tried to be discreet, but Mia could see the assessing glances coming from every direction. No one, it seemed, wished to start the conversation.

She sucked in a slow, quiet breath through her teeth. Had not Ben said more people would take the attention off her? How was she to pour out tea with everyone looking at her? Would they find her lacking in even the simplest of hosting duties? The longer she thought on it, the more she convinced herself the gathering had been very ill-advised.

Heddy entered the room, wheeling a heavily laden tea trolley. She positioned it in the space next to Mia.

Mia looked at the trolley and then at the expectant faces in the square seating arrangement. Lawks, there was no room for her to pour out on the low table, which meant she would need to stand to do it. She would then need to walk over and hand each person their cup. What if she tripped? Or sloshed the tea over the side of the teacup? Could she survive such humiliation? She furrowed her brow. If she were being honest, it was Ben she worried for more than herself. Most of those gathered were his friends, and she loathed the idea that her folly might reflect poorly on him.

Glancing at Ben, she noticed him give a slight raise of his brow. Had he read her thoughts? It seemed likely. Ben had known her thoughts since she was only a girl. It was something that she both appreciated and dreaded. She hated he might know how uncertain she felt. Or that he might discover her feelings for him. He would surely think her silly. Or even worse, disappointed. But he would likely tell her she was worrying over nothing.

But it didn’t feel like nothing. All eyes were upon her and her skin virtually crawled under the scrutiny.

Ben pushed himself from his seat. “We have a rather large group here. Perhaps it would make things easier if I helped you distribute the tea?”

Mia gave him an appreciative smile. He had read her thoughts and instead of chastising her, he’d come to her aid. It was those kinds of moments when she found it difficult to deny how much she loved him.

“Thank you, my lord,” she relaxed slightly as she stood up.

She took a breath to calm her shaking hands and set to work on the tea service. Pouring the tea into the cups, she purposely avoided looking up. She did not need to see the assessing faces that were surely there. She was proud that there was no longer a discernible quiver in her hand. And Ben must be pleased also, would he not?

She handed him his cup and poured one for herself before retaking her seat on the couch. She settled back, content to watch and listen to whatever conversation started. But so far, it was all very formal, quiet, and quite dreadful. Why was Ben not making some remark to lighten the mood? The men were his friends. Surely they had things to speak about. Or had they already talked of everything while they were together at Tweed?

Mia frowned into her cup. She should not have agreed to them staying over at Ben’s. She knew it would not turn out for the best.

Lord Montcort picked up a small cake from the tray and popped it into his mouth.

Mia stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. His mouth must be enormous to fit a whole cake in one bite. They were small, to be sure. Even so, one bite?

Lady Charlotte gaped openly but hid her laughter behind her hand.

“Gads, man.” Ben stared at his friend, his eyes wide. “Just because you can stick an entire cake into your mouth does not mean you should.”

Montcort laughed but then inhaled the last remaining pieces of his cake. His laughter faded into coughing and his eyes filled with tears. Lord Stoke reached over and pounded on his back.

Lord Montcort straightened and blinked back the moisture, a contrite look on his face. “They looked much smaller on the tray.” He glanced at Mia. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late.”

Mia’s lips twitched, but she held back her laughter. Or she did until Ben dropped his head back and guffawed. “You are bacon-brained.” The entire group chuckled at Lord Montcort’s expense. Even Lady Charlotte dropped her hand and allowed her mirth to show. Perhaps she could be the gentleman’s friend. After all, he had broken the tension in the room in such a spectacular fashion.

Mia looked between Lady Charlotte and Lord Montcort. Could the young lady have a tendre for the man? Had it only just begun, or had it been there before this party started? Might there be a match to be had after all?

She grinned to herself. Perhaps the party would not be a complete bore if romance brewed between some guests.

It would disappoint her father for her not to make the match. Her father could not murgeon if someone made a match—even if it wasn’t Mia—could he? Any match was better than nothing, was it not? If only Lady Charlette’s father was not such a libertine. But did a gentleman care about such things? After all, it was the father, not the daughter, who was making a cake of himself.

Mia watched Ben over her cup. What would he think of the match?

Lady Charlotte looked up at Lord Montcort, and her face flushed. She chuckled one last time before taking a dainty bite of her own teacake. She glanced at Lord Montcort before setting the rest down on her plate.

Mia perked up.

Was Lady Charlotte flirting?

Mia would never have thought the lady had it in her. Perhaps behind that quiet facade was a coquette. Who’d have guessed?

Lord Montcort held another teacake up to Lady Charlotte with a grin, as if to toast her with it.

Mia flicked her gaze over to Ben. He gave her a look. Ben did notice the flirting going on then.

And Lord Montcort flirted back. She did not know him well, but he had never seemed the type. But then she had never seen him with a woman he was interested in. He cleared his throat, and his gaze rested on Mia. He continued to smile, just as he had at Lady Charlotte.

Mia frowned. Gracious, was he flirting with her? Or perhaps she had been wrong, and he’d not been flirting at all. Could he merely have been making light of an otherwise embarrassing situation? That was something to think about. She’d never seen a member of the ton embrace their folly and make fun of themselves.

Everyone returned their attention to their cups and teacakes.

Miss Newsome looked at all the people present. “It is good we’ve had introductions. With the way we are seated, I feel almost as if we are about to face each other in battle.” She smiled as if she had made a joke.

But her comment struck rather near the mark for Mia.

All house parties felt a bit like war, but this battlefield was literally on her front lawn. Her stomach had been in constant knots since the day Ben first mentioned it. Why had he thought it a good idea? Was it only to appease her father, or was there something more to it? She’d not been able to shake the feeling she was missing something.

Mia flicked her gaze to Ben and then Lord Montcort. He had stopped eyeing Lady Charlotte, which made her question her earlier assumptions.

The conversation died down, and awkwardness settled over the room. “My lord,” Mia turned to Lord Montcort. “How long have you known Lord Berwick?”

She brought it up as a means of conversation rather than for any real need for answers. Ben had told her everything about his friends when he returned home after his first year at Harrow.

“I would guess almost as long as you have known him.” Lord Montcort placed his cup and saucer on the low table and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankle.

Mia couldn’t help comparing them to Ben’s legs. Montcort’s were just as long as Ben’s, but they lacked the muscular definition. They appeared as two sticks jutting out from Montcort’s torso.

“We met on our first day at Harrow.”

Mia pulled her eyes up from the men’s legs, her face warming at the thought that either of them might have noticed. She focused on his words instead.

She scoffed and sat up straight. “It would seem I have you beat, my lord. For I have known Lord Berwick almost from my first breath. Which is considerably longer than you.” There was an edge to her voice, but why she could not say.

Ben stared at her, as did Lord Montcort. “Er, yes. I suppose you are right,” he stammered. “You do have several years on me.” Montcort’s brow furrowed.

Mia bit the side of her cheek, wishing her words back. What did it matter if she had known Ben longer? It was not a competition. Why did she feel as if she had to justify her friendship with Ben when his friends were around? It was as if she did not believe he could remain friends with them and her at the same time. Which was a ridiculous notion. Just because she didn’t desire more than two friends did not mean others felt the same. She looked down at her hands and vowed not to say another thing for the rest of the party.