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

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The group was cold and tired after returning from Tweed Castle. Several of the women went directly to their rooms to rest, even though it meant missing out on the planning of their art projects.

The Meecham ladies left but were replaced by Mia’s father, Mr. Meecham, and Sir Andrew and Lady Fairchild.

Rather than bringing all the chairs together, the servants had been instructed to put them in more intimate groupings of five or six.

The trolley was wheeled in and Mia stood and moved over to it. She rubbed her hands together, trying to infuse some warmth into them. She poured out several cups and delivered them to those seated around the room.

“Thank you,” Lady Stoke took her cup. “I didn’t realize how cold it was.”

Mia smiled. The lady was so easy to like. She could understand why Ben had wished for them to become friends.

Ben stood next to her, drinking his tea. “What are you thinking about?” He looked out at the room. “Your brow is furrowed so deeply I believe I could plant corn there.”

She gave him a playful swat. “I was just noting that His Grace is the only person who I do not question his opinion of me. His dislike is rather obvious.”

Ben scoffed. “He does not dislike you. That is just his way.”

Mia shook her head. “I do not mind. I should prefer to know for certain than to wonder after every interaction. While I still rehearse everything I wish to say to him in my mind beforehand, I find I do not replay the conversations afterward and worry over what I have said and how it was perceived. With the duke, I know immediately.” She smiled slightly. “It’s not wholly disagreeable.”

Ben sighed. “But you are wrong. He does not dislike you.”

She gave him a look, letting him know she knew he was telling a falsehood.

He lifted his hand. “He doesn’t dislike you more than anyone else. Rags dislikes everybody. It’s because he thinks himself above everyone. Even other dukes.”

Mia looked up at him. “But he likes you and your friends. He even seems to tolerate Lady Stoke and Lady Heatherton.”

Ben laughed. “Lady Stoke, yes. But what is not to like about her? She is everything amiable.” He gave her a wide-eyed look. “But Lady Heatherton? Those two are constantly at odds.”

“Really? I find that diff?—”

Ben cut her off. “And if you think differently, it is because you have spent relatively little time with them. They are like vinegar and milk.”

Mia stared out at the room. Was Ben telling her a Banbury tale to make her feel better, or was he in earnest? “Perhaps,” she mumbled over the teacup. Maybe she should try to be more like Lady Stoke. As Ben said, she was everything amiable. People preferred to associate with those who were amiable in every way, did they not? But as quickly as the idea came, Mia pushed it aside. She had too much of her mother in her. After all, can a leopard change its spots? She sighed. If only that were possible, her whole life might be different.

Cort stood with his back against the door of the billiards room. He did not wish for Ben to walk in on them.

“Things have taken a very wrong turn,” he said as he ran his hand through his hair. “My flirting with Lady Amelia is working better than I expected. But Lady Charlotte is proving to be a problem.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” Lady Stoke pushed her lips out in worry. “I’m afraid she will end up hurt.”

“What is to be done?” Ponsy asked. “It’s not as if we can tell her she is foiling our plan.” His gaze flicked to the ladies. “Or rather, your plan. I’m still not entirely comfortable with this.”

Lady Heatherton sighed dramatically. She was very good at that. “Can you tell me with all honesty that you do not see the attraction? If a single look could thrash a man, Lord Montcort would be beaten to a pulp.”

“What are you talking about? What plan do you have that does not involve Ben?” Rags sat with his elbows resting on the chair’s arms and his fingers steepled in front of his face.

Charlie licked his lips. “The ladies believe that Ben and Lady Amelia have feelings for each other but are denying them. They are trying to trick them into revealing themselves to each other.”

Cort shot off the wall. “I’m not tricking them. I do find Lady Amelia interesting. Do I wish to marry her? No. But I have made no offer for her either. If Ben wishes to think that I will and it forces him to declare himself, then so be it.”

“Thunder and turf. What is wrong with you?” Rags looked more enraged than usual. “Are you trying to destroy our friendships? We made a promise to each other that none of us would marry until we were at least forty.” He nodded toward Reginald and Colin, a look of disdain on his face. “And two of you did not even make it to thirty. You’re all a disgrace to the institution of bachelorhood.”

Lady Heatherton jutted out a hip and placed her hands there. “I’m certain you will not be violating your promise. No lady in her right mind would have you.” She lifted her chin, no doubt for an added measure of importance.

Colin stood up and put a hand on his wife’s back. “Do not let Rags goad you into an argument. He will fall one day and then we shall all have the last laugh.”

Rags rolled his eyes and swore again.

“Regardless of Rags’ opinion,” Cort said, “I just want Ben to be happy. And while I cannot say he loves Lady Amelia, there is a partiality on both their parts. I know she makes him happy.” He grinned. “Unless she is with me. Then Lady Stoke is right. His is very unhappy.” He folded his arms. “Which makes me believe we need to play this out. Because their notion is not as absurd as I originally thought it.”

“Then what do we do about Lady Charlotte?” Ponsy asked.

“Why do you not just tell her Ben has confided in you his feelings for Lady Amelia and you do not wish to see her hurt?” Rags grumbled. It was a remarkably considerate gesture coming from Rags and Cort wondered briefly if he might be coming down with an illness.

“But that would be a lie,” Lady Stoke sounded shocked.

Rags shrugged. “What is a lie when you are already tricking him? I cannot see that there is much difference.”

“It’s good to know that about you, Rags. I shall keep that in mind when I do business with you.” Stoke said.

Rags smirked. “But I’m not the one tricking or lying here. You have nothing to suspect of me.”

Charlie nodded. “I agree with Rags.”

Cort stared at Charlie. “You believe we should lie to Lady Charlotte? What if it turns out we are wrong? We will have started a terrible rumor and possibly ruined any chance Ben might have in the future with Lady Charlotte.”

“A future with Lady Charlotte is not an issue. Lord Berwick has no interest in her.” Lady Heatherton said without hesitation.

“And how do you know that, my lady ?” Rags drew out the last two words.

“If you paid even a minute amount of attention to anyone but yourself, you’d see he has no interest. He pushes her away at every opportunity.” She shrugged. “And they do not fit well together.”

Rags shook his head. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

“Then it is decided. We must speak with Lady Charlotte—although what is to be said is still a mystery.” Lady Stoke pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think I’m the best one to speak to her.”

“I agree,” said every man in the room but Rags. He just shrugged.

“Why you? Why should I not be the one to tell her?” Lady Heatherton turned on her sister-in-law.

Lady Stoke lifted her hands in surrender. “I did not think you would enjoy the task. But if you wish to break the news to her, then I will not stand in your way.”

Lady Heatherton narrowed her eyes slightly as if she were trying to decide if her friend was hoodwinking her. She shrugged. “You may do it, if you wish.”

Lady Stoke smiled. “Only if it is not your desire. I’m afraid whoever does it will cause Lady Charlotte distress.”

“Everyone knows I do not wish to cause anyone distress,” Lady Heatherton looked sympathetically at Lady Stoke.

“And yet you cause me distress every time we meet,” Rags grumbled.

“No one asked for your opinion, my lord.” She shot back at him with a glare.

He smiled condescendingly. “It’s Your Grace now, my lady.”

Lady Heatherton’s hands fisted at her side and her lips pressed tightly together.

Lady Stoke put her hand on her friend’s elbow and guided her away. “Mariah and I will leave you to your billiards. We are planning our art project and collecting supplies. Although, what that means I have no notion.” She looked at her husband with evident confusion.

He grinned like a lovesick calf. “I’m certain you’ll have a splendid time. If nothing else, you may use it to break the news to Lady Charlotte and become better acquainted with Lady Amelia. Ben is convinced the three of you will become dearest friends.”

Lady Stoke glanced back at Cort and grinned. “I don’t know. She already rejected Lord Montcort’s offer to be dearest friends, did she not?”

Cort grimaced. “She turned me down flat.”

“And you are trying to push Ben into her arms. What is wrong with all of you?” Rags leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I think I’m the only person in his right mind among you.”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever been in your right mind, Your Grace,” Lady Heatherton said, before flinging open the door and marching out into the anteroom. Cort did not miss the huge grin on her face. She thought she had won their little battle.

Cort frowned. He knew what she did not. A battle with Rags did not end until Rags said it was over.

Mia pulled her pelisse tighter around her body. It had warmed up since the morning tour of Tweed, yet it still felt nothing like a normal September afternoon. But she was determined to go on this adventure. If she had to endure this dratted party, she would at least do some activities she enjoyed. And feather art was one of those things.

“Have you found enough?” Franny asked.

“I have enough twigs and such, but I don’t think I have enough feathers for a whole picture,” Lady Stoke said.

Mia put out a reassuring hand. “Not to worry. I’ve been collecting feathers for nearly a year. I’m certain there will be enough. The other pieces are more important for your pictures. I have not gathered any extra of those.”

Lady Heatherton held out her sack. “Then I believe I’m done. I am only lacking feathers, as well.”

Lady Charlotte scowled at the ground. “How did you find all the other things so quickly? I have very little to show for our time out here.” There were other voices of agreement.

“I have very little either. And I’m near to frozen.” Mrs. Meecham said. “I’m certain there were other activities that would have proved more diverting.”

Mia ignored the comment and waved her hand at them. “Why do we not go inside? You may lay out what you have, and we can continue to find things as we do our adventures over the next few days. We may send some servants to find anything you have not found by the time we start our pictures.”

“I will not argue with that notion,” Lady Fairchild hitched up her skirt and hurried toward the house.

Mia lagged, making certain all the ladies were on their way back. The grounds, while fairly open, could be treacherous if one did not watch their steps. Mia did not want anyone to be stranded by themselves with a twisted ankle. Except perhaps for Lady Cornfeld or Mrs. Meecham. She could do with a break from their incessant chatter.

Lady Stoke and Lady Heatherton moved next to Lady Charlotte. Mia could not hear their conversation. All she saw was Lady Charlotte’s nod and furrowed brow. Whatever they spoke of, Lady Charlotte did not seem happy about it. She hurried ahead and caught up with Miss Newsome and Miss Meecham.

“Are you having a nice time?” Mia heard Franny ask Lady Fairchild.

“We’ve only been here for a short time. I suppose there is still plenty of time for the party to improve.” The lady held up her bag. “Most anything would be better than scavenging about in nature. Who does such a thing?”

Franny’s face twitched. “But surely the enjoyment of making the feather art will make amends for this unpleasantness.”

The lady scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. Feather art used to be in style, but it’s been many years since it was at its peak.”

Mia’s face heated, feeling almost as if it were on fire in contrast to the cold breeze biting at her cheeks. How could she have made such a mistake? Just because she enjoyed feather art did not mean others did too. Her mother would disapprove of such an antiquated activity. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she could return to the aviary or the woods. Anywhere would be better than there.

Franny lifted her chin in a look of defiance. “I enjoy feather art.”

Lady Fairchild ran her gaze down Franny’s body. “That does not surprise me, Miss…Cartwright, was it?”

The lady had effectively dismissed Franny. But to Mia’s joy, Lady Stoke and Lady Heatherton slowed their pace until Lady Fairchild and Franny had caught up with them.

“Are you not excited for this activity?” Lady Stoke said. “I confess, I’ve never made anything with feathers. But it sounds quite diverting.”

Lady Heatherton nodded. “I quite agree, Sarah. If my mother had not raised me better, I think I should run ahead and start on it immediately.”

Lady Fairchild looked at both of them with contempt. “Your generation will be the ruin of the aristocracy.” She hurried on ahead of them, and the three ladies ducked their heads in laughter.

“Pay her no heed, Franny. She married a baronet.” Lady Heatherton could have been saying she had married a toad from the tone it carried.

“‘Your generation will be the ruination of the aristocracy’,” Lady Stoke mimicked. “I do not know why she should care. She does not belong to the aristocracy.”

“Ooph.” Mia called out as she tripped on one of the holes she’d been so worried about someone else finding. She stumbled forward, catching herself on her hands and knees. She kneeled up on the muddy ground and looked at her bleeding hands just as the three ladies rushed over to her.

“Oh, Lady Amelia. I did not realize you were behind us,” Lady Stoke said as she cast the others a worried look.

“I worried someone would trip on the uneven ground and hurt themselves.” Despite the pain, she grinned. “The irony is not lost on me.”

Franny chuckled, but then sobered. “Oh, look at your hands. They’re bleeding. Let us help you back to the house.”

Mia waved her away. “I’m fine, Franny. But I would not mind the company on the walk back. I do not think I will move as quickly as I was before.”

“Of course. We would not think of leaving you alone.” Lady Heatherton stood up and frowned down at the mud on her gown. “This summer has made a mess of my gowns. I shall not lament its end come winter.”

The four of them walked slowly back to the house, but no one mentioned the conversation with Lady Fairchild.

Mia wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. Did they avoid it because they had similar feelings? Or because they did not wish to hurt Mia’s? But Mia could not bring it up. At least not yet. The hurt was still too close to the surface, and she did not yet feel comfortable enough in the ladies’ company to be so direct. But Mia promised herself she would find time to ask them their opinions. She simply needed to fortify herself a little first.