Chapter 9
Nine
Ambrose stared into his tea and regretted rushing to his sister’s house.
He should have waited to be announced or left when he heard them talking.
He was about to turn around when Miss Fenton’s words galvanized him to reply.
He could not leave her accusation unanswered, though it was wasted effort, for his siblings agreed with her.
Why must she be here to witness his failure?
He looked up from his tea. Miss Fenton’s eyes were fixed on him. She quickly looked away. At least she was not mocking him. Miss Fenton’s teasing was as frustrating as the hiccups or an itch he couldn’t scratch. He would endure ten of William’s jests over one of hers.
Unlike his siblings, Miss Fenton had not apologized for her words or his plight. He suspected she did not regret either. She was no doubt proud of her accurate predictions. But how had she known? If he was to avoid repeating his mistake, he needed to understand where he went wrong.
“I hope you are not too disappointed in the lady’s reply,” Grace said and sipped her tea.
Ambrose sighed. Grace was subtle, but she clearly wanted details. He supposed he should have expected an interrogation.
“There was no reply. For I did not make an offer,” Ambrose said. “I am sorry that my efforts were wasted but otherwise have nothing to regret. Indeed, I feel I have had a narrow escape.”
“Good,” William said. “Do not spare another thought for the woman.”
“Hear, hear,” Miss Fenton said quietly.
Ambrose resisted looking at her, afraid to see her dimple flashing back at him.
“When next you go searching for a wife,” William said, “I hope you remember to ask me for guidance.”
“Very well, I am in search of a wife. What is your counsel?”
Miss Fenton coughed, while William and Grace exchanged a quick look of surprise.
“So soon?” Grace asked.
“I will of course wait a week,” Ambrose said.
William chuckled. “Of course.”
Ambrose did not expect much sense from his brother on the topic, but it was foolhardy not to accept the offer. His pride was not so great that he was incapable of swallowing it.
After all, if he had consulted William about Miss Bullocke, he would not be in his present dilemma. Maybe if, all those years ago, he had asked William about Miss Popjoy, Ambrose would have been spared heartache.
“Do you have a lady in mind?” William asked.
“I have three ladies I am considering,” Ambrose said.
“Three!” Grace exclaimed. “Rosie, tell me you do not have a list.”
Ambrose glanced at Miss Fenton. She was looking at Grace, a faint pink in her cheeks. Apparently she had not told his sister about the notebook. How unexpected.
“Three is hardly a list,” William said.
Grace shook her head. “It is two more than he should be pursuing. Do you have affection for all three ladies?”
Ambrose frowned. Leave it to his sister to bring sentiment into the conversation.
“I have very little personal knowledge of the ladies in question, but they meet certain qualifications.”
“And therein lies your problem.” Grace put down her teacup so she could gesture with her hands. “You should not choose a wife based on qualifications.”
“Now, now,” William interjected. “A list of qualifications is valuable when considering prospects. A man can get into a great deal of trouble by relying on sentiment.”
“That may be true,” Grace said. “But as the only married person in the room, I can assure you that affection is necessary for a happy marriage.”
“Not everyone is of your mind,” Ambrose said. “There are many happy marriages based on mutual respect and shared goals.”
“And many unhappy ones,” Miss Fenton countered quietly.
“Of course you agree,” Ambrose muttered. “You wish to marry for love.”
William cocked his head. “Do you, Miss Susie? I thought you were set on being a rich spinster?”
Now all eyes were on Miss Susanna. An uncharacteristic blush tinged her cheeks as she replied. “You are confusing my aunt’s opinions with my own. If the right man were to offer for me”—her eyes darted to Ambrose—“I would accept.” She looked back at her cup.
William smirked and leaned toward her. “Well, I will keep that in mind.”
She looked at William with a half smile.
Ambrose could not like the interaction. His brother should not flirt with a woman who he claimed was practically family, and she should not encourage him.
Unless she welcomed his interest? As children, Ambrose had heard her speak adoringly about William.
He even recalled a pretend wedding. But surely she had outgrown that fancy?
“Might we return to the topic at hand?” Ambrose asked abruptly.
“Which is?” Grace replied.
“Helping me find a wife.”
“Ah yes,” Grace said. “You have three options. Perhaps you might name them. We can evaluate their qualities and vote on whom we prefer?”
Ambrose might have considered the suggestion if Grace had said it with any sincerity. Her disdain for his methods dripped from every word.
“I think his more pressing problem is how he will court the ladies,” William said. “Everyone is leaving town.”
“That is an obstacle.” Ambrose was glad his brother understood the problem.
“That is easily overcome,” Grace said. “I will invite them all to Brentmere Park. Then Rosie can evaluate them, choose a wife, and be married before August.”
“Be serious,” Ambrose said.
“I am in earnest.” Grace smiled slyly at him. “I will invite your ladies to my home and act as chaperone. I would enjoy the company, and Henry can’t refuse when it is for such a noble cause.”
He knew that she had some hidden reason for suggesting a house party but did not care to discover it. It was an elegant and efficient remedy to his problem. Having all of the candidates together would save him effort and time.
After Miss Popjoy and the disaster with Miss Bullocke, Ambrose did not feel capable of choosing the right lady. He could not turn to his friends since they were not objective. It seemed his best hope was his siblings.
With William’s assistance, he would know their history and better understand their family.
And with Grace’s help, he would be able to evaluate them in a short time.
Perhaps even Miss Fenton might aid him. She seemed to have an uncanny intuition about his prospects.
Did he dare ask for her assistance now when he had rudely spurned it earlier?
“Before we plan a party,” William said. “I must weigh in on the ladies. Who are they?”
Miss Fenton’s teacup clattered on the saucer. “Oh, I—” She thrust the cup and saucer onto the tea tray. “I must go.”
She stood.
“At this moment?” Grace asked.
“But we must have your opinion on the ladies,” William said.
“And the party,” Grace added.
“I am already late for an engagement.” She glanced quickly at Ambrose. “And I am sure Ros—your brother does not wish for my opinion.”
It seemed she had taken to heart his admonishments about being too familiar with him.
He appreciated her discretion despite its inconvenient timing.
For once he wanted to hear her unbridled opinions.
Since she had his list, she might have already guessed their names.
Perhaps he might find another opportunity to discuss the matter with her.
For all Miss Susanna’s outspoken impropriety, he appreciated that she was honest. He always knew her mind because she readily spoke it. Though she was sometimes misguided—like her urging him to pursue architecture despite the consequences—he admired her ability to dismiss the judgments of others.
Grace stood, embraced her friend, and urged another visit tomorrow. The brothers made bows to her quick curtsey. William offered to escort her home, and after a token resistance, she agreed.
As they walked away, Ambrose wished that he had made the offer instead. Then he might have asked for her unvarnished views.
No sooner had they left the room than Grace turned on him.
“I do not know what transpired between you and Susie, but it is clear that there is some quarrel. You were very rude when you arrived.”
“I apologized!”
“And she hardly spoke a word after your outburst.”
“How is that my fault?” Ambrose frowned.
Miss Susanna had been quieter than usual, but surely that was not on his account? She had never hesitated to speak her mind before.
“Perhaps there is something else amiss,” he said.
Grace didn’t even pause to consider his words. “You must mend things. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He wanted to argue his innocence, but it would be churlish when Grace was offering to help him find a wife. Besides, it would be easy to mend what was unbroken. Grace was overexcited about nothing.
“Good, now let’s discuss this party.”
Suddenly tired, Ambrose waved his hand. “I am sure whatever you decide will be just the thing.”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “You don’t wish to help make plans?”
Ambrose held in a sigh. His enthusiasm for planning was greatly diminished.
After months of scheming, evaluating women, and attending endless social functions, he had nothing to show for his efforts.
Nothing but another rejection. If not for the stupid wager, he would put the business on an indefinite stop and return his focus to work and his goal of becoming a member of Parliament.
But he could not stop his search. He must push forward or pay six hundred pounds.
One of his remaining candidates would be his wife. There was no other option.