Chapter 9
Henry pulled on his overcoat, bracing himself for the early morning air, but just as he stepped into the foyer, his mother’s voice sailed after him.
“Henry, dear, don’t forget the guest list I left on your desk,” she called, leaning over the banister. “We must finalize it soon.”
He grimaced, his hand on the doorknob. “Yes, Mother. I’ll look it over tonight.”
“Do be thorough,” she said, her tone altogether too satisfied. “We’ve so many interested families.”
He muttered a half-hearted response and let the front door fall shut behind him.
The carriage ride into town felt longer than usual, as his thoughts churned over the possibilities of how he might escape the situation he was in.
A house party forced on me by my own mother, and I can’t say no without causing an uproar.
He felt rather like a fox being cornered by hounds, every path blocked.
At least he had William’s company to look forward to at White’s. He’d sent a hurried note earlier, pleading for a meeting. When his carriage rattled to a stop, Henry vaulted out and strode inside, relieved to find William already waiting near a corner table.
William greeted him with a wry smile. “You look like a man on the verge of running away from home.”
Henry gave a tight laugh. “If only that were an option. I’d spend all of my time at the House of Lords if I thought I could get away with it.” He signaled the attendant. “Two glasses of brandy, please.”
They settled into their usual worn leather chairs, the hush of the private room enveloping them. The attendant returned with their drinks, placed them discreetly on the table, and vanished again.
Henry picked up his glass, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid. “My mother’s done it, Will. She’s told half of London I’m hosting a house party to find a bride.”
William winced. “She truly didn’t warn you first?”
“No. She just spread the rumor, and now I’ve got invitations to send, a guest list to review, and not a clue how to extricate myself.” He took a quick gulp of brandy. “If I cancel, I’ll look like a complete cad, and the gossip could be worse than if I just play along.”
William made a thoughtful noise. “Why not just… go through with it? Keep her happy, as we said.”
Henry groaned. “Why not? Because this is rather more serious than dancing at a few balls. This is my home. And, as I’ve told you, I don’t want to marry.”
“Which begs the question again of why?” William set his glass aside, leaning forward. “You’re not that old, and I’ve never seen you hopelessly in love, so there’s no heartbreak story. You’re wealthy, titled, not exactly burdened by—”
Henry lifted a hand. “Enough.” He glanced toward the door. “One moment.” Rising, he crossed the room, opened the door, and waved the nearby servant away. “We’d like privacy,” he said quietly, then shut them in again.
William’s brows furrowed. “All right. Now I’m really curious.”
Henry dropped into his chair and lowered his voice. “You know I trust you more than anyone. But there’s a… complication with the dukedom. A secret. If it ever came out, it’d ruin everything. I’m not dragging a wife into that.”
Silence stretched. William studied him, clearly trying to hide his surprise. “A secret. Something serious, then?”
Henry’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Serious enough that I can’t risk it. I don’t want to saddle some poor girl with this burden.”
William nodded slowly. “All right. If you say it’s big, I won’t pry. I’d guess your mother would do anything to keep it hidden.”
“That’s just it. She has done anything and everything, apparently including this wretched house party.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “So how do I avoid a forced engagement? I can’t flirt with ladies if I have no intention of following through.”
William’s expression cleared. “Simple. Never be alone with them. Have other gentlemen around. Spread the attention. If you’re always in a group, no one can corner you for a private proposal or compromise.”
Henry exhaled, relief flickering. “That could work, actually.”
“Invite more men,” William went on, his eyes brightening. “Make it a proper house party, not just a bevy of young ladies waiting to pounce. I’d be delighted to come. I’m sure Charlotte would too.”
Henry forced himself not to react too strongly at the mention of Charlotte.
She was on his mind far too much lately and somehow seemed to be mentioned in every conversation.
“Your sister…. Yes, of course. She might enjoy the fresh air. And with you both there, I’d have more allies. ” He paused, swirling his drink.
William jumped in. “Adding a few of her friends wouldn’t hurt either, if it pads out the numbers.”
“More women.” Henry shuddered.
William smirked. “I doubt many of Charlotte’s friends would meet your mother’s exacting standards for wealth and beauty.
But Charlotte has already pleaded with me to ask you to invite them; you know how shy she gets at these things—and since Her Grace extended the invitation, our darling mama will expect her to be there.
Don’t worry; I’ll tell her to warn them that it’s not actually a bride hunt. ”
Henry swirled his brandy, remembering the young women he had danced with at the last ball. If they were representative of Charlotte’s friends, they had been an odd bunch, chattering on about Charlotte’s dress the whole time.
“We could spend time with them perfectly respectably, as I’m Charlotte’s brother,” William pointed out, “and therefore less time with all the other young ladies.”
Henry smiled and ran a hand over his face. “Thank you, William. That isn’t half a bad suggestion. Give me their names, and I will ensure Mother adds them. Thank you for your support… and discretion. Genuinely.”
“Don’t mention it, old chap. You’re like a brother to me. Now, pass me that news sheet, will you?”
“Catching up with the gossip pages again?” Henry felt lighter for having spoken to William. Of course, if his friend knew his real secret….
They drank the last of their brandy in companionable silence. When Henry stood to open the door again, a couple of other club regulars drifted in, greeting them with boisterous calls. One of the men clapped Henry on the shoulder.
“Arundel, old man, I hear you’re destined for the parson’s noose soon.” He barked a laugh. “Should we congratulate you now, or wait until you’ve selected your prey?”
Henry forced a stiff smile. “No need for condolences yet. I’m just trying to survive my mother’s machinations.”
The group teased him good-naturedly until they roped William and Henry into a card game. Henry played like an automaton, his mind racing over what he’d told William.
Why can’t I live a normal life? Why can’t I choose a bride if I wanted to, free of secrets? His thoughts ran away with him.
A stray image of Charlotte’s gentle smile at the last ball flickered in his mind. He shrugged it off, blaming it on William’s presence and the glass of early-morning brandy.
By the time the game ended, Henry couldn’t muster more than a polite nod when the others wished him well on his “quest.” He bade William goodbye and trudged out to his carriage, a strange gloom clinging to him.
If only circumstances were different. If only he could consider marriage like any ordinary man, Charlotte might be an option. After all, he knew and liked her; that was a better foundation for marriage than many had.
He shook his head sharply. Nonsense. She was William’s sister. Beyond reach. He had real problems to deal with.
Like Mother’s list on his desk.
Once he was back at home, he climbed the wide staircase to his study.
On the desk lay a sheet of paper filled with neat columns of names in his mother’s slanted handwriting.
Daughters of earls, barons, and wealthy commoners, all presumably eager to be included in this infamous party.
He sighed, dropped into the chair, and pulled the lamp closer.
All these families…. Each one hoping I’ll choose their darling daughter.
He scanned the names. A few seemed tolerable; most he recognized only vaguely.
Then he remembered William’s advice. Invite more men.
Invite Charlotte and her friends. Make it a real gathering.
Possibly the best move he had short of calling off the entire fiasco.
He dipped his quill in ink and drew neat lines through some of the ladies’ names; no reason to fill the estate with hundreds of women he barely recalled.
The Fitzgeralds were already there, of course.
As were Genevieve and Miranda. He added in Felicity, Helena, and Adeline.
They were all from reasonably respectable families, with perhaps the exception of the Steeles, but he could remind his mother of her own remarks at the ball.
He withdrew another sheet of paper and started listing eligible gentlemen he knew.
A few of them were friends from the clubs, men who wouldn’t mind a week in the country.
He added a couple of mild-mannered fellows who might keep conversation lively without pushing Henry into a corner.
The more men, the better he’d be able to avoid being singled out.
A matchmaking party for the whole ton. He smiled at the thought.
Then he scrawled a note to his mother before pinning it to the revised list: Amended. I prefer a balanced party. He strode out to find her. When he bumped into her near the upstairs gallery, she beamed at him.
“You’re back. Any thoughts on my list?”
He gave her the papers, and his mother’s eyes flicked over the alterations.
“You’ve… removed some prominent daughters. And added the Steele girl… and several others I don’t recall mentioning. Not to mention more of your gentleman friends, I see. Are you trying to turn this into a farce?” As he’d expected, she looked less than pleased. Almost angry, in fact.
“I’m the host, am I not? I want a comfortable balance.
These changes might help me feel less like an exhibit.
It’s the matchmaking season; why not give others the chance to meet their betrotheds?
It will be the house party of the season, Mother.
And if more than one important match is made, people will be talking about it favorably for years. ”
His mother appraised him with suspicion but couldn’t help the interest that flared in her eyes. Her lips twitched in delight. “Henry, are you actually involving yourself? Splendid. I’ll have my secretary send the formal invitations. You’ll need to sign, of course.”
He nodded tersely. “I’ll write some personal notes too. They will please our more influential friends.”
“Excellent,” she said, patting his arm. “I’m so pleased you’re taking this seriously at last.”
He didn’t bother correcting her assumption, just retreated to his own chambers, where he instructed his butler to bring paper, ink, and wax.
Sitting at a small writing desk near the window, Henry penned short, polite invitations to half a dozen eligible gentlemen he trusted; men who would join for the sporting and the dining—not for schemes to marry off their sisters.
Each letter was careful and concise: I’d be honored if you would join me at Arundel Park for a few days of country air, good food, and conversation.
He sealed them, handed them over to the butler, and gave strict instructions.
“Deliver these quietly and advise the recipients that I’d rather avoid further gossip until the official list goes out. These are my honored guests.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said with a respectful bow.
When he was finally alone, Henry leaned back in the chair, his eyes drifting shut. Maybe this plan could work. With enough allies around, he wouldn’t be forced into any corners or compromises engineered by his mother and her cronies.
Tomorrow, the invitations would go out. He couldn’t change course now. All he could do was maintain control, keep his distance, and hope that by the end of it, he wouldn’t be worse off than he was already.