Chapter One
London
Thea Martin’s first thought upon receiving a letter from Sir James Smiley, Esq., renowned solicitor for Persons of Great Importance, was that her brother had hatched a new scheme to chase her out of London.
Her hands shook as she broke the sealing wax. So far, her brother Horace had attempted to bar all doors to her, an effort that had not succeeded, since London loved nothing more than a scandal—and the feud between the mighty duke of Duruset and his disinherited sister was great fodder for gossip.
Horace’s next action had been to block all reasonable landlords from letting to her.
His machinations came to naught, because Thea was determined.
London offered opportunities for her to make a living, something difficult for a penniless widow with children to do on her own elsewhere.
This had been her home before she’d run away to marry Boyd Martin, and it offered the only hope for her small family’s future.
Thea had found a tiny set of rooms for let in a shabby building in a less-than-respectable neighborhood. It meant she would keep her boys in all day instead of giving them a garden for play, but it was a start, and that had been what Thea had needed—a new beginning.
Using the connections she’d made during her debutante years, she’d set about using the only skill she knew, matchmaking. She knew the ways of the ton, she knew marriage, and she understood the desperation of parents. She also knew how to be discreet.
And if her brother was not pleased? Well, she was already disowned. What more could he do?
Thea feared she’d discover the answer to that last question in Sir James’s letter.
“What is it, Mother?” Jonathan asked. He was a bright, towheaded seven-year-old who wanted to be her protector. His brother, five-year-old Christopher, stood by his side, his little forehead wrinkled in concern. Their small family didn’t receive letters often.
“I will tell you in a moment,” Thea murmured. “Are you waiting for my reply?” she asked the messenger, who still lingered in the hall with a distasteful sniff at his surroundings.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been ordered to return with your reply.”
Thea forced herself to focus on Sir James’s slanting handwriting.
He wanted to see her on “a matter of Some Importance.” He mentioned he was the uncle of Peter Goodfellow, for whom she had “performed a service that was nothing short of a Miracle” and that he hoped she’d be willing to “assist Someone again facing the same Situation.”
Peter Goodfellow had been one of Thea’s matchmaking challenges.
He was as tall as he was wide, had a squint, liked to pick at his face, and had a distressing tendency to burp.
She’d found a wife for him, but it had not been an easy task.
His family’s handsome commission had compensated for the difficulty.
Thea wondered if this request could mean another large commission.
Oh, were it to be so. She’d hidden most of the Goodfellow commission in her “Future Box,” the small, wooden money chest kept under the floorboard beneath her bed.
Her goal was to see that both her sons received a gentleman’s education.
Jonathan had an interview in a month’s time with the headmaster of Westminster School, a prestigious day school that would offer him the opportunity to meet boys from the right sort of families, families far different from those living in their present neighborhood.
“Sir James wished to know if you could meet with him today at half past two,” the messenger said politely.
“Half past two?” Thea consulted the clock on the mantel over the hearth. It had been Boyd’s mother’s and was the nicest thing she owned. It was already one. “Yes, of course I can.” She reached for her reticule and pulled out a coin to tip the man.
The messenger smiled as he saw her open her purse, a smile that turned brittle at the small amount she placed in his palm. She knew what he was thinking, but she didn’t care. She must watch every penny.
“I shall return to him with your acceptance.” The messenger bowed and was on his way.
Thea shut the door. For a second, she allowed herself a moment’s relief over the letter not being from her brother—and then she danced a little jig. Christopher started dancing with her, his worry giving way to a huge smile.
“What was in the letter, Mother?” Jonathan asked, too dignified to join in their little party.
She knelt down to the level of her two handsome sons.
“A chance to earn the money we need for your school fees.” She wrapped her arms around them and gave them both a big hug.
“I was so worried, but God does provide.” Yes, yes, yes.
She’d been living on what God provided ever since Boyd had abandoned them in Manchester right after Christopher was born.
“Do I still have the interview with the school next month?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes,” Thea said, “and you shall do very well. Westminster will be happy to have you. But first, I must see Sir James.” She was on her feet in a blink, her mind a flurry of activity.
She needed someone to watch her sons while she was out.
She ran up the hallway stairs to Mrs. Hadley’s door.
Mrs. Gray, Mrs. Hadley’s sister by marriage, answered.
She’d only arrived last week, and Thea didn’t know very much about her except that her late husband had been a country vicar.
She was a petite woman with a comfortable bosom and sad brown eyes.
“I am looking for Mrs. Hadley,” Thea said.
“Oh, she is off to care for my brother at the hospital,” Mrs. Gray replied.
“You know how it is in those places. If your family doesn’t see to your care, you can rot.
” Mr. Hadley suffered from consumption. Thea had been relieved when he’d been taken to the London Hospital, away from her boys, with his coughing and hacking.
“This is sad news,” Thea said. “I wanted to ask her to watch my sons while I ran an errand. Mrs. Hadley is usually home by now.”
“I don’t know what has been keeping her, but if it is help you need, I’ll watch your boys for you,” Mrs. Gray volunteered.
Thea’s first instinct was to refuse the kind offer. She hated leaving her sons alone at any time and was very particular about whom she asked for help.
However, this was a special circumstance.
“Are you certain it wouldn’t be a bother?” Thea asked. “I dislike imposing.”
“No trouble at all. I’ve seen your lads walking with you. They seem to be good boys.”
She had such a soft, melodic voice and grandmotherly way—and Thea really didn’t have another choice. Not on such short notice.
“Thank you,” Thea said, meaning the words. “I must change my dress, but if you could come down in ten minutes?”
“Of course I will.”
Thea didn’t waste another moment. She flew down the stairs, changed her into her best dress, a cambric gown in a brown with a reddish tint, then donned a very plain poke bonnet and dark green pelisse.
Within ten minutes, convinced she looked every inch the part of a sensible matchmaker, Thea set off for Sir James’s offices on Beatty Street.
Thea actually arrived a few minutes early for the interview.
The law offices of Sir James Smiley, Esq.
, consisted of two rooms. Sir James’s clerk sat at a desk in the first room.
At her entrance, he jumped to his feet. He was all of seventeen, with a slender frame and straight blonde hair parted to one side.
He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Mrs. Martin? Sir James is waiting for you.”
Thea always used her married name. She never even thought of herself as Lady Thea, which had really been nothing more than a courtesy title, since she was the daughter of a duke.
In truth, a true lady would never style herself above her husband, and at this point in her life, Thea was concerned about what was honest and real over “courtesy.” After all, her ducal father had disowned her, and, as Mrs. Martin, she was determined to stand on her own two feet .
. . no matter how wobbly she felt doing so at times.
“I hope I’m not too late?” Thea said, nerves making her sound a bit breathless.
“You are right on time,” the clerk assured her. “One moment, please.” He crossed to the room’s other door, gave a knock and opened it. “Sir James, Mrs. Martin has arrived.”
“Send her in, send her in,” a hearty male voice ordered.
The secretary held open the door. “Mrs. Martin,” he announced, ushering her forward with a small sweep of his hand.
Her heart pounding in her ears, Thea crossed into the other room.
Sir James’s book-lined office was the typical sort one would expect from a solicitor.
The desk was huge and covered with neatly stacked papers, the ink-and-quill stand was solid silver, and there was a side table for the wig stand that held the curled peruke of his profession.
Two comfortable wooden chairs were arranged in front of the desk.
“Come in, come in,” Sir James said in greeting as he walked around the desk to welcome her.
He was a robust man with flinty blue eyes, a hawkish nose and an air that proclaimed him no one’s fool. “I’ve heard much about you, Mrs. Martin, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, have a chair.”
Thea sat on the edge of the offered chair, holding her reticule in her lap with both gloved hands. Sir James took his seat behind his desk.
He smiled at her.
She smiled back, very nervous.
“I suppose you are wondering why I requested this interview?” he asked.
“You mentioned my assistance to Mr. Goodfellow,” she murmured.