Chapter 6
Six
“‘But what is the rogue’s true purpose?’” Cherie read from the latest gossip sheet.
“‘Those who have tracked Mr. H—’s exploits note his recent gaming losses and debts. Is it mere coincidence that Lady W— has inherited not only her late husband’s townhouse but also his considerable investments?
Cynics suggest Mr. H— aims to snare not only a widow’s heart but her purse strings as well.
Others, however, whisper that Lady W— may not be as innocent in this game of intrigue as she appears… ’”
Minerva rubbed her temples, distracted by Cherie’s reading. The day’s gossip sheet had a number of stories of rakish men, and she had had her fill lately. “Cherie, I think I have had enough of the stories today.”
Cherie had claimed the settee with her usual flair, lounging as though the world existed solely for her amusement. Across the room, Samantha sat near the window, idly sketching in her notebook, her disinterested demeanor always a contrast to Cherie’s lively enthusiasm.
“I thought you could use some entertainment,” Cherie protested, sneaking a peak at Minerva’s progress on writing out invitations.
“Do not forget to invite Lord Radcliffe,” Samantha interjected.
“Why is that?” Minerva asked, counting the number of cards she had left before committing to writing out another invitation. For some reason, she thought she had more cards than she had on her desk at that moment.
“Why shouldn’t we invite him? Lord Radcliffe has the most charming smile,” Cherie declared as she sank back into the settee, her dark curls bouncing.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her quick grin showed that, as always, she had no interest in keeping her thoughts to herself.
“He would be such a good match for any number of ladies.”
Minerva glanced up from the stack of invitations she was sorting, her expression mildly amused. “Lord Radcliffe? The one who cannot seem to hold a conversation for more than a minute without fumbling his words?”
“He is shy,” Cherie admitted, crossing her legs and draping one arm over the back of the settee. “I find it endearing. Besides, what he lacks in conversation, he more than makes up for in looks.”
“If you say so,” Samantha said with a soft chuckle. “Though personally, I find Lord Pembroke much more intriguing.”
Minerva sighed, dipping her quill into the ink well. “Lord Pembroke? He is the most unreliable man in London.”
Minerva sighed as she sorted through the stack of invitations on the desk.
The room was meant to be a haven of order and tranquility, yet Cherie’s lively banter made it feel more like a bustling marketplace.
Not that Minerva entirely minded—it was a distraction, however brief, from the constant hum of worry that had taken root in her chest.
“Unreliable or unpredictable?” Samantha corrected, raising a brow as she continued sketching. “There is a difference, and I rather enjoy the mystery.”
Cherie gasped dramatically, sitting up straight. “You cannot mean to say you are considering him as a potential suitor?”
Samantha gave a nonchalant shrug, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Why not? He is certainly more interesting than the others.”
Minerva smoothed out another invitation, her fingers brushing against the embossed edge.
The Wallflower Garden Party was not just an event; it was her way of giving overlooked young ladies a chance to shine, a space where they could mingle without the stifling judgment of society’s usual gatherings.
She couldn’t afford any mistakes this time, especially with Chastity’s increasingly reckless behavior.
If the party was not a success, it would not just be her reputation on the line—it would be Chastity’s future.
The thought sent a pang of anxiety through her chest, though she kept her face composed.
“I do not see how why you would be surprised, Cherie, you fell for a man with a well-tailored waistcoat and a bit of mystery. What happened to sensible choices? We are not debutantes anymore.”
“Oh, Minerva,” Cherie laughed, tossing a cushion toward her. “Sensibility is boring! Besides, you are hardly one to talk. What about you? You have not mentioned a single eligible bachelor you are interested in.”
Minerva straightened her back, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, her expression resolute. “Because I am not interested in anyone at the moment. My focus is on the Wallflower Garden Party, thank you very much.”
Samantha arched an eyebrow, setting down her sketchpad. “Ah yes, the party where you could find an eligible match for yourself, if you were not so busy playing matchmaker for everyone else.”
“Speaking of which,” Minerva interjected, “I have been trying to determine who would make a suitable match for Chastity. She needs someone steady, someone who can balance her wild nature without stifling her.”
Cherie’s mischievous grin widened. “You do love a project, Minerva. But are you sure Chastity wants to be matched? From what I have seen, she enjoys her freedom.”
“She needs guidance,” Minerva replied, her tone thoughtful but firm.
She rose from the desk and moved toward the window, gazing out at the meticulously kept garden below.
“Her behavior has been more impulsive than ever, and I do not want her to make a rash decision. It is my responsibility to ensure she finds someone who will care for her.”
Samantha tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing in thought. “What about Lord Sheffield? He is reliable, and I hear his family has been looking for a match for him.”
Minerva shook her head. “Too stiff. Chastity would grow bored of him in a week.”
“Lord Archer, then,” Cherie suggested, swinging her legs over the settee’s armrest with a carefree grin. “He is charming and well-liked, but not overly serious. And I have seen him steal glances at Chastity during the last two balls.”
Minerva considered this for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the windowsill. “Perhaps. He is pleasant enough, and he does have a good reputation. But I wonder if he has the patience for her... spirited nature.”
Samantha leaned back, her expression amused. “When are you going to focus on your own prospects?”
Minerva laughed softly, shaking her head as she returned to the desk, shuffling the invitations back into a neat pile. “Oh, I am perfectly content without prospects, thank you. I would much rather see to it that Chastity is settled first.”
“Always the selfless older sister,” Cherie teased, flopping back onto the settee dramatically. “But do not forget, Minerva, you deserve a bit of happiness too.”
Minerva waved off her friends’ comments, though a small smile tugged at her lips.
“For now,” she said, picking up the quill once more, “I will focus on the garden party.
At my age, I have learned well enough that I will receive an offer based on my practicality and good sense, rather than flirtatious charm and unreproachable beauty.
“Oh, come now, Minerva, you are hardly a spinster, and are quite handsome,” Cherie said with a dramatic sigh, tossing a cushion onto the settee beside her.
“Surely you cannot expect to spend your life buried in invitations and party plans. Even you, with all your practicality and good sense, deserve a dashing suitor to sweep you off your feet.”
Samantha smirked, glancing up from her sketch. “Perhaps she’s already found one and is simply too modest to admit it.”
“Nonsense,” Minerva said, rolling her eyes as she set down her quill. “Unlike some, I do not allow a handsome face to turn my head.”
Cherie gasped in mock indignation, pressing a hand to her chest. “Are you implying that I am shallow, Minerva?”
Minerva gave her a pointed look. “Not implying. Stating.”
Samantha chuckled softly, returning her attention to her sketch. “At least she’s honest.”
Cherie and Samantha exchanged knowing glances, but they wisely chose not to push further. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden light over the room as they settled into a comfortable silence.
“So,” Samantha said, her fingers trailing over the pages of her sketchpad, “I have been helping my mother with the annual art gallery exhibit. I assume you both will be coming to the opening. There are a few pieces I think you will absolutely love.”
Minerva’s eyes lit up at the mention of Samantha’s mother’s work. “Of course, we will be there. I am looking forward to it.”
Cherie nodded, brushing a curl behind her ear. “I would love to. You know I am always fascinated by your mother’s art.”
Samantha grinned. “Good, because she has been working on something truly special for this exhibit.”
Minerva smiled warmly. “It will be a nice distraction from all the planning. Perhaps we will even find inspiration for next year’s party.”
Samantha’s grin turned playful. “And who knows? Maybe you will finally stop playing matchmaker and find an eligible bachelor for yourself at the art exhibit.”
Minerva groaned in mock exasperation, tossing a cushion back at her. “Not likely. Now, stop trying to distract me, and help me finish these invitations!”
The room erupted into laughter once again, the air filled with the sound of playful banter and friendship. For now, the focus remained on each other, leaving the world of eligible bachelors and matchmaking for another day.
No matter how much Minerva tried to focus on the details—the floral arrangements, the guest list, the seating plan—her mind kept wandering.
It was infuriating. Their last encounter, the way he had smiled at her with that infuriating, arrogant charm, gnawed at her.
She could still feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the way her heart had raced when he’d gotten too close.
Why did he affect her like that? Minerva shook her head, trying to clear the thought.
“Minerva, dear, you have put Lord Stoppard’s name under both Lady Whitley and Lady Fenwick,” Cherie pointed out, her tone light but tinged with concern as she glanced over the seating chart.
Minerva blinked, looking down at the chart in front of her, realizing she had indeed made the mistake. Again. That was the third error she had made today alone.
“Sorry,” Minerva muttered, reaching for the quill to fix it.
Her friends exchanged glances, and Cherie set down the chart with a sigh. “Alright, that is it. Something is clearly amiss with you.”
“I am fine,” Minerva insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. She returned to her task, avoiding their gazes. “I am just tired, that is all.”
Samantha, who had been watching her quietly from her seat, suddenly sat up straight, her eyes widening as if a revelation had just struck her. “Wait… is this about a man?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.
Minerva’s hand froze mid-quill stroke, but she quickly recovered, waving off the suggestion. “No, of course not. Do not be absurd.”
But the flicker of hesitation in her voice did not go unnoticed.
Cherie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “It is a man, isn’t it?”
Minerva huffed, turning her back to them as she gathered the scattered invitations. “There is no man. Can we please return to the party planning?”
“Oh, no,” Samantha said, grinning as she exchanged a look with Cherie. “You are not evading us this easily. Who is the gentleman?”
“There is no man!” Minerva insisted, but the more she denied it, the less convincing she sounded. Her cheeks had flushed, betraying her.
Cherie crossed her arms, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Minerva, you cannot hide this from us. Out with it. Who is it that has you so distracted you have placed Lord Stoppard in two different places?”
Minerva sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She knew her friends wouldn’t let it go until she admitted something. “Fine,” she muttered. “There… may have been a brief encounter. But it is nothing. I assure you.”
Both Cherie and Samantha leaned in closer, eyes wide with anticipation. “Who?” Samantha pressed eagerly.
Minerva rubbed her temples, trying to think of how to explain without feeding into their wild imaginations. “It does not matter. He has insufferable, arrogant, and completely full of himself.”
Cherie’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Sounds like someone who’s gotten under your skin.”
“No,” Minerva said firmly, glaring at her. “If he has, it is because he defies convention and takes liberty with others’ reputations. And besides there is more at stake.”
Samantha tilted her head, her expression turning more curious than teasing. “More at stake? What do you mean?”
Minerva hesitated, her fingers twisting around the edge of an invitation. She had not wanted to mention it to her friends just yet, but now, there seemed to be no avoiding it. “I… suspect he may be the man Chastity has been secretly courting.”
The room fell silent for a moment as both Cherie and Samantha processed the information.
Cherie blinked. “Wait… what?”
Minerva sighed, standing up from the desk and moving toward the window, staring out at the garden below. “I mentioned before that I found Chastity’s diary. She wrote about meeting a man that met his description. And considering how he keeps appearing at all the wrong moments, I fear it is him.”
Samantha gasped softly. “Oh no…”
“Yes,” Minerva replied, her voice tinged with frustration. “And that is why any suggestion that I should… pursue this man is utterly absurd. If he has been courting Chastity, I must put an end to it before things get out of hand.”
“But how do you know for certain?” Cherie asked, her eyes wide. “Have you seen them together?”
“No, not yet. But it is only a matter of time. And I won’t sit idly by while Chastity makes a mistake that could ruin her.”
Cherie and Samantha exchanged a glance, the teasing atmosphere quickly fading into concern.
“Alright,” Samantha said quietly. “But what will you do if it is him?”
Minerva’s jaw tightened as she turned back to them. “Whoever it is, I will stop it. Whatever it takes.”