Chapter 8
“They’ve gone to the library!” announced Rivers as he popped open a bottle of champagne.
As one did, of course, when one was about to triumph.
The bubbles flowed in the small hallway off the library that was hidden and had been used many years ago to hide quite a number of secrets.
The Rivers family had not always agreed with the ruling monarch’s decrees, after all.
“I knew they would,” Rivers exclaimed. “The ball has done it!”
Lord Philip laughed. “Yes, you set that one up quite nicely, didn’t you?”
Rivers waggled his brows as he poured champagne into several crystal flutes.
“Look, he’s going to ask her to marry him.
Possibly tomorrow. Certainly by the end of the week.
This will be perfect. I don’t see him bedding a young lady of the ton without marriage.
This will be perfect. A wedding will take place within—”
“Were you not listening when I talked?” Fennyman ground out.
“Fennyman,” Rivers said, turning around, “you will say nothing about this. I know Skyburn, and there is not a chance that he will not ask the young lady to marry him post-haste.”
He turned and looked through the peephole that overlooked the library. There were peepholes all throughout his house. He used them, as did other members of The Marriage Managing Society, to ensure that their plans were going well.
The several balls that he had already held this summer were beginning to be a bit superfluous, it was true. And his staff was exhausted, but it was all in the name of an exceptionally good cause.
The future of England was at stake.
If he didn’t set up the right marriages, there would be absolute disaster. He was sure of it. He’d gotten so sick of watching divorce after divorce, criminal conversation after criminal conversation, of perfectly nice people turning on each other simply because they were ill-suited.
He, Fennyman, Harlowe, and, of course, Lord Philip were ensuring that well-suited people married. Ruby Reynolds and Skyburn were well-suited.
“Look again,” Fennyman said as he peered through the peephole.
He crossed over.
Fennyman stepped aside.
He looked through the peephole and said, “What am I looking at?”
“I warned you that if things moved too quickly…”
Then he peered again, let out a gasp, and pulled back. “I’m not watching that.”
“Good,” Fennyman said. “If you did, I would be shocked and appalled. And I know the name of a few madams who would suit you very well, if you did.”
Rivers ground out his teeth. “This is good. This is fine. Like I said, there’s not a chance that Skyburn is going to…”
“Remember, we’re not that worried about Skyburn,” Fennyman said. “We are worried about Lady Ruby. The two of them are going to burn out like a cinder. And even if they do marry because of this, I fear they will not fall in love.”
Rivers plunked down his champagne glass upon the table next to the peephole.
“Well, this is a conundrum,” he said. “Our first couple kissed at just the right time. Our last couple wouldn’t kiss for ages. And now this one? They are most overzealous.”
“Yes, they’re zealots of the worst sort,” Fennyman said.
Philip choked on a laugh. “That’s certainly one way to put it.”
“Well, should we cry fire?” Rivers demanded. “I could have a maid race down—”
“That would be dangerous,” Fennyman said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, nor do I think that’s really going to fix the problem.”
“Though it could be a good laugh,” Lord Philip said. Then he ventured, “What about the Duke of Windbourne?”
“Didn’t we send him in? Surely that’s fixing things.”
Rivers let out a long sigh. “It might. It could. I’m hoping. I brought him into the fold, and he and Skyburn certainly engaged in fisticuffs this morning. But I’m not entirely certain it’s going to have an effect upon the lady.”
Fennyman snorted. “She’s made of strong stuff, that one. She’s not going to be easily lured by a handsome face and a little bit of seduction.”
“And now that you say all this, I’m a little bit worried,” Rivers said softly.
“Why?” Fennyman asked.
He cleared his throat. “The Duke of Windbourne said that he was interested in marrying Lady Ruby.”
“And you were going to tell us this when?” Fennyman demanded.
“Now?” he said. “I simply thought if I got them together in the library, and Skyburn saw how passionate she is and she saw how passionate he is, that they would realize they are perfect for each other.”
Fennyman wiped his hand over his eyes. “You are such an optimist, Your Grace.”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “I’m a complete skeptic. That’s why we have The Marriage Managing Society.”
Fennyman gave him a look. “That might be true, but you do keep thinking that the better nature of humans will prevail without the all-important managing.”
“Then what are we to do?” Rivers asked.
“Well, I think we need…”
“Yes?” Rivers asked hopefully.
Fennyman sucked in a gasp, stunned. “I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Rivers demanded. “This is what you’re for. You know people. You’re supposed to know what to do next to manipulate them. I mean, manage them.”
He didn’t want to manipulate people. He wanted to maneuver them, to guide them, to slide them into certain places.
Well, this couple had been slid into total and absolute debauchery in his house, and that had not been his game plan.
He had no moral problem with it. There were worse things.
And if they were happy, he thought they should debauch away!
But if it got in the way of their happy marriage?
Disaster!
“I could send someone down to catch them,” he said abruptly.
“I know the perfect lady for this,” Rivers said. “I could send in the Dowager Duchess of Bellingham. She would sweep in, catch them, and there would be a marriage by morning.”
Fennyman blinked and gave him a look that suggested he found him endearing but impossible. “I think that’s a terrible idea.”
Lord Philip hesitated, then confessed. “So do I.”
Rivers let out an exasperated note and stared into his champagne, which now seemed depressing. “Why not? It would have the situation done in a trice, and then neither of them would be able to resist.”
“Yes, and they would both resent each other for the rest of their days, feeling caught. There would be no free choice in it,” Fennyman said.
“Who needs free choice?” Rivers said, his own irritation at the situation and current state of affairs bubbling up.
“Free choice is what has gotten us here. All these people who believe in love, marrying for love? Positively ridiculous. People should marry for friendship, which leads to love. People should marry for common sense. People should marry for shared ideas. Those things lead to real love.”
Fennyman’s lips twitched with amusement. “Tell me how you actually feel about all this. And you’re only making my point. We don’t want these two to succumb to passion alone.”
Rivers rolled his eyes. “You agree with me?”
“Of course I do,” Fennyman said. “We agree with each other. If the world was intelligent, everyone would be matched up according to their likes, dislikes, strengths, and weaknesses. The organ of the heart is a very unwise organ to trust, at least when it mistakes lust for love,” he said.
“The brain really isn’t that much better.
No, friends and family and, of course, people like us are who should arrange matches.
I hate to say it, but it’s true. Most of the love matches that I know about ended in bitter acrimony,” he said softly.
“And poor,” put in Lord Philip.
Rivers swung his gaze to Lord Philip. “I didn’t really think about that.”
Lord Philip let out a dismayed breath. “Well, you should. Half the young ladies I know who’ve married gentlemen who were not advantageous in financial terms are now living in utter ruin.
It’s horrible for women. They need men who can support them.
Ladies can’t get jobs themselves, and so they need to have a husband who can financially keep them secure.
Too many love marriages, where the couple chooses for themselves, see ladies ending up in abject poverty with no resources and then dozens of children to take care of.
And then those children end up in poverty, and it’s just going to be a very horrible cycle,” Lord Philip said.
“My goodness, Lord Philip, I had no idea you were so passionate on the subject,” Fennyman said with a touch of deeper respect.
“Yes.” Lord Philip cleared his throat. “Well, seeing a young lady of your acquaintance end up in a rotten room with five children and a husband drunk on gin every day because he didn’t live up to his potential is rather difficult,” Lord Philip bit out.
Rivers’ heart softened. “I’m sorry that this has happened to someone you know.”
“It’s happened to someone I know and more besides,” put in Philip. “So now what do we do?”
“I still don’t know,” Fennyman said.
Rivers tossed back the rest of his champagne, though he did not feel like celebrating at all now. “You said that already.”
“It bears repeating,” Fennyman said.
Lord Philip bit his lower lip. “They both like horse races,” he said.
“And?” Rivers said.
“Host a horse race.”
“I’m not going to host a horse race,” Rivers said. “We already have—”
“No, not one of those kinds. A private one,” Lord Philip protested. “Let Ruby back her own horse.”
“You want me to promote a lady racehorse owner? It’s one thing if it’s her father, but if she promotes the horse, it’ll be scandalous!” Rivers declared, his jaw all but dropping.
“She should be allowed to race herself. Privately, she’d be one of the finest jockeys in the country if she wasn’t a woman.
And you won’t be promoting her, so to speak, if it is a small invitation list,” Fennyman said simply.
“For a man like Skyburn? Seeing her in the role she clearly longs for, owner of racehorses? He’ll be unable to resist. He thinks he wants stability.
He doesn’t. He wants someone who will be there for all his life, who will burn as brightly as he does, who will never step down in his defense…
Who will care for him as he has never been cared for. ”
Rivers nodded. “It’s true.”
“A charity!” Lord Philip chirped. “A charity for some cause they both believe in. Surely, that would make almost anything acceptable.”
“But how do I ask other people?” Rivers asked.
Philip shrugged. “You make it very private, very exclusive.”
Rivers pursed his lips. “I don’t see how this is going to bring them any closer than the library,” he said.
“Oh, it will,” Fennyman said softly. “Because something will happen in which the other one will have to show the generosity of their heart and their nature. And once they see each other’s true nature without the kissing? It will bring them close together.”
Rivers bit his lip. “Closer together,” he thought. Well, that would be something. Anything would do. Anything to bring these two together would help because the last thing he wanted was for them to have a quick flash in the pan and then fade out of each other’s existence.
Rivers eyed the bottle of champagne, tempted to drink it to its dregs, but knowing that its bubbles would give him no pleasure. “Right then. We’re sending out invitations. I think I know a few ladies and gentlemen who might be willing to participate, and we shall make it the secret of the Season.”
And then he headed down the hall.
“Where are you going?” Fennyman asked.
“To stop the debauchery,” he said over his shoulder. “Before it’s too late.”