Chapter Six
The Black Widow sat down again and smiled to herself.
She flung back her veil and took a deep breath.
She was so used to watching the world from behind the black lace that she felt naked without it, but the veil was part of her character now.
Over the years, the mystery had grown, whispered rumors building, each more ludicrous than the last. And that was how she preferred it.
She considered Catriona MacKenzie. The girl was just what Sinclair needed in his life—lovely and warm and intelligent. She was perfect, so it was a shame she was resisting. But who could blame her? Marriage was not a state to be taken lightly. There must be give and take on both sides.
Bessie had won over more difficult clients in her time. Not that Catriona was actually a client. Yet. But Bessie wasn’t about to give up, and she had strong reasons to want to succeed.
Lord Armytage.
She frowned as she remembered the letter she had received a fortnight ago.
It had been rather stained from its long journey from the north of Scotland to London.
She had opened it curiously, wondering why His Lordship had written to her.
It was not a pleasant letter. Lord Armytage wrote that he had heard from reliable sources that his grandson spent a great deal of time at the Lyon’s Den, shirking his responsibilities.
No doubt, he went on, Mrs. Lyon-Dove was happy to fleece the boy of his allowance, but Lord Armytage would not tolerate it any longer. She must ban Sinclair forthwith.
The arrogance of the man!
And then in the next paragraph, Armytage went on to suggest it might even be in Mrs. Lyon-Dove’s interest to help Sinclair make the sort of marriage required if he was to reach the heights of the ton.
Wasn’t she a matchmaker of sorts? He suggested she use her skills to persuade Sinclair to make the match his grandfather wanted for him.
There would be a nice juicy fee, if she succeeded.
That gave Bessie pause. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or fling the letter into the fire.
Did Lord Armytage have spies in the Lyon’s Den, watching her?
Well of course he did. He was that sort of man.
And was he trying to manipulate her with a combination of bullying and his poor excuse for flattery?
“If he is to make the final transition to gentleman, then Sinclair needs a wife who can lift him further in society.” Here he suggested the name of the duke’s daughter Sinclair had already told her.
Armytage went on, “It has long been my dream for him to rise to the highest heights. Once upon a time, I dreamed of such a thing for myself, but I was not able to achieve it. I was never well received. Too blunt, too Scottish! Sinclair is different, and he is malleable. It is my greatest wish to see him succeed where I failed.”
The man was insufferable! And yet Bessie was tempted.
She was certainly not adverse to finding Sinclair a wife, but it was not the lady Armytage mentioned in his letter.
He wanted a wife who would fit in with his own ambitions, and it seemed to Bessie that the old man was trying to live his selfish dreams through his grandson without caring what Sinclair might want or think.
She could imagine the sort of woman the duke’s daughter was—beautiful and ambitious, with her family demanding more from her so that they could rise with her.
Shallow came to mind, although that was possibly unfair.
Sinclair was in need of someone very different. He needed a wife who would be by his side whatever he did, who would understand his complexities as he would hers. A helpmate and a companion. And most of important of all, someone who would love Sinclair as he deserved to be loved.
Bessie shook out her skirts and went over to the fireplace. For a moment, a face from long ago resurfaced in her memory. The flames flickered as she smiled to herself. Love was not always smooth sailing, but if one found it, then it was worth rough seas and the occasional storm.
She would write back to Lord Armytage, pretending to be afraid of his threats and considering his suggestions, and she would make some suggestions of her own.