Chapter Seven
Jack walked down the corridor of his family’s London home, Terrance at his side, laughing as they recounted a particularly ridiculous wager two gentlemen had made at the club that morning.
“Barton is a dunderhead,” Terrance said. “He’ll be handing over a pony by week’s end.”
“Never should have bet against Jones. I’ve seen that man in a prizefight. An absolute terror.” They stepped inside the book room.
The conversation died on the instant. The room was not empty. A lady, whom Jack couldn’t immediately place, sat in a high-backed chair, facing the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hewitt.” She spoke with utter calm, as if the situation was not in the least unusual or uncomfortable. “Mr. Lexington.”
Terrance shot Jack a look of confusion. Jack shrugged.
“I can find my mother,” Jack offered.
She shook her head. “I am not here to speak with your mother.”
“My father?” That seemed unlikely.
“I am here to see you, Mr. Hewitt. Mr. Lexington’s presence is simply a fortunate happenstance.”
This was growing more odd by the moment. “I will confess myself confused.”
“What are your intentions toward Miss Armistead?”
Panic seized him, but he kept his expression simply curious. “Which of us are you asking?” He slipped in a laugh to show he wasn’t unduly concerned.
“Both.”
Terrance sauntered the rest of the way into the room. “I remember you now. You’re Mrs. Northrop, the matchmaker.”
“Very observant, but you still did not answer the question.”
Terrance grabbed a chair from near the desk and moved it to where Mrs. Northrop sat, placing it perpendicular to hers and sitting quite casually. “Miss Armistead is amusing, and I enjoy her company, but I’ve no interest beyond friendly acquaintance.”
Mrs. Northrop nodded, quite as if she had fully expected that answer. Both she and Terrance turned their expectant gazes on Jack.
“She is a neighbor,” he said. “And a friend of long standing. There is nothing beyond that.”
Neither appeared the least convinced.
“Truly. She is like a sister.” How untrue that was. The words actually felt bitter sliding off his tongue.
Mrs. Northrop nodded. “An ill-mannered sister one wishes he could pretend not to know.”
Jack bit back a retort, though it required a tremendous amount of effort.
“Or could banish somewhere out of sight and out of hearing,” Terrance added.
He had never heard his friend speak ill of Odette. He did not like this change in the least.
“Believe me,” Mrs. Northrop said, “I have suggested banishment. I am not certain Lord Barrington has money enough to bribe someone to take that insolent girl off his hands.”
“Perhaps they might consider shipping her to America,” Terrance said. “They have enough intolerable people there that she would find herself immediately accepted.”
“Do not talk about her that way,” Jack snapped. “She is not ill-mannered or insolent. She is not any of the things Society says about her. I will not stand here and—”
The grins spreading over their faces cut his words off. Knowing grins. All too knowing.
He turned and closed the book room door. “This was an ambush, was it?”
But Terrance shook his head. “I’ve never even spoken with Mrs. Northrop until now. I’m simply not as bacon-brained as you think I am. I’ve suspected your feelings for Miss Armistead for months. The carriage ride confirmed it.”
Jack looked to Mrs. Northrop.
“The Salsteads’ ball,” she said.
“We merely danced and went in to supper together,” Jack said. They had been so careful.
“It was not your behavior that gave you away,” Mrs. Northrop said, “but the manner in which you looked at each other.”
Terrance laughed lightly. “Smitten, the both of them.”
There was some relief in knowing Terrance was aware of the situation. Mrs. Northrop’s knowledge of it was less reassuring.
“And what do you mean to do now that you have sorted this out?” he asked.
“Sort you out.” She rose and motioned for him to take her chair. “Do not insist upon standing simply because I now am. I mean to interrogate you and prefer to do so while moving about.”
He could tell by her tone and the snapping of her gaze that she would brook no arguments on this score. He took the chair and braced himself. She paced away.
“How did you get in here?” he asked.
“You seem to misunderstand the word interrogate. It does not involve me answering your questions.”
Terrance could not have looked more amused if they had been watching a Christmas pantomime.
“Whose idea was Miss Armistead’s ‘performance’ this Season?” Mrs. Northrop asked.
Jack swallowed against a lump of apprehension. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Cut line, Jack,” Terrance said. “I sorted out Miss Armistead’s true character, and I see her only at Society functions. Mrs. Northrop lives at her house.”
His interrogator had ceased her pacing and now stood watching him, calm and serene but with an edge of challenge to her posture.
Whose idea had the ruse been? “We formulated the plan together,” he said. “Her sisters were more or less forced into matches not of their liking. If we could prevent anyone from even pursuing a match, she would not have to endure that.”
“Instead she has endured months of loneliness and rejection while you, Mr. Hewitt, have carried no such burden.”
“I know.” Lud, he’d hated the way this had played out. “I’ve doubted the idea almost from the moment we conceived it. She does not deserve to be viewed or treated the way she has been. But we didn’t know what else to do.”
Mrs. Northrop took a step closer to him, her gaze never wavering. “And if you could have thought of a different strategy, perhaps one that sent you into isolation rather than her?”
“I’d have taken it up in a heartbeat. But what good would that have done? A gentleman being disagreeable is seldom reason for rejection if he is in expectation of a fine income and can claim some standing. Only ladies are judged and rejected so quickly and harshly.”
Mrs. Northrop didn’t confirm his evaluation, but neither did she contradict it. “What if I were to tell you that this scheme of yours is making her utterly miserable?”
Pain clutched at his heart. “Is she truly so unhappy? I know she has not enjoyed the arrangement, and I am certain she will rejoice when the Season is over, but—”
“She hasn’t any friends, Mr. Hewitt. No one to take ices with. No one to walk about a room with in congenial conversation. She is eyed with dismissal and disapproving amusement. She is a caricature in the eyes of those who might have been her associates.”
This was worse than he had imagined. “We must do something, then. We must address this. She cannot be required to live this way.”
“You would risk your future together?” Mrs. Northrop pressed.
Though he recoiled at the possibility of losing her, he could not simply dismiss the fact that she was suffering. “We could think of something different, something that won’t cause her sorrow. Surely we could. We have to.”
The first hints of a smile touched Mrs. Northrop’s stern expression. “Congratulations, Mr. Hewitt. You, it seems, are not a cad.”
“Thank you?” He couldn’t help making the answer a question.
“Now, to the business at hand.”
“Was interrogating me not the business at hand?”
She arched an eyebrow, but the look was not truly one of reprimand.
Indeed, he felt certain she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
“I have begun working on the task of rectifying the mess the two of you have made of Miss Armistead’s position among those who would otherwise be her friends and companions. ”
He actually sighed, something he’d not been anticipating. The impact of this plan on Odette’s happiness had weighed on him the past months.
“While that damage is being addressed,” Mrs. Northrop said, “you and I will begin seeing to your future in a way that is not absurdly foolish and, therefore, will actually work.”
He was both hopeful and insulted.
“First”—she turned to Terrance—“our efforts would be greatly helped if you would put it about that Odette is something of a sister to you or a pleasant but ultimately neutral companion.”
Terrance paled a bit. “Has my name been coming up in connection with hers?”
Had it? Jack shot him a look of warning.
Terrance shook his head with tremendous emphasis. “Not intentional, Jack. I’ve been kind to her, and few people have paid any real heed to Princess Pompous.”
“Do not call her that,” Jack growled.
“You did it on purpose,” Terrance insisted. “That nickname is what has kept the suitors at bay.”
“And everyone else,” Mrs. Northrop added.
Jack slumped in his chair. “It really was a bad strategy, wasn’t it?”
“Horrendous,” Mrs. Northrop said.
“I’ll put the idea of a sibling-like connection in a few select heads,” Terrance said. “That will help squelch any rumors.”
Mrs. Northrop eyed Jack. “And you need to put ‘the idea’ of Terrance’s indifference into your mother’s head, since she is the source of many of these whispers.”
That was a sticky complication. “I’ll do what I can.”
“And while you are at it,” Mrs. Northrop continued, “mention, casually, what a difficult Season Odette has had but that she seems to finally be finding her footing. Remind your mother that she once liked her young neighbor, but do so subtly.”
Jack nodded. “What do we do about Miss Summerfield? My parents and hers are set upon a match between us.”
“You leave that to me.”
“A matchmaker undermining matches?” Terrance clicked his tongue. “That cannot be good for your reputation.”
“My reputation, Mr. Lexington, is that of a matchmaker who makes good matches. Quality is far more important than quantity.”
For the first time in ages, Jack felt some hope over his and Odette’s situation. “You really are going to help us?”
“I am going to help you help yourselves.” With that declaration, she left the room. No farewell. No curtsy.
Jack wasn’t sure if he liked Mrs. Northrop or was simply terrified of her. He suspected she was the sort of person one underestimated at his own peril.
“If she can’t sort out the mess you’ve made, I don’t think anyone can,” Terrance said.
“Lud, I hope so.”
“For your sake, as well as Miss Armistead’s, I hope so as well.”
“Which brings me to a grievance.” He turned in his seat enough to look at Terrance. “You knew, and you never said anything.”
Terrance was not the least quelled by the accusation. “You never said anything to me, but you should have. I wouldn’t have jabbered. I might have even helped.”
Jack dropped his head into his upturned hands. “We’ve made such a mess of this.”
“It’ll get sorted now, you’ll see.”
But what if it didn’t? What if Mrs. Northrop, despite her confident bearing and unwavering declarations, couldn’t salvage the situation?
He might lose Odette. He couldn’t bear the thought.
***
Young people could be endlessly frustrating.
Jack and Odette meant well, but they had made this far harder on themselves than it needed to be.
His parents had set their sights on a match, but they had made no announcements to the world.
Mrs. Hewitt and Lady Barrington still spoke regularly and were clearly friends.
Mrs. Hewitt spoke of Odette in fond and caring terms, despite the fiasco of the past Season.
Bringing his parents around to the idea of a match between their son, whom they seemed to love despite not understanding, and the daughter of their friends and neighbors would not be difficult.
Miss Summerfield had shown no particular fondness for Jack, and her parents seemed to be in no great hurry to see her settled.
Odette had suffered the past months needlessly.
Why was that so often the case? A couple took the longest, most difficult route to love they possibly could, not seeing the easier path directly in front of them. Heavens, she’d redirected a lot of people over the years. And, in doing so, she’d saved them from disaster.