Chapter Five #2
His mind drifted to the memory of Miss Granger and her beauty the night before.
He was fiercely attracted to her, but he knew well he could never marry a woman such as her.
Her beauty would make her a liability to him, as would her lack of birth.
Marrying a woman with an established lineage would enhance his child’s future and enrich his own.
Even though Miss Granger was staying with the Duke of Wimberley, she was not a member of the ton.
She was too plainspoken, kind and had a business of all things.
No woman of Society would have parents or guardians that would allow such freedoms and boldness.
A gentleman such as he could not court a woman with a business, especially one as forward as matchmaking.
Could he?
He shook his head. Of course, he couldn’t. He had enough problems with his own reputation. But, he could utilise her services to find a suitable bride, perhaps. Especially, if she had skill in such matters.
He opened his eyes and sat forward. He glanced around at his desk and located the card she had pressed into his hand during their first encounter and scanned it.
The Cupid’s Arrow Agency
Proprietor, Miss Ophelia Granger
He frowned. Matchmaker. Humph. The woman was far too young and innocent.
What could she really know of the world or of love or matchmaking?
But she was gorgeous. It truly was too bad she could not be his match.
A shame. But perhaps he could enjoy her company and find a bride at the same time.
There was no harm to that. If his bachelorhood had to come to an untimely end, he would not mind her being the cause of it.
She could find him a wife and her achieving success in that endeavor would be a boon to her business.
What greater accomplishment could finding a match for the Beast of Barnett House be to the ton?
Both of their futures could benefit from one another if all went well.
A mere inquiry couldn’t hurt. He would meet with her and see how serious she was about this matchmaking business of hers.
If she didn’t meet his expectations, he could enlist a marriage broker.
Perhaps treating this union as a business proposition rather than a love match would make it a bit more palatable.
And he would have fulfilled his duty as a viscount, his promise to his late mother and pleased Diana all at once. He might even end up…happy. He shook his head.
Fool.
Either way, he wouldn’t know if he didn’t ask, would he?
He pulled out a clean piece of parchment and his ink pot and quill.
He would send word to Miss Granger today and ask for a meeting.
He drafted it quickly, folded it, and dripped some hot wax onto it before pressing the crest of his signet ring into it.
He wrote out her name and where she was staying on the outside of it and then signaled for his longtime manservant, Denton Flomme, by yanking on the bell pull behind his desk.
‘My lord?’ Denton had appeared within a minute.
‘Can you ask Josiah to take this note to Miss Granger at Westchester Manor?’
‘Of course. Any special instructions?’ he asked when he took the note from Lucas.
‘Tell him to wait for her answer, no matter how long it takes.’
One of Denton’s eyebrows lifted. The man knew Lucas far too well.
‘A letter from Mother came today,’ he explained. ‘I have decided to lean into my promise to her and find a wife. Sire an heir. Build a family. Perhaps bring the Worthing name back to life.’
Denton was a man not easily surprised. Lucas took a bit of joy from the flicker of shock passing through the man’s features before he saw a hint of a smile. ‘Pleased to hear it, my lord. Is Miss Granger to be your intended?’ he asked with some curiosity.
Now it was Lucas’s turn to be surprised. ‘No, no,’ he scoffed and answered quickly. ‘She is a matchmaker. I want to interview her to see if her services would be of help to me before I try a marriage broker.’
Denton studied him for a beat and then nodded, leaving whatever he was thinking unsaid. ‘I shall see to it now, my lord.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied.
After Denton left, Lucas sat back in his chair and smiled.
He found himself looking forward to seeing her.
He knew she would come at once. She might be new to London, but she was no fool.
Finding a match for him would be highly advantageous to her.
What matchmaker could pass up the challenge of finding a wife for a viscount known for being as reclusive as him?
Ophelia was quite sure this was going to be a horrid day.
She had woken with the hint of a megrim and slept poorly.
Despite how she had brushed off the fright of the attack a few days ago, the event had scared her, and she’d dreamt of it each night since.
But she had also dreamt of the man who had come to her rescue and retrieved her reticule and calling cards.
The man they had dined with just the night before: Viscount Worthing.
Despite his facial scarring, he was mysterious, handsome and had a whisper of darkness to him she found interesting.
There was an ‘unknown’ element to him that made her shiver and want to know just what that darkness was and what had caused it.
While he was handsome and intrigued her, she knew she was not the kind of woman he would be interested in marrying.
She had no title, no lineage and was the proprietor of a not-so-established business.
No titled man of the ton would consider her, but that did not mean she didn’t wish to help him secure a match.
But to do that, she needed to figure out how to make him her first client.
Despite hoping he would enlist her services last night, he had left the dinner without asking for a hint of assistance. To make matters worse, he had wished her well in her endeavors. She sighed. It was absolutely humiliating when the man known as the Beast of Barnett House felt sorry for her.
She flopped back on her bed and rested her forearm over her eyes to block the light.
If only she could go back to sleep. The rest would ease the ache in her head and bring her back to rights, but she was awake now and once awake she hardly ever went back to sleep.
She groaned, threw back the bedcovers and stood.
Perhaps Mrs Best could whip up a draught to help her sleep.
She walked over to the bell pull when she heard a soft knock on her door.
‘Can I come in?’ Hattie asked.
Ophelia couldn’t help but smile. No doubt Hattie was checking on her as she always did with everyone.
She had the natural disposition of a mother, and Ophelia knew she was well suited to raise the daughter she had adopted upon her marriage to the Duke and their baby that was now on the way.
Ophelia still hoped for her own happily ever after one day.
She deserved a prince and the fairy tale life that accompanied such a match.
But until then she’d settle for a few good clients for her matchmaking business.
Perhaps she might even discover her own match in the process?
She sighed in delight at the thought of what her prince would look like and who he would be as she walked to the door and opened it.
‘How are you feeling?’ Hattie asked as she carried in a tray of food and tea.
‘Hat, you did not have to trouble yourself so, but I am grateful for it. I have a megrim brewing.’ Ophelia rubbed her temple.
‘I suspected as much when you did not rise at your usual early hour. Mrs Best has made you a draught as well as some treats to tempt you…and tea of course.’ She set the tray down on the table between the small chairs before the hearth in her room.
Ophelia shrugged on her wrap, settled in one of the chairs, and lifted the draught to her lips. It was warm and the taste of honey, chamomile and herbs soothed her immediately. She closed her eyes to savor it.
‘I also have a note for you. It just arrived…’ Hattie said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Ophelia swallowed and let the cup rest in her lap. Her hands warmed as she held the porcelain. ‘Oh? From whom?’
‘Viscount Worthing.’
Ophelia almost spilled her tea in her haste to set the cup on the table. Hattie handed her the note.
Ophelia studied the ornate seal before breaking it open. Her heart raced. She stopped. ‘Why do you think he has written to me?’
Please let him be my first client.
Despite how much she wished for it to be true, she did not dare say it aloud in case she was wrong.
Hattie shrugged. ‘I do not know, but it must be important. His driver was told to wait for your response…no matter how long it took.’
‘Oh, my,’ Ophelia replied, a trill of excitement and nervousness bubbling through her. ‘It is probably merely a thank-you for the lovely meal. Although surely that would have been sent to you,’ she said aloud, pausing as she opened the note.
‘He did send a note of thanks to me, but I think this may be something else entirely. Viscounts are not in the habit of sending messengers to wait for replies…in my limited experience as a duchess, of course,’ she rushed out and lifted a brow just like Trudy would do and laughed.
Ophelia couldn’t help but giggle. She bit her fingernail and then finally braved to open the note and read it.
Dear Miss Granger,
Thank you for the lovely evening. I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I.
While I wish we had met under more pleasant circumstances earlier this week, I am grateful for the encounter, for I find I am in need of a businesswoman with your particular skills and discretion, after all.
If your time is not already spoken for today, my driver awaits to bring you to my home, so I may explain more fully about the services I require.
If you are not available and have no interest in my inquiry, simply send back my letter with my driver and I will know and respect your answer.
Yours truly,