The Wedding Game. Christine Merrill

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СКАЧАТЬ those that watched her sister with more than casual interest. If a gentleman in tonight’s crowd was seriously interested in Belle, Amy would know his intentions almost before he did himself. Then she could prepare the proper defence against him. It would take a very special man to make a match with Arabella. No others need apply.

      Tonight alone, Amy had catalogued and discounted a dozen prospective suitors. Their intentions did not matter if they lacked sufficient money, manners or station to get around Father’s plans for his daughters. He expected them to marry well, if they married at all. After years of trying to find a husband for Amy, Lord Summoner had declared her too headstrong to wed a man who was not of her own choosing and agreed to let her be.

      But Belle...

      Amy hid a sigh behind her fan. Belle would be very easily led, by Father or anyone else. It was good that she had a sister to look out for her and keep her from harm.

      And it was not as if she did not want Belle to marry and be happy. Though there were many ne’er-do-wells and fortune hunters in London, there were some promising candidates as well. As Amy found them, she scrawled their names on the back of her empty dance card for further investigation. So far, there were fully eight men who might make a good match for Belle. They were neither too young nor too old, at least passably handsome, good tempered, well born and rich, but not high flyers. A union with any of them might result in pleasant rustication for most of the year and not too much strenuous socialising.

      After separating sheep from goats in tonight’s field, there was but one man who fit neither category. He was the one Amy found the most worrisome. As she watched Benjamin Lovell, she did not need to hear his words to know that he was shopping for a wife.

      Though Mr Lovell might pretend that he had come to London’s most popular marriage mart for a few dances and a light supper, he made too great a show of uninterest to be completely sincere. He stood at the side of the room, feigning boredom to the point of turning his back to the dance floor. But he had positioned himself so that he might gaze in one of the mirrors on the wall to watch and catalogue the females in the room just as carefully as she had been watching the males.

      False apathy often proved more dangerous to the hearts and minds of young ladies than active pursuit. In response to his neglect, the gentle sex worked all the harder to get his attention. It was what he sought from them, she was sure. He wished to be the prey, rather than the hunter. It was a bold strategy for a man of uncertain parentage and she admired him for it.

      Apparently, the patronesses admired him as well. No amount of money was sufficient to sway them into giving vouchers to a gentleman who was not worthy to marry into the finest families in England. Illegitimacy was a stain that not all men could rise above. But rumour had it that Mr Lovell was the most exclusive sort of bastard.

      His Grace the Duke of Cottsmoor had not made a formal acknowledgement of Mr Lovell, but it must have been intended. Before Cottsmoor’s sudden death, Mr Lovell had often been seen in the company of the Duke and his Duchess. They had treated him as family even though they said nothing about his origins. When the Duke, the Duchess and their first born had all been taken by an influenza, Mr Lovell had withdrawn from society for a year, mourning them as lost parents and brother.

      His birth and early life were shrouded in secrecy. He had been educated abroad, which raised a few eyebrows from those graduates of Oxford or Cambridge with the most school loyalty. But one could hardly blame Cottsmoor for not sending his bastard to the same school as his heir.

      Mr Lovell had lost nothing by his Continental learning. His speech was flawless and no gaps had been found in his knowledge. He was thought intelligent without being didactic, witty without conceit and capable of wise counsel, but able to hold his tongue when his opinion was not required. Because of this, the new Cottsmoor, still too young for university, sometimes came to him for advice in navigating his new role as peer.

      If the only flaw was that his noble father had not bothered to marry his mother? After meeting the charming Mr Lovell, society had declared it was hardly any fault at all. In fact, it might even be an advantage. The Duke had left a bequest to see that his natural son was amply provided for. According to gossip, Mr Lovell was turning his inheritance into even more money with smart investments.

      But one would not have realised it, without careful observation. He did not call attention to his newly acquired wealth in his dress. His tailoring was impeccable, which made him no different than all the other gentlemen in the room. But the choices of fabric, with the richness of the black coat offsetting a white vest of expensive silk brocade, whispered that he was fashionable, but no dandy.

      The buckles on his knee breeches were not overly large or brassy. But when one took the time to notice, one noted their heaviness and the dull gleam of silver. He wore no rings or jewellery other than the fob on his watch and that was all but hidden under his coat front. It only peeped into view when he danced, revealing a heavy gold chain that ended in a shockingly large emerald that winked as if to say, I have money, but the confidence not to flaunt it in public.

      His valet had not bothered with a complicated knot for his cravat. It was done up in an Oriental so simple he might have managed it himself. The blinding white accented the sharp, dark line of his jaw. He had the same colouring as the rest of the Cottsmoor line, distinctive dark eyes and hair, and the faint olive cast to the skin. If the young Duke grew to be half as handsome as Mr Lovell, he would not need a title to send ladies scurrying for his approval.

      But tonight, it was Mr Lovell who held the attention, of all the girls in the room. Of course, Amy’s fascination was purely academic. She fluttered her fan to cool the sudden heat on her face. She was not doting on the man. She merely needed to assure herself that he was no threat to Belle. If Mr Lovell was unworthy, it did not matter what Lady Jersey thought of him. He would not get so much as an introduction.

      But if he was as good as he seemed?

      She fanned herself again. If he was capable of being a kind and loving husband who gave as much attention to his wife as he did to his carefully crafted persona, then Amy could not hope for a better match for her sister.

      She drifted in his direction, pretending to admire the line of dancers on the floor. Watching such a handsome man should have been pleasing, but there was something about this one that left her uneasy. Benjamin Lovell was too good to be true. Amy could not shake the feeling that his artless perfection was calculated more precisely than the fine watch on the other end of the emerald fob.

      A part of her could not blame him. Who amongst them did not wear a mask from time to time? But it would have made more sense, were he poor. If his money was real, as it obviously was, he had no reason to be disingenuous.

      With a flutter of her fan she moved closer, then past them to a chair in the corner where the candlelight from the chandeliers could not quite reach. It afforded her an excellent position to see both Mr Lovell and his friend Mr Guy Templeton in quarter-profile as they chatted.

      Though the movement was almost imperceptible, Mr Templeton was shifting from foot to foot. Then, with a quick glance to check for observers that missed Amy entirely, he reached down to give his knee breeches a yank on each leg, and shifted again. ‘Damn things keep riding up,’ he muttered to Mr Lovell. ‘It gives a new meaning to Almack’s balls.’

      The polite smile on Mr Lovell’s face barely wavered. ‘They are the price of gentility, Templeton. No lady of quality will have you if you cannot stand patiently in formal wear.’

      ‘They are nothing more than a nuisance,’ he insisted. ‘I wonder, is it necessary to examine our legs before making their purchase, as if we are horseflesh?’

      ‘Legs СКАЧАТЬ