The Bridal Quest (22 page)

"He is not quite what I had expected," Francesca admitted. "His speech and dress would certainly pass for those of a gentleman."

"I suspect that Lord Radbourne misled us a bit about what to expect from Mr. Aldenham," Irene said drily. "No doubt he enjoyed watching everyone squirm over the possibilities of embarrassment."

"Well, everyone will wonder who the man is," Francesca said. "But at least they will not declare themselves insulted and leave in a huff."

Irene grinned. "You may wish that he did drive off some of them before it's all over."

The next guest to be admitted to the drawing room was Miss Rowena Surton, a pretty doll-like blonde with blue eyes and a strawberries-and-cream complexion. She arrived a couple of hours later and was accompanied by her brother, Percy, who had the same coloring as his sister and a pleasant, if rather vacuous, expression, and their mother, a plump, easygoing woman who, Irene thought, was probably the image of what Rowena herself would look like in twenty-five years.

Gideon, unsurprisingly, did not appear in the drawing room again, and Irene felt sure that it would be supper before any of the young women they had invited actually got to speak with him. She did not, however, offer any explanations or excuses for his absence. After all, the girls would have to deal with the man's nature sooner or later; they might as well find out about his manners up front.

In the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Ferrington and her daughter Norah showed up, and, most unfortunately, Lady Salisbridge and her two daughters swept in almost on their heels. As soon as she spotted the attractive dark-haired Mrs. Ferrington ensconced on the sofa in the drawing room chatting in a lively manner with Lady Odelia, Lady Salisbridge drew herself up to her full height and threw a furious look at Francesca.

"Lady Salisbridge. And Flora and Marian." Francesca hastened over to them, smiling and holding out both her hands. "How wonderful to see you again. I am sure you wish to go up to your rooms and freshen up a bit before you meet everyone. I am afraid Lady Radbourne is indisposed this afternoon, in any case. I am sure she will be here to greet you this evening, however. Irene? Why don't you show Lady Salisbridge and the girls to their rooms? You know Lady Irene Wyngate, do you not?"

Irene smiled and whisked the three women out of the room before Lady Salisbridge could comment on the presence of her rival at Radbourne Park. Diplomacy was not Irene's strong suit, but she managed to avoid any complaints from Lady Salisbridge by keeping up a steady stream of comments about the weather and questions about their journey as she led the three women up the stairs. Francesca had strategically placed them in rooms near the front of the house, at the greatest possible distance from the room given to Mrs. Ferrington and her daughter at the back, just as they would be seated as far apart as could be arranged every night at dinner.

As the Countess of Salisbridge was known to be a proud woman—though also always notoriously close to Dun Territory—Francesca had been careful to put her and her daughters in large and pleasant rooms close to the family. Mrs. Ferrington, on the other hand, was a realistic sort who knew that her husband's wealth was greater than his standing among the
ton,
and whose confidence was firmly embedded in her own status for the past twenty-odd years as a reigning beauty. She would be unlikely to quibble at where she and her daughter were placed.

Irene cast quick sideways glances at Lady Salisbridge's two daughters as she led them up the stairs. They were similar in looks, with medium brown hair and hazel eyes, and the same long, aquiline nose as their mother. They had. too, that woman's habit of looking at one down the length of that nose, giving them an air of disdain for the rest of the world.

She left the three women exploring their rooms and ordering about the abigail who had accompanied them, as well as the housemaid who had been sent to help with the unpacking. She returned to the drawing room, where she found that Mrs. Ferrington and Norah had also decided to seek the comfort of their room.

She had little chance to rest, however, for she was immediately embroiled in a crisis with the cook and after that had to soothe the ruffled feathers of the housekeeper, whom the Salisbridges' haughty abigail had offended with her demands.

It was not long afterward that Lord Hurley and his daughter came in, windblown and in high spirits, having chosen to ride instead of being cooped up in the carriage. The pair were as alike as a father and daughter could be, with the same hearty, pleasant manner, sandy hair and square, freckled faces. They told a long and detailed story of their ride, including, Irene thought, every fence, hedge, stream and other hazard their horses had jumped along the way, one of them taking up wherever the other dropped off. Listening to them, Irene suspected that Lady Hurley had probably been just as happy that the two of them had not ridden with her in the carriage.

Lady Hurley, arriving an hour later and in a more decorous state, was a small, languid woman who, after greeting Lady Odelia and the others, opted to retire to her chamber for a restorative nap.

The last guests were the Duke of Rochford and his sister, Calandra, a pretty young girl whose black hair and dark eyes were very like her brother's, but whose lively personality was most unlike the duke's imperturbable elegance.

By the time they arrived, even as spacious a house as Radbourne Park was stuffed to the bursting point, despite the Salisbridge girls and several mothers and daughters sharing their rooms. It was fortunate, Irene thought, that the duke, though leaving his sister at Radbourne Park, was himself going to stay with a friend who lived not far away and would simply ride over each day to partake in the festivities. Even Lady Odelia could not persuade the duke that familial duty required him to reside with his family at Radbourne Park.

Lady Calandra, standing beside Irene, cast a laughing glance at her and raised her fan to murmur, "What Aunt Odelia does not realize is that her presence is one of the reasons Rochford would rather be elsewhere."

Irene smothered her grin. "Still, it does seem too bad that he must ride over here each day."

"Nonsense," Callie, as she was called by her brother and Francesca, replied. "He will enjoy things far more as they stand. He will get to talk to Mr. Strethwick about all those boring subjects that he enjoys, like plants and rocks and things with long Latin names. Besides, Mr. Strethwick. being a scholar and very little aware of the world, shows Rochford no deference except for his brain, which Rochford quite enjoys. He gets so tired of everyone fawning over him because he is a duke. Not, of course," she added, "that he doesn't like being a duke, because he can be quite toplofty too, if someone offends him, and he never gets anything but the very best. But really, I think he is often rather lonely, too."

Irene glanced at her in some surprise, for she had never met anyone who appeared more self-contained and aloof than the duke.

"Oh, dear." Calandra looked a little conscience-stricken. "There, I have said too much, as I so often do. My brother would not like for anyone to think that he felt—well, anything, really." Her irrepressible grin popped back onto her face.

"I will not give you away, I assure you," Irene told her.

"Nor will I think any the less of him to find that he does not go through life feeling nothing."

Irene found that she rather liked the pert girl, who displayed none of the haughtiness that might be expected of one in her position. Was she, too, here to enter into the bridal race? The thought left Irene with a strangely cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

But she pushed the thought aside and took Calandra up to her bedchamber, regaling her with the entertainments that Francesca had planned for the next few days. Afterward Irene returned to her own room, for there was little enough time left in which to get ready for supper.

The dress she had chosen earlier was laid out on the bed, but when she looked at it and thought of going down to supper in this plain frock, while all about her the women would be dressed in their prettiest finery, she realized that she could not bear to do so. She might be here only as an assistant matchmaker, but she was suddenly determined that she would look her best while doing her job.

She rang for the maid and went to the wardrobe to pull out one of her new dresses, a silk evening gown of a dark green that would not flatter most complexions but that looked wonderful against her coloring. Once her maid, with a smile of approval at Irene's rejection of the plainer gowns she had been wearing recently, went off to get rid of any wrinkles in the chosen dress, Irene went down the hall to Francesca's room to ask Maisie for help with her hair.

She went downstairs an hour later, secure in the knowledge that she would look as attractive as any woman there. She walked into the anteroom where everyone had gathered and cast a glance around. She immediately spotted Gideon, who was standing near the windows talking to Miss Surton—though, to be truthful, it looked as though it was Piers who was doing most of the talking, to which the pretty blonde was responding with much giggling and flirtatious wafting of her fan, while Gideon stood by looking grim.

Gideon turned to look at her, and for an instant Irene thought that he would leave his group and come over to her, but then he pulled his gaze away and turned back to Piers and Rowena.

Francesca joined Irene and turned to survey the room before them. "Well," she said, "what do you think of our candidates?"

Irene took a moment, looking about the room before she began. "I think that the Salisbridges are too proud."

"Oh, I assure you that either of them would accept him," Francesca replied.

"That is not what I meant," Irene replied. "I fear that Gideon will reject them. Miss Surton is far too giggly. As for Miss Hurley ..." She cast a speaking look at the young woman in question, who was at the moment engaged with her father and Rowena Surton's brother in a discussion of broodmares.

"I know." Francesca shook her head despairingly. "I tried to dissuade Lady Odelia from including her. I fear that it will take an avid rider to the hounds to favor Miss Hurley—or to find favor with her. But Lady Hurley is Lady Odelia's godchild, and she was most determined to push her at Lord Radbourne. But what about Miss Ferrington? What do you think of her?"

Irene studied Miss Ferrington. "She is not such a beauty as her mother."

Francesca let out a chuckle. "Is there none among my girls that you like? I thought Miss Ferrington a very good possibility. She is not a beauty, perhaps, but she is quite above average, don't you think? And pleasant, as well."

"Yes, she is. But do you not think that she is, well, a trifle bland?" Irene pointed out.

Francesca smothered a smile and went on. "Miss Surton is quite pretty, even if she is a bit silly. And Salisbridge's daughters are not unattractive. Flora has more looks than Marian, of course, but Marian is quite acceptable, I would think. After all, Lord Radbourne is not looking for love in the arrangement."

"No, that is true," Irene agreed tartly. "And certainly he would not find it with either of those two."

"Irene, you are most disapproving of them all," Francesca said with an innocent air. "One might almost think that you are jealous."

Irene turned to look at her friend, her eyebrows shooting upward. "Jealous? I? I cannot imagine where you would get such a notion."

"Then it is not true? You have not formed a ...
tendre,
shall we say? ... for Lord Radbourne?"

"No. I have not formed a
tendre
or anything else for Lord Radbourne," Irene shot back. "You are very much mistaken."

"I suppose I must be. It just seemed to me that over the last few days Lord Radbourne has shown a preference for your company."

"Given the fact that the rest of the company is his family, whom he does not like, I do not think that indicates any great liking for me."

"And what of you?" Francesca asked. "How do you feel about him?"

Irene opened her mouth to make a hasty retort that she did not care for him at all, but then she glanced at Francesca and finally, somewhat reluctantly, said, "I do not know. But it does not matter, in any case, for we are not going to marry. You know well my thoughts on matrimony, and Lord Radbourne is interested in the sort of marriage that I could not accept. So it really makes no difference how I feel."

"Doesn't it?" Francesca asked softly.

"No," Irene told her firmly. "It does not. I am here to help find Lord Radbourne a wife—some other wife. I believe that he has finally accepted that I am not the proper candidate for that position."

"I see." Francesca nodded, looking at Irene shrewdly. "Well, I will be glad for your help. Everyone liked the idea of a ride about the estate tomorrow, but all the mothers are inclined to stay at home. So I will have four men and six young women to oversee, and I feel quite certain that Lord Hurley will be of no use whatsoever in that regard. I would enormously appreciate your help to chaperone them."

"Yes, of course," Irene agreed. "I intended to do so."

She watched as Gideon's group was joined by his great-aunt, who brought with her Lady Salisbridge and her daughters. Gideon turned his attention to them, making a perfectly acceptable bow. The conversation looked as if it was slow-going, but he remained, and if his expression was not enthralled, at least he did not appear as if he might bolt at any moment, even after Piers slipped away from the group.