“You are modest. Another of your many good qualities, I am told. That is not how I heard the tale. Is it also true that the woman with Devonshire was the duke’s fiancée, none other than the Lady Montgomery?”
“I shouldn’t say…”
Molly smiled. “Never mind. I should not have questioned you. The truth wiggles out sooner or later. Let us find you a husband. Have you considered the duke?”
Madeline held her breath. “I… That is, he is betrothed to Lady Montgomery. And even if he were not, he has made it clear that we are only friends.”
Molly tapped a finger to her chin. “Interesting. But you admire him, do you not?”
“Who could not?”
“So not the duke, but a man like him. Let us get to the details. Do you care for men with light hair or dark? Blue, green, or brown eyes, or shades in between? Tall or your height? Is a good frame important? How about temperament? Do you desire a man who is well read and in possession of a quick wit and an intelligent mind, or are these attributes not important? How important is his title? I understand that you and your mother are wealthy, so a yearly income is not of importance. Or am I mistaken in that assessment?”
“Oh, my!” Madeline smiled. “Your questions really do suggest that choosing a man is like choosing a dress. Was this how you chose Lord Dumont?”
Molly glanced over at her husband talking with a group of men by the refreshment table. At that same moment, Lord Dumont looked toward Molly and raised his glass to her. She blushed a rosy pink. “I considered none of those things when I met Jeremy. He smiled and I fell in love at first sight.” She lowered her voice. “Was that how it was with you and the duke?”
“Molly, I told you…”
“I know what you said. But I also know how your voice sounds when you say his name. Do not worry, though. Your secret is safe with me.”
“It does not matter how I feel. The duke would never choose me. Please, can we talk of something else?”
Molly nodded. “I will not say another word on the matter. The important thing is to find you a suitable match, and I may have a number of candidates in mind.”
“More than one?”
“Yes, more than one. It is important to have many suitors. The more suitors, the better. Men like a competition. If they believe someone desires you, they will rush to the chase. Come. I spy Lord Hastings with my husband. He is a good place to start. Hastings is a viscount, and his lands border the duke’s. He has made it known that he is in need of a wife. He began looking last spring but found none of the ladies to his liking. He will like you, however.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because your reputation precedes you. Times are changing, and men are searching for a woman who is more than a decoration on their arm, although many might not admit to this conclusion. They are seeking a woman with more substance. And that, my new friend, is you.”
****
Robert retreated into the shadows to avoid the obligation of dancing with the single, husband-hunting ladies, and downed his whiskey in one gulp. In the past two hours, mothers had produced their single daughters to him for inspection. The ladies blended together in a glittering assortment of silk, satin, and lace.
This was a problem. As an engaged man, he should have been crossed off their list of eligible bachelors. On the surface, thetonbelieved that he and Lady Montgomery were engaged, but like a hound who smells the blood of the chase, thetonsuspected something was amiss. Was it that Lady Montgomery’s attention at present was focused on Devonshire that had their tongues wagging?
Much hung in the balance. If he and Lady Montgomery succeeded in bringing proof against Devonshire, all would be well. If they failed, Lady Montgomery had the most to lose. Devonshire could defame her character in retaliation—or worse. Robert was sincere in his commitment to marry and protect her. Lady Montgomery had loved his brother and was loyal to the Crown. He would not forsake her.
But he had to do something. He could not sit idly by.
His gaze drifted toward the dance floor. To add to his distress, Miss Mercer had no lack of suitors. It should not bother him. She had made it clear that she needed a husband, and he was, simply put, off the market. It should please him. He should desire her happiness. But every time another man bowed and led her to the dance floor, his blood simmered.
She floated on the dance floor, laughing and conversing with fluid ease. A few men, mesmerized by her beauty and charm, boldly touched her waist, or brushed their hands against hers. It took all the strength he possessed to stand in place and not strike the men down.
“You look in ill sorts, old man,” Jeremy said. “Does the shoulder bother you?”
A servant swept close by, and Robert set his glass down on the tray and ordered another. “I am bothered by your wife. She has introduced every bachelor in this room to Miss Mercer.”
“Miss Mercer came to England searching for a husband, and until you decide your fate with Lady Montgomery, what choice does she have?”
“You talk madness. Miss Mercer and I do not suit. She has made that clear.”
“What choice did you give her? You insist on honoring your engagement to Lady Montgomery. As for suitability…”
“I merely worry for her,” Robert interrupted. “These men are more interested in her wealth than in the lady herself. I wonder if she felt the need to travel across an ocean to find a husband. Aren’t there suitable men in America?”
