“List, nephew. You’ve shown no inclination to get yourself a wife, so we thought to hurry the matter along,” Aunt Agatha said, taking the note and bringing it to him. “There are only three, as we had no wish to overwhelm you. But should none of these women interest you, we have a secondary list of possible brides. Of course, that horrid Miss Beasley is not on it. The woman is convinced you will choose her this season and has been putting it about the place.”
He stared at the paper in his hand. “You cannot be serious?”
“Oh, we are, dear,” Aunt Lavinia added, thinking he was talking about Miss Beasley and not the note. “I heard from Lady Baldwood, and Mrs. Smythe, that Miss Beasley has decided you will be her husband, and none other will do.”
Anthony actually shook his head to clear it. “I’ve never spoken to her. I don’t speak to young ladies. They tend to faint.”
“Pooh to that. We know you’re nothing like you appear.” Aunt Petunia waved a hand about, as if the matter of his reputation was a trifling thing he would in time grow out of.
Anthony had never understood why they didn’t chastise him over his behavior. They always patted his cheek and hugged him, as if he were not one of society’s most notorious bachelors.
“Miss Beasley’s mother, you understand, is behind the entire thing. Cynthia hunted her husband, poor man, until she caught him, and she’s urging her daughter to do the same with you,” Aunt Petunia added.
“A very calculating woman, that one,” Aunt Aggie said.
Anthony took a large mouthful of coffee. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered after swallowing.
“Now, back to the lists. I have memorized both. As you know, reading is not something I do well.”
Aunt Petunia had made up stories when he was a child because she struggled to read. Some had teased her for that, but not him. Anthony and Harriet had loved her stories.
“I am not marrying anyone,” he said slowly and firmly so they understood. “If I do, it will be years from now.”
“It is time. We cannot have that sniveling weasel as the next Earl of Hamilton. It’s not right,” Aunt Petunia said getting to her feet. Not as agile as the others, it took a few attempts. “We’ll leave this with you and call again next week to see how things are progressing.”
“I don’t want to marry,” Anthony said with more force as he too rose. “This discussion is over,” he added in his society voice. None of them so much as flinched.
This was the problem when people had seen you in the cradle.
Aunt Lavinia was the first to reach him. She patted his cheek with a soft, sad smile. “It’s time, nephew. You need someone to care for other than us. Now the last name on the list we only met this season, but she had a great deal to say on the healing properties of lavender and seemed a sensible girl.”
“Oh yes, lovely gal. I chatted with her at the musical. A little older, which could suit you, Anthony, and did not appear to be someone who giggles all the time and says silly things like some of the new crop of debutantes. I will dig some more there, but she’s on the list until we say otherwise,” Aunt Petunia said.
And then they were gone, leaving the familiar blend of their scents behind. Anthony sat again and out of curiosity unfolded the piece of paper clenched in his fist.
You need someone to care for other than us.
No, he did not. He dismissed Aunt Lavinia’s words. Anthony cared for his aunts out of duty; there was no more to it than that. He had nothing left for anyone else.
He tried to imagine sitting across the breakfast table from Lady Hester, who was the first name, and remembered her penchant for laughing like a goose. The second was Miss Amelia Leighton, who ran in the other direction if he so much as glanced her way.
The last name was Miss Evangeline Spencer. Anthony shuddered, remembering their encounter at the musical Jamie had forced him to attend. But their irritation of each other had started before that.
Miss Spencer had been walking out of a door, and Anthony had been walking through it, the night of the Shepperton soiree. He’d not been looking and collided with her, sending her backward and a glass of champagne flying. He’d staggered, attempting to right them and fallen, landing on top of her.
They’d stared at each other briefly, shocked. She’d regained her composure first and shrieked, “get off me at once!” Anthony had complied, lifting her to her feet. She’d called him a clumsy fool. He’d said she needed eyeglasses and to look where she was going in the future. They’d both then turned and walked in opposite directions, fuming. Their interactions since had done little to endear either of them to each other.
Shrew.
No one got a reaction out of Anthony, but she had… did.
Rising, he walked to the small desk in the corner and took out his pen. Dipping it in the ink pot, he then drew a dark line through her name.
Chapter Four
“Evie, have mercy.Must we walk home yet again from the dressmakers?”
“If we are to dress as young ladies should, then indeed we must, and a hackney costs money. We are saving our funds for when appearances suggest we need to ride in one. Besides, a walk in the sunshine will lighten your foul mood.”
