“I agree,” Aunt Aggie said. Aunt Lavinia nodded her agreement.
“No one is putting you out of your home,” Anthony said battling the frustration. “As I have already told you, there are plans put in place to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“But if he is the heir, surely he can overrule your plans?” Aunt Aggie asked.
“Your nephew is a very astute man, ladies,” Toby said. “He will have prepared for all eventualities, and never forget that you have Jamie and me also. We will always be there to look after you should anything happen to Anthony and the perfidious Nigel tosses you from your beds.”
Aunt Lavinia made a noise between a sob and a shriek and hurried to hug Toby again.
“So now you know you have nothing to fear, perhaps we can throw out the list of prospective brides,” Anthony said.
His aunts all looked at him then.
“But, nephew, it is our fondest wish to hold your babe in our arms before we die. We are of an age that it could happen at any time,” Aunt Lavinia said.
“Any time,” Aunt Aggie agreed.
“So we have decided to renew our efforts to help you find a suitable bride,” Aunt Petunia said. “We’re thinking you should host a ball. Plans are already in motion, and invitations will be sent out shortly.”
“I don’t—”
“Not another word. We want to do this for you, dear,” she added. “Now who have you taken a liking to on the list?”
“Miss Spencer,” Toby said. “She’s quite lovely and would make Anthony an excellent wife.”
“Shut up,” Anthony snapped.
“I find I am partial to Miss Amelia Leighton,” Jamie said looking smug. “She has such a way about her when it comes to home decor.”
“Oh indeed. Both excellent candidates for your future countess, nephew,” Aunt Petunia said.
“I don’t want to marry or host a ball,” Anthony said deciding it was time to be blunt. “My reputation is blacker than hell, and no woman would want to wed a man like that.”
“Rubbish,” Aunt Petunia said. “That’s just an act on your part, and besides any woman would be lucky to have a man as handsome and wealthy as you.”
The other two women agreed loudly.
“Well,” Aunt Petunia added. “I’m quite sure we will have this wrapped up before the season’s end. We are not giving up until you are married to the perfect woman, Anthony. Expect regular visits to strategize the ball. Come along. We will leave these men to their meal, ladies.”
Anthony then watched his three aunts walk out the door. “It’s like they don’t hear me.”
“I always feel as if I’ve been run over by a dozen carthorses towing a plough when I’m in their company, no matter how brief,” Toby said collapsing back into his seat. “I’m not sure where they get their boundless energy from, but I would like some.”
“And you’re not even related to them,” Anthony added. “But thank you both for easing their minds over what would happen should my death be premature, even if you were absolutely no help with anything else. A ball.” He sighed.
“We have known them since we were young boys, Anthony. They are important to us, especially as their intervention changed our lives,” Toby said.
“Agreed,” Jamie added.
“Now, about this list,” Toby said. “Which women do you favor?”
“Hilarious,” Anthony said. “My life is going to be hell for the rest of the season.”
Thinking of the list brought Miss Spencer to mind. He’d spent the last seven days watching her when she was near. She was always moving, and he knew that was because she feared Cavendish.
Last night, Anthony had intercepted her before Cavendish could. He’d then told her they were dancing, to which she’d replied it was customary to ask. They’d then danced in silence until the music had stopped, and he returned her to her sister.
He’d also frequented Hugh’s. So far, he… she’d not returned. Had he been wrong there?
