“Did you miss the part where I said I’m under siege?”
“It would have been difficult to miss that, seeing how dramatically you’ve stated your situation, but they’re merely young ladies. Young ladies are relatively harmless.”
“Except when those ladies are on a mission, which makes them—especially when traveling in packs—downright terrifying.”
She gave a roll of her eyes. “From what I understand, you’re a successful man of business, unafraid to face down your competitors. I would assume you’re up for the task of setting aside any trepidation you may hold over being set upon by the feminine—”
She suddenly snapped her fingers, which had the pony, who’d been inching its way closer to a lady wearing daisies on her head—something Walter had neglected to notice—swinging its head around and settling an annoyed look on Gwendolyn.
“Stop that!” Gwendolyn demanded, giving another snap of her fingers when the pony turned its head again and began straining against the reins.
“I mean it.” She moved to stand in front of the small monster and leaned down to lock gazes with it for a long second.
After releasing a resigned-sounding snort, the pony sat down on its haunches and turned his head toward the sea, apparently realizing he’d met his match in Gwendolyn Brinley.
Walter’s lips twitched. “I hate to admit this since I’m beyond put out with you, but that was impressive. You have a very authoritative way about you, Miss Brinley, and I find myself wondering how you came to possess that trait.”
“I’m the oldest of six. Being authoritative allowed me to survive the antics of my younger siblings.”
“The oldest of six?” he repeated right before an intriguing thought sprang to mind, one that might allow him to abandon his decision to find a new wife, while getting his children in order at the same time.
“Is there a reason your eyes have begun to gleam in a manner I find somewhat unnerving?” Gwendolyn asked.
He took a step closer to her. “Indeed, but there’s no need to be unnerved, Miss Brinley. I’m hopeful what I’m about to propose will strike you as a beneficial proposition, one that will be advantageous for both of us. I believe it will allowyouto remove yourself from an assistant-matchmaker position I’m convinced you’re not qualified to hold, while providingmewith a solution to a situation that has taken on a life of its own, and not a life I was expecting.”
Eight
A pesky ache immediately took up residence behind Gwendolyn’s temple. Taking a moment to soothe it away, she considered Walter for a moment before blowing out a breath. “Forgive me if I misunderstood, but this proposal of yours... It doesn’t involve a marriage, does it?”
Given the horror now lurking in Walter’s eyes, she was evidently off the mark.
“Forgiveme, Miss Brinley,” he began as he took to rubbing his temple as well. “I fear drawing the undivided attention of determined ladies so early in the day has left me unusually clumsy with my words. I certainly didn’t intend for you to take what I’m about to suggest as a marriage proposal, but...” He frowned. “You immediately assuming that’s what I was going to propose has me wondering if gentlemen you’re barely acquainted with make it a habit to broach marriage with you.”
“Oddly enough, that has occurred several times in the past, but usually because I was mistaken for my cousin.”
His lips curved. “I doubt that. I would think such misunderstandings have more to do with your propensity for creating chaos than mistaken identity.”
Gwendolyn began rubbing her temple again. “I don’t make a habit of introducing chaos into anyone’s life.”
“You’ve singlehandedly turned what should have been my straightforward quest to find a suitable bride into a complete circus.”
“I did not. I merely encouraged you to reveal the characteristic you’re searching for in a potential bride. If you’re unaware, that’s what we matchmakers are supposed to do.”
“I can’t claim to be an expert on matchmakers in general, but I imagine those in the matchmaking business take on...” He paused and tilted his head. “Do they call them clients?”
“Mrs. Parker refers to her charges as the ladies she’s agreed to sponsor for a Season.”
He gave a bob of his head. “Perfectly understandable, since the wordclientreeks of trade, something no society matron would care to participate in. But returning to the point I was trying to make—may I assume the main job of a matchmaker is to find the most beneficial marriage for the ladies they’re sponsoring?”
“I would think that doesn’t need confirmation.”
He inclined his head. “Indeed. But may I also assume matchmakers find advantageous matches by ferreting out personal information pertaining to each bachelor in a most discreet fashion?”
“Discretion might come into play.”
“Of course it does. It then stands to reason that after matchmakers ferret out pertinent information regarding potential suitors, they keep that information under wraps so their competition is left in the dark about what a certain gentleman is searching for in the wife department.”
Irritation sent Gwendolyn’s toe tapping against the sand as she swallowed the argument she longed to voice, knowing she couldn’t contradict his reasoning because he wasn’t exactly mistaken.
