For as long as Phee had known her, Lady Fosberry had been a collector of people thetonhad discarded. Lord Gilbert was one of her misfits, it seemed, just as Phee and her sisters had been.
“Harriett and Lord Gilbert both have a charming air of naivete about them that’s unusual in aristocratic families,” Lady Fosberry went on. “They’re uniquely suited in temperament, each of them being as kind, sweet-tempered, and apt to be pleased by everyone and everything as a pair of puppies.”
“That certainly describes Harriett.” She’d never known a lady with a sunnier disposition than Harriett’s.
“But most importantly, Euphemia, Harriett is in love with him, and he with her. I believe both their happiness depends on this match. So, you see, we have a bit of a problem.”
They did, indeed. “Lord Fairmont doesn’t approve of the match?”
“Approve it? My dear girl, Lord Fairmont hasn’t the vaguest idea about any of it. Even if he had been inclined to approve it, this afternoon’s debacle would have changed his mind.”
“He’s rather stern, isn’t he?” Too stern by half, but she kept that opinion to herself.
“More so than he used to be, yes. Poor James has been sadly out of sorts since he returned to England.”
“With Harriett, you mean?”
“That’s part of it, yes. Harriett was little more than a child when he left, you know. He doesn’t know what to make of her now, and he fears losing her. But it isn’t just that. James doesn’t fit in amongst his old friends anymore, either.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” If anyone fit the mold of the fashionable, aristocratic gentleman, it was Lord Fairmont.
“Because, dearest, James is no longer an idle aristocrat. Unlike most gentlemen with ancient and honorable titles, he was obliged to work to replenish the family coffers. Some of his old friends look down on him for that, and those that don’t, well…” Lady Fosberry gave a helpless shrug. “He has nothing in common with them anymore. He finds their frivolousness and self-indulgence contemptible.”
Well then, she had something in common with Lord Fairmont, after all.
“So, you see how it is, Euphemia. Harriett and Lord Gilbert need your help.”
“But what am I to do about it?” Lord Fairmont was hardly going to listen toher.
“Why, you must help me find a way to bring James around, of course. You’re very clever about such things.” Lady Fosberry patted her hand. “I feel certain you’ll come up with some way to reconcile him to the match.”
“Me? You wantmeto convince him?”
“Not convince him, precisely, but between the two of us, I daresay we can nudge him in the right direction.”
NudgeLord Fairmont? How?
Phee fell back against the pillows, her head muddled, and a dark foreboding gathering over her like a raincloud. There were dozens of different ways in which this could go wrong, and God knew anything thatcouldgo wrong,wouldgo wrong.
Why, ohwhy,couldn’t a single courtship ever go smoothly?
And how did she keep finding herself caught in the middle of them?
Chapter
Four
Aself-imposed period of private reflection was usually enough to restore Phee’s equilibrium and quiet the chaos in her mind.
It had always worked well enough at home. A brief period to herself when one of her younger sisters tried her patience was generally enough to cool her temper, but as it turned out, private reflection was, alas, no match for the tangled web that was the London season.
The instant she tugged on one of the snarled threads of this business between Harriett and Lord Gilbert, another one tightened. She’d been laying on her back atop her bed with her hands folded over her stomach since Lady Fosberry left her several hours ago, her thoughts chasing each other around inside her head like a dog with a bell tied around its tail.
She rose from the bed with a huff and paced restlessly to the window. It was another lovely day— it had been a remarkably sunny spring so far. The cherry blossoms, fooled by the warmer weather were already beginning to bud, but even the sight of the cheerful pink flowers preparing to burst into bloom didn’t brighten her spirits.
Despite what Lady Fosberry and Harriett believed, shewasn’tclever. Not about people, at any rate, and certainly not when it came to matchmaking. She hadn’t predicted a single successful match since Lady Fosberry had offered Juliet a season, and all this nonsense had started. The matchmaking had begun as a joke, for pity’s sake! It was never meant to be a foolproof method of finding husbands.
Her sisters had all made spectacular matches, yes, but they’d secured them on their own, by being lovely, clever, and kind. She hadn’t had a thing to do with it.
