That was the truth. More true than Lord Fairmont could guess.
Harriett didn’t need a matchmaker because she’d already found the gentleman she wished to marry. This season’s task wasn’t to find Harriett a proper match. Harriett and Gilly had already found each other, and made up their minds.
It wasn’t either ofthemwho posed a threat to the match. Neither ofthemwas standing in the way of a happy ending.
Only Lord Fairmont was.
This season was about reconciling Lord Fairmont to the gentleman Harriett had set her heart on. It had nothing to do with matchmaking— at least, nothing to do with matchmaking Harriett and Gilly.
This season was all about matchmaking Gilly andLord Fairmont.
Perhaps matchmaking wasn’t quite the right word, but with a bit of finagling, and some judicious management, Gilly would gain the mentor he so desperately needed, and Lord Fairmont… well, at the very least he’d have someone to order about, but perhaps, in time and with a little luck, he’d find a friend in Lord Gilbert.
Lady Fosberry had said he didn’t have many friends left. Really, it would be doing both of them a good turn?—
“Phee? Have you got an idea?”
“I do, yes, but it’s… well, to be honest, it’s a bit daft.”
“Those are always the best ideas. What are we going to do?”
Phee hesitated, her head spinning. Could she manage it? Perhaps the better question was, should she even attempt such a mad scheme? Lord Fairmont wasn’t the sort of gentleman onetrifled with. It could go spectacularly wrong, and if it did… well, this time she truly would have no one to blame but herself.
“Phee? Are you going to help me?”
One glance into Harriett’s pleading eyes, and she had her answer. “We’re going to do as we’ve always done, Harriett. We’re going to matchmake.”
Harriett’s brow clouded. “Who? Me and Gilly? We’re already matched.”
“No. Not you and Lord Gilbert.” Phee seized Harriett’s hand. “Lord Gilbert and your brother. We’re going to matchmake a friendship between Lord Gilbert and Lord Fairmont.”
It wasn’t going to be easy, however. Lord Fairmont already bore Gilly a grudge. He was certain to fight it every step of the way, but surely, he’d come around eventually.
He was an intelligent gentleman, after all.
Yes, he was certain to come around, sooner or later.
Sooner, with any luck. Whether they’d survive it until he did, however…
Well, that was another question entirely.
Chapter
Six
For such an intelligent gentleman, Lord Fairmont was proving to be unforgivably dense.
Five days had passed since Phee’s conversation with Harriett in the library. Harriett had called a truce with her brother directly afterward, setting aside her pique, and once again condescending to accompany him for their usual afternoon strolls in the garden.
Phee had watched them from her bedchamber window, wandering along the crushed stone pathways, engaged in what looked like a rather stilted conversation. Still, a stilted conversation was better than no conversation at all.
At least Harriett had been speaking to him again.
But alas, Lord Fairmont had wasted no time turning his small victory into a devastating defeat by doing something so awful— so utterly unthinkable —it was a wonder Harriett hadn’t sunk her dinner fork into his hand tonight.
“Will you have more scalloped oysters, Lady Harriett?” Lord Farthingale took up the tongs, his hand hovering over the silver platter to his left.
Of all the offensive things Lord Fairmont might have done— of all the things that might have infuriated his sister —he’d chosen the most offensive one of all.
