Odette hesitated. “You will help Jack and me if I agree to those two things.”
“And if Mr. Hewitt agrees to what I will ask of him.”
“What—?”
But Mrs. Northrop shook her head firmly. There would be no questions on that score. Odette was meant to simply trust her.
What choice did she have, really? Her future depended upon this.
“I agree.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Northrop patted her hand, then slipped her arm free. “I have a great deal of work to do. You set your mind to the best means of accomplishing what has been asked of you. I will do the same.”
***
Adelaide might eventually grow accustomed to the self-defeating stubbornness of the young people she worked with, but somehow she doubted it. They had, generally speaking, seen too little of the world to fully understand it but held too high an opinion of their own ability to navigate the shoals they could not even anticipate.
To Odette and Mr. Hewitt’s credit, they had found themselves in a particularly difficult situation. Resigning Odette to the task of keeping everyone at bay in order to avoid suitors had proven effective, but anyone who paid even minimal attention could see the toll that loneliness was taking.
Before she would fully commit to helping make this match, she first needed to discover if young Mr. Hewitt had resigned his lady love to months of misery out of a misguided desperation or out of indifference to her suffering. The former could be rectified. The latter would not be tolerated.
Chapter Seven
Jack walked down the corridor of his family’s London home, Terrance at his side, laughing as they recounted a particularly ridiculous wager two gentlemen had made at the club that morning.
“Barton is a dunderhead,” Terrance said. “He’ll be handing over a pony by week’s end.”
“Never should have bet against Jones. I’ve seen that man in a prizefight. An absolute terror.” They stepped inside the book room.
The conversation died on the instant. The room was not empty. A lady, whom Jack couldn’t immediately place, sat in a high-backed chair, facing the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hewitt.” She spoke with utter calm, as if the situation was not in the least unusual or uncomfortable. “Mr. Lexington.”
Terrance shot Jack a look of confusion. Jack shrugged.
“I can find my mother,” Jack offered.
She shook her head. “I am not here to speak with your mother.”
“My father?” That seemed unlikely.
“I am here to see you, Mr. Hewitt. Mr. Lexington’s presence is simply a fortunate happenstance.”
This was growing more odd by the moment. “I will confess myself confused.”
“What are your intentions toward Miss Armistead?”
Panic seized him, but he kept his expression simply curious. “Which of us are you asking?” He slipped in a laugh to show he wasn’t unduly concerned.
“Both.”
Terrance sauntered the rest of the way into the room. “I remember you now. You’re Mrs. Northrop, the matchmaker.”
“Very observant, but you still did not answer the question.”
Terrance grabbed a chair from near the desk and moved it to where Mrs. Northrop sat, placing it perpendicular to hers and sitting quite casually. “Miss Armistead is amusing, and I enjoy her company, but I’ve no interest beyond friendly acquaintance.”
Mrs. Northrop nodded, quite as if she had fully expected that answer. Both she and Terrance turned their expectant gazes on Jack.
