Page 24 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

He leaned closer. “Yesterday was rough for you. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am fine. I’ve said all I wish to say about Andrew. Do not bring him up again.”

“I won’t. Is there anything you wish to ask me? Or would you prefer that I leave?”

Her eyes widened, as though she were actually surprised that he would consider leaving. “No, don’t go. You’ve hardly touched your tea. I only meant that there is nothing more to discuss about Lady Fielding’s party. But I would like to know more about you, not merely the marquess you portray outwardly. What do you enjoy? What riles you? Are there things you wish to accomplish that you haven’t yet? What were you like as a little boy?”

He laughed. “I am not in the habit of talking about myself.”

“I’ve noticed. You are a private person. One has to pull information out of you, and you are very good at deflecting questions. I blamed myself for not doing an adequate job of getting to understand you, but then I realized that I had been asking you questions all along.”

“And I have avoided answering them.” He drank the last of his tea. “I’ll do better. I promised you that I would. Ask me specific questions. I’m not good at just talking about myself. In fact, I hate it.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps this reticence was ingrained in me from an early age. I was taught to always hold back, to be wary of all the sycophants who surround those in power. People are always trying to get something out of me. It helps to keep them guessing about what I am thinking.”

“How did you know your wife was the one for you?”

He gave a gruff, snorting laugh. “I have no explanation for it, other than I just knew. Jessica was shy, not one to put herself forward. In fact, she was trying to hide behind a potted fern when I noticed her. A dozen other ladies were fluttering around me, all of them with too-bright smiles. But Jessica… Her smile was hesitant, hopeful. Honest. I watched her. She was kind to the harried servants. She helped an elderly countess to her seat.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Meanwhile, I watched the other ladies flitting around me. They were all false, underhanded. They were not above sabotaging each other to gain advantage. It was an easy decision for me. Jessica had a lovely smile and a sweet nature. I chose her.”

“Did your family approve?”

He winced. “There wasn’t much family left by the time I married her. My father had died and I was already the marquess.”

“Hence all the fluttering going on around you at these ton affairs.”

“Yes.”

“How do you spend your days? Do you keep to a particular schedule?” she asked, cutting him another slice of lemon cake, since he seemed to enjoy it.

“Oh, yes. I am very much regimented most of the time. The Milbury estate requires my constant attention. I have trusted estate managers for the day-to-day operations of our farms, orchards, and breweries. But I often travel to inspect them for myself. Keeps everyone honest. Most of my travel is done while my sons are in school. But their term has ended now, so we’ll be heading to Milbury Hill for the entire summer. We have farms not far from Brighton. I’ll take my sons with me to look in on those operations.”

“That is a good idea, not only keeping them close to you but also teaching them how a farm is run. What are your favorite things to do when in London? And when in the countryside? Which do you prefer, the—”

“Gwen, slow down,” he said with a grin, interrupting her barrage of questions that were already making his head spin. “How about you tell me a little about the ladies you have selected for this next round of matchmaking?”

“Oh, that is important. A good idea. I think I have come up with a nice selection. A duke’s daughter, three whose fathers are earls, and three whose fathers are viscounts. All of them are on the younger end of your range, so they are in their mid-twenties, and each is quite accomplished.”

“Oh, Lord help me. Am I going to have to listen to them sing or play the pianoforte?” He wasn’t looking for a bride to make his house noisy, since his sons were doing an excellent job of that.

“Well, that’s a fine attitude,” she muttered. “I must warn you that the well is going to run dry soon. There are only so many intelligent, charming spinsters of a certain age and suitable pedigree available in London.”

He winced. “I know. I’ll do my best to cooperate.”

“Well, all right then,” she said with a lick of her lips.

No, not all right. He was once again feeling the urge to kiss her.

What would she do if he kissed her?

Because, by heaven, he was going to do it. Just where and when had yet to be determined.

Also to be determined was the sort of kiss he ought to give her. Soft and gentle? Or blazing hot?