Page 66 of Tempting Her Viscount

Partly because he’d been distracted in making a list of potential brides and partly because after having made such a list he didn’t want to go to the ball. He was instead suffering from a severe case of dread.

He expected his search for a wife to be an exciting step toward the future he’d always wanted. But the fear of being bound to the wrong person made him sweat.

“None of that.” He brushed at his black coat and adjusted his tartan sash and white cravat. Despite his stern discussion with himself, his leg rocked the carriage the entire ride.

Oddly enough the moment he spotted Celia standing outside the townhouse waiting for him, a calm washed over him and he felt as if he could face a whole ballroom of potential brides and the plotting mamas as long as he had her at his back.

She turned and saw him approach, offering one of her bright smiles that warmed the deepest parts of him. He was certain the feeling was love, but since it was unwelcome, and unrequited, he didn’t explore the emotion with great earnest.

He could only hope one of the many women inside would evoke the same feeling and he’d know she was the one for him.

“Did you have any more thoughts as to who you may want to consider for marriage?” Celia asked as they were enveloped into the heat and heavy scents of the ballroom.

“Yes. I’ve even made a list.” He pulled it from his coat and handed it over for her inspection, feeling proud of himself.

She frowned. “This list has over a dozen women on it.”

“In truth, every woman in this room who isn’t otherwise engaged, is a potential wife, though I do still wish to stay clear of the debutantes if possible. I know these women and am not repulsed by them.”

“That was the only criterium for choosing the person who will bear your children? That she not repulse you.”

“I think it a good start, don’t you?”

“Very well. I have an acquaintance with most of the women on this list. I’ll make a point of speaking with as many as I can and see if any are suitable.”

“And what are your criterium?” He was interested to know what she would find important in a partner.

“As you said, not a debutante. You need someone with more maturity. She must be intelligent. You like to carry on deep conversations in a diverse number of topics so you would be bored with a woman who could not speak on such things. She must be modest, otherwise, I’ll not be able to visit.”

He chuckled at that last requirement. As well as the fact she’d misunderstood when he’d asked after her conditions. But she continued before he could clarify.

“She must be looking to marry for the right reasons. Not necessarily that she is holding out for love, but that she considers mutual respect to be important in a match.”

He nodded. “I’m impressed that you are taking such care with the search.”

She returned an offended look. “I care about you and your happiness, Christopher. I do not want a poor match to result in a lifetime of misery for you. I would never forgive myself if I matched you with someone who made you unhappy.”

He felt that familiar warmth wash over him at her admission that she cared for him. He knew it wasn’t the way he needed, but he could revel in it all the same.

“I promise to take the same care in helping you select a companion, even if the relationship will be a temporary one.”

“I appreciate that. Let us split up to do reconnaissance and meet two dances before the supper dance to confer.”

His lips pulled up at her take charge attitude. She could have been a general in his majesty’s army.

Taking her card, he wrote his name in for that dance. “That we might strategize.”

With a nod she went on her way to explore his options. He made his rounds of the room, greeting a few friends. He was surprised to see Ernest Dalforth in attendance.

“Whatever are you doing here?” Kit asked the man who looked absolutely miserable as he plucked at his cravat.

“My sister is out this Season and as the head of the family, I must be in attendance to scare off every man who so much as looks at her.”

“I see. I didn’t realize she had come of age.”

“She has, and I don’t mind to tell you, I’m hoping she’ll make a match that can help my situation.” He said the last word quieter than the rest and Kit knew what type of situation he meant. It was no secret Lord Dalforth was in financial straits.

Kit didn’t think they were in dire straits. Surely giving his sister a season was proof enough Ernest had at least some funds left.

“Her dowry is not much to speak of, it’s good that she’s beautiful and pleasant. Someone should be willing to overlook the rest when they see her.”

“Take care, Dalforth, she’s a sister, not an investment. Her happiness should come first.” He thought of Celia and the way she’d been sold to Hamlin for a large purse, her happiness not even considered. It was the way of the ton, but it didn’t make it right.

“Yes, yes. Of course, it does, but I only hope that her happiness comes along with a substantial sum.”

“Let us hope it is an amiable situation for both of you.” Kit offered a quick bow to the baron and moved along. He might have considered Ernest for Celia but knowing he was on the hunt for funds was an unsafe prospect for Celia.

He made his rounds of the ballroom and the cardroom and found a few men that would be suitable for Celia. He found his criteria for prospective gentlemen to be stricter than the conditions he’d made for his own bride. Because of that, he found most of the men here were not good enough for her.

When it was time, he headed through the crowd toward the dance floor. When the throng of people parted and he saw her, that familiar feeling of peace returned yet again.

Suddenly, he felt the few men he’d identified as a possibility to be unworthy of her as well.

Bollocks.