Page 17 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

She looked at Lucian, her eyes gleaming with excitement as if she’d already solved all his problems, then turned back to her husband. ‘Do you know anyone else we could introduce her to?’

‘Well, there’s the Duke of Dunwarren. He’s decidedly odd as well,’ Reginald said with a snort.

‘No, dear. He’s obsessed with fossils. They’re long-dead animals. That will never do.’

‘I suppose there’s also Baron Marchwood,’ Reginald continued, seemingly having an endless supply of eccentrics amongst his acquaintances. ‘He nearly got arrested at the Fitzwilliams’ hunt. He and a group of his cronies were trying to protect the fox. He’s quite peculiar and presumably loves other animals besides foxes. Will he do?’

‘Yes, he will. You’re so clever, Reggie,’ Beatrice said, causing her husband to sit up straighter and bask in his wife’s admiration. ‘He’s perfect. Why didn’t I think of him? He’s not odd at all, just passionate about his beliefs, exactly like Miss Fairburn. And I’ve heard he’s very handsome. They’d be ideal for each other. I must look into how we can arrange an introduction.’

That inexplicable constriction clasping Lucian’s chest ratcheted several notches tighter.

‘He’s always giving talks to drum up membership for his anti-fox-hunting cause,’ Reginald added, becoming as animated as his wife. ‘I’ll make some inquiries as to when the next talk is to be held.’

‘Well done, Reggie,’ Beatrice said, and the two exchanged smiles like adoring conspirators.

‘So that’s settled,’ Beatrice confirmed, turning back to Lucian, although he wasn’t sure anything had been settled. ‘The four of us will all go to the talk at the Ornithological Society tomorrow, and Reggie will introduce Miss Fairburn to the earl. Then he’ll make enquires regarding Baron Marchwood. In case neither of them works out, Lucian, maybe you could look into escorting Miss Fairburn to other places where animal lovers are likely to converge.’

‘Where on earth do animal lovers converge?’ Lucian asked, still thinking about this handsome, passionate, anti-fox-hunting man who was supposedly ideal for Miss Fairburn, and not liking the sound of all this matchmaking one little bit.

‘Well, the Vegetarian Society, the Royal Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the recently established Humanitarian League all spring to mind, but there must be lots of other groups. I’m sure they’ll be full of young, single men who will be charmed by Miss Fairburn.’

‘And you want me to escort her to these meetings?’ Lucian asked, dubious about the wisdom of this plan.

‘Yes. But only if things don’t work out with Baron Marchwood or the Earl of Ashcombe, which I’m sure they will. Oh, this is going to be such fun. Between the three of us, it won’t take us long to find Miss Fairburn a husband.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Lucian mumbled.

‘You don’t know my wife,’ Reginald said, smiling indulgently at Beatrice. ‘When she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.’

‘Yes, I do like a challenge,’ Beatrice said, patting her husband’s hand. ‘Before we leave London, I am determined I will find Miss Fairburn a suitable husband. Then all your problems will be solved.’

She smiled at Lucian, and he forced himself to smile back at her, although he was tempted to grimace. While he admired his cousin’s confidence in his wife, he was equally certain it was misplaced, and some strange and contradictory part of him, which he refused to examine too closely, hoped it was.

Chapter Five

‘You have a visitor, Miss,’ Alfred said, holding out a silver tray bearing a calling card. Primrose rarely had visitors, apart from Alice and Margaret. They knew they did not have to stand on ceremony and were always welcome, so this was a most unfamiliar situation.

She put down her book and picked up the crisp white card.

Lucian Montclair, Viscount Westhaven.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said quietly and quickly looked out the window. Hamish and the other geese were waddling contentedly around the back garden. All the rabbits appeared to be accounted for. Marigold was, as usual, chewing contentedly on the ivy that lined the wall. Even Clawdia was curled up asleep in a corner of the drawing room. If any ducks had travelled from the park into his garden, it was hardly her fault, and he had no right to criticise her for it.

She looked back down at the card bearing his crest. It was tempting to ask Alfred to tell the viscount she was not at home to callers, but that would be cowardly, and while she did feel decidedly nervous at the thought of seeing him again, they were certain to cross paths at some stage, given that they were neighbours, so perhaps it was best to get it over and done with.

‘Show him in, please,’ she said to Alfred.

When her footman departed, she stood up and brushed down her grey skirt and adjusted the collar of her white blouse but resisted the temptation to race to the mirror to check her appearance.

Why should she care one fig how she looked?

Then she sat back down, her back ramrod-straight as she braced herself for whatever unwarranted accusations he was about to fling at her this time. Whatever he said, she would be prepared. She’d been somewhat lost for words during their last altercation, but the moment she’d stormed off she’d thought of lots of witty comebacks that would have made it abundantly clear she couldn’t care less if he thought her not normal.

Now she could use all those clever and cutting insults and well and truly put him in his place. All she had to do was keep her nerve and not let him undermine her resolve.

He entered her drawing room, making it suddenly appear smaller and causing her brain to fog over.

Why did that always happen? She knew the answer to that question. Hadn’t she worked it out the first time she’d met him? He was unfairly handsome, and far too tall and broad-shouldered, not to mention excessively manly. All qualities designed to make her feel flustered and turn her into a breathless flibbertigibbet.