Page 40 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

‘And while you’re doing that, I can concentrate on my other task?’ Beatrice said, sending him a look that from anyone else he might describe as calculated.

‘Your other task?’ Hadn’t they said something about being in London to do some shopping? That presumably was what she was talking about. It was a harmless-enough thing to be doing, so why was she looking at him in that narrow-eyed, assessing manner?

‘Yes. Finding a suitable husband for Primrose, of course.’

‘What?’ Lucian burst out, louder than he intended and drawing the attention of several elderly women seated at the next table.

‘Why?’ he added in a more controlled manner. ‘That hardly matters now. I don’t need to sell the house anymore, so I don’t need to get rid of Primrose and her animals from next door.’

Reginald laughed, once again drawing the neighbouring ladies’ disapproving looks. ‘You obviously don’t know my darling Bea very well,’ he said, placing his hand over his wife’s. ‘Just before you arrived, she was saying she would need to order a new gown and hat because we’d soon have a wedding to attend. Now that she’s set her mind on finding a husband for Primrose Fairburn, there will be no stopping her.’

A vise seemingly clamped around Lucian’s chest, while Reginald aimed a besotted smile at his annoying wife. Lucian pushed the plate of scones away, wanting to blame them for the knot in his stomach, even though he had not touched them.

But he knew it wasn’t the afternoon tea making him feel this way.

He was jealous. Jealous of the thought of Primrose with another man. Jealous that some other man might taste her kisses, caress that beautiful body, be the one to make love to her and fully awaken her passionate nature.

He also knew it was an emotion he had no right to feel. A better man would be rejoicing at the prospect of Primrose’s marriage. She deserved to be in love and be loved. She deserved to be happy and married to a good man. To feel otherwise clearly marked him out as the kind of man he did not want to be.

‘That’s very kind of you, Beatrice,’ he forced himself to say politely.

‘Not at all. I like Primrose immensely. She’s a lovely young woman, kind, funny, caring and one of the prettiest young ladies I think I’ve ever met. Don’t you agree, Lucian?’

‘I can’t say I’ve noticed,’ he lied, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think his cousin’s wife was trying to torment him.

‘Well, if you haven’t noticed how lovely she is, I’m sure Baron Marchwood will. We are yet to introduce them, remember.’

At the mention of that man’s name, Lucian’s teeth clenched so tightly he was in danger of cracking a tooth. ‘Before you introduce them, I have something I need to tell you.’

Beatrice smiled again and leant forward slightly. ‘Yes, I thought you might.’

It was a strange reaction, but that was of no matter. ‘If you’re still hoping to match her up with that Marchwood fellow, then I may have ruined things in that regard.’

‘Have you, now?’ Beatrice said, not looking the slightest bit put out that he had thwarted her plans. ‘And how did you manage to do that?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve let the cat out of the bag.’ He winced, knowing how Primrose would react to such an unfortunate expression. ‘I told Primrose what we were up to. She now knows that we have been playing the role of matchmaker. I apologise.’

He knew he should be sorry, but if he was being honest with himself, it was not regret he was feeling at the thought of putting an end to any attempts to marry off Primrose.

Beatrice arched one eyebrow. ‘No need to apologise, Lucian. I completely understand why you would do such a thing.’

He doubted that very much.

‘But don’t worry. I’m sure Primrose won’t mind my continued interference, not if it results in the desired outcome for all concerned.’

That vise immediately clamped around his chest again.

‘I’m confident I’ll be able to find plenty of men who can see what a perfect wife she will make,’ Beatrice continued. ‘Men who will appreciate all she has to offer and won’t shy away from love, happiness and the comfort of a good marriage.’

The vise further tightened its grip.

‘You can just run off to America knowing I am dedicating myself to finding a suitable husband for Primrose.’

Beatrice flapped her hands as if dismissing him.

‘Right. Good.’ He stood up abruptly, bumping the table and causing the cups and saucers to rattle. ‘I’ll leave you to finish your tea. Please send me the details of how I can contact this friend of yours as soon as possible, so I can make the necessary arrangements.’

He stared at the couple for a few more seconds, wondering if he needed to say something more on the subject of Primrose, matchmaking, and her potential future marriage. As nothing sensible occurred to him, he made an abrupt bow and left.