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Let Love Find You


#1 New York Times bestselling author Johanna Lindsey’s dazzling new tale of a desperate debutante whose family hires an innovative matchmaker to ensure her marriage features one of Lindsey’s most beloved heroines: Amanda Locke, sister to dashing Rafe Locke from the “elegantly sensual” (Booklist) The Devil Who Tamed Her!

 

London society has its very own Cupid. Renowned horse breeder and occasional matchmaker Devin Baldwin pairs eligible young ladies with suitable gentlemen based on his theory of animal magnetism. Unafraid of ruffling the ton’s feathers, this darkly handsome Cupid doles out tips for bettering one’s chances of meeting a mate that are as pointed as the love legend’s sharpest arrows!

Lovely Amanda Locke, the daughter of a duke, is everything a nobleman could desire, yet she enters her third Season still searching for a match. Gossipmongers’ tongues are wagging, and her mystified family is considering drastic measures to find her a husband. But the insufferable advice of this Cupid fellow is the last thing Amanda wants.

When an earl passionate about horses becomes the target of her husband hunt, Amanda knows it’s time to overcome her fear of riding. With her sister-in-law Ophelia hastening the romance along by arranging riding lessons, Amanda is soon taking instruction from infuriating Devin Baldwin. Astonishingly, in her daily encounters with Devin—who treats her as an ordinary young woman, not a prize to be won at the marriage mart—Amanda experiences passion for the first time. Now, her search for a match takes her in an unexpected direction as she finds herself falling in love with Cupid himself.

Delivering the “potent, sexy chemistry” (Booklist) and witty repartee for which she is adored, Johanna Lindsey shines with this sparkling new novel.

 

 

• THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS •

JACKET DESIGN BY LISA LITWACK

JACKET ILLUSTRATION BY ALAN AYERS

AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH BY ALEX PHOTOGRAPHY

COPYRIGHT © 2012 SIMON & SCHUSTER

 

Gallery Books

A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Johanna Lindsey

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Gallery Books hardcover edition June 2012

GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-4516-3327-6 ISBN 978-1-4516-3329-0 (ebook)


Prologue

 

THE BOY STOOD AT his bedroom window, watching the falling snow. It was sticking to the street and might stay around this time. It was cold enough to. He liked snow. It made the street look so bright and clean, especially at night with the streetlamps shining down on it. His bedroom faced the street. He often stood there and watched the fancy coaches driving past during the day. Occasionally, when he couldn’t get right to sleep, or he woke up for some reason, he’d stand there at night as well. And that’s when he’d see one coach in particular stop in front of the town house he lived in with his mother, Elaine, as it did now. The coach never came during the day, only late at night.

The tall man stepped out of it, his greatcoat swirling around him as he turned to close the door and say something to the driver before the coach drove off. The man hurried inside. He had his own key. For as long as the boy could remember, this man had been coming to his home.

It had seemed like a normal London household he was growing up in. They had a few servants. His mum was always available to him during the day. And for the longest time, he went to bed early enough not to know she wouldn’t be available to him at night.

He had just turned six, but couldn’t remember how old he’d been when he’d asked his mum who the man was. He just knew it was long ago. She’d seemed surprised that day that he even knew about the man.

“Lord Wolseley is our landlord, is all. He comes to make sure his house is in good repair.”

“So often?”

“Well, we actually became friends, good friends. He’s not a happy man and I’ve got a good shoulder to cry on.” She patted her shoulder with a grin. “You know it well, you’ve done all your crying on it, haven’t you?”

He remembered that he’d felt embarrassed that day. She was talking about all his hurts and bruises that he wouldn’t have cried over if she didn’t always gather him into her arms to coddle him. He tried to picture that tall man crying on her shoulder but couldn’t.

He’d been told his own father was dead, had died when he was still a baby, though his mother refused to say much more than that. “It makes me cry, those memories,” she would say. “Someday I’ll tell you all about him, just not now.”

But she’d never told him more. The only time he could remember his mum being sharp with him was when he persisted with questions about his father. And the last time he asked, she did get tears in her eyes. He never asked again.

But the landlord continued to visit late at night, and the boy would hear the door to his mother’s room quietly open and close. Sometimes he’d go out in the corridor and could hear her laughter on the other side of her bedroom door. If the man made her happy, why didn’t they marry so he could share in that happiness, too?

Earlier this year, his curiosity took a new turn and he asked his mother, “Is he going to be my father?”

She’d gathered him close and said, “Whatever can you be thinking, darling? Lawrence has his own family, a wife and children. He’s just a friend. I get lonely, you know. It’s nice to have someone like him to talk to.”

Soon thereafter the boy began to think Lord Lawrence Wolseley was his real father. Once the notion took hold, it wouldn’t let go. He was afraid to ask his mother, though. She didn’t want to talk about this landlord of theirs and didn’t want to talk about his “dead father.” It hurt to think she’d lied to him. He hoped he was wrong, but he had to find out for sure.

So tonight he went out in the corridor. His mother’s bedroom door was closed as usual. He didn’t knock. He heard the laughter, then voices talking so quietly he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He didn’t put his ear to the door, he just sat down in the corridor, crossed his legs, and waited.

It was a long wait. He almost fell asleep there. But finally the door opened. He jumped up immediately before he got stepped on. He’d never seen this man up close before. He was taller than the boy had thought, handsome, well dressed, with hair as dark as his own. His greatcoat was draped over his arm, and a jewel-crested ring on his finger flashed in the light.

The boy asked his question before he lost his nerve. “Are you my father?”

The man, who hadn’t yet noticed him, glanced down at him now. A scowl formed on the man’s face. “You should be abed. Go!”

Frightened by the man’s harsh tone, the boy couldn’t move, but the man walked off briskly down the corridor. The door to his mother’s room was still open. The boy peeked inside to make sure his mother was all right. She was sitting at her vanity across the room admiring a necklace he’d never seen her wear before.

The boy hurried back to his room, confused and scared, hoping the man wouldn’t tell her about the question he’d asked—which hadn’t been answered.

Later that week, his mother summoned him downstairs to the foyer. Just inside the door stood a man he’d never before seen. Hat in hand, big, he had blond hair and blue eyes like the boy’s mother. And she appeared angry. With him? Or with the stranger she was glaring at?

She looked down at him and said, “This is your uncle Donald, my brother. We haven’t talked for a good number of years, but Donald would like you to stay with him for a while on his horse farm in the country. You’ll love it there.”

The boy’s eyes widened. He didn’t know his mother had a brother! More afraid than ever before in his life, he turned and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. He was being sent away? He didn’t understand!

“No, please!” he cried. “I’ll never ask questions again, I promise!”

She hugged him tightly to her. “Hush, darling, I’ll visit you soon. You’re going to have so much fun in the country, you won’t even miss me.”

“No! I want to stay here with you!”

She pushed him toward his uncle. “Now, before I cry!” she shouted at Donald.

The boy was dragged screaming out of the only home he’d ever known. He tried to get out of the waiting coach. When his uncle prevented that, he hung out the window instead, calling to his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks. He could still see his mother standing on the stoop, waving at him.

But his mum had been right. Although he missed her terribly, as the months passed, he found himself enjoying living with his aunt and uncle in Lancashire on their large country estate. Because of the puppy his aunt gave him for his very own, and so many others always underfoot in the big house. Because he made his first real friend, one of the workers’ sons, and they became inseparable. Because there was so much more to do there than in the city. But mainly, because of the horses. There were so many of them! He was allowed to help care for them. Soon he excelled at grooming and feeding them and progressed to training the newborns.

He never saw his mother again. Not alive. The day his aunt and uncle came to tell him that she’d died of pneumonia, all the pain of her abandoning him returned. He was going to turn eight that year, and he was still too young to know how to hold back the tears that streamed down his face.

“She wanted you to have this.”

He looked down at the porcelain horse Donald placed in his hand. His mother had taken her love from him, abandoned him, never even visited him once since she had sent him away. He wanted nothing from her now, and in a burst of heartbroken rage, he raised his arm to throw the figurine against the wall to smash it as she’d smashed his hopes that they would be together again someday. She’d died instead, making sure that would never happen.

But Donald stopped him. “Don’t, lad. She wanted you to keep it. She said that one day you’d understand and realize how much she loved you.”

Lies! She was gone! He’d never see her again, never feel her arms around him again. And the tears wouldn’t stop that day, or the next, or the next when his mother’s body was brought home to Lancashire to be buried where she’d grown up. The pain he felt was overwhelming as he watched her being lowered into the ground. It hurt so much he dropped to his knees. His aunt knelt beside him and held him.

Late that night, he snuck out of the house and ran to the small graveyard. He’d brought the porcelain horse with him. He would have buried it today with his mother if he didn’t think his uncle would have stopped him. He buried it now beside her grave, but the pain was somehow worse now, he could barely see through his tears. He wouldn’t keep the stupid horse! He wanted nothing of hers, nothing to remind him that his own mother didn’t want him.

He swore to himself that night that he’d never cry again . . . or love anyone again. It hurt too much.

 


Chapter One

 

LADY AMANDA LOCKE SIGHED as she gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror. Sitting at the vanity in the comfortable room she’d been given at her cousin Rupert’s house in London, she imagined she saw a wrinkle at the corner of one eye. She gasped. Did she? She leaned closer. No, just her imagination and the light, but it wouldn’t be long before it wasn’t. She had just turned twenty! The ton would be calling her an old maid soon—if they weren’t already.

She sighed again. Her maid, Alice, pretended not to notice as she pinned the last blond lock of Amanda’s coiffure into place. That wouldn’t have stopped Amanda if she felt like being vocal about her melancholy tonight, but she didn’t. Alice had heard it all and heard it often. Amanda’s whole family had heard it all, and she had a large family. But she was tired of complaining about such a sorry state of affairs, she just couldn’t help it sometimes.

Her first London Season shouldn’t have been such a disaster. It was supposed to be a roaring success. She had expected no less. Her family had expected no less. She was a beauty, after all, even quite fashionable with her blond hair and powder-blue eyes, and she also had the aristocratic bones that ran in her family. She was also the only daughter of Preston Locke, the 10th Duke of Norford. That alone should have had the proposals streaming in. And no one had doubted that she would outshine all the other debutantes that Season two years ago, herself included. But then no one had been prepared for the infamous Ophelia Reid, who had debuted that same year, and no one, not even Amanda, could compare to Ophelia’s dazzling beauty.

It was almost funny, Amanda thought as she looked back on it, how jealous she’d been of Ophelia, so jealous that she’d spent most of that first Season stewing about it and thus ignoring the young men who had tried to get to know her. So really, she could blame that disaster on herself. But of course her emotions got out of hand, especially when she found out her own brother, Raphael, was also falling under the ice queen’s spell.

Ophelia hadn’t even been likable back then! Amanda recalled wondering how her brother could be so dense just because Ophelia was a raving beauty! Ophelia was manipulative, a liar, and spiteful to boot. Anyone with two eyes could see it, which meant every man in London that year wasn’t utilizing both of his eyes, Amanda’s brother included!

Rafe did fall in love with Ophelia, he did marry her, and he did tame the shrew. There was nothing not to like about the Ophelia her brother had married.

That had all been part of Amanda’s first disastrous Season in London. Last year she’d tried to take her brother’s advice to heart and just let love find her. She’d had fun doing so, maybe too much fun. Relaxing, just enjoying herself and the many entertainments, she’d found that she actually liked some of her beaus, could even call them friends now, but not one had ever pulled at her heartstrings. So before she knew it, her second London Season was over and she still hadn’t found a husband.

Now, at the beginning of her third Season in London, she was quite desperate. Something needed to change this year because she obviously wasn’t going about husband hunting the right way. She wasn’t as silly and flighty as people thought, but even she knew that she gave that impression sometimes.

“You’re bored already this Season, aren’t you?” Alice said as she stood behind her.

Amanda frowned as she met the maid’s eyes in the mirror. Was the problem that simple? Bored all day long, and then when she finally had something to do in the evenings, she was so pleased she overreacted, behaving a bit more effervescently than she ought to?

She didn’t try to deny it. “It’s different here, not a’tall like at home in the country, where I’ve got so much to occupy me.”

“Your aunt made a suggestion the other day. Why didn’t you agree?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Help with that sewing class her friend started? I love needlepoint, but not enough to teach it to little girls who’d rather be out fishing.”

Alice couldn’t hold back her laughter. “I really don’t think most little girls have fishing on their minds like you used to. But you should find something to do while we’re in London instead of counting the minutes until the next party. Going from utter boredom to utter excitement isn’t a good balance under any circumstances.”

Amanda managed not to sigh again, but of course she was ready to leave the house and was already beginning to feel the excitement. Tonight could be the night she met her future husband. Well, it could happen. So she merely nodded to her maid and decided that thinking up a project to occupy her during the day could wait until tomorrow when she felt bored again.

She had to admit she was nicely decked out for not one but two parties tonight. Amanda did one last twirl in front of the full-length mirror to make sure nothing was out of place. It wasn’t. Her maid was superb in that regard. The pale pink of the new evening gown highly suited her and was perfect for her mother’s rubies at her neck and ears.

She didn’t look any different from how she had during her first Season, when she’d thought she’d be the first among her friends to get engaged and she hadn’t ended up engaged a’tall. Let love find you, it will, you know, Ophelia had assured her. Yes, but when? How long was she supposed to wait for that magical moment to happen?

Amanda went downstairs to see if her cousin Avery had arrived yet. The second of Aunt Julie’s three sons, Avery had his own flat in London now, but Amanda had sent him a note in the afternoon, informing him that she was in need of a chaperone tonight, since Aunt Julie’s oldest son, Rupert, and his new bride, Rebecca, hadn’t yet returned from Norford as Amanda had hoped they would. And Aunt Julie’s third son, Owen, was too young at sixteen to be anyone’s escort.

Amanda had stayed at the St. John household last year for the Season as well, since her father didn’t own a town house in London. And she could depend on two of her St. John cousins as well as their mother to serve as her escorts, even if none of them were ideal. But now her old friend Rebecca Marshall was part of the household, too, having recently married Rupert St. John, and she was ideal.

Amanda had been delighted by the news of Rebecca and Rupert’s marriage. Rebecca would make a perfect chaperone because Amanda could actually have fun with her. But Becky had surprised Amanda by flatly refusing at first, claiming it didn’t seem right because she was several years younger than Amanda. But Amanda’s stubbornness had kicked in—she could be quite tenacious without even realizing it—and she’d convinced Becky to agree. But then Becky had hied off to the country without a by-your-leave, putting Amanda back at square one with her old choices.

She so hoped her old friend had returned by now. She wasn’t worried that Rupert would want to tag along. He’d had his fill of balls and parties. He’d been Amanda’s escort in the past and never failed to cause a stir, as handsome and flirtatious as he was, which tended to make every other gentleman present quite jealous, and jealous men didn’t want to dance. That was why she only asked Rupert to chaperone her as a last resort.

His mother, Julie, was just as bad! She’d raised her three boys on her own after her husband, the last Marquis of Rochwood, had died, and she tried to be both mother and father to them, which, unfortunately, had turned her into somewhat of a bully. As Amanda had told Rebecca recently when she’d been trying to talk her into being her chaperone, “While Aunt Julie will agree to accompany me to parties, she’ll also spend the entire night grumbling. And believe me, there aren’t very many men who don’t quickly retreat after receiving one of her scowls.”

Rebecca had made a good point though: if Amanda’s beaus could so easily be intimidated by her aunt, then they weren’t for her. Amanda had to admit she’d been glad when a few of the more obnoxious ones had been scared off by Aunt Julie.

Amanda had almost reached the bottom of the stairs when her steps slowed. She wondered if Avery had arrived yet. While he never minded escorting her—at least he never complained about it—he usually had to cancel his own plans to do so, which made her feel bad. Occasionally, he wasn’t available because he was out of town.

She supposed she should have waited to dress for the evening until she had received confirmation that he was coming. Now she started to panic. Aunt Julie would be furious if she had to dress at the last minute to join her. But Amanda had already canceled two engagements because of Becky’s absence. She simply couldn’t cancel the two tonight, not when one party was being given by one of her closer friends, and the other by her sister-in-law, so Amanda had decided to attend them both—but not without an escort!

It wasn’t Avery who appeared in the parlor doorway, drawn out by her loud sigh, but the man standing before her made her forget every one of her woes.

“Father!” She flew into Preston Locke’s open arms. “What are you doing here? You never come to London except on business.”

He gave her a brief hug before he set her back to explain, “I consider this business, family business. I came to find out what your cousin Rupert was doing here while his new bride was in Norford. You do know they didn’t even bother to inform me of their marriage?”

Amanda winced for her cousin’s sake. Her brother, Rafe, had done the same thing, married Ophelia Reid on the fly, as it were, without telling the family first, and their father had been quite put out about it.

“Well, that would explain why Rue left so suddenly today,” Amanda said, giving her father a knowing grin. She could just imagine how that conversation between annoyed uncle and admonished nephew had gone. “So he’ll be bringing Becky back to London, d’you think?”

“I would imagine.”

“Soon, I hope? Perhaps even tonight?”

“I highly doubt it.”

Amanda sighed.

Preston chucked her chin. “What?”

“I was looking forward to having Becky as my chaperone tonight. Now I’m stuck with Avery again.”

Preston frowned thoughtfully. “Isn’t Becky a bit young for that—?”

“No, no,” Amanda quickly interrupted. “She’s married! You know that makes it quite acceptable.”

Preston gave her a doubtful frown, which started her squirming. He was a big man, tall, strapping. She and her brother, Rafe, both got their blond hair and blue eyes from him, though Preston had a little gray at his temples, which quite annoyed him. But he rarely lost his temper, didn’t even appear to have one. He could exert such a calming influence on friend and foe alike that it was quite difficult to maintain a temper in his presence. He didn’t argue his points, he got them across in a reasonable manner, and if he was proven wrong, he’d merely laugh about it and go on from there. The only exception was how he dealt with his siblings. Where his sisters were concerned, he enjoyed pulling their cords, was quite the tease in that regard. Her brother had gotten that from their father, too, much to her annoyance.

Before her father actually forbade her to rely on Rebecca as her chaperone just because she was a few years younger than Amanda, she said, “You did know that Becky was a maid of honor, right up till she married Rue? That’s where he met her, at the palace. But having served in the royal court, she’s more a stickler for proper etiquette than anyone I know.”

“No, I didn’t know, on either count. Your aunt Julie is still your best—”

“She doesn’t like going to these parties. She’ll go, of course, but you know how she is when she doesn’t like something,” she mumbled.

Preston sighed. “I wish she had remarried instead of practicing being a curmudgeon.”

“She wishes the same thing about you,” Amanda said, then sputtered, “Not the curmudgeon part!”

Was that actually a blush climbing his cheeks? Surely not. It wasn’t as if the family didn’t know why he chose to stay single after his wife had died. He’d loved her too much. He’d preferred to honor that love and not try to replace it. Actually, she and Rafe had concluded that their father didn’t want to be disappointed in a second wife after having been so happy with the first. They could hardly disagree. They didn’t want their mother to be replaced either. But they did want their father to be happy, so if he did find someone who could make him that happy, they certainly wouldn’t object. He just wasn’t looking. He already knew all the unattached ladies at home and wasn’t interested in any of them, and he rarely came to London, where he might meet someone new.

But he was here now. She wondered . . .

“By the by, I sent Avery home,” Preston said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be your escort tonight, m’dear. I want to see for m’self the current crop of eligibles and what’s taking you so long to make up your mind.”

Although it was quite hard to utter a delighted squeal and a groan in the same breath, Amanda managed it just fine.

 


Chapter Two

 

“TWO PARTIES IN ONE night, is that normal these days?” Preston asked curiously.

Raphael laughed at his father. “Is that why you and Mandy showed up so late? Went to another party first?”

Preston made a face. “Your sister insisted she couldn’t miss either one, so, yes. The other was at an old school chum’s house just down the street. Wouldn’t even call it a party, so few were in attendance.”

Raphael was keeping his father company on the edge of the large ballroom where Ophelia’s guests were gathered that evening. Thankfully, no one there was likely to recognize Preston, he so rarely came to London, and never for social events unless at the queen’s request. So they didn’t know that the Duke of Norford was present. If they did, they’d be lining up to make his acquaintance.

At least Raphael’s father was used to social gatherings in the country these days, thanks to Ophelia. Preston’s five sisters used to entertain at Norford Hall frequently, but that was so long ago Mandy hadn’t even been born yet. And after the last of the five had married and moved elsewhere, Norford Hall remained quiet. Their mother preferred it that way, and after she died, Preston had become somewhat of a recluse. He wouldn’t even entertain for Amanda’s first come-out, had simply sent her off to London where she could be guaranteed her pick of the most eligible bachelors of the realm. It was the bane of the family that she hadn’t picked one yet.

As for his father’s curiosity, Rafe said, “No, two parties in one night isn’t normal a’tall and is probably Phelia’s fault. This party was rather impromptu. She only sent out the invitations for this one this morning.”

Preston was amazed. “And this many showed up last minute, as it were?”

Raphael chuckled. “Becoming the premier hostess in the realm used to be Ophelia’s heart’s desire. Got the idea from her mum, who thrived on entertaining.”

“Such a trifling thing.”

“Not to the ladies it isn’t!” Raphael laughed. “But she gave up that goal after we married. It was no longer the least bit important to her after Chandra was born.”

“Yet it happened anyway?”

“’Course it did, simply because of who she is. She’s too beautiful, too controversial, is still to this day talked about much more’n she ought to be, and to add to that, she’s now the daughter-in-law of the reclusive Duke of Norford.”

Preston snorted at being described that way. “How can I be reclusive when Ophelia entertains so much at Norford Hall every time you two stay with me?”

Raphael said, “Yes, but she only invites the neighbors in the country, no one you don’t already know. Here in London is quite a different matter, and I can’t count how many strangers show up here because she doesn’t just invite friends and mere acquaintances, but also anyone she finds interesting, anyone the ton finds interesting, and of course the current crop of debutantes to help their cause.”

Preston frowned. “She hasn’t taken up matchmaking, has she?”

“No, of course not, she leaves that to the old dames, like those two over there, Gertrude Allen and Mabel Collicott.” Raphael nodded toward the two oldest women in the room, across from them. “Look at them, you can just hear the wheels turning in their heads, trying to match up every unmarried person their eyes clap on.” Then he teased his father, “You better hope they don’t glance your way!”

Preston actually laughed. “I think I’m safe in that regard. I know Gertrude. Sweet old bird who cornered me years ago to see if I was interested in marrying again. I set her straight on that.”

“Well, those two matchmakers should be quite happy tonight, since Phelia does make a point of finding out who all the new debutantes are and including a few of them at each of her parties.”

“You don’t mind so much entertaining?”

“Not really. She enjoys it. And it’s bloody hard not to want to make her happy, as much as I love her.”

“Mandy didn’t mention this was a ball,” Preston said, glancing about the ballroom.

Raphael chuckled. “It’s not! Ophelia would have entertained in the parlor for what she considered merely a soiree, but as frequently happens at her parties, double the number invited usually show up.”

“It sounds like you need a sterner butler at the door,” Preston said in disapproval.

“It’s not party crashers. It’s friends and extra escorts of those who are invited, and Phelia hates to turn anyone away, so she simply adjusts and makes sure she always has extra food on hand. The simple fact is, no one wants to miss one of her entertainments, and they do cancel other engagements to come to hers instead, which is probably why there were so few guests at your first party tonight. Most hostesses make sure they pick nights Phelia isn’t entertaining. They’ll even confer with her about it! But occasionally she will throw an impromptu event like this one, especially when we’ve only just come to town.”

Preston’s eyes lit on Amanda in the center of the room. Raphael followed his gaze. His sister was laughing delightedly with four young gentlemen surrounding her, each vying to entertain her, and apparently, one of them had succeeded. That was encouraging.

Preston must not have thought so. He actually sighed before he remarked, “They flock to her, but I can see why she’s having a hard time at this husband-hunting business, if this is the best out for the Season.”

They still flocked to Raphael’s wife, too, much to his chagrin, even though she was married now! But he spared a glance at the four young hopefuls surrounding Amanda and had to agree with his father. Rather plain looking, the lot of them, not that his sister would snub a man just because he wasn’t handsome, but she wasn’t likely to fall in love with someone who wasn’t at least interesting. And she was holding out for love, not title, not wealth, just love. He’d heard it so many times, that love was the only thing that could make for a happy marriage. He used to scoff at that, but how could he now when, because of love, his marriage was so happy?

“What about your friends?” Preston added. “Has she met them all? None you could recommend?”

Raphael nearly choked. “Gad, no! The few who wanted to marry did so before Mandy came of age. The rest I wouldn’t let anywhere near my sister, rakehells the lot of them. But I highly doubt this is a good assortment of the current batch of young men wife-shopping this Season. It wasn’t intended to be that sort of event. A good half of the guests are married. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed two of those couples are Mandy’s old friends.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Bound to bring back her melancholy once she happens to notice them,” Raphael guessed. “But she did complain to m’wife a few days ago that all of her friends are now either married or engaged, so not likely to show up at any gatherings this year, which would have been why Phelia invited a few of them here tonight, just for Mandy’s sake. Wish she’d told me first so I could have explained she shouldn’t invite them—for Mandy’s sake.”

“Nonsense. I know my darling girl isn’t happy that she’s still not married. I am, if you must know.” At Raphael’s raised brow, Preston added, “I’ll miss her terribly once she moves to her own household, though don’t ever tell her I said that. Don’t want her to have even more to worry about. But she can’t be upset just because her friends married before she did.”

“Can’t she? No one enjoys being last in line. And she’s mentioned it to me, if not to you.”

“Well, she seems just fine tonight, as effervescent as usual—and enjoying herself. Actually, I can see she’s chattering too much.”

“When doesn’t she?” Raphael said with a laugh, then glanced at his sister again. She was doing the entertaining just then and not giving those four young hopefuls a chance to get a word in edgewise. “She’s talking their bloody ears off, but she’s too beautiful for that to put them off. It does appear that tonight is a wasted effort though. I’ll have a talk with Phelia to make sure her other parties this Season include all of the most eligible bachelors making the rounds. If this really is the lot, we’re doomed to never hear the end of Mandy’s old-maid complaints.”

Preston snorted. “She’s not an old maid by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Try to convince her of that. Once she gets a notion, you know it’s nigh impossible to shake her loose from it.”

“Did she mention it?”

“No, but if she doesn’t spot her future husband in the next couple of weeks, I don’t doubt it will occur to her,” Raphael said. “I’m surprised speculation about her lack of success in that regard isn’t already a juicy tidbit in the gossip mills. Actually, for all I know, it might be, just no one would dare mention it to me.”

“Perhaps it’s time I stepped in to do something about this,” Preston said thoughtfully.

“And buy her a husband? Gad, no, don’t even try. It’s love or nothing for her. I promise you, she’ll settle for nothing else.”

Preston tsked. “No, I didn’t mean anything as old-fashioned as arranging a marriage for Mandy. I know very well how much that would upset her. But I’ve been rather selfish, hoping she’d take her time at this, when three Seasons at it may have unwanted consequences, as you say.”

“The title of old maid?”

“Indeed. Beyond silly, but I’ll agree it wouldn’t be to her. No, I was thinking more along the lines of having a little chat with my old friend Gertrude Allen.”

Raphael chuckled as he glanced at the two matchmakers again. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt at this point. Should have thought of it m’self.”

“Exactly. And then I’ll feel that I’ve done something to help her with this husband hunt that’s so important to her.”

A bit of commotion at the door drew their attention along with everyone else’s, as two late arrivals stepped into the ballroom. The shorter of the two men looked vaguely familiar to Raphael, but the other man, probably in his midtwenties, was tall and handsome, had a strapping body, black hair a bit longer than the current fashion, and a dangerous air about him that made him seem quite out of place at first glance, even though he was properly dressed. A bit too muscular, he reminded Rafe of a bloody bruiser or worse.

“Who is that?” Preston asked with interest. “Is he part of the current crop of eligibles?”

Raphael’s protective instincts shot to the fore. “I don’t know who he is, but I don’t want him going anywhere near my sister.”

Preston raised a brow at him. “Why?”

Raphael groaned inwardly. Pure instinct had made him say that, and something that strong was hard to ignore. Was he the only one who sensed that this newcomer was dangerous?

He hedged, “A little rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

“So’s your good friend Duncan MacTavish.”

“Duncan has an excuse. He was raised in the Scottish Highlands.”

“Maybe you should find out who this big fellow is before you discount him just because he looks a little out of place here.”

So his father at least noticed that? But the chap wasn’t a complete stranger to the ton. Some of the guests tonight obviously knew him because a young, engaged couple hurried toward him and greeted him effusively. Perhaps Raphael was wrong. Perhaps the man was perfectly harmless and only appeared dangerous because he was so big.

“M’lord Duke?”

Preston coughed over being called that, and Raphael turned to see a middle-aged gentleman extending a hand to Preston. They’d found him out! That got Raphael’s mind off the newcomer for a moment and he almost laughed, imagining a line of guests forming to meet the reclusive Duke of Norford.

“Deny it,” Raphael whispered to his father with a grin.

“Don’t be absurd,” Preston shot back, and accepted the fellow’s hand.

Raphael saw another couple heading eagerly toward his father and said in an amused aside, “You asked for it.”

He heard Preston sigh before Raphael left him there and went off to find Ophelia. She had to know who that bruiser was.

 


Chapter Three

 

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHO he is and haven’t had time yet to find out,” Ophelia said. “We only just got to town, so I’m not yet abreast of the current gossip. But I did hear a few people calling him Cupid. Quite interesting, that.”

Raphael tamped down the pang of jealousy he felt at Ophelia’s finding the chap interesting and waited for her to finish giving the servant instructions to take to the cook. Of course she’d want to know who was at her party. She always made sure to find out who the uninvited guests were before they left in case she should want to include them on the guest list of her next party.

“Now, where were we?” she asked, turning back to give Rafe one of her stunning smiles.

God, she was beautiful, he thought. White-blond hair, blue eyes, ivory skin, features so exquisite they dazzled all who gazed at her. That little dent she’d got high on her cheek when a horse had trampled her didn’t detract from her looks one tiny bit. He would have wished it did if it wouldn’t have upset her. No one should be this beautiful. He did wish he didn’t still get jealous occasionally when he saw her talking to other men. He bloody well had no control of it when it snuck up on him, even when he knew he had no cause. But then no one had ever compared to her in beauty and probably never would.

“We were discussing your handsome uninvited guest,” he reminded her.

“Ah, yes. I did invite his friend the Honorable William Pace, because he’s got a sister having a come-out this year and I couldn’t remember her name. I thought he’d bring her, but I suppose she was otherwise engaged.”

“Pace, of course, now I remember him. Good chap. Lost both his parents recently. Don’t think I’ve met his sister, though. . . . Cupid, eh?” Glancing again at the pair across the room, Raphael rolled his eyes. Exactly how rumors and inaccurate gossip got started, when people didn’t know all the details of a subject and elaborated on their own. “That’s probably a rumor gone awry, since it would otherwise suggest he’s a matchmaker.”

Ophelia chuckled. “I quite agree. I’m sure only women dabble in that. But there must be something that’s making him a bit of a sensation for me to have heard the name Cupid at least three times before he even arrived, and quite a few more times after he appeared. But before I could ask why, I was asked about your father. Someone has recognized him, so everyone is curious now to know why he’s come out of hibernation, as it were.”

“For Mandy, of course. You’d think they’d draw that conclusion and let it go at that.”

She disagreed. “Not a’tall, when she’s had two Seasons without his chaperonage.”

They both glanced toward Amanda, but Raphael frowned, noticing the one chap in her group who hadn’t been there earlier. “What the deuce is Exter doing here? That blighter is a known fortune hunter.”

“He’s staying with Lord and Lady Durrant. I didn’t know that until they arrived with him in tow. Besides, Mandy won’t be fooled by the likes of him. She may like to pretend otherwise, but she is a smart girl.”

“I love her to pieces, but you’re talking about my sister. She can be the veriest scatterbrain and—”

Ophelia poked his chest. “She’s nothing of the sort. She’s just easily excitable. Nothing wrong with that. I doubt she’ll have trouble a’tall figuring out which of her beaus are in love with her and which are in love with her father”—Ophelia paused long enough for Raphael to burst out laughing—“er, her father’s title.”

He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I know, I’m probably worrying for nothing.” He tapped his chest. “I just feel it here, Mandy’s unhappiness with the difficulty she’s been having. She shouldn’t be having such a hard time of it. Look at her, she’s adorable, she is a prime catch. What the deuce is taking these young men so long to win her?”

“Because none of them have been quite right for her, of course. Rotten timing has been the problem. You can’t force love. It just hasn’t happened for her yet. But there’s a new crop of gentlemen come to town this year. New choices, new chances. We can hope this year love will find her.”

They both ended up staring at the new arrival again, the tall, handsome one. Having seen him laugh with the young, engaged couple, Raphael didn’t think the man seemed quite as menacing as he had at first glance. And perhaps Raphael ought to be sociable and make his acquaintance to find out for himself if his first instinct had been accurate.

Ophelia was thinking something else entirely. Cupid? Only someone successful at matchmaking could earn a nickname like that, surely. Unless it was just a joke, which it could certainly be. No man would want to be likened to a cherub, would he? In either case, she ought to find out for sure.

Across the room, as soon as Sir Henry and Elizabeth Malcort finished chatting with them and moved off, William Pace assured his best friend, “I told you you’d fit right in and know some of the guests.”

Devin Baldwin laughed because they both knew the first part of that statement wasn’t the least bit true. Devin was too big, too tanned from spending every day outdoors, and too abrasive because he didn’t mince words and never would, no matter what company he was in. He might have been schooled in how to be a gentleman, but he’d found those lessons to be useless, either absurdly amusing—or hypocritical.

William had been trying to get him to come to parties like this one for years, but Devin had only recently seen a benefit to doing so. Not that he hadn’t begun socializing this year when he found the time. But the invitations he’d received from his clients had been to lesser affairs, which he considered business, nothing as fancy as this one, where every guest bore a title of some sort. Yet now he was receiving invitations from titled nobles he’d never even met, all because he’d helped a few of his clients with matters that had nothing to do with the horses he bred.

He’d ignored the fancy invites so far—until tonight. He didn’t exactly like these rich London nabobs—unless they were his clients. But even then, he found them to be a silly, frivolous bunch mostly concerned with trifles and entertainments rather than real life. They reminded him too much of the father he hated. They reminded him of the mother who had turned her back on her family so she could enjoy the sins of London. He was more used to country gentry anyway, lords who actually ran their own estates instead of turning them over to factors, men he could respect because they weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.

“Fascinating, isn’t she?” William remarked.

Devin shifted his gaze to the ballroom’s ornately carved fireplace before he said, “Which one?”

William laughed at him. “Well, our hostess is married and, by all accounts, blissfully so. But you know I was talking about Little Miss Sunshine.”

“I’m trying not to notice her.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one looking for a rich wife, not I,” Devin replied. And that little chatterbox his eyes kept returning to was too pretty by half. The last thing he needed was to get tempted by a woman he could never have.

“Good of you to bow out on this one for my sake, old chap, but I’m not a complete blockhead,” William said. “Don’t stand a chance with a prime chit like that.”

“Nonsense—”

William cut Devin off with a chuckle. “Very well, I’ll own up to it, I gave it my best shot last Season. Didn’t know yet that her father’s a duke. Didn’t care after I found out. But she couldn’t even remember my name! Deuced hard on the ego, that, so I gave up. But you, big, handsome, they don’t even care that you’re a little rough around the edges.”

That produced the laugh William had intended to elicit from his friend, even if it was quite true. “I may have revitalized the home farm, but I don’t actually consider that my income. And the title that used to be in my family trotted off centuries ago through a daughter instead of being passed down to distant cousins. You do realize Little Miss Sunshine’s family would require at least one of those attributes, if not both?”

“You’d think so,” William said thoughtfully. “Yes, yes, you do think so, but some families are so rich and lofty, normal expectations simply don’t apply.”

“Or they’re even more important.”

William shrugged. “Who knows? But I’ll shut up—mind you, only because you insist you’re not interested in a wife yet. Just think you should keep an open mind in case one happens to fall into your lap—”

“Thought you were shutting up?”

William grinned, but then his eyes suddenly flared and he said, “Uh-oh, brace yourself, your competition is bearing down on you.”

“My what?”

Devin turned to see the two old ladies approaching him. The one in the lead was plump and gray-haired and looked angry enough to spit. The other was shapely, still had blond hair mixed with her gray, and looked embarrassed as she tagged along behind the stouter dame.

“Young man, I’ve a bone to pick with you!” the old dame in the lead snapped at Devin.

“Madam, adjust your tone or take your bone elsewhere,” he replied just as directly.

She was rendered speechless for a moment. William took that opportunity to jump in with quick introductions. The second lady, Gertrude Allen, even seemed surprised at hearing Devin’s full name.

“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Lydia Baldwin, would you?” Gertrude asked him.

Devin spared a smile the for soft-spoken woman. “Indeed, she’s my aunt.”

“Oh, my, I know your family quite well. My late husband used to travel all the way to Lancashire just to replenish his stable from them. Wonderful horse breeders. An old family tradition, eh? Your grandparents were still alive then as I recall. And more recently your aunt helped my Fluffy after she and your uncle moved to London. What a superb dog trainer she is. After only a week with your aunt, my Fluffy came home and never chewed on another table leg again! Mabel, I told you about—”

The older dame had recovered by then and cut in, “He can breed all the horses he likes, but he should keep his nose out of what he can’t possibly know anything about. Listen here, Cupid,” Mabel said in a derogatory tone, using the nickname that Devin had recently earned, “you might be something of a sensation right now because you’ve had a bit of luck at matchmaking, but it’s absurdly presumptuous of you to even try your hand at it when you’re a newcomer to town and—”

“I’m not new to London,” Devin said.

“’Course you are. Who has ever heard of you before this Season?”

William tried to deflate the old bird, but he was sounding a bit annoyed himself now on Devin’s behalf. “Wouldn’t call m’self a nobody, Lady Mabel. Devin’s my best friend, as it happens. He and I went to school together. He was even born in London, if you must know. He’s merely been up north revitalizing his family’s horse farm since we got out of school, so he’s been too busy to come to town to socialize these last years. But he’s bought a property near London in order to be closer to his clients, so you’ll be seeing a lot more of him now.”

The old bird wasn’t deflated in the least, merely spared William a glare to say, “That is not good news, William Pace.” Then she actually wagged her finger at Devin. “You’ve been lucky so far, but it’s a serious business you’re tampering with, and people will get hurt if you steer them wrong. This is just a lark for you, isn’t it? Just an amusing pastime?”

Devin shrugged. “Can’t deny it’s amusing, but it’s not something I set out to do. It just fell in my lap. But there’s no luck about it, it’s simple animal magnetism that makes for a good match. A man and a woman have got to want to rut, but after the rutting, they’ve got to have something in common or their happily ever after falls apart.”

“How . . . how dare you!” Mabel sputtered.

“Think about it, old girl, and you’ll realize I’m right. How many of your happy matches are still happy? Or are the husbands already keeping mistresses on the side?”

William was coughing, having choked on a half laugh, half groan. Gertrude was staring down at her feet. Mabel was speechless again and so red in the face she looked as if she might burst. Even Devin knew he’d just gone beyond the pale, but he simply didn’t care. Damned jealous old biddy had no call to upbraid him for commonsense methods that worked.

Their hostess took that moment to make her presence known, and to go by her expression, she seemed quite amused over what she’d just overheard. And now Devin was blushing! Bloody hell.

Ophelia put her hand gently on Mabel’s arm. “There’s no reason to be upset, m’dear. A little outspokenness is refreshing from time to time. Imagine what would happen if all artists wanted to paint the same way? Our walls would be nothing but boring.”

“Hardly relevant,” Mabel mumbled, her cheeks beginning to cool.

“Perhaps, but no one is stealing your thunder. The tried-and-true methods always work, yet there is room for innovation, yes? But goodness, I haven’t even met this guest of mine yet.” Ophelia cast a brilliant smile at the two men. “I’m Ophelia Locke. So good of you to join us this evening. Oh, and, William, good to see you as always.”

Mabel actually chuckled at that point. “You really shouldn’t do that, Phelia.”

“What?” Ophelia asked with an innocent grin.

“You know very well you’ve just dazzled the speech right out of both of them. Serves ’em right.” Mabel marched off, dragging Gertrude with her.

“I think you’ll survive on all accounts, won’t you, gentlemen? But tell me, Devin Baldwin, do you mind being likened to a cherub, or do you merely find it amusing?”

William was still staring at her agog. It took Devin a few moments to actually hear the question. He’d already thought this woman was the most beautiful he’d ever seen in his life, but bloody hell, her smile was lethal. He pitied her husband—like hell he did, he almost laughed to himself.

“As the myth goes, Cupid is also the god of love, as well as the son of Venus.”

Her eyes flared. “Good grief, I never realized they were calling you a god!”

He laughed. “Which is about as silly as it gets, so, yes, I find it quite amusing.”

“The matchmaking methods you were discussing are quite interesting. Has that approach helped you to find a wife yet?”

“I’ve no time for a wife.”

William piped in, “Dev is working toward producing racers now on his new farm just outside of London, north of the racetrack.”

“Yes,” Devin said, “I’ve changed the focus my family has always favored. It’s a long process, but I’ll know come spring if it’s working or not.”

“Do you have any fast mounts for sale? My husband’s birthday is approaching and I thought about buying him a new horse.”

Devin grinned. “Possibly faster than he’s used to.”

“Splendid! Now that will be a worthy surprise for him. I look forward to doing business with you.”

 


Chapter Four

 

“AND THERE WE WERE, my lovely boat heading straight for this rock sticking out of the water that I swear wasn’t there moments before,” Oliver Norse was telling the group surrounding Amanda. “The sailboat was brand-new! I was horrified it was going to shatter into pieces.”

“Did it?” asked Farrell Exter, the only one in the group who hadn’t heard the story yet.

“Oliver told us to jump ship and we did,” John Trask said with an engaging grin. He’d actually been on the boat with Oliver that day.

“But I went down with the ship!” Oliver bragged.

“He means to say he got tossed off it when it tilted to the side and got quite beached on the bit of land surrounding that rock.”

Farrell laughed. Amanda had laughed, too, the first time she’d heard the tale last Season. She managed a polite grin now, despite feeling terribly bored.

She should have realized that with Ophelia and her brother Rafe’s only just coming to town, her sister-in-law wouldn’t yet be au courant with all of the newcomers this Season. Ophelia had merely invited a few of the young men she knew from last year who weren’t married yet. But Amanda already knew them as well and wasn’t the least bit interested in them other than as friends. She was having to do most of the talking tonight or her little group would fall painfully silent as it had before Oliver had jumped in with a story he’d told many times before. But unlike her beaus, she had a wealth of stories to tell, mostly about her brother, who’d led a much more exciting life than they had.

“It’s time to share, gentlemen,” Phoebe Gibbs said as she arrived and slipped an arm through Amanda’s to pull her away from the young men who were staunchly refusing to leave her side tonight. “I haven’t seen Mandy all week, so do excuse us for a while.”

Amanda was grateful for the rescue. Phoebe was one of her school chums who had married last year. Amanda had caught a glimpse of another one who was also married. She had nothing in common with her old friends anymore so she hadn’t approached either one, at least that was the excuse she’d given herself. The truth was, they just made her feel even more disheartened over her predicament, being last in line to find happiness.

But Phoebe was the worst gossiper of her old group of friends, loved to hear it, loved to pass it on, so Amanda wouldn’t be surprised if she had some juicy on-dits she was dying to share, and Amanda was right.

“The Earl of Manford, I really thought he’d be here tonight,” Phoebe said.

“Who’s that?”

“A good question. Got his title as a child, losing both parents, poor boy. He’s just come of age, but no one I know has clapped eyes on him yet. I thought surely if anything could lure him to town, it would be one of Lady O’s parties.”

Amanda’s interest perked up. A young man she hadn’t met yet? She grinned. “He needs to be lured?”

“Apparently,” Phoebe huffed. “By all accounts, he’s not ready to marry so he won’t bother coming to London yet. Too busy chasing down fast horses.”

Amanda instantly lost interest. If the young earl wasn’t interested in marriage, then she had no interest in meeting him. But she politely pretended otherwise to her friend. “Another horse breeder?”

“No, he just acquires them for his collection. Avid horseman. Only time I’ve heard his name mentioned is when fast horses get mentioned.”

Amanda shuddered. She didn’t like horses—well, unless she was watching them from afar at the racetrack and betting on which one might win. But she’d taken a bad fall as a child not long after her riding lessons had begun, and she’d been afraid to get back on a horse after that and never did again.

Phoebe sighed now. “Obviously you’ve already heard about the horse breeder who’s here tonight?”

Amanda managed not to snort. How could she not hear about the man whose name was on everyone’s tongue? She’d noticed him immediately when he arrived. Handsome in a rough, overly masculine sort of way, but that’s exactly why she’d dismissed him out of hand. Too brutish looking by far.

“Such a silly nickname they’ve given him, Cupid!” Phoebe giggled. “Yet so apt! Imagine someone like him being a successful matchmaker.”

Amanda did snort this time. “Exactly. I’m not convinced he belongs here for any reason when he looks like a thug.”

Phoebe’s eyes lit up. “Then you haven’t heard it all! The Baldwins are gentry from Lancashire. There was even an earl in their family tree a while back. But they’ve always dabbled in horse breeding, which might account for this Baldwin’s being a bit more . . . more—what the deuce is the word I’m looking for?”

“Brutish?”

Phoebe frowned. “No, that wasn’t—oh, earthy! That’s the word that eluded me.”

Brutish was more apt, Amanda mumbled to herself. And she wasn’t going to politely lead this topic any further. In fact, she sent Lord Oliver a smile, urging him to return to her side, and he complied immediately.

Phoebe wasn’t pleased to have her gossip cut short and said so, “Really, Oliver, I was only going to keep her for a few minutes.”

“One minute away from Amanda is like an eternity, dear lady,” Oliver replied gallantly.

Phoebe tsked, but then grinned. “Hard to argue with that, I suppose, and I do see my husband waving at me. I’ll talk to you later, Mandy.”

Amanda almost laughed as she was surrounded by her beaus again. Now she was back to being bored! So she began the story about the wonderful painter Rafe had discovered on the Continent and had sponsored after he’d fished him out of a river. She soon had her audience laughing, but she was keeping her eye on her father across the room. As soon as he finished his conversation, she was going to suggest they leave.

Devin was more than ready to leave the party. He’d had a long day, spending most of it at the racetrack because he’d had a chance to buy one of the horses listed and wanted to see firsthand if the stallion was worth adding to his breeding stock. The stallion had come in third, better than he’d hoped, but not high enough to affect the price he was willing to pay.

But he’d met most of the guests tonight and had accomplished what he’d come for—to find out if it would be worth his time to start coming to upper-crust parties like this one where he could meet the richer lords in London who might want to buy his horses. Indeed it was. He even had two possible sales lined up. So he was glad that William had joined him at the races today and talked him into coming along tonight, but he didn’t think staying any longer would be useful. And he was annoyed with himself. His eyes kept returning to Little Miss Sunshine. The chit wouldn’t close her mouth long enough to let her admirers say a single word to her! How the deuce did she expect to win one of them?

“Bloody rotten luck that Blythe had to get the sniffles yesterday and reddened her nose so much she refused to leave her room today,” William complained beside him, gazing in the same direction as Devin. “Lady Amanda doesn’t appear the least bit interested in those young bucks surrounding her. My sister could have had her pick of them.”

“She’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Yes, I know, I just never expected that I’d be the one having to make sure she marries well. My mum was so looking forward to this.” William sighed. “I miss them terribly.”

Devin was uncomfortable with his friend’s grief. “Buck up, old boy. We’ll have her married in no time!”

Devin hadn’t said we just out of sympathy for his old friend. Devin had already assured William that he’d help any way he could, short of marrying Blythe himself. Even she knew she could do better than him. The fact was, the Paces, brother and sister, were quite pinched in the pocket these days, the deaths of their parents having left them with a pile of debts and no way to dig their way out of it other than through marriage. Work was out of the question. They were aristocrats, after all, and if not from the upper reaches, their father had been a lord and their uncle was an earl. But the plan was to get Blythe married first, then William could stop worrying about her and concentrate on finding a spouse for himself. Pace financial woes would be fixed nicely and everyone would be happy.

Devin wished he could map out his own life so easily, but he knew a wife wouldn’t be part of it, at least not one he might meet socializing with the ton. They might accept him for whatever reason, but they wouldn’t let their daughters marry him, not when the truth about him was revealed, and that wasn’t something he could withhold in good conscience from a potential wife or her family. But, in the meantime, he didn’t mind using these people to promote his new farm or to profit from the sideline that had fallen into his lap and was turning out to be surprisingly lucrative.

No matter how he looked at it, that sideline was funny as hell. Matchmaking, and they paid him for it! Just because he found people so easy to read, particularly young people who talked too much when they were nervous. He’d even met the perfect match for William a couple of weeks ago, felt it in his gut that they’d fall head over heels for each other, and was just waiting until William’s sister was settled to introduce them. But this sideline had caused the invitations to elite parties to roll in, ever since Sir Henry and Elizabeth Malcort had announced their engagement and claimed that Devin had helped them find each other.

The ton considered him a curiosity, and because of that, they wanted him at their parties. He actually didn’t care why as long as it brought him business for either of his endeavors. But he wished to hell he could keep his eyes off Little Miss Sunshine, yet once William moved off for some refreshments, it was impossible to do so.

She really did sparkle, and it had nothing to do with the expensive jewels she was wearing. Vivacious. Effervescent. When she smiled and laughed, sh


Date: 2015-02-28; view: 407


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