Chapter Two

Matthew wished to get his hands on the carriage door and throw himself to the pavement. How had this trip gone on so long? How could ten minutes seem like ten hours?

He was trapped in the carriage with his mother and father and they'd decided the ride to Almack's was the perfect opportunity to revisit the idea that he must marry a pile of money. Or rather, his father took the opportunity to revisit the idea. His mother, a lady who found it inconvenient to ruffle anybody's feathers, least of all her earl's, just occasionally murmured, "You see how it is, goodness, the way of the world…"

As they finally, blessedly, slowed and came to a stop on King Street, his father said, "I've done my due diligence regarding what we're looking for—I know the dowries of every unmarried lady in Town. Wilburn has been remarkably helpful in it, though God only knows how he manages to know so much. Keep your eye out for Lady Juniper Croydon. There's also a Miss Semper floating round the Town, though I doubt she's got the credentials to turn up here."

"I suppose this is what my grandfather told you as a single gentleman going into Almack's? And then you met Mama?"

This, as Matthew had supposed it would, did fluster the old man. "What? Oh, well…you see…it had not been necessary as I was quite struck by your mother."

The countess nodded congenially. "It was only an extra blessing that I brought seven thousand, my dear."

Extra blessing indeed.

He supposed he could give his parents credit for muddling on together, though he did not think for a moment that his father had been struck. His father had done what was being asked of him now—find and wed a pile of pounds.

Matthew wanted more, though. Somehow, he must have more time to find the right lady. Somehow, his grandfather had managed it and he would too. His grandfather often told the story of walking into a house party in Yorkshire, setting eyes on his grandmother, and that was it. When Matthew had come for his first season, he'd gone to places like Almack's hoping for just the same. It had not happened, though, and he'd given it up.

Though he'd not been to Almack's in years, he would not have known that by any changes made to the place. It was as staid as ever.

They entered the ballroom and that was not changed either. It was still filled with the same people, or at least, the same attitudes even if some of the faces were new.

There was some strange effect Almack's had on people. It was as if the tightfistedness the patronesses kept over the vouchers made people feel as if they had climbed to a mountaintop and must be very careful not to slide back down again.

Never were so many grave people gathered for a ball.

Matthew surveyed the crowd, noting his acquaintances. Then his gaze stopped its travels.

Amidst the pastel spring flowers of silk and satin stood an elegant lady who had no need of announcing herself with a bright color. She was tall and exuded grace. Her hair was the color of strong coffee, her complexion spoke of sunshine. Her features were somehow delicate and determined at the same time.

He had a weakness for brunettes, especially that shade.

She wore a simple cream color with no bits and bobs and ruffles. She really wore it too. It was thoughtful and yet unstudied.

Sometimes, Matthew viewed the torturous confections of dresses on young ladies as a thing separate from themselves. They'd been wrestled into the thing, but the thing did not reflect them at all. It was as if they'd been swirled in icing to distract the eye from whatever was underneath. This simple and elegant dress was not one of those.

Matthew guessed she was no simpering and delicate flower who had been raised in the hothouse of a reserved and stifling drawing room. If his eyes did not tell him tales, she was a lady of some energy who preferred being atop a horse to closeted inside a carriage.

"Who is she?" he asked, hardly realizing he'd said it out loud. Nor did he know why he wondered. The lady stood with Lord DeWitton, who was a member of his club.

How had DeWitton not mentioned he had such a daughter waiting in the wings?

A sudden tap on his shoulder brought him to his senses. Lady Jersey had just hit him with her fan. "If you mean the brown-haired lady, that is Lady Constance Condower, daughter of the Earl of DeWitton. I give you leave for her card, if you like it." Lady Jersey paused and then smacked him with her fan once more. "Good to see you here again, Lord Bramley. Finally."

Lady Jersey sailed off to wield her fan elsewhere. His father said, "Forget it. I already know DeWitton has only funded her with three thousand."

Matthew did not answer but strode in the direction of the very interesting Lady Constance Condower.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Constance found herself very thankful for Madame LaFray's diligent efforts in dressing her. When she'd arrived to King Street, she had the sudden feeling of needing some propping up. If she were not the prettiest lady at the ball, and she already knew she would not be, then she could at least be confident in her dress.

It had been an odd experience being introduced to a series of patronesses. Then odder still to discover that if a gentleman wished to put his name down on her card it must be sanctioned by those ladies first.

It seemed the sort of thing Lady Jane might have mentioned to her, rather than going on and on about the patronesses being dragons. They had not been dragons at all. Matrons who took themselves very seriously, yes. But not dragons.

Goodness, they had plenty of those sorts of matrons at home. All one need do is pay the proper respect, as that was all such women looked for. So she did, and was promptly named charming. Easiest thing in the world.

The far more nerve-wracking idea was her card. What if it remained blank, empty, unwritten upon? It would be noticed by everyone of any import in society. Her parents would be deeply embarrassed. What would they do about it? Take her home and hide her away for another year?

Constance knew very well that she was allowing her thoughts to run away with her.

Gracious, it felt as if she were for sale atop an apple cart. And she could not fool herself that she was the shiniest apple either. There was nothing about her that anybody ever picked out and commented upon. She was not known for her lovely hair or lovely eyes or lovely complexion. Her mother assured her that she was pretty, but there was nothing in particular to point to. As for Constance's own assessment when looking in the glass, she generally came up with ‘could be worse.'

In a place like this, surrounded by all these glittering ladies, could be worse was not exactly sufficient.

Thankfully, a series of gentlemen did take this or that set. One of them even claimed he would take her into supper if he were not otherwise engaged for it.

Such had been her fright of shaming her family that she hardly noticed who these gentlemen were, nor knew if she would recognize them when they returned for her.

Constance was just grateful to them, whoever they were. She could not even tell from her card—most of them were just scribbles.

"Lady Constance?"

Constance turned to find a magnificent man standing in front of her. He was tall and broad shouldered and had dusky hair—the sort that would change its shade with the seasons, matching the constancy of the sun. He had dark blue eyes and the most perfect lips.

What on earth did he want with her?

"Ah, Bramley, how do?" her father said.

"Lord DeWitton," the marvelous man named Lord Bramley said. "Lady DeWitton."

Her mother nodded and smiled her acknowledgement.

"May I, Lady Constance?" Lord Bramley said.

"Goodness, yes," Constance said. She did not know why she'd said it. A simple yes would have been sufficient. Who went round saying "Goodness, yes."

She peered to see what he was doing, attempting to will the pencil in his hand toward the slot before supper, and also willing it away as it would be too nerve-wracking.

He did pencil in for supper. She squinted to be sure. Yes, he'd put his name down for supper. They would have extended conversation. Was that good or bad?

What would they talk about? She dearly hoped he had some ideas, as just now her mind was an alarming blank.

He handed her card back and bowed. "Until then, Lady Constance."

Lord Bramley turned and walked off. Yes. Until then. She must get her mind working by then.

Gracious, her mother said Jane could be a bit of a ninny sometimes. Constance had never felt such a ninny in all her life.

"I do like Lord Bramley," her mother said.

"Yes, fine fellow, he's a member of my club," her father said.

Constance did not know if being a member of her father's club at all recommended him. However, she would agree that he was a very fine fellow. Very fine indeed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mr. Frederick P. Ludwig, eldest son of Baron Finster, dusted off the last of his journey as his carriage barreled into Mayfair. The ship back to England had been as harrowing as it always was. If one were not worried about pirates, there were always the interesting imaginings of sinking in a storm. If that did not occupy a person well enough, there was seasickness to keep one from falling into the doldrums.

The weather had been diabolical, and his stomach had railed against it. However, it had not been a total loss. Sometimes, one came upon information one did not even know they looked for.

Attempting to distract himself with strolls on deck, he'd become chummy with the captain. Then, that genial fellow had told him a story. It was not a story a person could do much with unless that person knew some other facts beforehand.

It seemed that on the ship's last sea voyage from New York, the body of a Mr. Harold DeWitton Canbury had made the crossing. The captain claimed poor Mr. Canbury had not one relation in America. Now, he was being returned to distraught relations in Surrey to be buried in the family graveyard.

That had caught his interest and set him to thinking. Having been in New York on several occasions on business, he of course knew of Mr. Canbury. The fellow was an old recluse worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand pounds.

He also knew that Mr. Canbury had no wife or son. It would seem to him that any distraught relations bothering to ship his remains back to England must be the distraught inheritors of that fellow's fortune.

He'd pressed the captain to look into the ship's manifest for that voyage and give over the names of these distraught relations, under the guise of wishing to send his condolences.

DeWitton. The Countess of DeWitton was the distraught relation who would bury Mr. Canbury's remains in her graveyard.

He did not know the family, but he had high hopes that there was a daughter lurking about. There usually was a daughter hanging about as an inconvenience to everybody. A desperate spinster who would not question him too closely or have any other offers would be ideal.

If luck was on his side, he'd come out of it with a cracking dowry in hand.

In any case, it was something to talk about when he got home. His business in New York had gone nowhere and his father would not be enthusiastic to hear it.

They'd been counting on a windfall coming from that direction but it was not to be. His would-be investors had been a little too canny for it.

Somehow, they needed a windfall from somewhere, else the estate would need to be mortgaged. Everybody knew what a sinking ship that would be.

It was one thing to fear drowning in the ocean, but drowning in society was a deal more terrifying. What was he supposed to do if that happened? Get a job? They did not even have the funds for a commission in the army. They hadn't paid the rent for the house in Town. They'd lose the estate eventually, as who ever got out from under a mortgage? They would be titled and homeless nobodies.

He would not let that happen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Finally, Matthew's evening would take a turn for the better.

After engaging with Lady Constance, he'd dodged his father for a few minutes, but he could not dodge him forever within the confines of the ballroom. The old man found him and fairly dragged him to a lady's side.

"Lady Juniper Croydon, this is my son, Lord Bramley."

"Lord Bramley," the lady said, looking down her thin nose.

Matthew bowed. This was one of the ladies his father had already decided as being ideal regarding their pounds and pence. Now that he'd been thrown in front of the lady, it would be rude and insulting to forgo asking for her card.

He did as he was expected to do. He asked to be put down, though he did not wish to. Nor did he think Lady Juniper had much interest in it.

The lady's features seemed perennially pinched and she did not seem eager to make his acquaintance.

"Viscount, I presume," the lady said, handing over her card with reluctance.

"My eldest son, Lady Juniper," Matthew's father said. "The next earl."

Lady Juniper did not seem impressed by that revelation, nor was Matthew impressed by Lady Juniper. She was only an earl's daughter, not the Queen of England. She had the looks of an irritated spinster and the manner of a displeased despot.

If this is what his father saw in his future, his father was much mistaken.

He was forced to take the first, as that was all that was open. Who were these other fellows who'd put their names down? They could not have done so willingly.

Matthew supposed they all had fathers who had noted Lady Juniper's primary charm—the fifteen thousand she came with.

Lady Juniper took her card back, delivered the barest of curtsies, and wandered off.

Matthew turned to his father. "You cannot be serious."

"What do you mean?" the earl asked. He might pretend he did not know what his son meant, but he'd gone rather red in the face.

"Father," Matthew said.

"Now see here, I'll admit she might not be a shining star in the looks department, but she's got other qualities."

"A dowry is not a quality. Furthermore, she is not a shining star in the charm department either."

"Well, you know how these things are," the earl said. "She's got on her high horse over being well funded. That's all. Use your own charm to draw out hers."

Matthew's mother joined them and said, "Who was that lady? She is rather frowny."

"Lady Juniper," the earl said, his complexion getting even more red.

"Oh dear," the countess murmured.

"Oh dear is right," Matthew said.

The next hours were tedious, though nothing could have been as tedious as his first dance with Lady Juniper. The lady had not improved on further acquaintance. Rather, she'd got even worse. She'd informed him that she believed in forthrightness in all things and it was something she lived by.

Matthew had, at the time, wished he could say the same. However, if he were to go about saying things forthrightly, he'd have been forced to forthrightly explain that he found her tedious.

As he did not say that, or anything for that matter, Lady Juniper was so good as to allow him a further peek into her own thoughts.

She unfortunately had a lot of thoughts. First, she knew her worth. Matthew did not bother to explain that everybody else knew it too—her dowry had been well-advertised.

Second, she was prepared to take on the running of a household and had firm ideas of how it ought to be done.

Frankly, by her description of how she would go forward, all Matthew could think of was how terrified his mother would be of the lady. He almost laughed at the picture in his mind of his mother creeping from room to room, peering round corners on the lookout for Lady Juniper.

Third, she had set ideas on the raising of children and marital relations in general. Any relations would be for the purpose of producing children and must be scheduled in advance, lest the lady be taken by surprise.

Lady Juniper did not like surprises. Matthew had not the least interest in surprising her.

As for children, she would hire nursemaids and a governess who knew what they were about—no coddling! The coddling that was currently the fashion would end being the death of England. Her children would be stalwart and regulated.

Somehow, from there, she touched on her opinions regarding food—she was not fond of sauces, as they seemed a deal too French.

Matthew supposed Lady Juniper had long lists of other grim ideas, but the dance blessedly ended before he could hear what they were.

The other ladies he'd danced with were pleasant enough. In truth, he likely found them more pleasant than they actually were after experiencing the unique delights of Lady Juniper.

But finally, it was time to lead Lady Constance. She was the only woman in the room who'd caught his eye. She was the only woman who had caught his eye in years. Or ever, really. As well, he quite liked that when he'd asked for a dance, she'd said, "Gracious, yes." It seemed…enthusiastic.

He was rather enthusiastic too.