Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Oh, not this one, dear Henry," Lisbet muttered, plucking one of the letters out of the piles Henry had received in return for his correspondence.

She frowned as her eyes ran down the length of the page, her lips twisting in an expression of rarely seen disgust. "I cannot believe that a man of the ton would lie so easily as this," she sniffed, shaking the letter. "Surely Lord Brekkenbough ought to have learnt his lesson after that last scandal of his brother's!"

Henry looked up from the letter he had been reading, putting his cup of coffee down and raising his brows in an understated form of interest. Brekkenbough … the name rang a bell, though he'd be hard-pressed to say which face it would be attached to. "Is his daughter not eligible?" he enquired after a brief pause.

Simon snorted. "She's eligible," he answered with a laugh. "In fact–"

"Only in the very most literal sense," Lisbet argued, cutting her husband off with a glare. "She's of age and unattached, but her reputation, Henry, along with her recently broken-off betrothal with Lord Summerbee's boy, is enough to disqualify her entirely."

Simon grinned unapologetically, his lips twitching even further at Henry's long-suffering sigh.

There were so very few eligible ladies in the area, regardless. He knew he ought to whittle them down to someone at least suitable. It was just at the rate Lisbet was disqualifying even those who had written back with interest that he was starting to fear she had every intention of discrediting every one of them in an attempt to force his eye back on London and her acquaintances there.

"So put Miss Brekkenbough out of the running then," Henry decided with a shrug, returning to the letter he had been looking at before the interruption with a deep sense of resignation.

Maybe, if that really was Lisbet's intention, it would free him from having to go through any of it at all.

"Who's response are you reading now, old friend?" Simon asked as he poured himself another cup of coffee from the tray in front of him. "I hear that the Smith girl is recently widowed. I'm not sure how recently …"

"Miss Irene Haversham," Henry answered, ignoring the latter half of Simon's statement in favour of brevity. "Her father writes that her mother is eager to find her a match." And a great many other more wordy things besides.

Again, Lisbet made a disparaging noise.

And again, Henry raised his eyebrows and waited.

"I'm sure that she is," Lisbet finally huffed. "That girl has had more potential scandals than the crowned prince has shoes." She tsked at her husband when he started to chuckle, her eyes flashing. "Not to mention her dreadful patience with children. You know she screeched at Lucy once for touching the hem of her gown? Far be it from me to say who is and isn't disqualified from your lists, Henry, but you ought to at least know the whole of it."

Henry's lips twitched, his eyes connecting with a very faux-sombre-looking Simon's as he fought the urge to tell Lisbet that was exactly what she had been doing this whole time.

He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his tone even. "Given my goal in securing a wife, I think it is safe to say that she should be moved into the pile that is out of the running as well, Lisbet. Thank you for bringing that to my attention."

Lisbet nodded happily, quickly discarding that letter with a sniff as he handed it to her.

Henry could almost swear he heard her mutter good riddance as well but neither he nor Simon were brave enough to comment on that.

"Have we exhausted all of our efforts yet here?" Simon asked after a few moments of strained silence. He seemed to be the only one whose mood couldn't be dampened by the proceedings. "I'm telling you, I know of quite a few ladies we mightn't have considered eligible before, but who would be so now."

"Oh, the Smith girl is only two months widowed," Lisbet sighed, shooing her husband. "That's far too soon to entertain such a thing."

Widowed.

There was that word again. Even without the recency of her loss, Henry knew he would have had to say no. There was only room for one ghost to haunt this marriage and he knew he had already filled that quota.

"There's the Viscount of St Vincent," Henry interrupted the two, eager to move on from the conversation of widows and widowers. He'd only just opened his response but scanned it quickly as he spoke. "He writes that he has one daughter eligible for marriage. A Lady Josephine St Vincent. Unless, of course, you have something that makes her less eligible, dearest Lisbet?"

A part of him wanted her to say yes.

He could feel it, the gnawing feeling in the back of his throat as he looked over at Lisbet, waiting for her timely objection. The Lady Josephine would have had numerous affairs, or perhaps she was simply too cruel. Anything.

But Lisbet only turned her head to the side, seeming to think it over as a small smile touched the edges of her lips.

"Lady Josephine? Dear heart, isn't she the one always seen with the baker's daughter?"

Simon's brows drew together at his wife's question, his coffee cup resting against his lips for a moment before he finally nodded. "Oh, yes. Beautiful girl. Not very social, I'm afraid."

The last bit was clearly for Henry, but he was already pulling a fresh sheet of parchment and pen out to begin penning his response.

He could care less if the girl was social. Social meant having to attend more public appearances. Social meant hosting and carving time out. It was of the very least concern to him so long as she could conduct herself in public when she was required to be in it. And if the happy expression on Lisbet's face was anything to go by, he was willing to bet that she could.

"Are you writing to ask about that?" Simon joked, leaning back and grinning over at Henry.

Henry snorted. "I am writing," he informed him seriously, "to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage."

Dispassionately. Without all the pomp and circumstance he could remember from the previous time he had done such a thing. He simply stated that he thought that Lord St Vincent's daughter would make an excellent match and that he looked forward to discussing the terms of such a match.

It was a business arrangement. The sooner he got it done and sent it off, the sooner he could be done with it.

"You're not going to meet her first?" Lisbet demanded, sounding scandalized.

"Or even ask more about her beyond what two sentences you've heard?" Simon echoed, his laughter trailing off into what was starting to sound like genuine worry.

Henry shrugged.

"Lisbet smiled," he explained evenly. It was a good enough recommendation of character for him. Clearly, she thought the girl would make a good match. "Don't look at me like that. You've opposed every girl brought up who might be even somewhat eligible previous to her for one reason or another."

"Or six," Simon interjected cheekily.

"This is the first one that you have seemed pleased at the thought of. You know these girls better than I. You know their reputations. If hers was enough to elicit a smile, then I trust your judgement." And he looked forward to being done sorting through such things and hearing so much about people he cared so very little for. But he was smart enough not to utter that part out loud.

"It's just so sudden," Lisbet hedged, shooting a worried look at Simon.

Henry could see her imploring her husband with her eyes to intervene, but Simon took one look at Henry and wisely said nothing.

"I would like it if you would come dine with me the day after next, both of you. If it eases your mind at all, I have every intention of inviting her and her family to join us." Wherein he would meet the girl just like Lisbet was wanting. Granted, he knew she meant to meet her before he suggested the betrothal, but he wasn't about to touch that one either.

"Surely you could hold off–"

"Lisbet," Simon interrupted softly, smiling at his wife. "Let Henry handle this how he sees fit."

Lisbet frowned, looking between the two men with pinched lips. Only after a moment she nodded, sighing heavily as she waved her hand as if to give her permission.

Henry smiled, silent still. He wanted to be done with this. The talking and the arrangements. It would be easier once they moved past all the formalities and the wedding was done.

"Harbuttle!"

The old butler appeared from around the doorway before Henry had even finished calling his name, his sharp eyes taking in the trio as he entered. "You called?"

"Yes," Henry muttered, already sitting forward to finish penning and signing the letter to the viscount as he spoke. "I need you to ensure this gets sent out today if you can. And also, I need you to let Mrs Tarburry and the other servants know that I will be hosting a small dinner party in two days' time."

"A small dinner party?" Harbuttle echoed, his voice breaking over the last word in surprise. It was a break from character, the emotion in his voice and the very clear way that his bushy white brows rose so high on his forehead.

Henry nodded, waving the paper to ensure the ink was dry before folding it and finding an envelope.

"Is there an expected number of guests I should tell Mrs Tarburry that we are … uh, expecting?" Harbuttle asked, his voice still faintly ringing with shock.

Henry frowned, looking down at the envelope as he sealed it. The wax seeped from beneath his seal as he considered it. Had the viscount said that he still had any other children at home? He couldn't remember.

"Lord and Lady Fethmire here and possibly three others, maybe more." They would just have to wait for a return to the invitation he was sending out along with his correspondence to know for certain.

"Is there any menu I should advise Mrs Tarburry that you want?"

"Oh! That leek soup she makes is divine, Henry," Lisbet interjected, clapping excitedly.

Henry nodded to her, trying not to become irritated with the excess of planning he hadn't considered before. "Leek soup it is," he murmured. "I think we have enough lamb for her to make her lamb in mushroom sauce as well. And perhaps some asparagus and pickled figs."

Harbuttle listened attentively, clearly memorizing what he was told, and Henry was happy to have the matter settled.

"Those lemon cheesecakes of hers wouldn't be remiss." Simon coughed. He looked at Henry pointedly, his lips twitching at the glare he received in return.

"And lemon cheesecake," Henry sighed. "You can let her know that I'll have a more exact number for her shortly regarding guests."

Harbuttle half-bowed, straightening once more as he turned to the door. He paused at the last second, the clock in the hall chiming to announce the hour.

"Will Lord and Lady Fethmire be joining us for tea, My Lord?"

Henry started, not having realized how late in the day it had got among all their letter reading and discussion surrounding eligible ladies.

Judging by Lisbet's quick inhale, she hadn't either.

"Oh! No! We told Lucy that we would be back in time for tea. The children are putting on a show of sorts for us." She laughed. "I suppose it's too late for us to invite you to join us to see it."

"All the more lucky for it," Simon joked, brushing his hands down his thighs as he went to stand.

Henry offered them both a smile but refrained from commenting. Though the idea of those three putting on a show was amusing on the worst of days, he feared he had reached his capacity for socialization for the day. The tension he had thus far avoided given their subject matter was beginning to weigh on him, the idea of what was coming looming ever present in the back of his mind.

"I have to start getting things ready here," Henry lied smoothly, standing as well while Harbuttle disappeared silently with his instructions and letter.

"It has been quite some time since you've entertained," Lisbet teased him, gathering her shawl from the chair she had earlier been using to loop over her arms. "I imagine your household is going to go into a tizzy."

Henry snorted. He dearly hoped not.

"Write to us with the rest of the details when you have them settled." Simon took his wife's elbow, leading her from the room with a jovial grin despite his earlier ‘protestation' concerning his children's show. "I'm rather looking forward to seeing you try your hand at courting again."

Again, all Henry could do was snort. He had no intention of courting. That was the entire purpose of doing things the way he had decided to do. An arranged marriage removed all the necessity of such trivial matters.

"And write if you need any help planning," Lisbet added as Henry saw them to the door. "Really, any help at all."

"I will," Henry promised emptily.

They were just words to usher them out of his home. As much as he enjoyed their company, he knew full well that his limit had been reached. He didn't want to spend the rest of his day thinking about marriage and all the details that encompassed it.

Every thought of the ceremony made him think of brown eyes and that soft smile that still haunted him.

All he wanted was to see his friends from his door and find his way back to his study. There, he could find a book with some far-off land and a surplus of adventure in which he could lose himself.