Chapter 3

"You didn't like any of the young ladies you've met so far?" Maude Sheffield wondered aloud, as she sat in the study of William's London abode, a place he had not visited in two years.

"No, not really, Lady Sheffield," he said as politely as he could.

After all, Lady Sheffield was a close friend of his aunt's, and the last thing he wanted was to offend her in any manner or undermine her efforts at helping him find a suitable bride.

She looked puzzled beyond belief. "I really thought Lady Wilhelmina Turlington would catch your fancy."

She did, only not in a way that William would have liked her to. Lady Wilhelmina was pretentious. She seemed more interested in whether she would be able to stay in London and attend balls as a married woman, than in her potential role as a mother to a ten-year-old girl. No, she would have been an absolutely disastrous choice.

"She is a… fine young lady," he tried his best to remain courteous, although there were several other epithets he wanted to use whilst describing the aforementioned lady. "I just did not feel us… a match." That statement made no sense, but William didn't care, as long as he gave a reason—even a farfetched one—as to why he disliked her, without resorting to the truth.

"What about Lady Anabel Finnegan?" Lady Sheffield urged, refusing to admit defeat.

William cleared his throat, as he tried to find a way to describe someone who was simply devoid of much intellect. There was nothing wrong with Lady Anabel per se, only she seemed not to have a single thought of her own.

William felt as if she were merely a puppet, repeating someone else's words, her father's, mother's, brother's, and now she needed a new puppet master. William had no interest in being such a figure in someone's life. He needed to diminish his burden, not to add to it.

"Another fine young lady," he said simply. "I was just hoping to find someone more… ambitious."

"Ambitious, you say?" Lady Sheffield's eyes widened at the word. "If that is what you are looking for in a bride, I have the right candidate for you. Miss Nora DeVere. She is considered highly intelligent by those who know her. However, that also makes her less… malleable, if you know what I mean."

"You mean, less obedient," he actually smiled.

Obedience was not something he was looking for in a wife. Not even a sharp intellect was a must. It would be a nice addition to a pretty face, but that was not what he was most concerned with. All he wanted was a kind soul, someone who would understand what Georgiana was going through and who would know how to help her, someone who possessed motherly qualities. So far, none of the ladies he had met were in possession of that.

She smiled back. "Obedience is a fine character trait of a future wife."

"I suppose so," he said, not wanting to get into a debate. "So, may we go and meet Miss DeVere?"

"Her uncle has cordially invited us to come tomorrow morning," Lady Sheffield explained. "Only, I'm afraid that I am busy tomorrow morning, so you would need to go on your own, if you don't mind."

"That is fine," he agreed.

Let's just get this over with, he thought to himself. He had been in London for a week already, meeting two to three ladies on a daily basis, and that was only fueling the rumors around him. He was still unable to find a suitable mother for Georgiana, and he was losing hope with each passing day. At one point, he had almost given up. Then, he reminded himself that the decision to find a new wife was not an impulsive one.

His aunt had been suggesting it for about a year already, but lately, it had come to his attention that Georgiana was struggling. The few times that she had to interact with other children, she started to withdraw too much into herself, shying away from company, which she relished before.

William finally understood that by remaining a widower, he was destroying his daughter's future. Georgiana needed a mother. And not only that, but she also needed a role model, someone who would help her join society when the time came, and she only had a few precious years left until her debut. All that assured him that he could not go back home without a wife.

He arranged all the details with Lady Sheffield, then saw her out. The rest of the day was spent in fruitless business endeavors, as he could barely focus on anything. Then, the following morning, he found himself in the carriage, headed toward the DeVere residence.

He arrived there with a sense of dread, which had preceded his other introductions as well. His mind was preoccupied with the conflicting feelings of duty and his sheer resistance toward what needed to be done. Georgiana needed a mother, but the thought of marrying a woman he had no interest in filled him with unease.

He arrived shortly, knocking on the door and being led in by the waiting servant, to whom William had handed his hat and coat. For some reason, he couldn't help but think of Lady Sheffield. She had been accompanying him to these social engagements, and only in her absence did he realize that she served as a comforting shield against the matchmaking attempts of London's elite. But today, he was alone, invited by Lord DeVere himself.

Giles DeVere greeted him in the grand foyer, his expression a mix of forced politeness and impatience. William immediately felt a prickling dislike for the man, an instinctive reaction he couldn't quite explain.

"Lord Bannon, it is an honor to have you grace our home," Lord DeVere said, his voice overly theatrical, as if he were trying to hide something. In addition to that, the man seemed nervous and ill at ease.

"Lord DeVere," William replied, giving a stiff nod. "Thank you for the invitation." He looked around, hoping to see a lady in attendance, but the viscount was alone.

"Have you been in London long?" the man asked.

"A week," William replied, confused as to why his niece was not with them.

"From what I understand, you have not been here for quite a while," The viscount pressed on, urging William to take a seat on the chaise lounge, while he himself got comfortable in the armchair opposite him.

"Yes," William said simply.

He was waiting for some clarification as to why they were only the two of them there, but instead of an explanation, The viscount kept coming up with new questions regarding the weather and other irrelevant things. The dark, oppressive atmosphere of the house did nothing to improve William's mood. It was stifling, with heavy drapes blocking out the sunlight and dark wallpaper creating a somber ambiance.

William answered all the questions politely albeit curtly. Then, Lord DeVere seemed to remember something, and William hoped that finally the much-needed clarification was to come. Only, it did not. "My Lord, may I offer you a drink?" The viscount inquired.

William inhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Thank you, but I must refuse. Lord DeVere, I was under the impression that your niece would be with you. However, I see now that I was mistaken." Upon those words, William got up, signaling that unless the lady appeared within seconds, he would be leaving.

"My Lord, I'm afraid that my niece Nora is making herself appear to be rather unreliable," Lord DeVere's tone of voice was dripping with disdain. "She doesn't usually have a tendency to disappear at the most inconvenient times."

William raised an eyebrow, already disliking the man even more. He actually didn't like either of the two. The man had an air about him that William didn't like, and the fact that the young lady in question simply decided not to appear when the visit was scheduled spoke more about her character than any words ever could.

"That sounds unfortunate," he replied coolly, not wishing to dwell more deeply into a matter than was, at least for him, already finished. His niece was obviously not someone William could entrust Georgina's upbringing to, so there was no point in him staying there any longer.

"Perhaps we could reschedule, My Lord?" Lord DeVere asked, as William was already heading toward the door.

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," William replied confidently, without any intention of justifying himself. "I have no time to give any lady a second chance."

"She is a headstrong girl," Lord DeVere tried to explain, but William would not have it.

"There is nothing wrong with a headstrong girl, Lord DeVere. However, it is a matter of upholding one's word. It was stated that your niece was to be here, so we could meet. She is not here. That says a lot about her character. Thank you for your time." He offered the man his hand. The viscount looked in utter shock, then shook William's hand firmly. "I will find my own way out. Good day."

William closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh. As he walked down the dimly lit corridor, he had to admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed. Judging from Lady Sheffield's words, he was actually hoping that his search would come to an end right there.

He was eager to leave this oppressive home, but just as he reached the front entrance, a small commotion caught his attention. In the hallway, a young servant child, likely no older than ten, had dropped a basket of freshly laundered clothes. The little girl's face crumpled in distress, her eyes welling with tears as she stared at the scattered garments that now lay strewn over the freshly polished floor.

"Now, now, there is no need to cry," a gentle voice was heard from another direction.

William remained partially hidden from plain sight, curiously watching the sight that unraveled before him. William turned and saw a young woman kneeling beside the child, her hands deftly gathering the fallen clothes. Her presence was a stark contrast to the gloom of the house; she seemed to bring a lightness with her, a kindness that immediately drew his attention.

"There, it's all right," she said softly, her smile warm and reassuring. "Everyone makes mistakes. Let's pick these up together, shall we?"

The girl nodded, sniffling, and together, they carefully gathered all the clothes back into the basket. From what Lady Sheffield had told him about Nora DeVere, that had to be her. The young woman was truly stunning. Her wheat-colored hair was tied up in a loose bun at the nape of her delicate neck, but her lips were the most expressive part of her face. Luscious and full, when she smiled, they revealed a row of pearly whites that seemed to illuminate the entire room.

When their work was all done, the little girl got up and smiled at Miss DeVere. "Thank you, Nora."

Miss DeVere patted her head gently. "You are most welcome, Helen. But you did most of the work yourself."

Those words made little Helen beam with pride, and William could immediately see what Miss DeVere had done there. Her kindness managed to outshine her rudeness at refusing to meet him in her uncle's study. As the child scampered off with the basket, Miss DeVere stood and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

That was when she noticed William standing in the shadows. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. William saw not just a pretty face, but a soul full of compassion and kindness, traits he had not expected to find in the niece of Giles DeVere.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. She obviously wasn't expecting to find him there. Perhaps she hoped that he had already left. She gave him a nod, before turning to leave.

A moment ago, William was determined to leave. But now, he was rooted to the spot, his mind racing. Without a second thought, he turned and headed back to The viscount's study, hoping to find him still there. He knocked on the door, and was granted access.

"My Lord," Lord DeVere said, seated at his writing table and sipping a drink. "I thought you were leaving."

"I was," William acknowledged with a steady voice. "But I've reconsidered."

"You have?" The viscount was obviously taken aback by this new and unexpected turn of events.

"Yes," William nodded.

"And what, may I ask, has brought about this change of heart?" the man seemed curious.

"I shall keep that to myself, if you don't mind," William replied. "All you need to know is that I am willing to consider a match with your niece."

A slow smile spread across Lord DeVere's face, though it did little to warm his eyes. "Very well, Lord Bannon. I will make the arrangements."

"Do so," William said. "I will remain in London for the duration of these arrangements."

At that moment, the door opened, and Miss DeVere was standing in the doorway, looking incredulous at both men.