Page 26 of Anything But a Duke
“Might be useful.” His Mayfair town house had been decorated in pale cream and dove gray before he took up residence. He quite liked the notion of someone bringing a bit of color to the walls.
“Any particular tongue you wish the young lady to be proficient in?”
“I do prefer an educated bride.” He suspected most noblewomen possessed some education. A clever lady sounded appealing. “Languages, history, literature—whatever takes her fancy.”
“Noted. Now, answer me this, Mr. Iverson. What one essential quality do you require in a young lady you’d consider marrying?”
Bluntly, he wanted a woman with unassailable connections. He didn’t truly care whether his lady bride spoke ten languages as long as she could trace her family back for ten generations.
“Entry into polite society is what I’m after, Mrs. Trellaway. I require a wellborn bride.”
The older woman narrowed dark eyes behind her gold-rimmed spectacles. “How high do you aim, sir?”
“A duke’s daughter will do.”
“There aren’t many of those, Mr. Iverson.”
“I only require one, Mrs. Trellaway.” For a moment, Aidan thought she might refuse him or bolt from his office. The matchmaker shifted as if to rise. But instead of departing, she slipped a rectangle of newsprint from her folio and slid it onto his desk.
A woman’s crosshatched image stared back at him. Pinched brow, cold eyes, a thin, unsmiling mouth.
“Lady Elnora is the Duke of Redmond’s only unmarried daughter. She speaks French and German, paints, plays the pianoforte—”
“She’s not what I had in mind.”
“Interested in a pretty face, I take it.” Mrs. Trellaway’s smile told Aidan his preference was not unexpected.
She shifted more documents and then selected two to lay out before him. One was a small watercolor, its bright hues a marked contrast to the daguerreotype beside it. The photograph bore the image of a curvaceous woman of middle age with dark eyes and fair hair. The other lady was waifish and so pale that her eyes, hair, and brows all seemed the same snowy shade.
“Lady Bridget is the daughter of the Duke of Ainswyck,” she said of the shapely woman. “And Lady Sarah is the only child of the Marquess of Cleland, who will soon inherit his father’s dukedom.”
“Tell me about Lady Bridget.”
The older woman grinned proudly. “Thought you’d like the looks of her. Word is she’s a bit of a challenge.”
“I’m not daunted by a challenge.”
“She’s a broken-hearted lass. Apparently, some Frenchman was set to marry her and broke the engagement.”
“When?”
Mrs. Trellaway shrugged. “Quite recently. Dukes’ daughters don’t remain on the marriage mart long.”
“Then time is of the essence. How do we arrange an introduction?”
“In most circumstances, it’s advantageous if we use your own connections to initiate an introduction.” She glanced down again at her notes. “You count the Duke of Tremayne and the Marquess of Huntley as friends?”
“I do.” The two men were the only true friends he had. Keeping secrets meant keeping personal ties to a minimum.
The matchmaker stared at him, gaze narrowed. Aidan realized Mrs. Trellaway was assessing him and he wasn’t coming up to snuff.
“Any other titled acquaintances, Mr. Iverson?”
“Are a duke and a marquess not sufficient?”
She reached up to adjust the brooch at the neck of her gown and swallowed hard. “May I speak frankly?”
“I prefer that you do.”
