Page 39 of Anything But a Duke
“We’re going to Regent’s Park, not Hyde Park.” Apparently he’d been too busy complaining about the early hour to listen when she’d given directions to the cabbie.
“Where’s the fun in that? I won’t know a single soul in Regent’s Park.”
“You’ll know me and Lady Sophie.” Diana cleared her throat and added quickly, “And Mr. Iverson.”
Dom squinted at her for a long silent moment before leaning forward on his bench. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I think Sophie and Mr. Iverson might suit.”
Her brother tipped his head one way, then the other, a bit like their cat when a dapple of sunlight flickered across the carpet.
“Suit? Each other?” He drew out each word slowly, as if he doubted the meaning of every syllable.
Diana nodded and pulled out the notes she’d begun making as soon as she’d gotten out of bed. What she knew about Mr. Iverson one side, what she knew about Sophie on the other, and any areas that might intersect. They were woefully few.
Dom’s large gloved hand gripped the edge of her foolscap and he yanked it out of her grasp.
“Hey!”
“You’re playing matchmaker with the man who’s funding your device?”
“I am engineering an introduction.” Diana snatched her notes back. “Sophie wishes to marry. Mr. Iverson is seeking a bride. Introducing them is logical.”
Her brother crossed his arms and glared at her. “People aren’t like your inventions, Di. You can’t fix them together with a bit of wire and glue.”
“I don’t plan to fix anyone.” She bit down hard to keep from telling him everything. He didn’t need to know yet. Perhaps not ever.
Luckily, the carriage stopped before he could ask anything more.
“Here we are,” she said brightly.
Her brother glowered almost as fiercely as she grinned.
“This is ridiculous,” Dom mumbled before exiting the carriage and offering a hand to help her down. “Matchmaking is a terrible business. If it goes pear-shaped, they’ll blame you. And any man who sets his heart on Sophie Bales is bound to be disappointed.”
“I disagree. Sophie is a charming young lady. Let’s hope it goes well, shall we?”
She’d long wondered about Dom’s feelings about Sophie. They’d developed an instant antagonism the first time they’d met and bickered during every encounter thereafter. But it was odd that he’d never reacted as vehemently to any of her other friends.
They entered the park on the south end and Dom immediately gestured vaguely toward a young lady dressed in yellow at the far side of the promenade.
Diana lifted a hand to shade her eyes, squinting to be sure it was Sophie.
“You’re right,” she told him. “It’s definitely her.”
“The hair is unmistakable. A strange color. Not a simple cornflower blond, more like a polished guinea coin.”
Diana stared at her brother until he met her gaze. He only spared her a glance before weaving his way toward a line of oaks with benches underneath.
“I’ll be over there, trying not to singe under that fiery orb in the sky.”
“We call that the sun, Dominick.”
“Call it what you like. It’s relentless and I’m more suited to London’s gloom. I need darkness to thrive.”
What he needed was a desire to do anything other than gamble and carouse and drink himself into a nightly stupor. But he’d admonished her against trying to fix others, and he was the most resistant to aid of anyone she’d ever known.
After he settled onto a bench, Diana started off toward Sophie, looking down once more at her notes. What did Mr. Iverson like besides making money and investing in order to make more? She’d listed engineering, science, and the opera, since he’d encountered an earl’s daughter there often enough to make the gossip rags take notice.
