Page 6 of An Arranged Betrothal with an Icy Duke
“Now, there is a soiree this evening that I think you should attend,” his mother continued, making her way to the door, her voice a good deal lighter now that the difficult part of the conversation was at an end. “Though if you do not wish to do so, then I will inform those present – well, those who aresuitable,of course, about your current desire to find a bride. You will soon have many interested parties, I am sure.” With a smile and a wave, she quit the room, leaving Henry alone to face the quietness of the room once more.
His heart was beating a little too quickly for his liking and he closed his eyes, taking in a few, long breaths so as to steady himself. He had not wanted to come back to London. He had not wanted to set foot in this place again and yet, he had forced himself to do so. Responsibility told him that he had no other choice and thus – much to his mother’s delight – he had made the arrangements. She had thought that he would be throwing himself back into society, that he would be attending soirees, dancing with as many young ladies as he could every evening and doing just as much as he could to make an impression upon theton. Instead, he had stayed in his townhouse and chosen tostep out only in the evenings, to go to Whites where he sat in almost the very same solitude as he sat in now.
Somehow, he had to find a bride and he had to do it without making his presence obvious to theton.
Scowling, Henry sat up straight and, after a moment, picked up his quill and inkwell. Setting out a fresh piece of paper, he paused for another moment and then began to write. Yes, his mother said she would be of aid to him but Henry had every intention of doing things the way he wanted also. After a few moments, his quill began to scratch across the paper as he wrote out a few sentences, and, setting his quill back down again, considered what he had written. A grim smile settled on his face as he folded it up carefully. A wax seal contained his words carefully and, getting up to ring the bell, Henry prepared himself inwardly for what was to come.
“Take this to The Morning Chronicle,” Henry instructed his butler, who took it without a word. Watching the man depart, Henry let out a small breath of relief and walking across the room, poured himself a small brandy. What was to follow, he did not know, but he hoped that it would soon bring him the response that he hoped for.
***
“The Morning Chronicle?”
Henry lifted an eyebrow as his mother dropped the newspaper down in front of his nose. “Good morning, Mother,” he said, mildly. “Is there something the matter?”
“I cannot believe that this was written by someone else,” she stated, her hands going to her hips as her eyes flashed. “Society are, on the whole, unaware of your presence here in London and certainly no gentleman in Whites would have written something like this!”
Henry shrugged. “It seemed to me the best thing to do. It means that I do not have to worry about stepping out into society.”
“But I said thatIwould be of aid to you!” his mother exclaimed. “That is what I did! I was at the soiree last evening and spoke to a great many others and – ”
“And that is good and it will confirm all that I have said in the Morning Chronicle,” Henry interrupted. “I think that I have done rather well, all things considered.” He waited for a few moments before picking up his fork and continuing to eat his breakfast. After speaking with his mother the day before, he had decided to write a short note to The Morning Chronicle, knowing that it would be published in the gossip column. He had not been disappointed.
“You were certainly not at all subtle!” Picking up the newspaper again, his mother opened it up to the correct page, and then cleared her throat. “‘It is said that the Duke of Fairglen has returned to London some three years since he was last present. Rumour has it that he is seeking a new bride and this author believes that any interested parties ought to speak to the Duke himself directly.’” She arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes flashing with obvious annoyance. “Why would you do such a thing as that?”
“Because, as I already told you, I intend to make certain that I find myself a bride. And before you ask, yes I am well aware that you have offered your assistance and while I am grateful for it in whatever form that may take, I will also continue to do things in my own way.” He gestured to the newspaper. “Thatis my own way.”
His mother let out a huff of breath and shook her head, clearly still displeased.
“Now, are you to sit and break your fast with me or are you going to stand there in displeasure and continue to rail at me forsomething that cannot be changed?” Henry smiled to himself as his mother eventually chose to take a seat, though he ducked his head so that she would not see it.
“You expect to have many callers this afternoon then, I suppose?” she asked, reaching to pour herself a cup of tea. “You know that you will be assaulted by mothers and daughters, gentlemen and their sisters, do you not?”
Henry shook his head. “No, I will not be assaulted. I intend to inform the butler to tell all the callers that I am out of the house at the present moment and will not be back for some time. Thereafter, he will take their calling cards and I will go through each and every one to determine whether they are suitable or not.”
His mother lifted an eyebrow. “And you will only take those of high standing, I presume?”
Henry ignored this question, all too aware of his mother’s determination to continually bring this matter to mind.
“Well, I shall look through the business cards with you and assist you in choosing who should be permitted to come to call,” she said briskly, though Henry silently determined that this was not the sort of thing which he would permit to happen. “I do hope you will take a good deal more care this time, Fairglen.”
Growing weary of his mother’s remarks, Henry got to his feet and made his way to the door. “I am sure I shall, Mother,” he said, opening the door. “All we can do now is wait and see.”
Chapter Three
“Did you hear the news?”
Edith blinked as her sister came hurrying into the drawing room, reaching out one hand to grasp Edith’s own. “News?”
“About the Duke!”
Instantly, all of Edith’s surprise faded. “If there is some rumour about him or some such thing, then I have very little interest in it, Amelia.”
“It is not a rumour! I mean, I suppose it may be but everyone in town is abuzz with the news!”
Edith, who had done nothing other than hide herself away in the music room and play her violin that afternoon rather than make her way to town with her sister and mother, let out a small sigh and released her sister’s hand. “My dear Amelia, that means that it certainly is nothing but rumour! I do not think for a single moment that there can be any truth to whatever you are to say.”
“But you will permit me to tell you anyway?” Such was the enthusiasm in Amelia’s voice that despite her own preferences to remain silent, Edith spread out her hands and laughed.
