Page 9 of The Pleasures of Passion
“For war and the colonies. But Fulkham isn’t the sort to gossip. And why wouldhebe at this dinner?”
“How should I know? But he accepted the invitation.”
“There wereinvitations?” Niall had thought this was just an intimate family dinner. “Who else was invited?”
“Well, Lord Fulkham’s sister-in-law, Mrs. Vyse, for one.” She cast him a knowing glance. “A very pretty woman, you know. And quite an eligible widow.”
He groaned.Thatwas Mother Code forWhen are you getting married?He hadn’t considered the possibility that Clarissa and Mother might use this dinner for matchmaking.
“Though sadly,” Mother continued, “she’s not rich. The widow yououghtto consider is Mrs. Trevor—her aunt has provided her with a nice dowry, and frankly, you could use the funds for Margrave Manor.”
Niall grimaced. God, wassheinvited to this deuced dinner?
“I haven’t met her yet,” his mother rambled on, “so I don’t know if Mrs. Trevor is pretty enough for you—or young enough, for that matter. But—”
“Stop it, Mother. I don’t want any more nonsense about how I require a wife. I need time to settle in. Besides, I prefer to pick my own, not have one shoved at me by you or Clarissa. Not even a rich widow.”
“I’m only saying—”
“Iknowwhat you’re saying.I’msaying to leave it be. If I need your help with finding my countess, I’ll let you know.” And that wasnevergoing to happen. Mother would choose him a wife based on rank alone, which was the last thing he wanted.
She sniffed. “Good heavens, but you’re prickly these days.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “So, Fulkham and Mrs. Vyse will be there this evening. Anyone else I should know about? How many is Clarissa expecting?”
“Ten.”
“Ten!”
“Or perhaps fifteen.” She tapped her chin. “I’m not sure, actually. I confess I wasn’t paying much attention once she started rattling off names. Except for Fulkham and Mrs. Vyse, the others sounded dreadfully tedious. Sadly, it won’t be the usual fun people. The Keanes are at their new estate in Hertfordshire. And Warren and Delia are still on their honeymoon in Italy.”
He let out a breath. So none of Delia’s family would be there. Thank God. Surely that meant Bree wouldn’t be there, either.
Not that it mattered if she was. After the horrors he’d witnessed in Portugal during the ongoing bloody conflict between the British-backed liberals and the absolutists, he desired only one thing: peace. Not a two-faced female who wanted, as Father had said, “the advantages of being a countess.”
No, this time round he would find a woman who actually cared about him, who could help him put the images of his exile out of his mind. This time he wouldn’t fall into the trap Bree wove with her soft words and shy, entirely false smiles. Let the widowed Mrs. Trevor look elsewhere for a husband. He was out of the running.
Brilliana Trevor stood in the Blakeboroughs’ drawing room, listening with rapt attention as Lord Fulkham and Lord Blakeborough debated the merits of planting oats over barley. She wished she could take notes, but that just wasn’t done at a dinner party.
Clarissa frowned at her husband as she passed by. “Honestly, Edwin, can’t you talk about anything but estate matters? Poor Brilliana must be bored to tears.”
“No, indeed!” Brilliana said. “Now that I’m managing Camden Hall, I’m trying to learn everything I can about how to look after it.” Especially since she no longer had to worry about losing it to creditors.
“Very wise,” Lord Blakeborough said. “I wish more ladies would take an interest. Even Clarissa has a broader knowledge of such matters than the average wife.”
“Ah, but that’s because you include her in your estate affairs.” Bitterness edged into Brilliana’s voice. “Even when I tried to get my late husband to involve me, he wouldn’t. He always said not to worry my pretty head about it.”
“Itisa very pretty head, to be sure,” Lord Fulkham said.
She stared him down. “Sadly, the prettiness of my head isn’t much help when it comes to knowing what to plant or how to manage tenants. Sir.”
A faint smile tipped up the corners of his lips. “Touché, Mrs. Trevor.”
What an odd response. Other men were offended when she wasn’t flattered by their empty compliments.
Unsurprisingly, Clarissa said, “Lord Fulkham, I do hope you’re not one of those gentlemen who think women are only good as ornaments.”
“Certainly not. Though I do believe Mrs. Trevor would be better off hiring an estate manager than trying to acquire such extensive knowledge in a matter of weeks.”
