Saffron paused her fork midway to her mouth. “You cannot be serious.”
Olivia kicked her friend’s shin. She was beginning to understand his ploy. He had soured her reputation, drivingall other mamas away, to force her to accept his daughter. He needn’t have bothered. She would not have rejected the daughter of a marquess, even if her schedule had been packed.
Lord Lowell’s strategy would have met with her former husband’s approval. The Earl of Allen had derived much enjoyment from manipulating and tormenting others.
She throttled back her temper. “You want me to find a husband for your daughter?”
His frown returned. “If that is acceptable. I understand your services are in high demand.”
Saffron made a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Olivia’s jaw ached. How dare he make light of her misfortune? He was well aware her services werenotin high demand, and it was his fault. First, he had accused her of murdering her late husband, then compounded the indignity by implying she was seeking another man to marry and repeat the crime.
“I can fit her into my schedule,” she said through clenched teeth. Then, to distract herself from committing an act that would wipe the ridiculous look of relief from his face, she turned her attention to his daughter. “Do you wish for a gentle introduction to society?”
Lady Constance shook her head, making the flowers tucked into her curls bounce. “I would prefer toleap in.” She plucked a strawberry from the top of a piece of cake on the bottom tier of the stand and popped it in her mouth.
“Constance,” Lord Lowell said in a long-suffering tone.
The girl picked up the strawberry-less cake and placed it on her plate. “Sorry.”
The interaction between them was both amusing and surprising.
Olivia was used to demanding mamas but had never met a father or guardian who had any interest in his daughter’s future husband beyond the usual contractual matters.
Proper title and breeding. Sufficient funds to support a wife. Ideally, property.
Coincidentally, those were the same criteria most managing mamas cared about.
“You should know I do not promise a match,” she said. “Nor will I agree to trap a man.”
She’d seen far too many women resort to such tactics, arranging compromising situations to force a man’s hand. Somehow, they never considered the husband they caught would hold significant power over his new wife.
Olivia knew all too well how it felt to be in such a position.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Lord Lowell said. He glanced at Saffron, then blurted out, “Love. That is the condition all other matrons have refused. I will allow nothing less than a love match for my daughter.”
Olivia was rendered speechless. She thought it was another joke, but he wasn’t laughing.
Saffron stuffed a small cake into her mouth, her eyes wide.
“I have arranged dozens of matches, my lord,” Olivia said, choosing her words with care. “I can assure you; love does not simply spark into existence the way one lights a match.”
She had learned that lesson the hard way. If it were not for her youthful folly, she might have saved herself ten years of misery. As far as she was concerned, only children believed in love. She glanced at Constance, who was staring at her plate with a small smile on her face, seemingly uninterested in the conversation they were having about her future. That was curious. In Olivia’s experience, most girls on the cusp of theirdebut struggled to contain their excitement, no matter how strict their upbringing. But how the girl felt about marriage was of little consequence, as her father would make the most important decisions on her behalf.
Olivia turned her attention back to Lord Lowell. “You might find compatibility is a better foundation for a marriage.”
He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Mrs. Zephyr rushing across the terrace toward them. When she reached them, she fluffed her voluminous skirts. “Lord Lowell, I thought I would give you a tour of the grounds. You and your lovely daughter. There are several eligible young men I could introduce her to.”
Olivia hissed in a breath. Mrs. Zephyr was trying to usurp her position, likely in an attempt to endear herself to the wealthy and widowed marquess.
“I’m afraid Lord Lowell and Lady Constance are presently engaged,” Olivia said. “We were just discussing the particulars of Lady Constance’s debut, under my sponsorship.”
Mrs. Zephyr drew herself up. “Lord Lowell, you are newly returned to London. I insist you do not make such an important decision so rashly.”
Olivia slid her chair back at the same time as Saffron, but Lord Lowell beat them both to his feet.
“I find myself unimpressed with the fare,” he said. “Lady Allen, I would be pleased if you would call upon us tomorrow morning. Constance, let us proceed to our next engagement at the Duke of Haversham’s estate.”
