Monsale turned to his steward. “Have the town carriage made ready. I need to go out.”
He was off to see the only female in all of England who could understand the bind he was in; the only woman who would make certain of his plan’s success.
Lady Kitty Steele, the Duchess of Redditch. Naomi’s mother.
Chapter Four
“Well, you must give him his dues, the Prince of Wales is simply looking to capitalize on the situation. The first Duke of Monsale is the one who is really to blame. And it’s not Prinny’s fault if you were not aware of the oath, or that its sixth hundredth anniversary is shortly to be upon us. By getting his hands on your money, he would be able to pay off most of his creditors. That would put him back in a position of power, especially with the government.”
Cup of tea in one hand, and notebook in the other; seated on the edge of the cushion of one of Lady Steele’s overstuffed floral sofas, Monsale could only nod his reply.
Kitty, of course, was right. Though he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame his long dead ancestor for having picked the wrong side in a fight for the English crown. He was quietly reserving his wrath for whomever it was in the royal court who had managed to unearth the long forgotten ancient law and then brought it to the prince’s attention.
I would love to get my hands on the observant little toe-rag who discovered this bloody oath. He could do with a good throttling.
The question of whom and how had sat in the forefront of his mind since leaving his home in Mount Street a short time earlier. It was a brief stroll to Redditch House in nearby Grosvenor Street, but Kitty had a particular liking for visitors to arrive properly. And that meant graciously in a carriage.
“I’m holding back on giving my opinion of Prinny. Firstly, to save your delicate ears, but mostly, so I can find a way to get back at him when this whole marriage farce is over,” replied Monsale.
The duchess harrumphed. “For a start my ears have had plenty of practice listening to my husband. I doubt that there exists a foul word which has not reached me over the years. But if you are serious about securing a suitable wife for yourself, I would caution you not to go speaking the words marriage and farce all in the same breath. Prospective brides and their families are likely to take umbrage at hearing such a thing.”
Suitably chastened, Monsale set his cup and saucer down on a nearby table. He opened the notebook and retrieved a pencil from his jacket pocket. “My apologies Kitty. As you can no doubt understand, this has all come as a bit of a shock. Here was I worrying about the precious roses which are due to arrive from Morocco this week and the next thing I know, I have two weeks in which to save my family title and lands.”
The duchess sat forward on her sofa. There was an unmistakable glint in her eye. Monsale steeled himself for the next exchange.
“So why are you here, Andrew?”
He may well be a duke, but to Lady Kitty Steele, he would always be the young, orphaned Andrew McNeal.
Monsale turned the pages of the notebook, until he found a blank sheet. “I need names. A list of potential brides. I am hoping, no I am praying, that you will be able to help me.”
Kitty’s eyes grew wide. He could just imagine what was going through her mind this very moment. Panicked male throws himself at the feet of one of the most senior matrons of the ton and pleads for her assistance in finding a bride. If it had been anyone other than Harry’s mother, she would have likely laughed at him.
But the duchess had been one of the first people to take Monsale under her wing when he arrived in London. She had introduced him to her son Harry, and the rest had been history. Kitty was always someone he could rely upon for honest, sensible advice.
She pointed at the notebook. “How many girls do you want on the list? With the season over, many people have already left London to summer at their country estates. But I could write privately to several good families who I know have eligible daughters. Girls who for various reasons didn’t find a suitable husband this year. I could seek their level of interest, and if things looked favorable, invite the young ladies and their mothers to return to town,” she offered.
He shook his head. Letters up and down the country would take days, if not weeks. Then there was all the time that travel would involve. A day lost here or there, and he might well find himself in the position of having to make a hurried proposal to an entirely unsuitable female, based purely on the fact of her being in London at the right moment.
Begging was not part of his plans. It simply wasn’t going to happen. He was, after all a prized catch. He had a title, lands, and more than a few pennies in the bank.
Not to mention the money, he had hidden away in a number of secret bank accounts, as well as the cache of jewels he kept in the safe beneath the stables of the RR Coaching Company in Gracechurch Street. Monsale was in anyone’s language filthy rich.
I just need a short list. As long as Naomi is on it, I will be satisfied. Then we can have a week of pretending I am searching for a bride before she and I announce our betrothal.
He had it all sorted and settled in his mind. All Kitty really had to do was to make sure her daughter saw things as clearly as he did. And while their courtship might not be the sweet one, she likely imagined in her private dreams, in the end she was getting what she had always wanted. Him.
I fancy your daughter. I know she has a thing for me. Give it a few weeks of sated bliss during our honeymoon, and I am certain she will get over any of her issues as to how we got to the altar. She might even decide she doesn’t need an equal partnership after all.
He wouldn’t have to yield up his heart or his power.
Lady Naomi McNeal, Duchess of Monsale. Problem solved.
But he still intended to make Naomi work for what she wanted. To his way of thinking it would give her a sense of accomplishment at the end. It wouldn’t do to simply ask for her hand in marriage, Naomi had to feel that she had achieved victory. And the only way he could see that happening was if she had some competition.
Besides, a little prick of jealousy will help to make things more interesting. Give the whole courting experience some spark. I am certain that Naomi will understand.
“Thank you, Kitty, but we don’t have time for back and forth. Just select the girls who are in town at present. That way I can get a good idea of their temperament fairly quickly and rule out those ladies who will not suit. Do you have anyone in mind?”
