And as much as she resented feeling like her future happiness was being overlooked in the grand scheme of things, Victoria could still see her mother’s point of view. She understood just how important it was to the duchess to see both her unwed daughters settled into good marriages.
“I think our mother is afraid that if she waits too long to put one of us back out into society, both Coco and I will end up as old spinsters left on the shelf. And if that happens, it would be nothing short of a disaster. A resounding condemnation of her as a mother.”
Things had changed—she couldn’t believe she was actually defending the duchess.
“Yes, well there are those of us who might be inclined to agree on that last sentiment about her skills as a mother,” said a grim-faced Matthew, shooting her a brief sideways glance.
Matthew was one of the Kembal siblings who was yet to find it in their hearts to forgive their mother for having put them all through such pain. His easygoing, carefree nature didn’t currently extend to Lady Anne.
Offering a polite smile to a passing guest, Victoria decided it was time to let it all go. She had other things to worry abouttonight. Some of the men on her mother’s suitable husband list were expected to attend this evening’s ball.
In the hour or so before their parents were due to arrive, she and Matthew had been given the task of locating each of the eligible gentlemen and deciding whether they might be someone whom Victoria would wish to be formally introduced to by the duke and duchess.
“So who are we looking for in this swirling mass of bodies?” asked Matthew, peering at the gathering.
The list was mercifully a short one. Victoria sucked in a breath. “The Earl of Surfleet. The Marquis of Guiseley. And the Duke of Saffron Walden,” she said, rattling off the names her mother had given her earlier that morning.
Matthew groaned, then guided her in the direction of an alcove, away from the crowd. When they were out of earshot of everyone, he let go of Victoria’s arm, and turned to face her. Her brother wore an expression of barely restrained disgust on his face.
“The Marquis of Guiseley can come straight off your list. He is a rake of the worst kind. The cad has sired several children with various servants in his household, the most recent one being only two months ago. You don’t deserve to be married to a man like that, and I’m surprised Mama put him on her list. Though since she’s been away, she might not be up-to-date with the latest on-dit.”
The siring of bastards with household maids was yet another thing unwed young ladies were not meant to know about, but with three brothers who cared about her future, Victoria had learned much about the sordid underbelly of London’s so-called elegant society. Of the dangers that men unwilling to keep their hands off their female servants posed. The marquis was struck from her list.
“What about the Earl of Surfleet?”
She’d met the earl on one or two previous occasions, and she hadn’t been completely nauseated with either his appearance or his calm demeanor.
I can imagine marrying someone like him. A nice kind man.
“Boring,” huffed Matthew. “Though his estate is only thirty odd miles from our family seat at Mowbray Park. He does have that in his favor. But again the man is as dull as a piece of plain bread with no butter. I can guarantee there won’t be a pinch of spice in your life with him.”
That didn’t augur well for a life of wedded bliss. Victoria wanted safe, but not dull. She ached for the passion of their parents’ marriage, but preferably without all the drama. Without the fighting.
“So, he is also off the list?”
“Hmm.” A pensive Matthew put a finger to his lips. “Let’s keep him as an option. Worst case you have him court you for a time, and then you can discover if a warm soul lives under that pallid face of his, though I do doubt it.”
A footman approached bearing a tray of drinks. Matthew reached for a glass of orgeat, but Victoria gave him a tut of disapproval. “If I am going to go through with this marriage thing, I am not going to drink another glass of sickly sweet orgeat.”
She selected a glass of champagne from the tray and smiled at her brother, adding, “I am dressed as a sophisticated young woman, not an insipid miss, remember.”
He chose a glass of brandy for himself, then once the footman had moved away, said to her, “Go easy on the champagne, you don’t want to…”
Victoria sighed. “Yes. I know. I need to appear interesting but not too forward. Be memorable, but not—too memorable. Show that I can sip a real drink like an adult, but not get tipsy. This isn’t my first time out in society.”
Lady Anne had carefully set out the manner in which Victoria was to behave at functions, making it clear that a man in need of a wife didn’t want a simpering miss, but nor did he want a potential spouse who flouted the rules.
“Alright, but you’d better nurse that glass of champagne, take small sips while we see if we can locate the last bachelor candidate for your hand. The Duke of Saffron Walden.”
“Do you know him?”
Matthew shook his head. “No. He’s a bit older than me. Older than Gideon in fact. I might have to ask other people to point him out.”
A rogue. A bore. And an unknown. That was an ominous sign if there ever was one.
The duchess hadn’t had much to say about the Duke of Saffron Walden, other than he possessed a sizeable estate some fifty odd miles north of London. He was aged somewhere in his thirties. Had never been married. He didn’t make a habit of mingling too much in society. But he had a spotless reputation, which would make him perfect in Lady Anne’s eyes.
As Victoria stared at her champagne, a sudden thought struck. She’d been so focused on getting ready for this evening, she hadn’t had time to eat. Alcohol and an empty stomach was never a smart combination. “What do you think about us going and finding the supper room? I need food.”
