The club was busy the following afternoon when Gideon stepped inside. James was already waiting for him at their usual table, a bottle of whisky and two glasses at the ready.
“There you are,” he said, when Gideon dropped into the chair across from him. “By Jove, you look as though you have been pulled through a hedge backwards. Was it truly that dreadful?”
“It was,” he said. “I do not know how matchmakers make a business of this. I thought I was doing everything perfectly, but Helena was not pleased in the least. And she does not expect to see Sir Franklin again.”
“Really,” James said. “What happened? Did something untoward occur?”
Gideon paused. “No. Nothing untoward was said. But I think she felt that I was rather too involved.”
“You stayed?” James said, topping up his glass, which had already been half empty.
“Of course I stayed. I had to make sure he was who he claimed to be.”
James blinked. “But I thought you already knew who he was. Did Nathaniel not suggest him?”
“It is not polite to discuss a gentleman without him present,” Nathaniel’s voice came from behind them, and they turned. He waved to the waiter to bring another glass and settled himself down. “Now then. What has led the two of you to invoke my name at such an early hour?”
“It is not all that early,” Gideon replied. “And I was just telling James about my meeting with Sir Franklin.”
“He means his meeting with Lady Helena and Sir Franklin,” James corrected. “He decided to play matchmaker and remain in the room for the entirety of it.”
Nathaniel stared at him. “You did not. I did not know that Lady Helena was as dangerous to suitors as my Evelyn was.”
“What do you mean?” James asked.
“Sir Franklin, as you know, is a gentleman I had in mind for Evelyn before I married her myself,” Nathaniel said. “Wealthy, pious — I thought he would make a decent match.”
“Pious?” James said. “And you thought he would suit Evelyn?”
Nathaniel raised his hands. “I did not know my dear wife as well then as I do now. In any case, if I recall correctly, poor Sir Franklin departed with wine all down his pantaloons and we never saw him again.” He paused. “He brought daisies, I believe. Freshly picked ones. Which did not impress Evelyn in the slightest.”
“Ah,” Gideon said. “That explains it. He made a remark about the flowers he brought today. About how he usually preferred to pick them himself but is efforts were not appreciated in the recent past.”
Nathaniel nodded. “Yes, that would be Evelyn’s doing. But I cannot quite believe that you are truly going through with this plan. When you first told me about it and asked me for a list of names, I thought you were speaking in jest. And yet here you are, setting up meetings with poor Lady Helena.”
“This is no laughing matter,” Gideon said. “She must be found a husband.”
“Yes, but perhaps next time you ought to let her lead the conversation,” Nathaniel advised. “Or better yet, step out and let her maid chaperone.”
Gideon shrugged. “I suppose I ought to. I simply wanted to be certain. Besides, there is a small child to consider. It must be a particular kind of gentleman. Her father would never forgiveme if I set her up with some beef-witted nodcock who hasn’t a sixpence to rub together, or one who is too often in his cups.”
James patted his friend’s forearm. “Well, as long as you are not trawling the rookeries for candidates, I dare say you shall find someone suitable eventually. Now, how does the new dukedom sit with you?”
The three fell into easy conversation for a while, touching among other matters on a new venture that James and Nathaniel were advancing in the House of Lords, a bill to extend protections for tenant farmers beyond those not already secured by a previous measure. By the end of the afternoon, Gideon had agreed to come on as a sponsor. His very first piece of business in the Lords.
“Only do not make me stand up and speak,” he said. “I have no desire whatsoever to address the chamber.”
“Do not fret,” Nathaniel said. “We shall send Rhys or Lucien.”
“Just as well.”
“…that young widow in Bloomsbury,” a voice came from behind him, and Gideon stilled.
He did not turn immediately. Two gentlemen were seated at the table just behind them, a young, fair-haired man and another with a shock of dark hair. They were drinking sherry and playingcards, their voices carrying more freely than they perhaps intended.
“The widow?” the dark-haired one said.
“The very one,” the fair-haired man replied. “I thought I might pay her a visit.”
