“This is not the usual way I go about this, but I will make an exception for you.” She produced a piece of paper and handed it to him. “This is my fee. Normally, a lady who has fallen out of Society’s graces pays me to find her a husband. This will be the first time a potential husband pays me. That is, if you are agreeable to the amount for my services?”
He opened the small, folded piece of paper, read the amount, and handed it back to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Yes. I will send the funds tomorrow.”
“Very well. Tell me your story.”
***
While the duke explained his three marriages and the reasons for their deaths, Bessie studied the handsome duke. He was charming, to be sure, impeccably dressed and handsome beyond reason. It should be easy to make a match for him. Except for three things. Three. Dead. Wives.
When she was made aware that the Duke of Barrington was in her establishment, she quickly gathered all the information she could about him. It wasn’t a difficult task. Through one discussion with Mr. Huntsman, she’d learned all about the Duke of Doom. As far as Mr. Huntsman knew, Barrington had no troubling vices. He was kind, generous, and not a gambler. His servants were loyal, and so was his one and only close friend, Lord Hudson. He had no family. No one to inherit the dukedom if he didn’t produce a male heir. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him and his predicament, but she did. Sometimes it was hard to keep her emotions from interfering with her matchmaking and the people involved.
Sitting with him now, she saw no reason for him to be called the Duke of Doom. Well, except for the fact that he’d buried three wives. He may present a serious challenge. She hadtwo young ladies paying her for her matchmaking skills right now, but they were wrong for him, and he was not right for them. So how did she go about finding him a wife? She would, because there was one thing she hated: failure. She had never failed to make a match, and she wouldn’t start now.
“It may take me a bit of time to find your suitable match, but trust me, I will. You explained how your wives died, but is there anything else I should know? What do you require in a wife? What characteristics do you like? Personality? Anything at all that will be helpful in my quest?”
“I would like someone with a kind nature.”
“That is a good trait to have and something I can start with. I will be in touch soon.” She rose, and the duke stood. She walked to the door and opened it, revealing Puck standing in the hall, his large arms crossed over his chest. “The duke is leaving. Please escort him out.”
“Yes.”
The duke paused at the open door and dipped his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, for seeing me.”
“Good night, Your Grace.”
Once he left, Bessie sat behind her desk and scribbled a list of potential ladies who were on the cusp of ruination without a gentleman to come to their rescue. Of course, the Season was just beginning. The list was likely to grow exponentially in the coming days and weeks.
***
During the ride home to Barrington Hall, Oliver contemplated his conversation with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. When he spoke with someone, he liked to look them in the eyes. It revealed one’s nature, secrets, and lies. She wore a black veilthat shielded her eyes from him. He had to rely on her tone and words to gauge whether she spoke the truth. He believed she did. She didn’t seem bothered by him being called the Duke of Doom. She seemed to take it as a challenge, one she appeared up to. He hoped so.
When he arrived home, he went to his library and had a glass of brandy before going up to his chambers, where the emptiness always stabbed him in the heart. Tonight was no different.
CHAPTER FIVE
A week after Phoebe moved into the pink room next to Emma, she was convinced her aunt was slowly poisoning her. The night Fluffy became sick after eating her dinner scraps, she threw such a fit that she forbade Phoebe from ever having any contact with the dog again. Several more days went by, and Phoebe had the same symptoms as that night. She took her tray down to the kitchens, one room she was allowed to enter, threw her food away, and ate with the servants. If they were curious as to why, they kept it to themselves. When she felt almost instantly better, she knew. By the end of her second week, she was desperate to escape somehow, but she would need Emma’s help. Was Emma ready to hear the truth about her mother?
That very night, she visited Emma’s room and sat on the bed beside her, as they had often done over the past weeks. “I was wondering if you could help me?”
“Help you with what?” Emma asked.
“I hate to say this, but my food trays were making me sick. I threw them out and started eating in the kitchen with the servants. I feel better now.” There, she said it without actually accusing anyone of tainting her food.
“How odd. Have you made an enemy of a servant?”
“Not that I know of,” Phoebe replied.
“Hmmm. Well, something was making you sick.”
“And Fluffy, too, when I shared my supper with her.”
“Indeed, I remember well. Mother had a fit, thinking she would lose poor Fluffy. You don’t think...”
“I don’t know,” Phoebe exhaled. “Your mother does resent my being here. It doesn’t really matter; all that matters is that I figured it out before any irreparable injury was done. Anyway, I have a gold and sapphire necklace and earbobs belonging to my mother. She sewed them into the seam of anold cloak to keep them safe from my father. I’m shocked he ever found them. I was hoping you might know where I can sell them?”
“I might be able to do better than that. You don’t need money. What you need is a husband and protector, and I’m not sure my parents find one for you.” Emma’s eyes widened with excitement. “During my first Season, there was a debutante, Lady Helena, who was caught in a compromising situation during a ball. A notorious rake, Mr. Henry Bellows, lured her into an empty drawing room, and it was rumored he ravished her, leaving her in ruin.” Emma climbed off the bed and paced around.
“Her father, Lord Caldwell, insisted that Mr. Henry Bellows marry Lady Helena, but he refused. Her father challenged him to a duel. Lord Caldwell won the duel. His bullet grazed Bellows’s arm. Her father may have gotten his satisfaction, but Lady Helena was ruined nonetheless. That was until she visited a gambling establishment called the Lyon’s Den and met Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
