Chapter 1
“Wanted: A lady of impeccable breeding, robust health, and practical temperament,”Lady Marlow gleefully read from the Morning Post’s latest matrimonial advertisements. “How interesting...”
Her voice rose an octave with each word as she peered at the newspaper, her spectacles sliding down the bridge of her nose. She and two of her granddaughters, Madeline and Portia, were in the drawing room, tending to their embroidery.
“The Duke of Huntington seeks a duchess of marriageable and procreational age, capable of managing a household and guiding children in need of firm direction. Applications to Mr. Langdon,”the Baroness continued, looking at the advert with such satisfaction that one would think she was considering applying.
“How unromantic!” Madeline Quinten, her eldest unwed granddaughter at one-and-twenty, curled her lips in distaste. “Of procreational age? That is the least appealing thing I have ever heard in my entire life.” She frowned at her embroidery hoop as she lost her train of thought.
Where was I again?She inspected her silk threads.Green. Red. All right.
“I do not see why. It is perfectly sensible,” Lady Marlow said, smoothing the paper over her knee with great satisfaction. “A man of his station has no time for romance. He knows precisely what he requires.”
“He looks for a wife in the same way some people look for a head butler. At least a butler can escape. A wife will have to stay and provide heirs in such a... sterile union,” Madeline retorted, a shudder rising from her. “Oh, why would anyone wish for—”
“He is a duke, Madeline,” Lady Marlow interrupted, her eyes gleaming with worrisome calculation. “And I find this to be the perfect opportunity.”
While their grandpapa had personally experienced the battlefield, their grandmama would have been a far better strategist, especially when it came to matches. Madeline was afraid of that fact, one that had played out in full when her sister Cathy was roped into marrying the Duke of Baxter by their scheming grandmama. It seemed that Madeline was turning into her next target.
“What does it matter that he is a duke if he is unfeeling?” Madeline asked, a little teasingly, smiling at her grandmother.
“Well, he owns forty thousand acres. He is wealthyandsmart.”
How her grandmother could call the decision to post an advert in the Morning Post for a wifesmartwas beyond her.
“He might be all that, but he is not passionate,” Madeline protested, her voice going soft but no less determined. She knew what she wanted in a marriage, and this duke did not haveit. “There should be a spark before a marriage, should there not? Two souls should feel like they already know each other upon meeting. The man I want to marry shall look at me as if he has never seen anyone quite like me, while I will feel safe and protected in his presence. Meanwhile, this man is merely looking for someone willing to agree to his terms and conditions. That is not romantic at all! What a woman needs is someone who would sweep her off her feet.”
“Sweep her off her feet?” Portia echoed, in the middle of a scoff. Her eyes were still focused on her heavy book. Madeline’s younger sister, aged twenty, had no plans to consider marriage. Her biggest splurges were on books rather than on pretty dresses or ribbons. She had often commented that she had not found a gentleman her equal in discussion. “Most women would be so lucky if they werenotswept into a ditch with someone like Papa.”
Madeline sighed. Although she was a hopeless romantic, she could not help but see the truth in her sister’s comment. She also feared finding love with a drunk, a gambler, or a rake. Their father had proved to be the first two out of the three, and that was enough chaos for the family.
“Do not mention this worthless Harleigh in my presence. Oh, your poor mother was just like you, God rest her soul. She used to go on and on about love and romance. And look where that got her. Married to that good-for-nothing oaf. If she had listened to me—”
“Grandmama,” was all Madeline could utter, her heart aching. She loved her father dearly, hoping that one day, he would completely change, but she knew he had hurt their family severely with his behavior.
“No, Grandmama is right,” Portia insisted, slamming her book shut. “Real life is not a lovely romance. It is nothing but a series of transactions. I suppose this Duke is wise enough to know this.”
“Still, it is something I could not live with,” Madeline murmured, tilting her chin up. “I believe in love, Portia. I want to find someone who will look at me for me, and not for my dowry, breeding, or ability to handle a household.”
“Oh, you will be looking for that person for averylong time,” Portia countered, shaking her head in disbelief. “Not everyone is as fortunate as Cathy, and she was not exactly in her first Season when she found him.”
“Enough, you two,” Lady Marlow cut through the sisterly bickering. She smoothed the paper over her knee, almost reverently. “We cannot afford to ignore an opportunity such as this. Your father is back to his old ways, not long after Cathy’s husband paid off his debts. We need more security and protection. Lord knows what he will do next to drag our name through the mud!”
Madeline loved her father deeply. It hurt her to admit that her grandmother might be right about him. She sighed.
“Grandmama, we are now related to the Duke of Baxter. Surely, that would shield us from... some of Papa’s proclivities.”
“Cathy marrying at all was a miracle in itself. However, have you truly heard of anyone experiencing two miracles in a lifetime? I doubt it would happen to us, but we need to secure another strong alliance. This post is a sign. Will either of you consider this marriage advertisement seriously?”
“Not me. I shall be in the library,” Portia announced, raising and hugging her book to her chest. “I will be there for the remainder of the Season. I have no intention of applying for the position even though I find the Duke of Huntington to be of a completely logical mind.”
“Then it must be you, Madeline,” Lady Marlow said, narrowing her eyes at Portia’s back as her third-oldest granddaughter made an exit. “You are the oldest unwed daughter of the family. You are of the right temperament and would meet his requirements. Here, take it and apply.”
“I will not do it, Grandmama,” Madeline argued, her voice trembling. She took the Morning Post and crumpled the Duke’s advertisement. She did it slowly, as if she could gently squeeze the possibilities out of it like water from a sponge. It was not done with rage or rebellion, simply a statement of freedom. “I want someone to be obsessed with the idea of me, Grandmama. The Duke of Huntington could not be that person, as he is willing to marry any woman who responds.”
“Notanywoman,” Lady Marlow muttered. “He will choose from the best ones. Men who host or attend balls are no different. They expect women in the marriage market to attend, and they approach the ones who interest them. The Duke simply wants to save some time by being direct with his requirements. And obsessions about romance will not keep the roof over your head, Madeline. Please think of your sisters. This might be your fourth Season, but think of how this would boost Selina’s debut. Think of your Grandpapa. The Duke is simply a man with specific requirements.”
Lord Marlow wandered into the room as if he had been summoned. He walked aimlessly, tufts of hair standing, and his cravat askew. He blinked at his wife and granddaughter, a smilespreading across his kindly face.
