When it came to Conbatten, Darden found himself both intimidated, which he would never admit, and a little annoyed that he felt so.
“We’ll table the Conbatten question for now,” he said. “Let us gird ourselves forCampaign Shenanigans. A new sortie commences this evening at Lady Worsted’s rout. I am determined that my sister be suitably married to a gentleman I can trust with her happiness. She may haveherlist of requirements, but that ismyrequirement.”
*
Matthew had acceptedthe invitation to Lady Worsted’s rout, though he had not initially had any intention of doing so. Routs were the stupidest of affairs—neither this thing nor that. Just a houseful of people expected to entertain themselves with whatever was laying about. Perhaps a lady ran into a musical instrument and would play, or a gentleman might spot a pack of cards and deal, or if one were extremely lucky, one might stagger into a refreshments room. All the while, everybody was pushed and shoved and pardon me’d to death.
But then, the earl told him that he would take Beatrice and Miss Mayton and that Darden had said all his friends from the YBC would attend. That had swayed him. The YBC, which he still had not been asked to join though he would refuse, was chock full of suspicious gentlemen.
He could not ignore what he knew to be Cahill’s designs and would ensure that rogue did not take those designs any further than he had already. Then there was Lord Jericho, Sir William, and Lord Dunston. Cahill was the most worrying, in Matthew’s view. The family knew Cahill far better than the others and, worse, Cahill knew the family far better.
Violets, indeed. And then that ridiculous scene in the Benningtons’ drawing room with those rogues all gathered round her.
Once he’d said he would go to the rout, the earl had pressed him to join them in his carriage. There was no point to taking out two carriages when only one was needed and Darden would go straight from his club.
That would be convenient, as he would not risk becoming stuck behind a farmer’s cart while unsuspecting Beatrice was worked on by the scoundrels after her dowry.
He’d paused his thinking then, as it occurred to him that perhaps he was being a bit narrowminded to think that it wasonlyher dowry those idiots were after.
She was striking looking, that could not be denied. Further, though her conversation regarding her requirements was silly, Beatrice was in general a very good conversationalist. She had a certain wit that must be admired. And then, her family was respected—the earl was master of a large estate with a long history, and he was liked everywhere he went.
Yes, that was the real truth of it. Beatrice Bennington did not come with even one strike against her, other than her fanciful notions of romance. How easy it would be for a gentleman to overlook that proclivity. Or even to indulge it for a short period of time.
“There really is nothing against her,” he said softly.
Marcus was knotting his neckcloth and said, “My lord?”
“Lady Beatrice,” he answered. “I can see why all these swine are circling round as if a farmer has come out with the bucket of feed.”
“I always have wondered, my lord,” Marcus said slowly, “if there were not a match for Lady Beatrice somewhat…closer to home.”
Matthew was startled at the statement, and he knew perfectly well what his valet hinted at. He, a match for Beatrice?
No, it could not be so.
He might have thought it, from time to time, years ago. But that was when she had only ever looked up at him with admiring eyes. Those days had long passed.
He could never consider her as she was now. A wife, at the very least, must admire a husband’s judgment. As forhisjudgment, she was less than admiring of it.
“I only say,” Marcus pressed on, “it would be a rather wonderful match.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Matthew said sharply. “I’ll thank you to refrain from such opinions in future.”
Marcus said softly, “Understood, my lord.”
Now Matthew felt foolish. He never spoke to his servants in such a manner. He’d sounded very like a petulant and spoiled king.
“Never mind, Marcus,” he said. “I only find myself out of sorts this evening. Have some of my good brandy and forget I ever said anything.”
“Indeed, my lord,” Marcus said, looking remarkably cheered.
As Matthew supposed he would be. The last time he’d made such an offer, Marcus had managed to down half the bottle. He’d likely be undressing himself when he got home, his valet snoring in a chair.
Still, he’d rather make amends with a good amount of brandy than go on uncomfortably with his valet. Despite how outrageous the man’s opinions were.
Now, the earl’s carriage trotted along at a good clip. Beatrice was looking very well in a pale blue-green silk, a thin gold chain calling attention to her slender neck.
Miss Mayton said, “It was so very good of Darden’s friends to call today. Earl, you are to know they were all exceedingly admiring of Beatrice.”
