“Well, you are,” she countered. “The more I know about what you’d like in a wife, the better chance I’ll have of making the perfect match for you.”
Matthew settled back in his chair. “Taller, then,” he stated. “Not so tall she’s a Long Meg, though.” He paused. “I would prefer she not be a social climber. I don’t want to have to attend entertainments because she wishes to beseen. And she has to be willing to live in Berkshire when we’re not in town for Parliament. I don’t want one of those wives who insists on living apart.”
“Understood,” the matchmaker said, making a few more notes on the sheet. “Anything else?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “How long do you suppose this will take?”
“A few days at least. No longer than a fortnight,” she replied.
Matthew nodded. “Very well. I’m staying at the Wingfield townhouse in South Audley,” he said.
“Yes, I have your address right here,” she replied. “I’ll send word by way of one of my couriers when I have something arranged. Good day, my lord.”
“That’s it?” he asked in surprise.
“For now,” she replied, her attention on an entirely different sheet from another pile.
Matthew drained his teacup and snagged another ratafia biscuit from the plate as he stood. “Good day, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
When he exited the office, he discovered Titan waiting for him at the top of the stairs. He noticed once again how his escort flexed his left hand and then fisted it. He was about to ask why, but thought better of it. From the man’s bearing, it was apparent that Titan, like Egeus, the other guard who had first greeted him, had been in the military—no doubt an officer.
Which meant he was probably an heir to a peer of the realm.
It was then it dawned on Matthew that he knew the man because hewasan heir to an earldom. Had Matthew’s father not died when he did, he might well have joined the army, but as the only heir, he had been prevented from doing so.
“Tell me, Titan. Does Mrs. Dove-Lyon have information oneverymember of theton?” he asked as they descended the stairs.
Titan chuckled softly. “Possibly. Most assuredly for all those who are unwed.”
“Do others feel as if they’re being blackmailed when they do business with her?”
Arching a dark brow, Titan said, “Careful, my lord. Since you’re not a gambler, she’s letting you off rather easy compared to some in your situation.”
“Easy?” he repeated.
“Most are required to gamble for the opportunity to win a wife,” Titan replied. “And not always in games of chance that are of the usual sort.”
Matthew furrowed his brows, wondering at what some of those games might be. His imagination brought up thoughts of jousting and sword fighting, horse racing, and racing chariots in the middle of the night, downing shots of alcohol until someone passed out or died. He might have considered more possibilities, but Titan scoffed softly.
“No one has ever died whilst in competition for a wife,” the escort stated, as if he could read his mind.
“Good to know,” Matthew responded.
“Remember, you do have options,” Titan murmured.
“I do?”
“Debt and no heir, or a wife, no debt, and a possible heir.”
Matthew chuckled softly, and once they were at the front door, he shook hands with Titan and said, “I expect I’ll be seeing you again.”
“You will indeed.”
Glancing back into the gaming hell, Matthew briefly thought of a third option—it might be possible to play a game of chance and win enough money to pay off his debts.
He quickly reconsidered.
That’s what his father had done, and look where it had left him.
