“Mr. Worthington,” she said, “allow me to introduce Miss Mariah Morehouse and Miss Howard. Miss Morehouse is one of the three ladies who has graciously agreed to participate in this week’s games.” She paused, then turned to the ladies to finish making her introductions. “Miss Morehouse, this is the Honorable Thomas Worthington.”
Standing next to the proprietor was an amiable looking young woman. She was of average height with light-brown hair, fair skin, and green eyes.
“Miss Morehouse,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
She returned the gesture with a quick nod. “It is a pleasure, Mr. Worthington.”
While she was pretty enough, and her smile seemed genuine, he felt…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Which was exactly what he wanted to feel.
“If you will excuse me,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “I have business to attend to. I will see you both in the private games room, promptly at seven.”
She left, leaving Tom alone with the two ladies.
“Would you ladies like to take a turn about the gardens?” he said, curious to learn more about Miss Morehouse and, if possible, the other two ladies who’d thrown their proverbial hats in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s matchmaking ring. Given his grandmother’s requirements for a bride, he needed to make a match that would satisfy not only hers, but his own—and that was polite indifference. While the ladies would ultimately get their choice of husband from amongst the winners of the games, he needed to ensure the right lady chose him.
He offered his arm, which she took, then held out his second for Miss Howard, who demurred, apparently content to sit on a nearby bench and enjoy the afternoon air.
“I do prefer the out of doors,” Miss Morehouse said as they walked along the path. “Especially in the spring.”
“I do as well,” he said. “Indeed, I spent most of my life out of doors as a young lad.”
“You grew up in Cheshire,” she said. “At Whetherby.”
Tom let out a surprised laugh. “You have me at quite the disadvantage.”
“Your story was quite the thing in the society sheets,” she said. “The unknown and quite legitimate heir of the Worthington title? The scribes at Debrett’s are no doubt madly scribbling you into the pages as we speak.”
Of course, he thought. His return to England and subsequent residence with the Worthington family had quickly made the rounds, but his parents had managed the wave of scandal reasonably well.
“I have not read of you,” he said, “though I admit I don’t spend much time reading the society papers. I’ve been too busy studying the family ledgers.”
“Even if you did, I doubt you would see anything of note,” she said. “I spend most of my time at Carleton Abbey.”
“I’ve heard of that, though I can’t recall why?”
“My father is a baron, and he raises thoroughbreds there,” she said. “I love to ride, and the countryside is quite beautiful.”
A good family? This was getting better and better. Was there some secret scandal her family was hiding?
“If I may be so bold,” he asked, “why does the daughter of a baron need the services of Mrs. Dove-Lyon to choose a husband?”
“You may be so bold, if I can be equally direct with a question of my own,” she said, pausing a moment to admire a patch of peonies, their bright pink petals drooping in the afternoon warmth. Pink was Georgie’s favorite color.
“Of course,” he replied. “You want to know why I am here, if I have a title and an inheritance?”
“You are certainly handsome enough, I think, and unless there is some whiff of scandal about you, aside from the notoriety of your birth,” she said, “which society seems to have recovered from.”
“I am here to find a wife my family will approve of,” he answered. “And meeting that requirement will provide an added inheritance to those lands I will receive when it is my time to inherit.”
She regarded him carefully, as if his answer didn’t quite provide the answer she was expecting. However, she did notseem interested in pressing the matter, nodding to herself as if she’d decided on the matter, before she continued.
“I am twenty-seven years old,” she replied, “and fortunate amongst my sex to have a respectable fortune. However, I do not trust the ton for one moment to present a husband who won’t squander it away. And I prefer a quiet life, away from town and society. So I am here to find a person I can trust it and myself with.”
“You are not interested in a love match,” he pressed.
“Not at all,” she replied, her mouth hitching up into a smile. “I have everything I need, except for the requirement of a husband, and indeed, I would not bother with it if my father did not insist upon it.”
