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“Good,” she nodded emphatically. “Which leads me to the next reason I am here—”
When are you going to marry?David knew the words before they came out her mouth.
“—when are you going to wed, my boy.” She said while a maid came inside, bearing a tray of refreshments. “You need to find a lovely lady who will complement you.”
Muffling a sigh, David fixed a smile. “When I am ready, Aunt,” he lied as he had no desire to marry. “I have not yet found a fitting lady.”
Her eyes narrowed with skepticism. “You are nine-and-twenty years old. You have been gallivanting in thetonfor over eight years. Surely you must have found one fitting.”
“No.”
“One tolerable then,” she said, waving her hand. “I know the ladies here busy themselves with latest fashion and promenading down Mayfair with the most desirable gentleman on their arm, but surely, one or two must have some common sense about them?”
“Those ladies, dear aunt, are called bluestockings and wallflowers, sometimes one might be of the two categories, and they are, without a doubt, the most vexing, infuriating set of all ladies in the ton,” David said, his mind resting on his long-time rival, Miss Victoria Thompson, then muttered, “and I know the chief of them.”
“What was that dear?” Petunia asked, absentmindedly as she was fixing her tea.
“Nothing, Aunt,” he replied, flashing her a smile. “As I said, until I find one who can hold the title of Countess, I will be searching.”
“Nonsense,” she tutted. “I can see by your expression there is a lady on your mind. I will be in town for a week, and during that time I expect to meet her, and give you my approval. I will not leave until I do as such.”
His back molars ground in frustration, while he gave her a polite smile and his most cajoling tone. “I would imagine nothing more, but Aunt, you are a bit mistaken on one thing, there is no lady on my mind.”
“Of course, there is.”
“No, there is not.”
“There is,” she tested her tea and then dropped another dollop of milk in the weak brew. “Do not take me for a milk-fed simpleton, David. I may not know the ways of the ton, but I do know when a man has a lady on his mind. Your father, God rest his soul, had the same look on his face when he dallied about courting your mother.
You will not let this go, will you?
“Aunt—”
“Are you ashamed of her? Is she a widow, a fallen woman or has another taken her? Which is it?”
“None of the above,” David said. “Because there is no one.”
“David Solomon Adolphus Martin,” Petunia said stiffly, and he cringed at the iteration of his full name. “Do not try me for a nitwit. Who is she?”
The words escaped his mouth before he could bite them back. “Miss Victoria Thompson, Aunt.”
“Good,” she nodded, her strict tone now happy and satisfied. “Was that so hard?”
Yes, it was.
Something was coiling in his gut and the back of his throat burned with shock. He could have named a dozen young women who he could easily get to play the part of his loving fiancée, but…her? It would be like pulling teeth with Victoria.
“Now, I expect her for tea on the morrow,” his aunt declared. “Make it so.”
“She is out on a trip to the Oxford, Aunt,” he lied, trying to gain some time. “Perhaps in two days’ time, if I can get a hold of her.”
“That is acceptable,” she said. “I’ll look forward to meeting her. Matter of fact, two days might be best, as I do need to go to an old schoolmate of mine in, oh dear, where is that place again… Covent Garden, yes, yes, that’s the name.”
Devil and damn…what have I done?
Glendale Manor
Seated in her family’s drawing room, Victoria Thompson, sole daughter and soon-to-be firmlyon the shelfdaughter of the Baron Glendale allowed her eyes to roam over the numbers off her father’s business ledger and bit her lip in worry. The columns would not add up, no matter how she tried to wrangle them into place.
