In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Eight

The sour look on Jameson’s face was all the proof Aphrodite needed to know that she had made the best choice in her dinner garments. She knew that he was a stickler for tradition and would hate how she dressed as a man. Her breeches were made for her though, they were not some cast off from her father or anyone else.

She could feel the judging gaze skimming over her skin and some sinking under it like a heated scalpel; but she did not give a whit. They were not faced with the same debacle she had in front of her; she had to get out of whatever plot or scheme her father had cooked up, no doubt with Lady Pandora and the Duke as co-conspirators.

The only recompense she could come up with was to cause a scandal, enough that it would disqualify her for marriage and she could go about living her life on her terms. Step one was to draw negative attention, as she was doing now, dressed in men’s clothing in a formal assembly gathering.

She put on the most nonchalant, unbothered face she could muster and went about smiling and laughing. Amusingly enough, the scandalous look on their faces as they saw what she was wearing was the catalyst for true humor. It amused her to see how they looked at her, and she smiled right through it. Maybe there is something to being an outcast.

The ladies turned up their noses at her, making her want to snicker instead of feeling snubbed. Then, just as she had hoped to dissuade Jameson from approaching her, he did with a confusing smile on his face.

Touching his glass with hers, the Duke smiled. “I should have expected that you would do something to draw every eye to you. Why, look at you, dear Aphrodite, the social butterfly of this season. No wonder all eyes are on you.”

Her teeth gritted. This was not what she had hoped for. “It’s all very amusing,” Jameson said. “Lovely prank, now, with all the attention on you, you can go back up and change.”

Internally, she smiled. “I am not going to change, this is it for tonight.”

The Duke scowled. “You’re not?”

“No.”

“No?” he parroted.

Pleased, she nodded, “That’s right.” Huffing, he turned on his heel and moved away, and Aphrodite gave herself a mental pat on the back. He moved away and she grinned knowing that step two, getting the Duke off her back was achieved too.

The evening hours moved slowly but all through it, she felt Jameson’s eyes on the back of her neck. What more could she do to get rid of him? Games were arranged, and Oswald came to her side. “Seems as if the ladies are making you a pariah tonight,” he said. “Care to upset the status quo anymore? Join me in a game?”

Turning to Oswald, she smiled. “It doesn’t upset you that I am dressed in men’s wear?”

“Oddly,” he shrugged, “I find it charming.”

“Just charming?”

His gaze ran from her breast to her boot-clad toes, and he leaned in., his voice husky. “What I think is not fit to be spoken out loud.”

Cocking a brow, she said, “You surprise me, My Lord.”

She joined him at the table with the thirty-two-hand deck and he handed her the cards. “Ladies first.”

“You just want to name me the younger dealer,” she sniffed. “Old man.”

His blue eyes were glimmering. “This old man might turn you over his knee if you keep sassing me, minx.”

Thinking off their previous encounter, she grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Teasingly, he grinned, “Wouldn’t I?” he countered, his voice soft and low, yet unmistakably aroused.

She shivered and looked at the cards in her hands as if they were a foreign object. “Um…yes. Cards. The first cut.”

Having mercy on her, Oswald took the deck from her shaking hands and did the dealing himself. They played in alternate deals, with each trying to score the highest.

Aphrodite felt her concentration scatter whenever Oswald did so much as look at her, much less speak in those warm, hushed, aroused tones. She vividly remembered the feel of his lips on her, the warmth of his body and the seal of his possessive kiss.

She barely got through the last six deals, with her having to touch him while handing over the card. Her heart kept thumping out of rhythm and she could not keep her nipples from hardening when his eyes ran over her.

At the end of it, she excused herself to go to the water closet, hoping to get a moment to gather herself. Who would have known that a game of cards could be so intriguing? She hoped that he would be there to lay another kiss on her, but instead, when she exited the small room in the back hall, it was Jameson who stood close by.

She had the distinct feeling he’d followed her. “What are you doing with him?”

“Him?” she asked. “Do you mean Lord Tennesley?”

“Yes,” Jameson sneered. “The joke of the ton. That foolish cuckold. I’ve seen how he looks at you, Aphrodite. God forbid that you even entertain such a disgrace.”

She grew angry. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said what I said,” his lip curled.

“And I am giving you the chance to recant your statement.”

“I will not. A Lady like you should never be near him,” the Duke huffed.

She bit her lip, barely stopping herself from saying something she would regret. She had more weeks there with him and could not start to insult him yet.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Aphrodite said. “We were only sharing a game of cards, Your Grace. And if you do remember, all of us are here for the same reason. Good evening, Your Grace.”

With a curt nod of her head, she hurried back into the parlor and reseated herself with Oswald. He cocked his head to her, excused himself and came back with two filled wineglasses.

“I do not like the way the Duke looks at you,” Oswald said. “He is too familiar, by far.”

“It’s a long, dreary story,” she said. “We met years ago, but there is something about him that I cannot abide.”

Swirling his wine, Oswald said, “I can assume what it is, his sickening hubris and patronizing manner. The way he looks down on others as if they were mud under his shoes. He is halfway across the room, and he irritates me, and we have not spoken a word.”

Nearly snorting into her wine, Aphrodite nodded. “He’s prouder than a peacock on a pedestal. He hates you by the way.”

Oswald shrugged. “Who doesn’t? I think I have a list somewhere. It won’t take me too long to add his name. Not that I give a damn.”

“He’s here to court me,” Aphrodite said. “The man cannot take a hint and realize that his prowess might be better spent on some featherbrained chit who cares for his clueless charms. He thinks his money and station will win me over, not to mention that he’s probably brokered a deal with my father, as if I were a fatted calf ready for the sacrificial table.”

“Why haven’t you married?” Oswald asked.

Her lips slanted. “That is a topic for another conversation. I think I shall retire, My Lord. Good night.”

With a curtsy—oddly done in breeches—she left the room, leaving Oswald behind. She did not know how he would react to how she had met eligible Lords, all perfectly right for a status marriage, but rejected them as they lacked the one thing she wanted most—passion.

A lot of them think love is not necessary for a match, but I do.

None of the men had touched her heart the way her secretly romantic soul wanted. She knew that many in the ton looked down on a love-match marriage, as love was not a particular requirement for marriage. Most of them only cared to keep the old money in the family and use it as a cudgel to outclass others.

How will Oswald know I want to marry for love? I know he admitted to it for the cause of his marriage, but perhaps his ideals have changed.

Aphrodite did not want to look a fool before him, so she decided to keep her intentions to herself until she knew more about him. The kiss in the lake thrilled her, but circumspection began to set in. Things were going a touch too fast, and she had more than two weeks to dally there.

She knew she had to be strategic with the time, use it to her advantage and, hopefully, in the end, end up with the scandal she needed or the man she wanted. All this matchmaking blather was a game and she had to play it right—which meant taking some time from one target and look at others.

Besides, Lady Pandora was set on keeping her away from Oswald and for a time, Aphrodite was going to play along and humor her old friend. After lighting a lamp and some candles, she undressed and changed into her nightclothes. She slipped between the sheets, wondering, and slightly fearing, what would come the next day.

* * *

From the look on Lady Pandora’s face that afternoon, Oswald realized that their carefree past couple of days were about to end. She looked very much like any cutthroat businessman he had met over the years since he had inherited his Earldom.

“Ah, Lord Tennesley, thank you for being prompt to your meeting. Please sit. We’re here to discuss business,” she said with a curtness that had him narrowing his gaze on her.

Blinking, he sat, cocked his head and appraised her with the same attention he gave to any Lord who came to him with business dealings. He might have experience in money and dealing with tenants, investors and workers, but she had a firm footing in an area he was at sea with.

“And what are we going to speak about?” he asked.

She handed him a sheet of paper, a quill and an inkwell. “I’ve brought you here because I do believe that I can help with your problem. I know a few pertinent things about your life, things others I do not know—”

“And what are those?” Oswald asked. “Moreover, where do you get your knowledge from?”

She tipped her head. “I have been in the ton for years, and so have my peers. You must realize to matchmake, I need to know many facts about people, my sources are legion. They help me with the work I do.”

“Gossip helps you make matches?” Oswald asked dryly. “A dastardly thing, indeed.”

“I’d say it’s a necessary evil,” Lady Pandora replied. “Please tell me about the kind of lady you wish me to seek for you. Physical characteristics, accomplishments, mental acumen, lineage, etcetera. You may write them down if you would like.”

“Ah. Yes. To the matter at hand.” He scowled, his eyes hard as chipped glass while he glanced down at the paper. “I think this is not necessary. I will not insult your intelligence, My Lady, so I’ll just speak.”

“Noted,” Lady Pandora said, meeting his gaze with calm, but steely eyes.

“First, she must be intelligent and learned in many subjects,” Oswald said. “A good conversationalist and be able to follow a discussion with tact and humor, talented at the pianoforte, or any other art form, drawing, painting, what have you. I would appreciate it she speaks French, or any other language, fluently.”

“Of course.”

“Once upon a time I would have demanded that she be a peer in her own right,” Oswald said, his eyes drifting to the portrait of a lady behind Lady Pandora’s head. “Call me selective if you wish, but I believed blood called to blood to secure my own legitimacy.”

“But now?”

“Now, blue blood or not, I believe Ladies, true, genteel Ladies, can come in either class, the peerage or gentry,” Oswald said. “And as I think you might guess, the marriage to my late peer wife, ended on the worst note and a part of me is a bit scared that I may be walking into a trap again. I need a Lady who is circumspect. Do you see my logic?”

“Certainly,” Lady Pandora asked. “I would be wary as well. What else might I add to her qualifications for your match, My Lord? A huge dowry?”

“I would like someone with high social standing and a suitable dowry,” Oswald said, then waved his hand. “The titles I hold are over two-hundred years old and my Estates, domestic and abroad are abundant and bring in a sizable sum each year. I will provide, as is my honor to do so, but I do not want her to rely solely on me for all her wants and desires.”

“I see,” Lady Pandora’s eyes had taken on an assessing look, shifting a little as if her mind was coasting over a mental list of available ladies. “What about appearance?”

“I’d prefer someone fit,” Oswald replied. “Adept at riding as I am an equestrian. That would mean someone slender I suppose, but must be shorter than I and a good dancer. I am partial to blondes, but I suppose brunette works as well.”

“I’m listening,” Lady Pandora said.

“I do not want a fainting lily, I do not want a lady who will have a conniption when the slightest thing goes wrong,” Oswald added. “I am not against anyone with a child or children, but I would have an unencumbered lady, young enough. She needs not to be too young, who can bear children, and I want someone versed in the conjugal arts.”

Lady Pandora stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, you thought I wanted a virgin?” Oswald ticked up a brow.

“I did,” the matchmaker replied. “Most men that I draw into my service do.”

Thinking about Claire, and her virginal charms, made him shudder, “Not I, never again. Not after the charade my late wife put on, I am very wary of virgins.”

Lady Pandora looked unfazed. “Anything else My Lord?”

He could see her skepticism, as if he has asked her to find him a woman who would spin gold from flax or commune with the dead. Thinking about what he had said, his demands, he realized she was thinking that he might just die alone—a part of him agreed. “No.”

She cleared her throat. “Your list of requirements limits me severely.”

His brow quirked. “Surely there should be a few women who possess all the qualifications.”

“Let me see if I have it all,” Lady Pandora said. “You require a young, blonde woman, an heiress with means to support herself if need be, who is shorter than you. Good at music and the arts, learned in various aspects of knowledge, versed in the bedchamber but with no children…” she gave him a pointed look, “young enough to carry children and will not fall into hysterics when something goes awry.”

“Fine summary,” Oswald replied.

“I can think of only two,” Lady Pandora said tightly.

Drumming his fingers on the handle of his chair, Oswald added. “I forgot to add, no naïve and foolish country misses. Surely a woman as yourself with your legion of sources may find one that crosses all t’s? After all, you have learned the lineages of the upper ten-thousand families in le beau monde, have you not?”

“Yes, and I have created some very fine marriages with that knowledge, but this—” Lady Pandora waved her hand. “It will be a needle in a haystack. You are a very exacting man.”

Oswald leaned in. “Lady Ravenswood, I came here with one aim only, not to marry, but to test you. If your prowess is as others claim, I think this should be easy for you.”

He met her stare and held it for the long, stifling moment, before she snapped her fingers. “Lady Katherine Fairchild, would be a perfect match, provided you are not looking for a love marriage. Lady Katherine’s sister Ophelia married a Marquess, and she wants to upstage her.”

“He is a Marquess, and I am Earl,” Oswald said patiently. “Do you not see a problem there?”

“He is a Marquess in name only,” Lady Pandora replied. “His father holds all the purse strings and there is little property he controls. You, however, have Estates here and abroad. She’s not as much of termagant as most people believe, she just does not suffer fools. You may be able to form an agreeable alliance with her after all. Just don’t expect affection.”

Oswald smiled. “But what if I expected affection?”

Her lips ticked down. “My Lord, is this a joke to you?”

“Yes,” Oswald, “and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

Lady Pandora’s lips pursed. “I might not have all the answers, but over fifteen couples I have matched, since I started these retreats, are happily married now. Your standards do not match anyone gathered in this Manor.”

“Well, I suppose we are done here,” Oswald said, bracing his hands on the chair’s arms and making to stand, but Lady Ravenswood stopped him.

“Are all these requirements absolute, or will you give a little leeway?” Lady Pandora asked.

“You may bend anything but blonde, witty, her height and her accomplishments,” Oswald gave a brisk nod. “Good day, My Lady, and good luck on finding my perfect match. You will need it.”