The Misguided Matchmaker (20 page)

I
think the evening went very well,” Lady Ursula said when the three Ramsdens and
Maddy gathered in the first floor salon after watching the last of the guests
depart in their carriages. “I was particularly proud of you, Madelaine,” she
said, sinking gracefully onto one of the room’s ornate Hepplewhite chairs.
“Your deportment was unexceptionable.”

“Thank
you, my lady,” Maddy replied. Restless she had elected to stand just inside the
door until she realized that the earl would not take a seat until she did. With
a sigh, she plopped down on the empty chair beside the countess.

“I
couldn’t help but notice you scarcely touched your dinner, my dear,” the
countess remarked as soon as Maddy was seated. “A case of nerves, I imagine.
Meeting so many exalted peers of the realm all at once can be rather
intimidating.”

“Indeed,
it can, my lady.”

“Then,
I’m certain the cuisine was a great deal more exotic than that served in your
father’s house.”

Maddy
smiled. “It was indeed different from that to which I’ve become accustomed, my
lady.”

“I
shall have the chef’s assistant prepare something more suited to your simple
palate before you leave. I cannot bear to think of you driving all the way to
Bloomsbury Square on an empty stomach.”

Maddy
cringed at the very thought of what that simple something might be. “You are
too kind, my lady. But I believe I shall wait until I reach home. Cookie is
sure to be awake, and I am accustomed to his cooking.”

“Whatever
you think best, my dear. But you will have to learn to appreciate
haute
cuisine
sooner or later, you know. All the great houses of London are
staffed with chefs of Monsieur Berthier’s caliber.”

Maddy
smiled obliquely. “I don’t doubt they are, my lady, but I shall try to make the
best of the situation anyway.”

The
countess’s eyes widened a fraction. “Yes, of course you will, my dear.” She
folded her hands in her lap. “Now as to the agenda for tomorrow, my son tells
me you’ve expressed a desire to see the waxworks.”

“It
was only a remark in passing,” Maddy said, casting a glance across the room to
where the silent, sad-eyed earl sat on a Sheraton loveseat beside his equally
silent, sad-eyed sister.

“Nevertheless,
tomorrow morning would be an excellent time for such a pleasant excursion,” the
countess continued. “Then you can return here in time for luncheon, after which
Garth and Carolyn can help you practice the country dances you’ve learned. For
I’ve the most splendid news. Lady Jersey sent your voucher for Almack’s around
this afternoon, so it is time you tried your wings, so to speak.”

Maddy
felt a twinge of anger. She was tired of having her time arranged for her, even
by someone as well-meaning as Lady Ursula. “That sounds like a lovely idea, my
lady, and I am certain I would enjoy it immensely, but unfortunately I have
made other plans.”

“Other
plans?” three incredulous voices asked in unison.

“Yes,
I find I grow weary of the city,” Maddy improvised. “The noise and dirt, you
know,” she added, warming to her subject. “I long for a brief sojourn in the
country, where the air is clean and pure and the only sound is the occasional
bleating of a sheep.” She smiled beatifically at the three other occupants of
the small salon. “I have decided to ask my father to lease a cottage for a
month or two in some rural area.”

“You
plan to leave London at the height of the Season?” Lady Ursula looked
positively horrified. “But, my dear, it simply isn’t done. What will Lady
Jersey think if you fail to use the voucher she has so kindly provided you?”

Another
twinge of anger assailed Maddy. She had met the renowned Lady Jersey on one of
her rides in Hyde Park with the earl, and the woman had spent the entire ten
minutes looking down her nose at her. “I neither know nor care, my lady. The
truth is, my spirit is badly in need of renewing and the source of that renewal
is only to be found in the country.”

“Then
perhaps in lieu of some rented cottage, you would care to visit my country
estate, Winterhaven,” the earl suggested. “I would be most happy to escort you,
and your father there if you so desire. It is but a two-hour drive from the
city.”

Maddy
could scarcely believe her luck. The earl had taken her bait as easily as a
mouse lured into a trap by a piece of cheese. “I cannot imagine anything I
would enjoy more, my lord,” she declared, favoring him with a radiant smile.

“But
you can’t go to Winterhaven!” Lady Carolyn’s voice held a note of panic.

“Why
ever not? I think Garth has come up with a brilliant suggestion.” Lady Ursula
frowned at her daughter. “I can’t imagine why I failed to realize that
returning to Winterhaven is just what he needs to spur him on to…to make
certain the workmen are provided with whatever it takes to complete the
necessary renovations.”

“But
Tris is doing that,” Lady Carolyn said, “and you know how ill-tempered he can
get if he’s interrupted when he’s working.”

The
countess looked positively flabbergasted. “I know no such thing—and furthermore
I’ll not hear another word against the dear boy.”

“But
surely you must realize how inconvenient it will be if we all traipse down
there when the house is still crawling with carpenters.” Lady Carolyn laid her
hand on her brother’s arm and looked pleadingly into his eyes. “Please, Garth,
don’t do it. Please believe me, it is not a good idea.”

“Cut
line, Caro,” the earl said somewhat impatiently. “What are you thinking of? The
renovations are finished, except for the south wing, and there is plenty of
room to put up our guests without using that part of the house.”

Maddy
held her breath, hoping the earl would not let his sister convince him to
change his plans about opening Winterhaven. It was her only hope of seeing
Tristan away from London and the prying eyes of the
ton.
Surely in the
peace and seclusion of the English countryside, she could bring him around to
making the offer she so fervently desired.

She
couldn’t imagine why Lady Carolyn was so opposed to the idea of the house
party, but she felt like throttling her for interfering. As it turned out, Lady
Ursula did some verbal throttling of her own. “Carolyn, go up to my chamber and
fetch my paisley shawl. I feel a chill coming on,” she said in a voice that
brooked no refusal.

“But
Mama…”

“My
shawl, Carolyn. Now.”

With
a last pleading look at her brother, Carolyn burst into tears and ran from the
room. Maddy could hear her sobs long after she disappeared from sight.

Lady
Ursula stared after her daughter, a puzzled look on her face. “I do believe
Carolyn must be sickening with something. For no apparent reason, she has
turned into a complete watering pot these past few days. Now this display of
emotion. She is not at all herself.”

“She
is eighteen, Mama,” the earl said dryly.

“Perhaps
you are right.” With a shrug, the countess returned to the business at hand.
“So, it is all settled then, my dears. We’ll leave for Winterhaven in…shall we
say three days’ time?”

“Three
days will be acceptable, my lady.” Maddy would have preferred to leave on the
morrow, but she made herself curb her impatience. It would never do to let
Garth and Lady Ursula know her real reason for wanting to adjourn to the
country.

“Then
I’ll pen a brief note of invitation for you to carry to your father,” the
countess said, and crossing to the small escritoire standing beneath the
window, proceeded to do so.

Half
an hour later the earl handed Maddy and her elderly dresser into her father’s
town coach. She settled back against the squabs, a smile on her face, and Lady
Ursula’s note in her reticule, and the worthy lady’s parting words ringing in
her ears.

“Won’t
our darling Tristan be surprised to see
us!
The dear
boy must be desperately lonely off there all by himself.

T
ristan was indeed surprised by the
unannounced arrival of Garth and his houseguests at Winterhaven—in much the
same manner that Napoleon was surprised by the outcome of the battle of
Trafalgar.

He
was supervising the repair to the stone exedra circling the south terrace at
the time and literally could not believe his eyes when he saw the caravan of
travel carriages and baggage vans approaching up the long tree-line drive.

Carolyn
was the first to reach him. She leapt from the lead carriage before the groom
had a chance to hand her down, sprinted up the shallow stairs, and crossed the
terrace to stand breathlessly before him. “I tried to stop them, Tris. I really
did. But Mama would not be deterred. She has this idea that seeing the
renovations at Winterhaven will give Garth the impetus to make his offer, you
see. Mr. Harcourt has been grumbling about how long it’s taking him to get
around to it.”

“I
understand,” Tristan said, numbly acknowledging he could scarcely blame the
powerful cit for being impatient. The man had already invested a fortune in his
plan to make his daughter a countess; he must be champing at the bit to place
the announcement of her engagement in the London
Times.

In
truth, Tristan was nearly as impatient as Harcourt to get the deed over and
done with. He had almost convinced himself that once the commitment was made,
he would find it easier to resign himself to losing her.

Until
she stepped from the carriage and looked his way.

Her
joyful smile was like a knife plunged in his heart; the sound of her voice
calling his name a cruel twist of the blade. She approached him with
outstretched hands. “Oh, Tristan, it is good to see you again. It has been so
long!”

The
touch of her gloved fingers on his sent such a jolt of desire coursing through
him, he felt as if his knees must surely buckle beneath him. “Maddy,” he said,
and for one brief bittersweet moment, the joy of seeing her and touching her
swept every other thought from his mind. Their gazes locked, her beautiful
ambers eyes devouring him with the same ravenous hunger that had been gnawing
at his soul this past three weeks away from her.

“Here’s
Mama, Tris. And Garth. And Mr. Harcourt.” Caro’s voice, sharp and anxious,
penetrated his hazy euphoria, and instantly he dropped Maddy’s hands as if
their touch scorched his flesh.

“My
lady!” he said, and collecting his scattered wits clasped Lady Ursula in his
arms. Tenderly, he kissed her first on one cheek, and then the other in the
fashion he’d become accustomed to in France.

He
had scarcely released her when Caro demanded her share of hugs. Then Garth
started pumping his hand as if it had been years, not days, since he’d seen
him, and Harcourt began issuing orders to the footmen to unload the baggage
vans, as if Winterhaven were his estate not Garth’s. Then suddenly everyone was
laughing and talking at once, one voice louder than the next.

Everyone
except Maddy, who stood silent and alone, watching with her heart in her eyes.

It
had been a long afternoon and a busy one for Maddy—most of it spent on a tour
of Winterhaven conducted solely for her benefit by the earl. She could not
imagine why he had singled her out for this honor; she would have thought he
would want to share it with her father as well.

But,
whatever his reason, there was no disputing he had miraculously come to life as
soon as he began showing her his beloved home. Once or twice he had looked
positively animated while recounting in boring detail every change that had
ever been made to the sprawling building by each of his long line of ancestors.

“So,
Miss Harcourt, now you have seen Winterhaven, the principal residence of the
Earls of Rand for almost two centuries,” he said when, with tour finished, they
stood together on the sunny north terrace.

“Indeed
I have, my lord—from one end to the other, and a lovely structure it is, as is
the park surrounding it.”

“Thank
you, Miss Harcourt.” The earl surveyed the
rolling meadows
and graceful stands of the trees stretched out before them with obvious pride.
“The park was designed by the Third Earl. Luckily, the formalized naturalism
for which Mr. Brown was famous requires little care, since the gardening staff
has been somewhat reduced in the last few years.”

He
turned his head and smiled at her, the first genuine smile she had seen on his
face in all the weeks she had known him. “As you have probably already
surmised, my home means more to me than anything on earth—except my family, of
course.”

“Home
and family are very important, my lord. My heart still aches whenever I think
of my grandfather and my home in Lyon.”

“Then
you will understand why I am compelled to do whatever is necessary to see that
the house of Rand survives. The family holdings include five lesser estates,
for which I am also responsible, two of which are unentailed.” He hesitated. “I
have promised the estate in Suffolk to my half-brother, Tristan and would very
much like to keep that promise, unless there are serious objections to the
idea.”

“I
can’t imagine why anyone would object, my lord. A promise is a sacred pledge of
honor, after all, and I know how important honor is to the members of your
family.”
So Tristan was to have his sheep farm after all. It was probably a
good thing. Even an international diplomat needed a place to call home.

Vaguely,
she wondered to what remote part of the estate said future international
diplomat had disappeared. Not once on the entire tour had she caught a glimpse
of him, though she’d constantly been on the lookout for his tall figure. Not
that she needed to see Tristan in person to maintain the happy glow that had
sustained her during the tedious afternoon. She could survive for days on the
memory of the passionate look the two of them had exchanged during the few
moments they’d been together.

“I
believe it is time to dress for dinner now, Miss Harcourt. We keep country
hours at Winterhaven.” The earl’s pleasant voice jolted her back to reality.
Accepting his proffered arm, she walked with him through the bay of French
windows lining the terrace and thence into the house.

At
the foot of the staircase leading to the upper floors, he made a graceful bow
and once again smiled at her. “I am heartened by our discussion, Miss
Harcourt,” he said gravely. “I do believe we are of like enough minds that we
may manage to rub along together quite satisfactorily.”

“Thank
you, my lord,” Maddy said automatically, although she hadn’t the slightest
notion why it would be necessary that the earl and she “rub along together.”
Unless—her heart leapt in her breast—he knew Tristan meant to offer for her and
wanted to make certain she fit into their closely knit family.

Maddy
was still puzzled by the earl’s odd statement when, more than an hour later,
she seated herself at the dressing table in her chamber while her maid brushed
her wayward curls into some semblance of order. But with a shrug, she finally
abandoned her fruitless pondering, deciding it was not worth worrying about.

She
stood up and surveyed herself critically in the cheval glass which stood next
to the armoire. Not normally given to fussing unduly about her attire, tonight
she had chosen and discarded one gown after another, until she found the one
she felt certain would most appeal to Tristan. A pale primrose creped silk,
simple of line but trimmed in a lustrous satin of an equally pale green, it
could not have been more perfect a costume for a warm spring evening.

Even
her cap of curls, which Lady Carolyn had assured her was all the vogue in
London at the moment, seemed an appropriate
coiffure du printemps.
Turning this way and that to gain a better view, she decided that, for once,
she was entirely pleased with her appearance.

Her
pulse quickened at the thought that it was not inconceivable that Tristan and
she might manage to slip away from the others long enough for her to collect
another of the two kisses he still owed her. She might not even have to
squander one of her precious hoard if the hunger she’d seen in his eyes had
been a portent of things to come. She smiled to herself. The long, lonely month
without him had been worthwhile after all; he had obviously missed her every
bit as much as she’d missed him.

But
with so many people in residence, where could they rendezvous with the
assurance of privacy? The orangery, she decided as she dismissed her maid and
prepared to join the others for dinner. What a romantic spot that would be with
its lush foliage, and with the April moon shining through the glass dome
overhead.

She
felt a flush heat her cheeks, remembering how she’d listened with half an ear
while the earl held forth on the virtues of raising one’s own fruits and
vegetables under glass in the winter months—and all the while picturing herself
in Tristan’s arms, with Tristan’s lips pressed to hers.

A
young red-haired footman in full livery waited at the foot of the stairs when
she descended. “I’ve been instructed to show you to the salon adjoining the
dining room, Miss Harcourt,” he said in a lilting accent that proclaimed him a
native of Ireland.

Maddy
thanked him politely and moments later stepped through the door he opened and
gazed about her at one of the few rooms she had missed on her tour. To her
surprise, the earl was the only other person in the small salon.

Once
again, his formal attire was blue satin, but a paler blue than what he had worn
the night they’d attended the theater. It was, in fact, the exact shade of the
delicate wallpaper covering the wall of the salon, and his gold waistcoat
perfectly matched the gleaming metallic stripe in the dark blue draperies at
the window.

Maddy
chuckled to herself. What a funny, vain little man this brother of Tristan’s
was. She found herself wondering if he’d dressed to match the salon or had the
salon decorated to match his attire.

Surreptitiously,
she studied his somber face. Something was definitely troubling him. The
animation that had brightened his countenance earlier in the day had
disappeared; in its place was a deathly pallor, and the hand in which he held a
glass of sherry shook noticeably. “Ah, so here you are, Miss Harcourt,” he said,
clearing his throat self-consciously. Maddy instantly glanced over her
shoulder, thinking he must have expected someone else.

He
cleared his throat again. “Your father has graciously given me permission to
speak to you.” His voice cracked and the sherry sloshed over the edge of the
glass and splashed onto the blue and gold Axminster carpet on which they stood.

“He
has?” Maddy surveyed the little earl with a puzzled frown, wondering if her
bombastic father had somehow intimidated him. “But why should you feel you need
his permission to talk to a guest in your own home—especially a person to whom
you’ve been chattering all afternoon?”

Like
drops of blood on a parchment, two bright dots of color flamed in the earl’s
pale cheeks. “But the ‘chatter,’ as you put it, was not of the personal nature
I have in mind at this moment.”

Personal
nature?
Maddy felt a
frisson of uneasiness.

“We
have been acquainted just under one month,” he continued, “but in that time, I
have come to sincerely admire and respect you.”

“Why
thank you, my lord. What a nice thing to say. I like you too.” Maddy beamed at
the kindly little fellow with genuine affection. “In fact, I do believe I
should like you even if you were not Tristan’s brother.”

“I
am gratified to hear that. I had hoped to find favor in your eyes, but one can
never be certain, can one?” The earl fixed his gaze on a spot just above
Maddy’s head, his brow knitted like that of a schoolboy trying to recall the
text he’d memorized to recite to his tutor. He swallowed hard. “Will you do me
the honor, Miss Harcourt”—he swallowed again—“of consenting to become my wife
and the next Countess of Rand?”

“Will
I what?” Maddy gaped at him as if he had gone mad, as indeed she felt certain
he must have.

“Will
you marry me, Miss Harcourt?”

“No,
my lord, I most certainly will not,” she said emphatically. “Though you do me
great honor in asking, I have to believe you are as aware as I that we would
not suit at all.”

“But
Miss Harcourt,” he stammered. “You…you cannot refuse me. What will your father
say?”

“I
neither know nor care. It is my life, not my father’s, we are discussing her.”
She peered at the earl through narrowed eyes. “Is this proposal something my
father has pressured you into doing?”

“He…he
has expressed a hope that…that is to say, he did go so far as to…”

“Ha!
Just as I thought!” Maddy frowned. “It is most certainly not your own idea. For
heaven’s sake, just look at you, my lord. I have never seen a fellow more down
in the mouth. Hardly the demeanor one would expect in a man who had found the
woman with whom he wished to spend the rest of his life.”

“But
you don’t understand, Miss Harcourt. It is essential that we marry; your father
expects it.”