she sputtered. Her cheeks flushed with color.
“Oh, I most certainly do. Several daughters whom I believe will wrap me about their tiniest fingers. And a few sons thrown in, for good measure. After all, a duke does need an heir.”
“But I thought . . . that is . . . oh, forgive me, Your Grace.”
“For what? Reading the gossip columns in the London papers?”
The pink heated to a cherry red, washing across her cheeks and splashing along her neck.
“No need to apologize, my lady. For too long, I have played the scoundrel. George, too. That is, the Duke of Charm,” he said with a smile. “George and I grew up together. His estate is adjacent to mine. It took longer than most but we’ve finally sown all our wild oats.”
“All of them?” she asked, doubt in her eyes.
“Quite. George wed my sister recently. I believe I mentioned that to you. Seeing wedded bliss is a powerful thing, Lady Ruthersby. It has given me the urge to wed myself.”
The lady was now red to her roots. “I see. I wish you well in that venture, Your Grace. All the eligible ladies in London—and their mamas—will set their caps for you. I would advise you to be discriminating.”
That was it, he thought. He could ask for her help in finding a bride. She wouldn’t know it was to be her. Of course, that would mean waiting until the Season. It was only four months away. Still, it would be enjoyable, having her advise him, all the while drawing her in.
“I thought you might help me in this endeavor, my lady.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “Oh, you’ll need no help at all, Your Grace. You cut quite the dashing figure. You have the physique and outstanding looks that women are attracted to. You are also a duke and possess unimaginable wealth. Finding a woman to be your duchess won’t be any problem at all.”
He came around from behind his desk and sat on its edge. She was right in front of him. He was close enough to catch the whiff of rosemary.
“That is where you are wrong, my lady. I have never looked for the right kind of woman to be my duchess. I am afraid I have indulged in pleasure. I need guidance so that I don’t rush into things. The perfect woman is out there for me. I just need assistance in finding her.”
She looked a bit panicked and hastily said, “I am certainly not the one who could do that for you, Your Grace. As I informed you last night, I don’t even attend the Season anymore.”
“I know.” He waved a hand in the air. “No clothes. No invitations.” He paused. “What if I could remove those obstacles?”
She sniffed. “I don’t see how.”
“You expressed your desire to wed again. I want to do the same. I can easily place a few words in the right ears and you will be invited to every event held. As for clothes, I have a seamstress at Treadwell Manor. I’d be happy to loan her to you. She could make up an entire wardrobe for you.”
At least, once he found a seamstress, Weston would hire her so she could share her services with Lady Ruthersby.
He leaned forward, fighting the urge to kiss her. “You see, my dear Lady Ruthersby, you are an experienced woman. One who has already been wed and widowed. You will have a more discerning eye than I ever could as far as this entire process goes. You could help me evaluate the eligible ladies this Season. You have a good head on your shoulders. I would value your opinion. By doing me this favor, you would also be able to move freely through Polite Society and find a husband of your own.”
She sat, stunned, so he continued.
“We could meet on a daily basis. You could give your assessment from the night before and guide me toward the women you believe would best suit me. By the end of the Season, we both will have made our perfect matches.”
Of course, he planned to win her so they would wind up being the match they each sought.
Weston gave her his most charming smile, knowing how it affected women. “So, what do you say, my lady? Would you be willing to help me in this endeavor?”
He saw her wrestle a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the arrangement.
Finally, she said, “I believe we could aid one another, Your Grace. Your proposition is very tempting.