tried, one of them the daughter of a duke and the other of a marquess. They need a helping hand to narrow their choices to one and to fall in love.”
“I wish it could be done as easily as saying it,” Louise said with a sigh.
“Alexander and Wren are expected to arrive in town tomorrow,” Althea said, speaking of her son and his wife, the Earl and Countess of Riverdale. “Elizabeth and Colin are planning a small party to welcome them, though that is only an excuse, of course. Elizabeth loves entertaining and Colin does nothing to restrain her. I believe he loves it too. Perhaps I could suggest that both Mr. Rochford and Mr. Thorne be added to her guest list?” Elizabeth, Lady Hodges, was her daughter.
“Are we all playing matchmaker, then?” Mildred asked. “I thought we had stopped that after Matilda’s wedding.”
“It is not matchmaking when one arranges to throw together young people who may not have the good sense to throw themselves together,” Edith said. “Is it? I daresay Jessica and Estelle have met so many eligible gentlemen since they left the schoolroom that by now they can hardly recognize a good catch when they see him. I agree with Matilda. And Viola. They do need a helping hand.”
“Aunt Edith,” Matilda said, wagging a finger in her direction, “you are talking just like one of us.”
They all laughed.
“I am sure Elizabeth can be trusted not to be too obvious about it,” Louise said. “But, Althea, can you make sure that Mr. Rochford and Mr. Thorne are not the only guests from outside the family? Jessica would realize the truth in a moment and she would be mortified. She would confront me with it too. She is very prickly about having her life interfered with.”
Althea’s eyes twinkled. “Elizabeth would never commit such a social faux pas, Louise,” she said. “But yes, I will make sure there are other guests outside the family.”
Louise sighed again as she surveyed the plates set out upon the table. “Oh,” she said, “whatever happened to the cream pastry I have had my eye on? Did someone eat it? It was you, Mildred, was it not? You always did that when we were girls. You would wait until there was one slice left of a cake we all adored, and you would take it without any offer to share. My waistline thanks you, however. I hope something will come of Elizabeth’s party, but I will not hold my breath. Behold a mother in the depths of despair. Hand me that plate with the jam tarts, will you, please, Aunt Edith?”
“It is a magnificent bouquet, Jessica,” Anna, Duchess of Netherby, said, sounding a little doubtful. “It is also a little hard to see around, is it not?” She got up from her chair across the hearth from her sister-in-law’s and sat on another. “That is better.”
The bouquet, lavish and enormous, and surely containing at least one of every species of flower known to mankind, had been awaiting Jessica in the drawing room when she returned from a morning visit to the library with Anna and her children, Rebecca, aged four, and Jonah, aged two. Six-year-old Josephine had not gone with them, though reading was one of her favorite activities, because her father, Avery, had asked if she would like to ride her pony and accompany him to Hyde Park. Horses and riding were Josephine’s passion.
The bouquet was from Mr. Rochford and was just the sort of thing Jessica might have expected him to send if she had thought about it. The dozen red roses from Lord Jennings, standing in their crystal vase upon the sideboard to one side of the door, were dwarfed in comparison.
“I wish it had been put somewhere else but here,” Jessica said. “It is almost embarrassing.” No, it was embarrassing.
Anna laughed. “I believe you have made a conquest,” she said. “A big one. All the other single ladies in London would surely go into collective mourning if they could see it.”
“He danced with me once,” Jessica protested.
“Ah, but he had eyes for no one but you while he was doing it,” Anna said. “And at supper he conversed with no one except you. I would swear he did not even look at anyone else. Then, after escorting you back to the ballroom, he left abruptly, never to return. He strode out, in fact. I would not swear that he intended to draw everyone’s attention, but . . . Well, I would