Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,107

‘She was a Linden. Her cousin holds the viscountcy now. She has become well known for her matchmaking skills.’

‘You seriously think I should consider one of these girls?’ It sounded so unlike his aunt, he could not keep the curiosity out of his voice.

‘I have been throwing eminently eligible daughters of the ton in your path for the past ten years and not once have you shown any interest. I thought perhaps your taste was so jaded, I should try something different.’

Jaded? He wasn’t jaded. Cynical. There was a description he could own, too. He’d had enough toadies and sycophants trying to get his attention since he inherited the title at the age of fifteen that he could spot one a mile off. But he wasn’t jaded. He was comfortable. He had a small group of friends, mostly male, whose wealth meant they did not seek to use him for their own ends and therefore whom he trusted.

He also had a mistress, Jane Garnet, whose favours he had enjoyed to the full for many years. A woman with whom he had agreed upon an exclusive arrangement, who was quite content to entertain him whenever he felt the need.

‘I suppose next you will be telling me I should pay off Mrs Garnet.’

His aunt rifled through the invitations and did not meet his gaze. ‘It might be as well.’

Damn it all.

It seemed his life of comfort was slipping away.

‘I thought the older girl might be ideal for you. And the younger for Albert.’

She spoke this last in such a low tone, he almost missed it. Aunt Mary continually thought to push Albert Carling, the only surviving relative on her mother’s side, up society’s ladder. Marriage to an heiress would certainly gild his path.

At one time, Jasper had been close with Albert. Unfortunately, Albert had not proved true and now they remained cordial but distant.

* * *

Three ladies tried to ignore Mr Mitchell pacing the drawing room of the town house he had rented close to Bedford Square. Two were his daughters, Charity and Patience, both blonde, pretty and making their come out in the London Season. The other, Mrs Amelia Durant, a lady with dark hair and eyes, was approaching her thirtieth year. While she was sure that she herself had never been deemed a great beauty, she had been born into the highest of society’s circles and she wearied of Mr Mitchell and his tirades.

‘Mrs Durant, I was told you know all the best people and can find the right husbands for my daughters.’ He paused and stared over his pince-nez at Amelia on the morning after his daughters’ first foray into the ton. ‘Now you tell me there wasn’t a single earl or duke at that party.’

‘Oh, Papa,’ Charity Mitchell said, raising her blue eyes from her needlework to meet his stern gaze. She gave him a sweet smile. ‘Lord Philpot was there and Sir Robert...something. I forget.’ She glanced over at Amelia.

‘Lord Robert Partere,’ she supplied. ‘A very old family with excellent connections.’

Amelia had explained her plan to Mr Mitchell more than once, but he didn’t seem to grasp the need for a light touch. Marrying girls off to suitable gentlemen, especially those of the nobility, was a very delicate matter. The girls might be utterly lovely, but their background was strictly middle class.

She repressed a sigh of exasperation. ‘Last night was not about seeking suitors—’

‘Then what was it about?’ he grumbled.

‘It was about assuring the ton that your lovely daughters can safely be invited to the most exclusive of parties and behave like proper young ladies.’ She beamed at the girls. ‘And they both passed muster, I can assure you. Lady Mary Warren was most complimentary about their looks and demeanour.’

It had taken Amelia nigh on three months to ensure that the girls knew exactly how to behave in polite company and to eliminate any trace of the broad Yorkshire vowels that coloured their papa’s conversation.

The ton would not care about the merchant father, as long as he settled a suitable amount on his beautiful daughters and stayed clear of their new families. On