Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,108
the other hand, the daughters must be untainted by their humble origins if they were to attract an offer from the most eligible of bachelors.
Amelia knew exactly how to ensure such young ladies met suitable and honourable gentlemen. Honourable being the key word. She had been doing it for years. The ton trusted her to endorse only the sweetest and most rigorously trained young women to the scions of the nobility. The parents of those hopeful young people quickly learned to follow her directions to the letter if they wanted to utilise her services, for which she was paid handsomely. Her fees were based on the settlements negotiated between the parties once the marriages were arranged.
The Mitchell sisters were proving to be more of a challenge than any before them. True, their undeniable beauty made them viable prospects and their amiable natures had made her like them from their first meeting. So much so, she had willingly taken them under her wing.
Unfortunately, their widowed papa, a man who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, as he was proud to tell all and sundry, was irascible and inclined to want to rush things. He did not value her counsel as he ought and the lack of a wife to make him see reason was a drawback. Mind you, it would have to be a pretty strong woman to stand up to Papa Mitchell. His daughters certainly were not up to the task. Amelia was beginning to think she had not made a wise decision in offering to assist them in their search for husbands among the nobility.
‘Who is Lady Mary Warren, when she is at home?’ Mr Mitchell asked, folding his arms across his chest. He was a portly man with a round florid face and his once blond hair was now mostly grey and thinning on top. ‘I have never heard of her.’
‘Papa,’ Patience Mitchell said, pressing her hands together. ‘You really should have paid more attention to Mrs Durant’s lessons from Debrett’s Peerage. She is the aunt of the wealthiest Duke in all of Britain.’
‘And he is the youngest,’ Charity said. She frowned. ‘Though he is thirty-five.’
‘A man in his prime, then,’ their father said.
Both girls looked uncertain. ‘Thirty-five seems awfully old,’ Charity said. She looked at Amelia for confirmation.
‘Thirty-five is not terribly old,’ Amelia said. If it was then she would be terribly old in five years’ time. ‘But the Duke of Stone has been on the town for years and has shown no interest in settling down. Honestly, he is not a man I would recommend setting your cap at. The Duke is very high in the instep. He is unlikely to make an offer for anyone below the daughter of an earl.’
‘You sound as if you do not like him,’ Patience said.
Patience was both the younger of the sisters and, in Amelia’s estimation, the brighter. Their papa seemed to favour his older daughter Charity. But there really wasn’t much to choose between them. Like most young ladies in their first Season their heads were stuffed full of romantic notions. Amelia’s had certainly been, which was why it had been so easy for Lieutenant Durant to sweep her off her feet. He’d been every young lady’s vision of a knight in shining armour. Amelia no longer believed such men existed. Or if they did, then they certainly did not make very good husbands.
‘I was introduced to him,’ she said, recalling that day as if it was yesterday, ‘I truly cannot say I know him, except by reputation.’ And by observation over the years. The man was insufferably proud, though always exceedingly polite. He struck her as a man without any great feelings or emotions.
Yes, she had felt a spark of attraction at their first meeting, but it had been quickly extinguished when a few days later his gaze passed over her as if she had never crossed his path. Clearly, he did not care to remember any of lesser mortals who floated through his orbit.
It wasn’t long after her encounter with him that she had met and married Tarquin Durant. Widowed two years’ later, she had returned to London to set up her own modest establishment and found herself helping a cousin avoid a