marital disaster by uncovering the prospective bridegroom’s shady past.
Not only that, she had guided the young woman to catch the most eligible bachelor of the Season, or at least the second most eligible. Stone was always the first. From there, she had built a reputation as a matchmaker par excellence. The money she had earned these past three years had provided her with a decent life, a small town house of her own in a select neighbourhood and she was able to help young people enter into good sensible marriages. Something she had failed to do.
‘Are you saying you think my girls are beneath him?’ Papa Mitchell said, glaring.
‘Certainly not.’ Amelia smiled calmly. ‘Your daughters will be a credit to any gentleman. But the Duke is very conscious of his family pedigree.’
The belligerence in Mr Mitchell increased tenfold. ‘Then I say he is not good enough for my daughters.’
Amelia closed her eyes briefly. ‘Let us not focus on Stone. Let us turn our attention to the bachelors whom we will meet over the next few weeks and who will make fine husbands for your daughters.’
‘Titled gentlemen,’ Mitchell snapped.
‘Young gentlemen with good prospects and honourable intentions who will make excellent husbands. I do not promise a title, but any gentleman I recommend will be acceptable on every ground.’
‘One of the Gunning sisters married a duke and the other an earl,’ Patience said.
‘One of them married two dukes,’ Charity added.
The girls burst into giggles. They looked so merry and so pretty, Amelia let their amusement pass without comment. However, she would caution them not to model themselves on the Gunning sisters. Yes, they had both married well, but they had also been embroiled in scandal.
The ton turned a blind eye to a certain amount of indiscretion from among their own, but not from outsiders like the Mitchell girls. If their papa continued to reject her advice, her reputation for bringing only the most suitable young ladies to the notice of the upper one thousand could be tarnished. She might be forced to terminate their agreement.
* * *
As Jasper had expected, Lady Jersey’s ball could only be described as a squeeze. But then it would be. The Countess of Jersey was one of the patronesses of Almack’s and not one to be lightly snubbed. By the time Jasper arrived, guests already blocked the stairs up to the first-floor drawing room while they awaited their turn to be announced. With an impatient sigh, he did what he usually did upon these occasions, he headed for the green-baize-covered door tucked discreetly beneath the impressive staircase and, with a nod and a coin slipped into a waiting palm, ascended by way of the servants’ stairs.
Why on earth people felt the need to have their names blared into a room full of chattering guests he would never understand. No one inside was listening apart from the host and hostess. Besides, everyone knew everyone else anyway. And if they didn’t, they probably were not worth knowing.
He glanced around the crowded ballroom, seeking a friendly face. His hostess spotted him and immediately left the line at the door to greet him. ‘Up to your usual tricks, Duke?’ she said with a smile.
She’d caught him entering this way when he was much younger and had teased him about it ever since. He continued the practice almost as a point of honour. Well, that and the fact that it saved him from having long arduous conversations with people who saw it as an opportunity to curry his favour on some matter or other.
‘What else can I do when you insist upon inviting every member of the ton to your balls, Sally?’
She made a face. ‘I hate anyone to be disappointed.’
It was why she handed out tickets for Almack’s in such a free-handed way. She was the despair of the other patronesses.
‘You are too soft-hearted.’
‘Whereas you are as cold as stone.’
He grinned, enjoying that she said exactly what popped into her head instead of beating around the bush as so many ladies did when they spoke to him. ‘And here I thought no one had guessed.’
She