voice said as his sharp, piercing gaze swept over her.
“You presumed correctly, my lord,” she replied.
He nodded his approval. “I have come to discuss a business matter with you.”
She pointed towards the chair in front of the desk. “Would you care to have a seat, Lord Berkshire?”
“I would,” he replied, stepping closer to the chair.
Lord Berkshire waited until she was situated before he lowered himself down onto the chair, keeping his back rigid.
They stared at each other until the silence threatened to become awkward. She spoke up. “Perhaps you should start with why you are here.”
“I am here to retain your…” he hesitated, “services.” His words seemed to drip with disapproval.
“Services?” she repeated back slowly.
His gaze never wavered as he said, “Yes, your matchmaking services. I have it on good authority that you are an excellent matchmaker.”
“I see,” she replied. “Am I to presume you are looking to secure a match for yourself?”
Lord Berkshire scoffed as he adjusted his blue riding jacket. “No, I am not lacking in that regard, nor am I interested in matrimony at the moment.”
Katherine leaned back in her chair, waiting for him to elaborate.
“I am hoping you can arrange a match for my younger sister, Lady Kitty,” he explained.
She reached for a piece of paper from the edge of the desk and placed it in front of her.
“May I ask how old your sister is?” she asked as she retrieved the quill.
“She is nineteen years old and is in her second Season,” he shared. “Kitty is painfully shy around gentlemen, and at social functions, she tends to remain apart from everyone else.”
“There is nothing wrong with being shy,” Katherine commented as she began taking notes.
“It is when I spent a small fortune on her first Season, and it was a complete disaster,” Lord Berkshire declared. “I want to secure her a match before the end of the Season.”
“May I ask what the rush is?” Katherine asked. “Your sister is still young and has many Seasons ahead of her.”
His mouth became stern as he confessed, “There are some extenuating circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
Katherine was surprised by his dismissive response. “By chance, does your sister know that you are here?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“No, she does not,” he answered. “But that shouldn’t matter, should it?”
“But it does,” she replied, frowning. She placed the quill next to the inkpot. “We have no desire to force suitors upon someone who is unwilling and uncooperative. It would just be a waste of time for everyone involved.”
“Why should you object?” Lord Berkshire asked haughtily. “You would still be paid regardless.”
Katherine took a moment to consider the man sitting in front of her. He was arrogant, bold, and quite infuriating. He was not a man that she would want to do business with. Frankly, he was not a man that she would want to associate with.
Coming to a firm decision, she said, “I’m sorry, Lord Berkshire, but I do not think us working together would be a good idea.”
His brows lifted. “I beg your pardon?” he asked in such a way that it was clear that he was used to getting his way.
“We strive to find our clients love matches…”
“Love matches?” he huffed, cutting her off. “Surely you jest?”
She rose slowly from her chair. “We do not seek marriages of convenience for our clients, but we are committed to ensuring they have found their match.”
Lord Berkshire rose awkwardly. “Love matches do not exist in our circles,” he said. “Surely you have been told that. At best, you can hope for mutual toleration when it comes to choosing a spouse.”
“That is a sad way to live, Lord Berkshire.”
“No, it is a realistic way to live,” he countered.
“Be that as it may,” she pressed, “we have successfully brought many couples together who have had mutual affection for each other.”
“My sister just needs to find a suitable match,” he argued, “and quickly.”
Katherine clasped her hands in front of her. “I wish you luck in your endeavors, but we shall not be a part of it.”
“You would refuse a paying client?” he asked in disbelief.
“I would.”
His eyes narrowed, but she was not intimidated and solidly stood her ground.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by your response,” he remarked.
She tensed at the curtness in his tone. “And why would you say that?” she asked cautiously.
“You are a spinster who has a skewed sense of reality,” he replied. “You speak only of love, which I daresay you don’t know the first thing about,