Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,53

Lady Aylesford said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We came to talk to you about your sisters.”

“Esme and Cassandra? What of them?”

“We understand your sisters are in need of some matchmaking expertise,” Mrs. Hart added.

“And no one is better at matchmaking than Emilia,” Lady Hertford said.

“We are all proof,” the Duchess of Coventry offered with a bright smile. “Well, except Bea. But she was always in love with Mr. Hart, and their marriage was quite inevitable. The rest of us found our husbands at last year’s country house party.”

“I am not alone responsible for the matches, of course,” Emilia told her. “My sisters-in-law are all lovely and kind, and they stole their husbands’ hearts with ease. However, I propose my sponsorship for both your sisters when they make their debuts. I would be more than happy to take them under my wing and see them happily settled.”

“It would be one less worry for you,” Genevieve pointed out. “Two, actually.”

“That is kind of you.” The offer was indeed generous. “However, I am afraid seeing my sisters wed is not the main problem facing me. My father has… His gambling debts are tremendous. I must make a good match myself to give Esme and Cassandra the seasons they deserve.”

“I would not just facilitate matchmaking for your sisters,” Emilia told her gently. “I would for you as well, if you will allow it.”

The thought of making a match with anyone made her ill. “Thank you, Lady Emilia, but I am afraid I haven’t the luxury of time. I must find a husband before Christmas and wed him as soon as possible.”

“There are many eligible gentlemen in attendance,” Lady Prudence said.

“Dozens,” Mrs. Hart agreed.

“Have you anyone in mind?” the Duchess of Coventry asked.

Blade’s face came to mind, and her foolish, weak heart would not cease its futile yearning for him. That was hopeless, and she knew it.

“Have you, Lady Felicity?” prodded Lady Aylesford.

For a moment, she imagined unburdening herself completely to the group of women assembled before her. But she did not dare entrust her secret. If anyone discovered she had been in Blade’s chamber last night, in his bed, she would be disastrously ruined. A lifetime as a companion or a governess awaited her.

“No,” she managed at last. “There is no one I have in mind.”

“That is excellent,” Lady Emilia pronounced.

Felicity frowned. “It is?”

“Yes.” Her hostess beamed back at her. “I have already arranged for the perfect gentleman to meet you beneath the mistletoe in the library in half an hour’s time.”

Her heart plummeted to the soles of her slippers. “I am afraid I cannot. My Auntie Agatha would disapprove wholeheartedly.”

“Leave her to us,” Lady Aylesford said.

“My reputation,” she tried next. “I do not dare jeopardize it in such reckless fashion.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Hart made a dismissive gesture, as if she were chasing a fly. “We will make certain your reputation remains intact.”

She swallowed down a knot of uncertainty. How could she persuade this determined group of seven ladies that she had no wish to meet a gentleman beneath the mistletoe when she was hopelessly in love with another man? Her heart needed time to grieve.

“I cannot,” she said weakly.

“Wrong answer,” Genevieve said, grinning. “You can, and you will.”

Chapter Thirteen

Blade paced the library for what must have been the hundredth time. He had been awaiting Felicity for a small eternity, practicing in his mind everything he would say. Planning all his methods of persuasion. Praying his eccentric family would not ruin his chances at convincing her to marry him.

He raked his fingers through his hair as he turned on his heel and commenced a new row of pacing. Hell, before this was through, he was going to have worn a hole through the damned Aubusson. Mayhap he would have no hair left on his head either, having pulled it all out.

Where the devil was she?

Why had she not arrived?

The mistletoe hung low from the rafters of the second level of the library mocked him, its white berries waiting to be plucked. Felicity was supposed to meet him there.

She had to meet him there.

The door to the library opened.

She stood on the threshold, her expression pained, until her gaze settled upon him. He was moving toward her before he even comprehended it, drawn to her as ever. She was his, damn it. He just had to make her see the rightness of them being together.

“Felicity.” He stopped before her, reminding himself he needed to act the gentleman.

He bowed.

“Blade?” Her brow was furrowed. “What