To Make a Match (A Scandal in London Novel) Read online

  “Very well,” agreed Amelia, the words slipping weakly from between her pale lips. “I am willing to try your plan.”

  “Then I shall go at once,” he said, bowing. He then excused himself to await Withy’s release from captivity.

  He would speak with him first, convince him to press suit for Victoria, and then gain consent to court Amelia. He would figure out how to make the switch later.

  “A SUCCESSFUL EVENING all around,” Papa announced as their carriage rolled away from Devonshire House. “Although you, Victoria, owe me an explanation regarding the state of your gown.” He sighed. “Though I suppose it is a moot point now. Yes. A most successful night, indeed.”

  Moot point? “You are not angry?” Victoria ventured meekly.

  “How can I be?” her father chuckled. “I could not have asked for a better outcome than this, certainly.”

  “Do you think Mama would approve?” asked Amelia, earning an unseen glare from Victoria.

  “Your mother would be quite proud, I think,” he answered. “Cavendish is an excellent catch.”

  Victoria jerked her head up as the bottom fell from her stomach. What? Cavendish had gone and done exactly what she’d begged him not to do! The fact that her father wasn’t exploding with rage, however, was mystifying.

  “I confess I am a bit surprised you’d settle for a second son, but it matters not to me as long as you are pleased,” he continued blithely, further stunning her. “As for you, Victoria, Marquess Withington’s request to court you could not have come at a better time, and though I hold the motivation for his petition highly suspect, I shall count it a blessing.”

  Her confusion was complete. “Marquess Withington has asked to court me, as well?”

  “Both Withington and Cavendish approached me this evening, and I have given my approval. You are both to be commended for a successful campaign.”

  Victoria was utterly flabbergasted. Both to be commended…the words struck her as strange. “Wait, you are certain Lord Withington asked permission to court me?”

  “You seemed well aware of his interest when you introduced him,” her father replied, an edge to his voice.

  “Of course, Papa,” she said, striving not to let her panic show. “But I certainly didn’t expect him to come to scratch so very quickly. We’ve only just met, after all.”

  He grunted agreement. “Yes, well. You seem to have made quite an impression on the lad. One must hope it was the right kind of impression. In the future, I expect you to conduct yourself with all the propriety you lacked this evening.”

  “And…Lord Cavendish? He also asked permission?”

  He chuckled with genuine pleasure. “Ah, yes. Now there’s a fine match, if I do say so. Splendid lad. Well done, Amelia.”

  Amelia? What the devil is going on here? A lamp on the street cast its faint glow into the carriage, and she ventured a cautious peek at Amelia. A faint smile hovered about her sister’s lips. The distinct odor of a double cross yelled in Victoria’s nostrils. When Amelia arched a knowing brow at her, she knew she’d been had.

  Cavendish!

  She didn’t know how he’d done it, but somehow the man had gotten Amelia to cooperate with him in some awful scheme. As for Withington, she had no idea whether or not he was complicit, but she suspected the worst. The men were friends, after all.

  Her temper flared at the thought of being made a fool. “Why, Amelia, I’d no idea you were so interested in flowers,” she simpered. “I thought they made you sneeze.”

  “One can tolerate many things for the sake of love,” replied Amelia with a nasty smile. “The fact of the matter is that I find Lord Cavendish’s knowledge of the natural world most intriguing.”

  Victoria ground her teeth. His knowledge of the “natural world” was quite extraordinary, indeed. “I’m so very glad for you, Amelia,” she sighed. “I found him terribly dull, myself; but then our interests are quite different. I imagine the two of you will make a fine match in every way.”

  “As will you and Marquess Withington, I expect,” said Amelia. “Your mutual love of gardening, particularly of mazes, should keep you well in conversation for many years to come.”

  Victoria’s mouth fell open—the little sneak had been spying on her! So, that’s how it was to be. Well, if it was war Amelia wanted, then war she would have. “I can indeed envision us happily growing old together, even as I can see you and Lord Cavendish doing the same. Although, at your age, you’ll see your decline somewhat sooner than I.”

  Her sister sucked in a sharp breath, but her next salvo was cut off before it could be launched.

  “Enough!” interjected their father. “You should be grateful, Victoria. Had your sister not intervened and vouched for Withington, I should never have allowed his suit. The man is a piece of work and no mistake—but he is a friend of Cavendish’s, and I dared not endanger her prospects by refusing him. Now, I want no more bickering between you! A man can hardly think in the presence of such carping. God forbid that these gentlemen ever hear the two of you squabbling like a pair of angry fishwives!”

  Victoria seethed. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake! And to top it off, her father had all but sold her to Withington, a man he didn’t even approve of, all for the sake of Amelia’s “match” with Cavendish!

  “When may we expect to see Lords Cavendish and Withington?” her sister asked smoothly.

  “Withington’s family is playing host to a young composer by the name of Gallopy or some such, and they’re holding a small party next week to show him off.”

  Amelia’s eyes lit. “Signor Galuppi. Yes. He’s written several wonderful operas.”

  “I’m sure,” her father grumbled. “Anyway, Withington has invited Victoria. Cavendish is also attending and has asked permission to take you, Amelia.”

  “Excellent,” replied Amelia.

  Victoria chewed on her own liver in silence for the remainder of the journey home.

  Upon arriving, Amelia immediately went to her room and shut her door, locking it. Victoria got no response whatsoever when she attempted to gain entrance. She wanted to pound it down with her fists and demand answers; but she dare not, lest Papa begin asking difficult questions. She briefly entertained the idea of slipping a note beneath her door, but it was far too risky to arm Amelia with written evidence.

  All she could do was wait until tomorrow.

  But Amelia was just as silent the following day. And the next. When she wasn’t locked in her room, she was at Papa’s side.

  Victoria continued in frustration until the dreaded day arrived. Deprived of sleep, she grimly waited for the axe to fall. She toyed with claiming illness; however, that would not only be an act of cowardice, but extremely unwise. Leaving Amelia alone with either man would be asking for disaster.

  When the day arrived, Victoria dressed and trudged downstairs.

  “You look positively lovely,” cooed Amelia while making a point of showing off her gown, a lovely pink silk affair cut in the very latest fashion.

  “As do you, but then you always look like an angel,” Victoria replied in an equally saccharine tone. Her own gown was, as usual, disappointingly modest—even for an afternoon event. Papa had not agreed to getting her clothing altered, despite the fact that she was now officially on her way off the shelf. “Let us hope our gentlemen find us as attractive as we find ourselves.” She smirked as Amelia’s smile vanished.

  Their father turned with a frown. “Pride is a grave sin, Victoria.”

  “Yes, Papa. I was only jesting.”

  “You ought to take better care with your speech, lest you give the impression of vanity. A humble heart is a priceless pearl, and it holds far more sway than outward beauty.”

  Amelia pursed her lips, and Victoria knew she was smothering a nasty snicker.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Upon their arrival at Pembroke, Amelia went into full battle mode, greeting Withington with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm while pract
ically ignoring Cavendish. It was the same old routine: the flirting eyes, the coy smiles, the oh-so-innocent double entendres. Her sister did everything short of stripping naked and dancing before her mark.

  She who laughs last, thought Victoria, hiding a smirk as Amelia showed off her knowledge of music. Her trap was working perfectly. And now it was time to sweeten the bait. Stepping forward, she slipped her arm beneath Withington’s, forcing him to look down at her. “Amelia’s knowledge is far greater than mine, yet my enjoyment of the entertainment will be no less, despite my lack of musicianship.”

  “I’m sure you have other talents that more than make up for it, my lady,” he answered, the naughty twinkle in his eye surprising her. “Please allow me to show you Pembroke before the event begins. I think you’ll find it quite lovely, especially the gardens.”

  To Victoria’s great amusement, Amelia looked on the verge of a perfect frothing fit as he led her away. Her good mood was only temporary, however. As soon as they were alone, she rounded on Withington. “What in heaven’s name possessed you to ask my father to court me? And why the devil is Cavendish courting my sister?”

  He took a step backward, but she continued to advance until his back was against the wall.

  “Julius made me do it!” he blurted, trying unsuccessfully to edge to one side. “It was the only way he could see you.”

  “What?”

  He held a finger to his lips. “Shh! People will hear you! Remember how you asked me to help you distract your sister at the ball? Well, he’s decided to keep that strategy in place. He’s managed to convince her that he’s on her side against my seeing you. I’m to pretend that I’m trying to seduce you. Eventually, he will be ‘forced’ to intervene and—”

  “Become my savior,” she finished for him. Now it all made sense. By Jove, her plan had worked—albeit by an entirely different means than anticipated, but still. Much to her amazement, she felt a twinge of concern for her sibling. “And once Cavendish ‘rescues’ me from your wicked clutches, where does that leave Amelia?”

  Withington flushed. “I thought that perhaps by the time you and he were ready to announce your intentions, she might see me…differently. After all, if I am going to be stuck with her while you two get to know each other, I might as well try to do the same.”

  She blinked, incredulous. “With Amelia? Are you mad?”

  His cheeks grew brighter. “She is intelligent, charming, and—”

  “Beautiful?”

  “I was going to say witty, actually,” he said defensively. “I won’t deny that she’s lovely, but I’m more interested in the fact that she made me laugh like no one I’ve ever met before.”

  “You’re insane, the both of you!” she said, laughing. “Cavendish is courting my sister in hopes of seeing me, and you fancy a woman who thinks you’re a libertine set on debauching her sister. You both belong in Bedlam.”

  “And you don’t return Cavendish’s interest? Why do you not simply allow the ruse to play out and see where it takes you?”

  It was pointless to deny the truth. “I’ve a confession to make,” she finally said. “At the ball, I overheard him talking to you—and when he described the kind of woman he wanted for a wife, I thought Amelia would suit him perfectly. I initially set out to bring them together by pretending interest in him myself and then allowing her to steal him. But then we began talking, and…”

  Withington grinned. “You fell for your mark.”

  She glared, trying her best to ignore the heat creeping into her face. “And if Amelia discovers the deception, she’ll tell Papa and I’ll be bloody lucky if he doesn’t lock me away in a convent for the rest of my miserable life!”

  “She won’t find out,” he assured her.

  “She will. She’s practically clairvoyant when it comes to men. She’ll see right through you.”

  He sniffed and looked away. “Then I shall have nothing to fear, shall I?”

  “Wait—you cannot tell me that you actually like her? But…but I’ve told you what she’s really like. And you’ve heard her yourself, you’ve seen—”

  He laughed, cutting off her protest. “I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like your sister.”

  “You’ve been waiting to meet a harpy?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Oh, come now. She isn’t all that bad. A little prickly in temperament, perhaps, but every hedgehog has its soft side.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Soft s—you can’t be serious! Her tongue could flay the hide off an elephant! Just yesterday our maid told me that gentlemen are beginning to call her ‘The Blade of London.’”

  “Ah, but you know her only as your annoying sister,” he countered with a merry wink.

  Seeing that she would be unable to persuade him otherwise, she surrendered. “So be it. But you’ll see,” she added, shrugging. “She’ll do the same to you as she has all the others before you. You’ll think she’s warming to you, and then the moment you show weakness she’ll have you by the throat and you’ll see the truth of it.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I haven’t much choice, seeing that Julius would never forgive me if I didn’t at least try. For all of my selfish motives, I’m really only doing this for his sake. I should have taken an entirely different approach, had I been unencumbered by the two of you.”

  “You wouldn’t have made it past the introductions,” she snorted.

  “Well then, it is good for us all that you and Julius happened to meet, isn’t it?”

  She stared at him, her insides churning with doubt. “You must understand that it is difficult for me to comprehend why he should go to such lengths to see me when we’ve only just met.”

  “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you,” replied Withington.

  “That is nothing more than common desire,” she scoffed. “I know better than to equate it with sentiment.”

  His sandy brows drew together. “Forgive my bluntness, but if lust were his only impetus, he would have compromised you in the conservatory. And his desire for you is anything but common. I know him, and I believe there is far more than mere attraction at work.”

  The blood rushed to her cheeks. “So he told you about that, did he?”

  Laughing, he shook his head, denying it. “I have eyes, my lady. The flower that fell from your hair that night could only have come from one place.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. “You may rest assured that his interest in you goes much deeper than desire. He has talked of you incessantly since that night.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she remembered that she was still wroth. “One of you could have sent me a message, at least, to inform me of your plans. I’ve been going out of my mind wondering what the devil was going on!”

  “He did not dare risk discovery by doing such a rash thing. He said there would be only one chance for this to work. For us both.”

  She could not find fault with that assessment. And she couldn’t stay angry with him. This wasn’t his fault, anyway. It was Cavendish’s. “Very well,” she sighed, resigned. “Tell me what I am supposed to do.”

  JULIUS FOLLOWED AMELIA’S gaze and fought to keep a straight face. This was going to work beautifully. “I shouldn’t worry,” he said to her quietly. “I’ve warned him that Richmond will not look kindly on him should he cause the need for hasty arrangements. He will show proper restraint.”

  Her gaze remained trained on her sister and Withington. “Victoria is quite capable of inciting trouble without any help, and a hasty arrangement is probably just what she has in mind. I should like to keep my eye on her, if it is all the same to you.” She began to follow them.

  “My lady, you mustn’t,” he said quickly, stopping her with a gentle hand. “You must distract Withington and allow me to deal with your sister, as planned.”

  She halted and turned, her eyes hard as she shrugged off his hand. “I’m not so
certain your plan will be enough to stop her.”

  He had to buy them some time. “Lady Amelia, we agreed this was the best course,” he insisted as the couple turned the corner and disappeared. Thank God. He hoped they had enough sense to make haste. “We cannot know whether it will work if you do not give it a fair chance.”

  “You are right,” she admitted. “How do you propose we separate them?”

  “Leave that to me,” he answered with a sly smile.

  Julius left her and went to the prearranged meeting place, only to find that Withington and Victoria were not there. Where the hell were they? After a moment of casting about aimlessly and feeling a fool, he decided to go and find them.

  While walking the halls of his best friend’s home, he thought back to the lengthy discussion they’d had regarding their wooing of the sisters Lennox. Withington certainly had his work cut out for him. It would be nearly impossible to convince Lady Amelia of his innocence. The woman would likely tear him limb from limb for his part in their deception.

  He took out his watch and frowned. Withington must have explained the situation to her by now. But where were they?

  Rounding the turn, he heard voices from down the hall. Withington’s father, the Earl of Pembroke, was in his office—with Lord Richmond. He moved closer and listened.

  “I expect the wedding will need to be held at the end of the Season,” Richmond was saying in a slightly less than pleased tone. “I cannot imagine they’ll be willing to wait until next spring.”

  “To hell with waiting any longer than absolutely necessary,” said Pembroke. “I’ve waited too long already to see my son settled. The sooner they tie the knot, the better, I say.” The clinking of glass told Julius drinks were being poured. “To our children’s happiness, and to their children—may they be healthy and numerous.”

  “Well, I cannot disagree with that,” replied Richmond. “As to the matter of her dowry, there are several things to consider, one of them being the horses. I cannot imagine that she will be willing to part with some of them, and they are quite valuable.”