PROLOGUE
The Grayling House Party, Grayling Estate
Sunset blazed across the extraordinary grounds of the Countess of Grayling’s estate, the evening air neither too warm nor too cold as Caroline Barnet drank in the beautiful view of lawn and woodland and garden from the drawing room terrace.
Lively chatter drifted out, but Caroline was content to share the outside quiet with her brother, who stood at her side. She needed the silence to think over the letter that had come to her, marked with the Matchmaker’s emblem.
“Daniel?” she said absently.
Her brother glanced at her. “What is it, Caro? Are you well?”
“Quite well.” Caroline paused. “Have you ever heard of the Matchmaker sending two letters?”
Daniel frowned. “I have not heard anything much about the Matchmaker, so I am afraid I could not say. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Something one of my friends said, that is all,” Caroline hastened to reply, clutching her reticule to her stomach, musing upon the two precious letters folded inside.
One had informed her, in a roundabout fashion, that Percival, the Duke of Granville, was not her match. The other had been far shorter, more of a note really, and altogether more confusing, bearing the words:One might consider the charming brother of a dear friend. A gentleman who would lead your horse by the reins and lead you to possible happiness.
The only gentleman who fit that description was Anna Dennis’ brother, Richard—or ‘Dickie’ to all who knew him. Indeed, he was always exceptionally charming whenever they encountered one another and had been very courteous during her ride in Hyde Park not too long ago, just before the Matchmaker’s second note arrived. Amusing, too. The sort of fellow who easily made Caroline smile and laugh, far more than Percival had ever done.
“What do you think of Richard Dennis?” Caroline pressed, hoping she sounded casual.
Daniel shrugged. “I know him fairly well, and that he is to inherit the Earldom of Greenfield if all goes well with the Royal Court petition his brother had made.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know about? Are you interested inhim? I suppose you have been spending a great deal of time in one another’s company. Would you like me to assist you?”
“Goodness, no!” Caroline gasped, her nerves jittering. “It is a… friend who has an interest. Certainly not me.Heis just a friend to me, and what is better than seeing two of my friends fall in love?”
Daniel seemed to accept the explanation, leaning back against the terrace wall, tilting his face up to the burnished sunset. “He has a reputation. You ought to warn your friend of that, but with his imminent new position, a lady could do far worse.”
“Lord Westyork!” A joyful, familiar voice snapped Caroline out of her contemplation, her heart lurching into her throat. Had she somehow summoned Dickie, just by talking about him?
The gentleman in question breezed out onto the terrace with two other gentlemen in tow: Percival, whom Caroline quickly looked away from, and Dickie’s brother, Maximilian Dennis, the Duke of Harewood, who did not cast her a single glance.
“My good friend, the Duke of Granville, has come to bend your ear about matters of business,” Dickie continued. “And he needs your advice rather swiftly, for his house is falling down.”
Caroline did not hear any of the ensuing conversation between her brother and Percival, as she raised her gaze and finally met Dickie’s pretty blue eyes. He beamed at her, flashing a wink.
“I was a late bloomer,” he said, though Caroline frowned, for she had missed whatever led up to that particular response.
“Many beautiful things grow late in the season,” she offered, hoping it made sense as a reply.
Dickie chuckled. “When is your birthday again?”
“November.”
“I thought as much,” Dickie said softly, coming to stand closer to her.
“And why is that?” she dared to ask.
He leaned in slightly. “Because themostbeautiful things bloom when the world is cold and grim. Who does not delight at seeing a snowdrop when everything else is bare and stark? Who does not see a bright holly berry and feel their heart cheered?”
“But the beauty of a snowdrop is so fleeting,” she murmured, waiting for the butterflies that did not come. They never had, with him. Instead, she experienced an urge to banter with him and chide him playfully, as she did with her brother. Not exactly the burgeoning romance she had anticipated.
“What beauty is not?”
She laughed at him, not altogether convinced that her smiles were of the adoring kind. Then again, friendship could be a good foundation for marriage. She had observed the four members of the Spinsters’ Club who were married, and they seemed to be as much a friend to their husbands as they were a spouse. Perhaps, that was where love bloomed.
And she and Dickie had already struck up a fair friendship over the past few months, since their first meeting at her debut. A friendship that, at least in her mind, had only grown stronger during the Countess’s house party, though nothing else had blossomed with it.
