“Judith, good. I thought you were going to chat the entire day away with your friend. You’re quite popular, I see. With the young ladies, that is,” he said.
Judith tilted her head to the side. What was that supposed to mean?
“I have my friends, as you do yours,” she replied.
Indeed, Oliver spent more time at Brooks with his friends than at Parliament.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. Then, he scratched his stubble and indicated the seat in front of him while dropping into his own.
“Sit, Judith,” he ordered and then placed a foot up on the desk.
She inhaled sharply. Her father would have been livid at this display.
“Oliver, what is it?” she asked, walking toward the desk before taking a seat.
He took a deep breath. “Judith, we need to talk about your future.”
“My future?” Judith raised an eyebrow, sensing where this conversation was headed.
“Yes, your future,” Oliver repeated, avoiding her gaze. “You’re four and twenty now. In Society’s eyes, you are considered an old maid.”
Judith folded her arms. She knew they’d have to talk about this at some point, but she didn’t appreciate his bluntness. “And?”
“And you need to find a husband,” he stated candidly.
Judith’s eyes narrowed. “We are still in our mourning period, Oliver,” she reminded him, but he waved a hand.
“Yes, yes. Only another three weeks. Who is counting, anyhow? Besides, Father would rather you find a husband than observe this custom, I am sure.”
“Are you? And how would you know what Father wanted? You’ve hardly been here to know what he liked to eat for breakfast,” she fired back.
Her brother flinched and looked at his fingers before raising his head again. “Judith, we need not argue. I acknowledge that Father and I did not see eye to eye on… much. But this, I am sure of. It was in his will. He left me a letter, as you know,” he said.
He opened a drawer to his right and withdrew a folded letter that bore their father’s handwriting.
Judith sat upright. Her father had left a letter for each of his children, as well as Matilda, with personal words of encouragement and hopes for their future. He had always been a pragmatic man, and while his sudden death had not been foreseen by anyone, it hadn’t surprised her that he had created such documents. She’d wondered what he might have written to Oliver. And now she knew.
To say that this was a surprise was an understatement.
“He wanted me to help you find a husband and be settled, and we will see that this is done. His letter asked me to start the search the moment the mourning period was over so as not to waste time. However, I am afraid I cannot tend to this matter myself,” he continued and leaned back, removing his foot from the desk.
“And why, pray, is that?”
The idea that she was to be thrown into courting so soon after the mourning period was over was bad enough, but now her brother was shirking his responsibilities?
Oliver sighed and rubbed his temples. “I must leave for a business trip. I leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? A business trip?” Judith scoffed. “You mean you want to avoid your responsibilities again.”
“That’s not true!” Oliver protested, a bit more forcefully than he intended. He softened his tone. “I have obligations that cannot wait, Judith. While our estate is run perfectly, my own business needs attention. I must travel to the Continent. I’ve already postponed the trip several times.”
“So, am I to be working with a matchmaker, then? Is that it? Since you cannot tend to the matter yourself? You’re abandoning me to some gabster who likes to pretend they are Cupid?” she asked bitterly, for this was often how ‘old maids’ found partners. Some lady of high society who had no pastimesof her own would make it her business to find matches for the hard-to-marry.
This was getting worse and worse by the minute.
“There will be no matchmaker involved. And I am not abandoning you. My very good friend has just arrived back in England from Italy, and he has agreed to help you find a match in my stead. He will approve any gentleman you might meet and ensure everything is done properly until I return.”
Judith’s eyes widened. She had an idea who that person might be but hoped she was wrong. “Your best friend?”
