She could do it. All of it. “Before I agree to anything, let us understand one another as well as possible.”
“Yes. Of course.” His shoulders relaxed, and one hand shifted to the right corner of his desk, his fingers rubbing some pattern over and over.
“First, you are not to speak with any suitors until I say so.”
“But—”
“Second, you will bow to your sister’s wishes when it comes to who her suitors are.”
He slapped his hands on the desk and pushed to standing, leaning his weight into his palms. She actually had to tip up her chin to keep his gaze. She was used to men being at her eye level or shorter, but he… he would not be looked down on, would he?
“I always do,” he said, voice cold as ice. “It was my mother’s particular wish that my sisters choose their husbands, and I have never—never—abused that wish.”
She swallowed. Clearford likely meant to appear menacing. Most would find him so. She found him… Oh, she could not think about how she found him. She swallowed again. “I am delighted to hear that.”
“Any more rules?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His quite broad chest.
“Yes, in fact. Two more. Third, you will not question my strategies, and finally, you will treat me as a family friend. My position is… awkward, you understand. I am a lady, and I offer my… talents to friends only.”
He nodded slowly. “Very well. But I have one demand of my own.” Lightning sparked in his stormy eyes. “You will meet with me once a week to discuss your progress.”
“That is not necessary.”
“It is. You said earlier you need this project, so if you wish to have it you will meet my single, hardly inconvenient demand.” He spread his arms wide. “There is no harm in it, after all. You are a family friend, are you not?”
She wanted to smack the satisfied grin from his face. Instead, she strode for the door. “Very well. I concede to your demand. Now, I must speak with your sister.”
He beat her to the door and ushered her into the hallway, grin still in place, still cocky, still infuriating and… something else. “Of course. She’s in the room just there, across the hall. My mother’s old sitting room. I will leave you to introduce yourself as I do not wish tointerfere.” He looked like he might wink, then his jaw hardened, and he slipped back into his study, shutting the door between them with a defiant click.
She collapsed against the wall, her body trembling. What a mortifying half an hour. God was clearly testing her. She’d left Edinburgh to escape rumors she’d seduced her client’s suitor only to kiss her new client as soon as she arrived.
They were to forget that from now on. Aye, a most excellent plan. Clearford should have introduced her to his sister. Terribly poor manners for a duke. No matter. She could do well on her own. She smoothed her skirts and pushed through the door, smiling her brightest for the young heartbroken girl.
The smile died almost as soon as she produced it.
Not one woman. Eight. And one, two, three… five men?
“I-I must be in the wrong place,” she stammered. “I was looking for Lady Felicity Merriweather.”
One of the ladies lifted her hand. “I am she.” She seemed a sad sprite with dark hair and gray eyes, the corners of her lips drooping. Very much her brother’s sister. As were two of the other women—more girls, actually—sitting on the small sofa next to Lady Felicity and staring at Emma with pure curiosity.
“I see.” Emma tried to bring her smile back. “I am Lady Emma Blackwood. I’ve come to help you find a husband.”
Lady Felicity nodded and looked away, and an older woman, heavy with child, stepped forward, her blonde hair perfectly coiled, and her pretty face polite yet welcoming. “I am Viscountess Noble, Felicity’s eldest sister. Apologies for the crowd, but we are all quite curious to meet you. Samuel—theduke, our brother—never asks for help, so your presence here is something of an anomaly. Shall I introduce everyone?”
“Yes,” Emma said, “that would be quite helpful.”
“Come, sit.” Lady Noble led her to a chair in the middle of the sitting room, closest to the fire. Sisters draped themselves across chairs and sofas, and the men in the room stood like stalwart soldiers behind them or leaned near the windows. Lady Noble resumed her seat next to one of those men. He was as perfectly polished as Lady Noble, and once she sat, he rested his hand on her shoulder without thought, as if to be near her was to give in to an ever-present urge to touch her.
Lady Noble glanced at him. “This is my husband, Viscount Noble. And these are my sisters.” The elder sisters resembled one another but not their brother, with hair in various shades of light brown and yellow. She gestured as she named them. “Mrs. Kingston, Mrs. Bailey, Mrs. Trent, and Viscountess Helston.” Then she gestured to the men. “Their husbands—Mr. Kingston, Mr. Bailey, Mr. Trent, and Viscount Helston. My unmarried sisters are Lady Felicity whom you’ve already met, Lady Gertrude, and Lady June.” Those three occupied a sofa together, squished arm to arm and seemingly happy about it.
“It is nice to meet you,” Emma said, not sure where to look when making the acquaintance of so many all at once. Emma felt the stare of every single individual in the room like the night at the assembly rooms. But unlike that night, the stares were not cold and uninviting.
“What a large family,” she finally said, “and so unconventional.” Clearford had said he let his sisters choose their own husbands. They’d clearly chosen to marry outside of their social sphere. Fascinating.
One of the men with sandy hair and scruff along his cheek made for the door. Mr. Bailey, was he? He walked with wide strides, pulling his wife along behind him. “I’ve work to do at theshop. Nice to meet you, Lady Emma.” He reached up to tip a hat, found nothing there, cursed.
“You gave it to Jacobs, Ben,” Mrs. Bailey said, her sandy blonde curls bobbing. “And I’m staying, remember?”
