He slapped his hands on his thighs and rose with a sigh. “Never mind.”
Why had he bothered with the embittered old crone? She would not understand about the haunted caves or care that Miss Alwyn might be in danger. He was not even certain there was adanger. But he could not dismiss those icy tingles running up his spine when he had spotted her yesterday staring down at those caves.
“That’s right,” his aunt muttered. “Do not waste your time with that one. She should not matter to you. With her parents dead and no family support behind her, she is nothing.”
“You are ever a delight.” He left her side to mingle with his other guests.
“Your Grace!” One of the peahens sidled up to him, smiling coyly and batting her lashes as though to entice him. “Will you partner me at cards after the recital?”
He shook his head. “Alas, I must decline, Lady Sylvia. Urgent business requires my attention, and I am not certain I will be done in time to join my guests for the card games. However, my cousin, Lord Hereford, will be delighted to take my place.”
He called over his amiable cousin and arranged the connection before he strode off to the next peahen and secured an escort for her.
He sensed Miss Alwyn, who had by now returned to his aunt’s side, watching him. He noticed the widening of her eyes and her astonished smile the moment she realized what he was doing. Never in his life had he expected to play the matchmaker. But her earlier words had stung. He was thoughtlessly amusing himself at the expense of these young ladies.
In his own defense, he had not done it on purpose. He was serious about finding a bride. It was time he married. But none of these ladies would do. Yet instead of making his feelings clear, he had given in to conceit and allowed them to continue fawning over him.
It was not well done of him to give them hope where there was none, especially since his own bitter experiences with hurt and hardship ought to have made him more compassionate.To allow others to suffer because of his careless arrogance was unpardonable.
As soon as everyone made their way to the music room for the opera singer’s recital, he withdrew to his study and searched for old books or family ledgers concerning MacArran Grange and its ghost. He found several that looked promising and opened one to read.
But it was not long before there came a light knock at his door.
He rose and strode across the room, prepared to bar entry to any peahen seeking a moment alone with him. If they thought to trick him into a compromising position, they would be the ones to suffer.
His brutish reputation was deserved, for he could be ruthless when necessary.
But there was something in the knock that had his heart beating faster, for he sensed who stood on the other side of the door before he opened it.
His little elf.
“Come in, Miss Alwyn.”
He had no qualms about allowing her in.
First of all, she could not trap him into marriage because she had no family to insist on his doing the honorable thing. Nor would he ever surrender to coercion. But this girl did not need to coerce him. If her reputation were ever sullied—a possibility, because his aunt was just the cruel sort of creature to spread such lies—he would not hesitate to marry the girl.
The realization caught him by surprise.
But it should not have been all that surprising to him, for he had sensed she was someone special the moment he set eyes on her the day of her arrival.
He stepped aside to allow her in.
“No, Your Grace.” She shook her head. “I dare not enter.”
“Very well.” He rested a hand on the doorjamb as he took in her appealing smile. “Why are you here?”
“To thank you for what you are doing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What is it you think I am doing?”
Her smile now reached into her eyes and made them sparkle. “I expected you to ignore my words, but you haven’t. May I say, your matchmaking skills are excellent. I could not have done a better job of pairing these ladies to their suitable bachelors.”
He responded with a light, rumbling chuckle. “I am glad my schemes have met with your approval.”
“I’m sure my opinion does not matter at all, but I heartily approve. I expect your cousin, Lord Hereford, will also be grateful. He has been trying to catch Lady Sylvia’s eye the entire week without success.”
“He’s a good fellow.”
