“—my betrothed,” Nash finished.
The lorgnette froze. Nash’s aunt stared over it, down her long, Roman nose with all the disapproval of a dozen generations of unamused ancestors.
But Maddy had her own ancestors and they were French, and they scorned Lady Gosforth’s English disapproval. “How do you do, Lady Gosforth?” she said calmly and made a curtsy finely calculated to show respect to an older lady, but not intimidation. It was a you-may-not-approve-of-me-but-I’m-going-to-be-polite-anyway kind of curtsy.
Merci, Grand-mère for your instruction in the polite arts.She’d thought all those hours of learning various kinds of curtsies for various ranks and situations were a waste of time. This one gesture made it all worthwhile.
Lady Gosforth’s brows rose. “Charmed,” she said in a voice that was anything but. “Nash, I will speak to you in private in forty minutes. You, butler, conduct me to my bedchamber.” She stalked upstairs, Bronson in attendance.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?” Aunt Maude groped for her lorgnette and stared through it in a way that reminded Nash of an incident when he was fourteen, involving a cricket ball and an ornately framed looking glass.
She had not taken the news well. But he was not fourteen any longer. “Not at all,” he began in a contrite but firm voice. “Dear Aunt, I’m very sorry to have caused you inconvenience—”
“Don’t ‘dear aunt’ me! Inconvenience? Do you realize I’ve invited the daughters of three dukes, two marquesses, a dozen earls, several ambassador’s daughters—”
“Yes, and I’m very sorry to have wasted your time,” he said, cutting off what promised to be a very long list. “But there was no way to inform you of my change of plans. I was injured and insensible for several days, and when I awoke I had no idea who I was. I’ve only had my memory back for a few days.”
“Presumably your common sense will return in another week,” she said acidly. “I’m out of sherry.” She held out her glass.
He refilled it. The sherry might have been a mistake. He’d sent it up ahead of him, thinking it would mellow her mood; instead, it had sharpened her tongue.
He cursed the chance that had them all gathered at the door when she arrived. He knew better than to spring an unwelcome surprise on an elderly lady after a long and uncomfortable journey and had planned to break the news of his betrothal gently, after she was rested and relaxed from her journey.
Then, when she was reconciled to his news, he’d tell her Maddy’s story and finally he’d introduce her to Maddy. Aunt Maude would love Maddy, he was certain.
Instead he’d had to present his betrothed then and there, and she’d lifted that damned lorgnette and stared at Maddy as if she were an insect.
Maddy hadn’t liked that one bit and her temper showed. She wouldn’t realize it, but the way she’d curtsied almost looked like a challenge. And now Aunt Maude’s back was up, too.
It had been a mistake, too, to allow Aunt Maude forty minutes to compose herself. Two minutes into the interview he realized the wily old woman had used the time to advantage and sent her dresser down to the servants’ hall to gather information about Maddy.
And they’d got their information from her milkmaid-turned-maidservant.
Aunt Maude was not impressed.
“I sift through every eligible lady in the kingdom—”
“Not Wales and Scotland, then?” he interjected irrepressibly.
“Do not,” she ordered with a gimlet look, “be flippant.”
“No, Aunt,” he said, looking humble. He knew how to coax her out of the sullens.
“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I’ve known you since you were an infant, boy, and you cannot charm me.”
“No, Aunt.”
She took a deep sip of the sherry. “Never thought I’d see you, of all my nephews, making amésalliance.”
“It is not amésalliance. Miss Woodford’s father was a baronet—”
“An obscure baronet of obscure family. A dull little man who I gather died in debt.”
“Birth is not everything,” he said stiffly. How the devil did she know that? Did she know everyone in England? Probably.
“You wanted a bride with connections in the diplomatic field. Has this girl such connections?”
“No.”
