A Wedding In Springtime(17)

“So you used Debrett’s Peerage as a guidebook for eligible marital partners?” The dowager rifled through the pages.

“Yes. Marriage is nothing to be entered lightly. We found that when men are wooing, they rarely share their true nature with their intended. We needed to look at the situation logically, soberly, to help guide affection along its proper course.”

“Well, I can understand your motivations,” conceded the dowager, somewhat mollified. “Look here, what do these letters mean? Is this written in code?”

“We had some abbreviations.” Pen again resisted the urge to snatch her book away from prying eyes.

“So what does ‘EOF’ next to the Earl of Wentworth stand for?”

Another rush of heat crawled up Pen’s neck. Could this first day get any worse? “It means ‘embarrassed of funds.’”

“I declare! Wentworth is hardly at a standstill.”

“If you say so, Your Grace,” demurred Pen.

“Wait, no, I did hear just last night that he was quite in dun territory.” The dowager looked her over as if weighing her worth. “I congratulate your ingenuity.”

“These few notes were only intended to help secure the happiness of my sisters,” murmured Pen. She was not sure if the dowager’s comments were praise or censure.

“You ought not show this to anyone. Find a suitable place here where it will not be found by a curious housemaid.”

“Yes, indeed. So… you are still interested in having me serve as a companion?” asked Pen.

“Quite, my dear.” She gave Pen a wicked smile. “It will take more than an index of bachelors to shock me.” The dowager’s eyes flashed lightning blue. “He thinks he has won, but I shall show him. I shall support myself. I will not be put out of my own home!”

“Your Grace?”

The dowager gave her a sweet smile that made Pen wary. “I propose we assist Lady Bremerton with her errant niece.”

“I should like to help her,” said Pen with sincerity.

“You may have overheard me earlier,” said the dowager, her head held high, as if daring Pen to find fault. “I had just received a letter from my grandson, informing me that he intends to cut me off. I can hardly believe he could be so hateful, but it is quite true.”

“Why, that is terrible!” Penelope gasped. Her low opinion of the Duke of Marchford was now sealed.

“Yes, yes, quite,” said the dowager, pleased to have someone agree with her. “Such a hateful thing to do to one’s own grandmother.” She reclined morosely yet gracefully into a chair, her hand smoothing her white, precisely coiffed hair.

“I am shocked! But can he do this? I do not mean to pry into your affairs, but surely you have your own funds.”

“Yes, of course, I have my pin money, but the duke, four subsequent dukes to be exact, have always supplemented my allowance. Why, without this support, I would have only fifty pounds a week. Fifty! How am I to live on such a paltry amount?”

Penelope held her tongue. Fifty pounds a week was to her a small fortune.

“If nothing can be done to increase the allowance, we shall be forced from London.”

“Could it be, I mean with the strictest economy, that you could manage on fifty pounds?” asked Penelope, careful to add just a hint of anxiety to her tone, as if she truly had concern that fifty pounds would be inadequate to meet her needs.

The dowager shook her head. “No, no, it is not possible. Unless…” She paused, giving Pen a steely glance with glittering eyes. “Unless we can do something to raise our fortunes.”

“But what could we do?”

“I have an idea.” She rose majestically from the chair, her back as straight as a lance. “Come, Penelope, we must not keep our company waiting.”

Pen followed the dowager back downstairs to the drawing room, wondering what sort of scheme the dowager was plotting. At the dowager’s request, Pen rang the bell for tea.

“Cora,” said the dowager in a voice smooth as silk, “I have been thinking and I believe I may know someone who can help.”

“Truly? You are my only hope.”

“What if I knew a discreet lady who creates eligible matches for those in society whose prospects are few?” asked the dowager.

“A matchmaker?” asked Lady Bremerton.

“A discreet purveyor of eligible unions.” The dowager gave Pen a knowing smile that made Pen quite nervous about the direction the dowager was heading. “The lady is very discreet, very exclusive, with a proven record for finding the most eligible of matches.”