A Wedding In Springtime(41)

“I thank you, Mr. Neville, for your service. If I am in need of any further assistance, I will not hesitate to ask.” Marchford walked to the door of his study and opened it.

Mr. Neville gritted his teeth but had no choice but to exit the room. “Your Grace,” he muttered with a substandard bow.

***

Penelope Rose spent the morning with the dowager going over every step of the ball. Miss Talbot had been introduced to many eligible men, and Pen had taken detailed notes on their reactions. Many men appeared attracted to her beauty, but none showed a tendency to make her an object of particular regard. Genie’s reputation had indeed preceded her, and despite Grant’s attempt at diffusing the gossip, few people felt confident enough in their social credit to risk making her a favorite.

Mr. Grant did appear to be the one exception, dancing with her and engaging in conversation several times. Unfortunately, Pen knew all too well Mr. Grant’s intentions did not run toward marriage.

“Was there anyone else who showed particular interest?” asked the dowager.

Penelope reviewed her notes once more. “I fear not. Mr. Blakely did engage in brief conversation, but it was so stilted I could not see any interest. They did dance one set. There were several young bucks who took notice of her and a few made conversation, but none stayed long.”

“It is a shame her presentation was so poor. She could have made a dash through society. Her manner is pleasing, her face pretty, she has a natural grace, and she has nice teeth.”

“Teeth?” Penelope looked up in surprise.

“I am an old woman, Penelope. I know the value in things you have not yet learned to appreciate.”

Penelope smiled. “I am sure you are right, Your Grace.”

“What of this Blakely fellow? What do you know of him?”

“Not much. He has come to London recently. It is agreed he is a gentleman, but no one seems to know much about him.”

“So he is a countryman?”

“Yes, that is my understanding. He appears to have lived a quiet, respectable life and is at an age when men think of marriage. Perhaps he is looking for a dowered wife.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” declared the duchess. “His reserve will balance her natural liveliness.”

“His manner did not reveal any tendency to be smitten with Miss Talbot.”

“He does not need to be smitten, now does he? He simply needs to get married. What would it take to get him to come up to scratch?”

Pen shook her head. “After four sisters on the marriage market, I’ve learned not to take bets on that question. Men are rather odd when it comes to a proposal. They seem to be most likely to ask for a lady’s hand if they are assured the answer will be no.”

“But of course, it gives the man an opportunity to appear gallant without costing him a thing.” The dowager stood, leaning on her cane. “All we need to do is get that chit married. We need to keep her in the company of young men until Mr. Blakely or one of those young bucks falls for her. It’s more than one young man who has made a match based on a pretty face.”

“Not to mention the teeth,” commented Pen with a smile.

“None of your cheek now. I will take my afternoon rest. You continue our work. And enjoy the sitting room. The one in the dowager house is not nearly so nice.” With that warning, the dowager made her way to take her rest, and Penelope was left for the afternoon to puzzle out how to marry off Genie.

“Excuse me, are you Miss Rose?”

Pen looked up with surprise. She had not heard the man enter. He was a youngish man with a serious face. He gave her a smile and his face creased awkwardly, like it was unaccustomed to such an expression.

“Yes, I am Miss Rose,” replied Pen. She was conscious that this was an unusual introduction and felt it odd he was so informal in the duke’s house.

“Allow me to make my introduction. I am Mr. Neville, in the service of his majesty, King George. The Duke of Marchford has told me a lot about you. I understand you are to be the companion to the duchess.”

“Yes,” replied Pen. She wondered what kind of picture the duke had painted of her. She doubted it could be flattering. Besides, if the duke wanted Mr. Neville known to her, why didn’t he introduce the man himself? Still, Mr. Neville seemed nice enough, and it was courteous to engage her in conversation rather than ignore her like most people of the male persuasion. “Won’t you sit down?”