The Secrets of Colchester Hall - Sophie Barnes Page 0,4

duke, he’d wondered about her unmarried state. Surely men would be lining up outside her door?

Mrs. Essex actually grinned. “You’ll see what I mean.”

“Is she hideous?”

“My lord! What a thing to suggest.”

“It is a reasonable assumption to make,” he muttered. And it might not be the worst thing in the world, having a wife who would not tempt other men to her bed. It was, after all, why he’d asked these particular women to join him in the first place. Because each and every one had been unable to snatch up a husband.

“You should head toward the parlor now unless you wish to be late to your own dinner party. And I,” she announced with a flourish, “must return to the kitchen to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Mrs. Essex,” he said, halting her in the middle of her departure. She glanced back with one raised eyebrow. “Thank you.”

Her lips curved with pleasure. Her pale blue eyes gleamed as they caught the light from the oil lamp. She added a nod, and then she was gone. Randolph blew out a breath, gave his sleeves a quick tug and checked his cravat. Satisfied with his appearance, he made his way through the long oak-paneled hallway that would take him to the parlor adjoining the dining room.

Once there, he did not have to wait long before the first young ladies arrived with their mothers. Randolph stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and offered a partial bow to each of them in turn. “Good evening.” He directed most of his attention to the two women he was meant to consider. “Viscount Sterling, at your service.”

Both ladies curtsied and then their mothers introduced them as Miss Matilda Stevens and Miss Anna Chesterfield. “A pleasure,” Randolph told them politely. He barely managed to ask them about their journey before Miss Clare St. James arrived. She was the shortest of the three and the least attractive. She also seemed to speak solely in nods and head shakes, so if he meant to marry a woman with whom he could carry on conversations, he probably shouldn’t consider her. Although, he reflected, there was a chance she was merely nervous, and it would be terribly ill-bred of him to judge her too quickly.

With this in mind, he deliberately said, “Tell me about your hobbies.”

Her lips parted, she seemed to stammer something, though he’d no clue what, and then she shook her head and retreated until the back of her legs connected with a chair. She sat with the most terrified expression he’d ever seen on anyone’s face.

Irritated, Randolph located her chaperone – a friend of her guardian’s – and bluntly asked, “Is something the matter with her?”

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but she’s painfully shy. Allow her a couple of days to adjust, and I’m sure she’ll warm to you.”

She warm to him?

It took no small effort for him to keep a straight face and not blurt out an insult. Instead, he managed a nod and decided to give his attention back to Miss Chesterfield and Miss Stevens. Only as he turned, he spotted a lady who’d just stepped through the door. Her poise was perfect, if a little aloof, but her face was pleasing enough to the eye, and there was a natural elegance about her that would suit a viscountess very well.

Their eyes met. Randolph’s stomach tightened with anticipation. This could be his future wife. She raised her chin, drew back her shoulders, and smiled in a disconcertingly predatory way as she started toward him. Randolph tried not to be put off. After all, determination could be an admirable feature. But then she reached him and rather than say some polite words of greeting, she raised her right arm, stretching it out until her hand was almost level with his chin. And waited.

Randolph stared down at the back of her hand. Her motive could not have been more obvious if she’d been carrying a sign that read: You may have the pleasure of dropping a kiss right there.

One side of his lips curled upward with an almost dastardly sense of amusement. There had to be a little devil inside him, for rather than do as he ought and follow along with his guest’s expectations, he reached up, grabbed her fingers at a somewhat awkward angle, and shook them.

“You must be Lady Seraphina,” he said.

“I, um…” He could tell she was struggling to hide her outrage. “Yes.” She smiled tightly. Her chaperone, who’d appeared at her side