To Marry a Matchmaker. Michelle Styles
next birthday,’ Henri replied through gritted teeth. ‘And not censorious, merely following my husband’s deathbed advice. You’re always trouble when you’re besotted.’
Sebastian swirled the remains of his tea in his cup. ‘I try hard to be good, but things happen. Edmund would’ve understood. Why can’t you be understanding and considerate like he was?’
Henri pasted a smile on her face. ‘We’re speaking about your new love, not my late husband. She will be gone from your brain within a month.’
Sebastian adopted his injured-angel look. ‘This time it is different, Henri. This time it is for ever. But how can I prove this to you, if you refuse to help?’
‘Who is she? And, more importantly, does her husband shoot straight?’
‘Miss Sophie Ravel is highly respectable. I resent the insinuation.’ He leant forwards and his eyes were alight with an eagerness she had not seen since…since before Edmund’s death. ‘You’ll love her, Henri. She is my other half. I swear it.’
Chapter Three
Henri’s stomach dropped. Miss Sophie Ravel. Robert Montemorcy’s ward. The one who had suddenly dropped everything in London to come to Northumberland. All for the sake of love. Miss Armstrong had it all wrong. Miss Ravel hadn’t run towards love, but had been forcibly taken away from it.
And Sebastian had studiously avoided the marriage word. A cold chill went through Henri. Was it any wonder that Mr Montemorcy had kept the problem from her? He knew how staunchly she defended Sebastian, how she had assisted him out of difficulties in the past.
She tightened her grip on her teacup, sloshing the tea over the rim. She was far from blind to Sebastian’s faults. Robert Montemorcy should have trusted her with the truth, explaining his concerns about her cousin as a suitor for his ward, rather than tricking her into a wager that she was now determined to win, whilst also finding out some way of making sure the situation did not become a disaster of immeasurable proportions.
Sebastian started on a long rambling explanation chiefly designed to convince her to help him.
She held up her hand, blocking his words. ‘Sebastian, I refuse to assist, aid or otherwise participate in your quest for Miss Ravel. Ruining a débutante is low even by your standards of behaviour. I am shocked and amazed that you could even contemplate asking me.’
Sebastian frowned and slumped back against the sofa, looking mortally hurt, as if she was the one to blame for his ill fortune.
‘All I wanted you to do was to meet Sophie…and her stepmother.’ His lips turned upwards into an angelic smile. ‘Especially her stepmother. To show them how respectable my family is. How truly worthy we are. The stepmother wants occupying with projects rather than prying into her stepdaughter’s innocent affairs. You are sure to find something for her to do!’
‘Your complicated love life is your problem.’ Henri glared at him and pointedly gestured towards the Persian carpet in front of the fireplace. ‘I had to bring the pug puppies with me to Corbridge. Unlike you, I don’t just abandon defenceless animals, even if I’m not fond of dogs. Your dear mama’s carriage has never been the same. Travel sickness in a puppy is far from pleasant.’
Sebastian brushed the crumbs from his fingers. ‘That is a bit unfair of you, Henri, bringing up the pugs. A huge misjudgement on my part, I’ll accept that, but you rose to the occasion magnificently. One couldn’t ask for a better or more loyal cousin.’
‘It took me an age to get rid of them.’ Henri struggled to keep her voice steady. Sebastian knew how she felt about dogs, even such little ones as the pugs. ‘Lady Winship was reluctantly persuaded to give them a home.’
Sebastian put his hands behind his head and stretched out, a particularly pleased smile on his face. ‘And how is dear old Nellie? I have not seen her in an age!’
‘Lady Winship has become devoted to the pugs,’ Henri admitted. It had been one of her better ideas, getting Lady Winship to take the trio. And her mind shied away from why Sebastian addressed Lady Winship in such familiar tones. Some things were best left to the imagination. ‘By the middle of next week, you will have forgotten Miss Ravel’s name, Sebastian, and those sandwiches were for Aunt Frances.’
‘Cucumbers give Mama indigestion. I’m doing her a favour.’ Sebastian made a show of dusting the plate down before carelessly placing it on the table. Henri reached over and straightened the plate.
‘Sebastian!’
‘I saw Miss Ravel silhouetted in the evening light, just as she was getting out of a carriage to attend the opera, and I knew that she was the woman for me. I will never forget her or the way the last rays of the sun lit her hair. She is an angel set on this earth.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I worship the ground she walks on. The M word entered my head.’
‘Marriage? You?’ Henri stared at him in disbelief. Sebastian, who had successfully avoided so many marriage traps, was actually contemplating marriage to Miss Ravel. ‘Then what is the problem? Women normally fall at your feet. And despite your various misdemeanours, the best houses in London still welcome you.’
‘Her family, or more specifically her guardian.’ Sebastian clasped his hand to his breast. ‘Robert Montemorcy is the sort of man whose library is entirely filled with books from The Gentleman’s Manual to Libraries. He probably has never been outside England.’
‘Robert Montemorcy was educated in Edinburgh, at the Sorbonne in Paris, and studied chemistry in Germany,’ Henri replied evenly, disliking Sebastian’s curled-lip sneer. She might be upset with Mr Montemorcy, but it didn’t mean that others could abuse him. ‘He has a wide range of business interests, including an ironworks that makes most of the steel and iron for the railways. And he is a highly accomplished chemist. He is a great believer in the “Scientific Method” and a stalwart of the Lit. and Phil.’
‘You mean he makes money, but what clubs does he belong to? What titles has he inherited? Who were his ancestors?’
‘Sebastian, is that really important? What matters is that Mr Montemorcy purchased Chestercamp field.’
‘Montemorcy purchased that field!’ He clapped his hand to his head. ‘It all makes a sickening sense. I’m undone. Why is Fate so cruel?’
‘He kept you out of debtors’ prison.’
‘Spare me the village gossip, Henrietta. It was never going to come to that. I was simply short of a few readies to pay Papa’s bills. You should never have suggested to Mr Montemorcy anything different and now…’
‘You’re being obstinate.’ Henri crossed her arms. Montemorcy had been all sympathy when she encountered him out on a walk and she had given up hope of selling the field. They had fallen to discussing Romans. It had been the start of their enjoyable conversations. Her throat tasted like ashes. Maybe it would have been better if they’d stayed distant neighbours.
‘Mr Montemorcy bought the field because he is interested in bringing a scientific method to excavating Roman remains. Aunt Frances is terribly excited about the prospect.’
‘More to the point, Montemorcy has caused Sophie to be moved to Northumberland under the pretext of broadening her education. As if the biddies who control the Season could not see through that threadbare excuse.’ Sebastian snapped his perfectly manicured fingers. ‘Northumberland? Why not Italy or France? I wrote to Sophie that she should make sure he took her abroad, but the note was returned…unopened with the injunction never to contact her again.’
Henri went cold. Sending Sebastian’s letter back was a mistake of the highest order if Robert Montemorcy had wanted to dissuade Sebastian. If only Robert Montemorcy had asked her advice, she’d have explained. Sebastian was easily handled as long as he thought the idea had emerged from his own brain. Sebastian always pursued the unattainable until it became attainable and then he lost interest. And he’d never