Page 232 of Dukes for Dessert

“…and speak to each other?” she finished. It wasn’t a bad plan.

He nodded.

She could not help but like him for it. “Your goal is to make friends with… villagers?”

“My goal is… London.” He set his jaw. “If I can do this here, then I can do it there.”

“At the House of Lords?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“In the marriage mart,” she said in realization. “Of course. A man in possession of a fine billiard room is undoubtedly in want of a wife.”

He didn’t argue.

That settled it.

“I can help,” she told him. “I know everyone in a ten mile radius. I can help you throw the best billiard party the Marriage Mart has ever seen. I even know someone who writes for the local gazette. She can pen a column that will make your party sound like the biggest crush in Christmas history.”

Azureford hesitated. “In exchange for what?”

Carole blinked. She never offered to help someone in exchange for anything at all, and was a little offended he thought her so mercenary. Then again, they scarcely knew each other. And… every encounter they’d had this year had been staged on false pretenses.

Fine. His instincts were excellent. And if he was in a mood to barter, she wouldn’t let this golden opportunity get away.

“Let me help,” she begged impulsively.

His brow wrinkled. “You want to help in exchange for helping?”

“Not just with the party,” she said in a rush. “I’m good at that, but I’d be great at designing your new billiard room.”

It would be as though her sketchbooks came to life. An actual project, combining her two best talents: architecture and billiards. A match made in heaven. The first step would be—

Azureford’s tone was final. “No.”

5

All the other Chippendale chairs around his long table were empty, but Adam was not alone. He was surrounded by half a dozen stacks of detailed notes, saved correspondence, and parliamentary reports. The golden hour after breaking his fast but before the bustle of the day properly began were his most productive moments.

Usually.

Try as he might to concentrate solely on the House of Lords projects before him, part of his mind could not stop thinking about Miss Quincy. He couldn’t claim not to feel at sixes and sevens in her company, but he’d had longer conversations with her than he’d had with anyone outside of the government. He had always looked forward to seeing her, but now he’d begun to look forward to speaking with her.

Not that there would be many more such encounters. They had packed up more than half the books yesterday afternoon, updating the inventory journal as they went along. This afternoon they would finish the rest, and that would be that. It wouldn’t even have taken this long, had Miss Quincy not insisted on penning a cargo list for the library. Perhaps she hadn’t wished for the afternoon to end, either. Perhaps that was why she had offered to design his new billiard room.

If the party hadn’t been so important, Adam might even have let her explain her ideas. He knew nothing about billiards and even less about architecture or interior aesthetics. How much worse could Miss Quincy be? But he hadn’t purchased this summer cottage in order to practice conversing with one woman. He needed this party to be perfect. The exact opposite of last year. He wanted to make friends with every gentleman, flirt—or at least, exchange pleasantries with—every lady. Which meant he needed to practice, so that this time when he returned to London, he’d be ready.

“Practice reading these reports,” he muttered to himself. The Marriage Mart wasn’t the only thing awaiting him next Season.

Adam had volunteered for the import and export committees, the Exchequer committee, and the highways and hackneys committees. He was also fighting for strict oversight of workhouses, full abolishment of slavery in all territories, and more humane treatment of the governing and custody of insane persons in or outside of asylums. Oh, and postage. Parliament couldn’t seem to go more than a year or two without another Postage Act.

Most of his fellows in the House of Lords used their six months off as a welcome break. They’d think Adam peculiar for bringing his work with him on holiday. But he didn’t feel like a true representative of the people if he didn’t do his best to represent them all year round.

That, and being a member of every possible committee gave him something productive to do. A way to be valuable to others, even if he never quite knew how to talk to them directly.

“That’s my hoop!”

“No, it’s my hoop!”