Page 12 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter twelve

Grace

In the days leading up to the ball, I had no more calls from Phillip Montfert. Annette faced half a dozen suitors, and the constant barrage of men was beginning to wear on her. Simple observation made it clear she had no interest in any of them, but because of the conditions of her agreement with her parents, she could not turn them down each time they asked to ride or promenade. I often wondered if she regretted making the deal at all, but anytime Lord or Lady Paxton brought up the idea of marriage, Annette’s passionate determination returned anew.

She would not wed this Season, of that, I felt confident.

Standing in the drawing room, I smoothed my gloved hands over the fabric of my pink ballgown. It was the first time I had worn it, and my feelings were rather muddled about it. I had argued heartily against Lord Paxton—who had generously offered to pay for my Season—purchasing something so extravagant when I knew the Season would not end in a betrothal for me, but the man had insisted on not one ballgown, but three.

Rowe entered the room, dressed in a fine black suit that set off his green eyes, his auburn hair perfectly styled. He smiled upon seeing me, a genuine one that made me almost reconsider living on my own. I hated being a burden to him, but I did love my cousin and truly appreciated the care he had taken to provide for me, Amelia, and my mother. Papa would have been proud of his nephew.

“You look lovely,” said Rowe, coming to stand in front of me.

“And you look dashing. Perhaps you will catch someone’s eye tonight.” I waggled my brows.

Rowe chuckled, a light pink tinting his cheeks. “I think not. My focus will be on you. It is your first ball.”

“Yes, but that does not mean I wish for you to hover. Lady Paxton will ensure no harm befalls me. It is not as though I intend to run off to the gardens for a secret rendezvous.”

“Of course not. I trust you to act as a proper young lady ought. It is my sister who most concerns me. You and I both know Annette has never been one for heeding the rules of propriety.”

“You are wrong, though. She may not adhere to guidelines while at Kenwick, but she has been nothing but proper since we arrived in London. Perfectly so.”

Rowe laughed, shaking his head. “You are right. Her agreement with my parents has likely ensured her behavior remains above reproach.”

“Indeed, but even still, I do not think you have cause to worry. Annette has no interest in suitors. I cannot imagine she would run off to the gardens with a gentleman or cause any scandal with one. To do so would ruin any chance she has at dying a happy, free spinster.”

“Do not allow my parents to hear you say that. They might think to cause a scandal simply to see me wed.” Annette entered the room, her wavy red hair pinned elegantly with white flowers adorning it. Her ball gown was also white, but a green sash encircled her waist. She was beautiful, and it was little wonder she had so many callers.

“Mother and Father would never force you to marry unless your reputation were in jeopardy,” said Rowe, pinning his sister with a serious look. “And you know they would never cause a scandal. They want you to be happy.”

“Yes, I know,” Annette admitted. “I simply cannot understand the push for me to marry so soon. Why can I not have one Season to enjoy myself?”

“Likely because they know, if given the chance, you would spend every Season simply enjoying yourself,” I said.

Annette grinned, proving the accuracy of my statement.

Russell joined us a few minutes later, and before Annette could find something to tease him about, he announced Lord and Lady Paxton would not be joining us. “Father is feeling unwell,” said Rus, his tone more somber than I had heard in weeks. “Mother has elected to wait with him until the doctor arrives.”

“The doctor?” Annette’s brows furrowed. “He is so unwell as that? Perhaps we all ought to—”

Rus placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder, his expression filled with a sympathy he so rarely wore, especially when speaking to her. “All will be fine, Netty. It is likely a cold. Neither of them wish for the two of you to miss your first London ball.”

“But…what if I need guidance?” Annette bit her lip, for the first time appearing unsure of herself. I understood her worry. Not having my mother here with me had been difficult, but Lady Paxton had filled the role in the ways I needed. Her absence tonight would be felt keenly by both of us.

Rus pulled his sister into an embrace, one Annette surprisingly returned. He whispered words of comfort in her ear, and I smiled despite my nerves. For all Russell’s teasing and air of nonchalance, he cared deeply for his family. These moments, while rare, were undeniable evidence.

Rus pulled away. “Shall we be off, then?”

Annette gave him a grateful smile and nodded. The four of us settled into the coach and rode to the Morrison’s townhome in silence, though it was not the bothersome, unnerving sort. Instead, excitement filled me. I was eager to introduce Mr. Montfert to the women on my list and see whether they would suit. It was as though I sat on the precipice of success.

Perhaps I was overconfident. I had only met with the man three times, which hardly suggested I knew him well enough to feel who would match him well. Still, the romantic in me conjured scenes of them waltzing, even ending the night with a stolen kiss.

Something wriggled in my stomach—an odd sensation that disappeared once I had banished the last image from my mind.

Rus handed Annette down from the carriage, then me, and each of us took one of the twins’ arms. Hundreds of candles lit the ball room, their flickering flames reflected off the glass chandeliers. The crowd had already grown so thick I could not make out the pattern of the chalk adorning the floor. Gentleman in finery, ladies in opulent gowns dressed with the latest fashionable trimmings, and liveried footman—the entire scene was a painting from my brightest fantasies.

Annette, however, did not seem to share in my elation, for she was already fighting a scowl. I nudged her with my elbow. “Smile, Annette. I will remind you since your mother is not here to do so.”

My cousin rolled her eyes, but my words did bring a smile to her lips. “I feel exhausted already. My dance card is nearly full, Grace. How am I going to survive the night?”

“It’s full already?” Rus asked. He sounded surprised, but he also wore a mischievous grin.

Annette noticed and narrowed her eyes. “It is, thanks to my many callers this week, which you would know if you were ever around to bear some of the burden.”

Rus tilted his head with an expression of false befuddlement. “It is rather curious I knew precisely which days you would receive the most callers, is it not? Almost as if I had orchestrated that very thing.”

Annette’s jaw dropped. “ You? You are the reason I have had men constantly bombarding me with their attention?”

Rus smirked. “I did tell you I would have revenge for that spider. A pity you cannot deny any callers I send your way.”

Well, it seemed Rus had left his caring elder brother persona back at the house.

Annette started forward, but Rowe held her back, whispering. “Let’s not make a scene. If you still wish to throttle him once we return home, I will be happy to assist you.”

“Traitor,” Rus grumbled.

“You’re the traitor for sicking half of London’s bachelors on your sister,” Annette spat. “Especially the one man in Town I absolutely cannot stand. Really, Russell? You had to send Lieutenant Paget to vex me?”

This time, Rus’s expression reflected genuine confusion. “I am not acquainted with Lieutenant Paget. I know his father is close friends with our own, but it was my understanding his son was still off serving in The Navy.”

Interesting. So, the lieutenant had come on his own. I had suspected as much, though that likely aggravated Annette more than it comforted her.

“He returned a few weeks ago,” I said when no one offered Rus any clarity.

“Ah. Well, had I known, I would have added him to my list, but alas, I can take no credit for his calls. Perhaps you have a true admirer, Netty.” Rus grinned. “Although I would not discount the other men. I asked them to each call on you once, and according to Mother, several of them have returned. That was not my doing.”

“You are the worst sort of brother,” Annette ground out.

“As I aim to be.” Rus straightened his coat. “I am off to the card room. Behave yourselves. Do not do anything I would do.” He patted Rowe on the chest as he passed by. “That includes you.”

Rowe scoffed.

Music began to play, and Annette’s first partner appeared to claim her dance. I stayed at Rowe’s side, searching the room for my client and the women I intended for him to meet. I found Miss Rigby near the refreshment tables, quietly sipping lemonade next to her mother, who was observing the room with her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Would you care to join me in greeting Miss Rigby?” I asked Rowe.

My cousin glanced across the room at them, then shook his head. “I think it best I remain here.”

“Whatever for?”

“I happened upon Mrs. Rigby and her daughter while out a few days ago. It would seem there was some…confusion on Mrs. Rigby’s part about my identity. She believed me to be Rus that day at Gunter’s, which led her to welcome my conversation, but when I corrected her assumption while out, she did not take it well.”

I closed my eyes. “She thought you were the heir and hoped you would call on her daughter. Which is why she was happy to see you.”

Rowe smiled wryly. “Do not feel badly for me, Grace. I have dealt with such things my entire life. I am only sad my limited acquaintance with Miss Rigby is likely at an end.”

“Why should that be?” I asked. “You are still a gentleman.”

“I am the spare. It would seem her family has higher expectations for their daughter. Silly, really. It was not as though I had intentions toward her.” Rowe shrugged as if indifferent, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. I had sensed his attraction to Miss Rigby that day at Gunter’s, but was it possible there was more to his interest?

Guilt pricked at my chest. I did not know how to feel about possibly matching my client with a woman my cousin fancied.

Not that Rowe would admit to as much. Perhaps it was best not to worry over it. Rowe insinuated Mrs. Rigby disapproved of him for lack of title, anyway.

My eyes widened. Did that mean she would also disapprove of Mr. Montfert? Surely she would if the family expected their daughter to marry for title. Rowe had a fair income, just as Mr. Montfert did, and still he had been rejected.

Well, not rejected, per se . Rowe had not attempted courtship. But if Mrs. Rigby would not even allow an acquaintance with her daughter, what did that say of Mr. Montfert’s odds?

The entire situation made my head spin, and I commanded myself to remain calm. There was no harm in making introductions tonight. I would not have answers unless I proceeded with my plan, and even if things did not work out with Miss Rigby, there were other options.

“I think I will go,” I said. “Miss Rigby is kind, and I would like to remain friends with her. I understand if you would prefer to remain here.”

Rowe smiled softly. “Go on, then. I promise not to hover, but you will forgive me if I keep an eye on you. I am anxious for you to have a splendid evening. Should you need me, I will be right here.”

I placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Thank you, Rowe.”

Leaving my cousin standing on his own, I crossed the room. Miss Rigby welcomed me with a warm smile, but her mother ignored my presence completely. That suited me fine, for it would be far easier to have a conversation without her listening.

“Miss Rigby, there is someone attending tonight that would like an introduction to you,” I said, keeping my voice low as I searched the crowd for any sign of Mr. Montfert. He was fairly tall, and spotting him would not be difficult, assuming he had arrived.

“Me?” asked Miss Rigby, her voice equally low. “I cannot imagine why.”

“What man would not wish to meet you? You are lovely, kind”—I struggled to name more qualities. I was certain she possessed them, but I did not know her well enough— “anyway, he is a friend and has expressed specific interest in meeting you. Would you be open to making his acquaintance?”

Miss Rigby bit her lip, stealing a glance at her mother, who had taken up a conversation with someone she deemed more important. “An introduction would suit me, Miss Scott, but I should warn you my mother is very particular.”

I nodded. “I understand. The man I speak of is not here yet. Would you tell me more about yourself until then? I think we could be good friends.”

She smiled shyly. “What is it you wish to know?”

Our conversation nearly turned into an interrogation as I pried for information. Miss Rigby took all of it in stride, and she seemed happy not to stand by her mother in silence. Before leaving the townhouse, I had reviewed my list of Mr. Montfert’s characteristics, his likes and dislikes. It pleased me greatly to learn that Miss Rigby shared several of his interests, most notably a love for reading.

She also checked off some of the requirements from his uncle’s list, claiming talents for singing and playing the harp. I had decided that satisfying Mr. Perry’s demands, to some extent, was unavoidable, loathe as I was to do so. The man had almost broken my sister’s heart, encouraging his daughter to steal Amelia’s now husband by any means necessary. Fortunately, Sabrina had refused in the end.

Sabrina had tormented Amelia for months before finally apologizing and giving up her chase of the earl. I still did not know whether we could trust her and, admittedly, Mr. Montfert’s connection to the woman made me uneasy. But he had done nothing to suggest he was anything like his cousin or uncle, and I would withhold unwarranted judgement.

“There,” I said, subtly pointing across the room to where Mr. Montfert and his cousin had entered. “That is the man who wishes to meet you.”

I watched as Miss Rigby took him in. “He is handsome. What can you tell me of him?”

Very little, for at that moment, Mr. Montfert caught my gaze and his lips lifted into a smile. My breath caught, and my pulse raced as he and Sabrina made their way toward us. Mr. Montfert was dressed in a pale blue waistcoat, black coat, and a perfectly knotted, starch-white cravat. His wavy hair had been styled, but a single strand draped over his forehead, begging to be brushed aside. He walked with a confidence suited to his tall figure, determination in his step.

No, handsome was not nearly an adequate enough description.