Page 6 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter six

Phillip

After a little more than a week in London, I already wished to return home. The bustle of the city and expectations of society weighed on me, a heavy burden that could leave one entirely exhausted. All the same, expectations kept me in Town, as I had no hope of convincing Uncle to allow me to leave.

We had attended five dinner parties since arriving, and despite meeting numerous eligible young women of the the ton , I was no closer to finding a wife.

Much to Uncle’s irritation.

I headed for the breakfast room, my shoulders tight with the anticipation of seeing him. Last night had not gone well at all, and Uncle had yet to berate me for unintentionally offending our host—a man Uncle had hoped to bring in on a new business proposition—by inquiring if he needed assistance in fixing his wig.

Or, what I had thought was a wig. It turned out his hair simply grew very lopsided.

Rather than allow me to apologize, Uncle had discreetly pulled me aside and instructed me to leave due to an urgent matter. I had obeyed without question while he mended any damage my mistake had caused.

He did not seek me out upon returning home, but I was not foolish enough to believe I had escaped his ire. My chastisement would likely be worse given how much time he had fumed without releasing it.

To my relief, the breakfast room was free of raging uncles, however I did not find it empty. My cousin, Sabrina, sat at the table, elegantly poised with her dark hair neatly styled and a dainty tray of food before her.

She met my gaze and smiled slightly, giving me a nod of acknowledgement. “Good morning, Phillip. Forgive me if I do not stand, but my body is thoroughly exhausted from our journey to London. I feel as though my legs will hardly hold me until I’ve properly eaten.”

I dismissed her concern with a wave and bowed in greeting. “I am glad to see you made it in one piece. How did my mother handle the trip?”

“She handled it perfectly well.” The answer came not from Sabrina, but a familiar voice just behind me. I turned to see Mother standing in the entry, smiling as though she had not seen me in months.

I took her in, every familiar feature from her gray-streaked hair to her tired blue eyes, and the tension coiling within me released. Mother opened her arms, and I eagerly went to her, wrapping the woman in an embrace. She and I had never been parted for so long.

“How are you?” I asked, then placed a kiss on her cheek. “It must have been rather late when you arrived.”

“It was,” she replied, wrapping a hand around my arm. “The carriage broke an axle, and we were required to stop for repairs. But do not concern yourself with me. I want to hear all about your time in London so far.”

I winced, and Sabrina chuckled from her place at the table. “I do not believe he wishes to share with us.”

“There are moments I would rather forget,” I said, guiding Mother to the sideboard. “Many moments.”

Sabrina chuckled again. “That is to be expected from anyone visiting London for the first time.”

Her words caught me off guard. Sabrina and I had never been particularly close. Indeed, I was uncertain she was close with anyone. The woman reminded me of her father in many ways—careful in her associations and guarded to the point no one ever saw her true self. Admittedly, since moving back in with us at Eldercrest Hall, something about her had been different. She was…kinder? Perhaps that was not the most accurate word, but I found her attitude toward me was far less judgmental and arrogant.

What had changed? Though neither she nor my uncle spoke of the house party they both attended last spring, I suspected something had happened there.

“I doubt you ever embarrassed yourself during your first Season,” I said, helping Mother into her chair. “You are too graceful and poised to make a fool of yourself.”

Sabrina grinned at the compliment, but her expression remained soft, free of the arrogance that normally filled it. “It merely takes practice, Phillip. You will get on just fine with more experience. London will make you a proper dandy over the next few months.”

“A dandy? I think not.” I took my seat once I had plated my breakfast. We spoke of the events in the upcoming weeks. Mother listened with rapt attention as I detailed my experience thus far, and while sharing some of the less enjoyable parts still heated my face, neither she nor Sabrina chided me for the failures.

Teased, perhaps, but not chided.

“Well, I, for one, am glad I will have good company this Season,” said Sabrina. “London can be quite dull. It sounds like you need a bit of guidance, Phillip, and I am more than ready to assist you.”

I waited for her to elaborate. Sabrina was too much like her father to offer assistance without some sort of payment or benefit. When she said nothing more, I asked, “You will not be too busy searching for a new match?”

“Not at all. I’ve no interest in remarrying.”

I lifted a brow. “You’ve no interest?”

She shook her head, and although both her tone and expression suggestion she meant it, I found it difficult to believe. Sabrina had always been determined, and part of that determination was to match herself with the highest title and fortune she could find.

Of course, she had married a duke and still held the title of duchess. She could hardly get much higher, but based on the rumors circulating London, her standing with the ducal family was tenuous. Now that she had returned to Town, I wondered if the gossip would intensify.

And how she would respond to it.

“Then I do not know how good of company I shall be.” I speared a piece of ham and held the meat before my mouth. “Uncle has asked that I spend the Season searching for a wife, which will keep me preoccupied.”

It would, based on how unsuccessful I had been thus far.

“He wishes you to marry?” Sabrina asked, her dark brows furrowing. “Then you have my sympathies. No doubt he offered you a list of qualities he expects in your spouse.”

I nearly choked on the ham and required a long drink to clear my throat. “He has. Did he provide you with something similar during your debut?”

She pinned me with a look. Yes. Of course he had. Uncle expected things of me, not unlike the way he expected things of his daughter. If we had one thing in common, it was that we were little more than pawns he could move about the board.

Sabrina hummed for a moment. “I should think we could help each other. You can keep my suitors at bay, and I will introduce you to all my female acquaintances. Well, perhaps not all of them. Only those I know my father would be satisfied to connect his name with. Or your name, as it were.”

“I would appreciate that.” Heaven knew I needed all the help I could get. My matchmaker had yet to send me any sort of correspondence. It had been two entire days. I should not expect anything so soon, but I grew more anxious the longer I waited. What if she could not find me a match at all? What if I truly was hopeless?

Rather than settling on those questions, my mind chose to focus on one word—she. My matchmaker was a woman. I took no issue with it, of course, but when Mr. Apsley had suggested the idea, for some reason I had assumed the person helping me would be a gentleman, one experienced in the art of courtship after having found his own success.

Instead, I had found myself in a secluded clearing with perhaps the loveliest creature of my acquaintance. I wondered how I had possessed any ability to speak at all after spotting her, for she had stolen my breath and left a thick haze over my thoughts.

Ridiculous, really. Such a response could only be the result of my inexperience among Society. Miss Scott was no anomaly. Surely there were dozens of women in London who claimed that sort of beauty?

Warmth spread over my hand, and I lifted my gaze to meet Mother’s worried eyes. “Whatever qualities your uncle has asked for in your future wife, do not forget it is your heart that should make the final decision.”

I smiled at her, though it felt strained. I would very much like my heart to be involved. Father had been far from perfect, but even as a young child, I had known the love between my parents. I wanted it for myself, but expectations—especially those that came from Uncle—did not always leave room for the things I wanted.

In fact, it was a rare phenomenon.

Following breakfast, I gathered my things and took the first flight of stairs from my chamber, noting the departure of Mrs. Ellis, a matron with heavy investments in Uncle’s business ventures, before Uncle called me into his study. My heart pounded, and I chided myself for ever thinking I might escape him a little longer by leaving the house.

He ordered me to sit, and I obeyed while he closed the door, making the study feel more like a prison than anything. Uncle took a seat at his desk, his eyes full of harnessed fury, ready to be unleashed. I swallowed and tugged at my cravat. “I know I have disappointed you.”

“Disappointed? Disappointed? ” He slammed his fist on the desk, and I flinched. At least I was far enough away that his pocket watch could not be used for punishment.

“You cannot know of my disappointment, boy. I had made good progress with Lord Bently, and you nearly ruined it all with your offensive comments.”

“It was not my intention—”

“I do not care what your intentions were! So help me if you ever humiliate me so deeply again, I will have my solicitor draw up a new will with haste. You may take your mother and return to that pile of rubbage of a house your father left you.”

My jaw clenched. That pile of rubbage was not suitable for anyone to live in. “Forgive me, Uncle. I will do better.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, then his stony glare swept over me. “And where, might I ask, are you going this morning?”

“Bond Street. Russell Apsley has invited me to join him at Angelo’s at noon. He intends to teach me to fence.” Why, I hadn’t the slightest idea. The man had promised to help me enter Society, not stab at other men with a foil.

Uncle's expression smoothed, the anger draining away to surprise. “He invited you?”

“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth. “We met the other night at White’s. I am capable of fostering relationships with other humans.”

Perhaps not of the female variety, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

“This is good.” Uncle rubbed his hand over his chin thoughtfully. “This is very good. Well done, Phillip.”

I gaped at him. The man had never, as far back as my memory recalled, offered me any kind of praise. I hardly knew what to do with it. “T-thank you, Uncle.”

“Well, off with you then. This friendship of yours with Mr. Apsley might prove very lucrative. I have been attempting to lure his father into my ventures for some time. Do not ruin this opportunity to get close to the viscount like you do everything else. Or the future viscount, for that matter.”

Ah. There it was. The insult I had been waiting for. The expectation. The scheming. Uncle was incapable of having a conversation which did not include those things. At least, with me.

I stood and bowed. “I will do my best to please you, Uncle.”

“You are quite bad at this,” said Apsley.

I did not need the reminder, and the comment fueled me to make another attempt. Apsley blocked my advance, then swiftly spun out of my reach, chuckling.

“Mind your—” His words became garbled as he circled to my left side, and before I could turn to defend against him, his foil jabbed into my fencing jacket. My shoulders sank with disappointment, my chest heaving with our exercise over the past hour.

Apsley slapped my shoulder then pointed to the benches near the wall of our private room. The man removed his jacket, and I followed suit before we sat down to catch our breaths.

“I am hopeless at this sport,” I said.

“Not hopeless. You need more practice, to be sure, but no one would expect you to walk out of here a master on your first day.”

Uncle would have. He expected perfection in everything. There were few gentlemanly pastimes I excelled in, much of which came down to my hearing difficulties. I could ride fairly well and had decent aim with a pistol, but hunting was out of the question, and dancing…well, one could not properly dance when they struggled to keep time with the music.

“Shall we plan to meet twice a week?” Apsley asked. “Or is that too frequent?”

I shook my head. “Twice a week will do. I cannot see myself getting any better at this, but the exercise is exhilarating if nothing else.”

“Indeed, I find I do best when I’m frustrated. Assign my opponent the face of someone who has recently annoyed me. Like my sister. It is nearly always Netty, in fact.”

“You imagine stabbing your sister?”

“If you had one, you might understand,” he countered defensively. “I would like to see you live in a household with four women and not wish to jab their eyes out on occasion.” He shuddered. “Figuratively, of course.”

“Of course, but they cannot all be so bad?”

Sabrina had her moments, but for the most part, she left me alone. I had not experienced the sort of nagging he described.

“I suppose not. Mother is tolerable when she is not hounding me about marriage. Netty…well, Netty is terrible, but Bridget is mostly pleasant, though I admit I do not spend much time with her. She is still in the schoolroom, you see.”

“And what of Miss Scott?”

Apsley shrugged. “She is agreeable when not threatening to beat me with sermons.”

I opened my mouth to question him on this particular revelation, but he continued before I could. “That reminds me, Grace asked me to pass a note to you.”

My heart stuttered. “She did?”

I tried to reign in my nerves while he dug around in his pocket. The moment he had retrieved the paper, I snatched it from his hand and unfolded it, making him chuckle. My eyes skimmed the short letter so quickly I had to read it a second time to fully comprehend the words. “She wants to meet with me again tomorrow.”

Apsley held up his hands. “I needn’t know the details. Grace has informed me my services as chaperone are no longer required.”

“No longer required or no longer wanted? She did mention you were a poor chaperone.”

Apsley crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well, she told me I was not allowed to come, but that is fine by me. I have no desire to be present during your meetings as you discuss love and marriage and”—he stuck out his tongue and made a gagging sound that drew out my laughter.

“Careful,” I said with a grin. “Or she might think to find you a match, too.”

He nudged my shoulder, wearing a playful smirk. “Hardly. Gracie knows I’ve no desire for marriage at present. She thinks me a lost cause, I believe.”

“A lost cause.” I heaved a heavy sigh. “A few more meetings with me, and I might claim the same label.”