He could spend a lifetime trying to describe those eyes.
Templeton shook his head. ‘Neither of those are as good as they sound, either. If you wish to be a puppet or a slave to a woman, then get yourself a mistress. Your days will be full of all the passion and melodrama you long for with no legal bonds to hold you when it grows tiresome.’
‘I have no intention of living my life under the thumb of a woman, with or without marriage.’
Never again.
He continued. ‘Nor do I think the elder Miss Summoner actually possesses the facility to dominate the man who marries her.’ This last was not totally true. But the fact that he could imagine himself stripped bare and defenceless from a single glance might be nothing more than his own fears of the unhappy past repeating itself.
‘If that is so, then there is no problem at all,’ Templeton said, smiling. ‘You seem to feel more than confident of controlling her. Though you do not wish to marry for love or passion, you admit you find her at least marginally attractive. If you wish a connection to Lord Summoner by marrying his daughter, Miss Amelia should be no different than Miss Arabella.’
Why not?
When presented with such a logical argument, he could not immediately think of an answer. Then he remembered the lemonade stain on his best waistcoat and the possibility of future social occasions marred by such accidents. If he wished to be thought unshakable, he could not attach himself to a woman who was constantly rattling his calm and spoiling his appearance. ‘Only an idiot would pretend that the two Summoner daughters are interchangeable. Everyone in London admires the younger of the two. The elder is so far on the shelf that I did not even know of her existence. There is also the fact that I am seeking a wife who will be the picture of decorum and not an awkward wallflower. Belle Summoner glides through a room like a swan. And her sister...’ He stared down at his ruined waistcoat.
Templeton laughed. ‘You truly think that spill was an accident? My dear fellow, for all your polish, you are too naïve to survive the ladies of London.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Simply that if you come to Almack’s and hide in the corner rather than standing up for a set, an interested female will try to get your attention by any means possible.’
This horrifying thought had not occurred to him. ‘You think that...’
‘She is smitten with you,’ Templeton finished for him.
‘And she did that on purpose to win my favour.’ If that was true, then women truly were mad.
‘There can be no other explanation for it. She fancies you. Since she is without prospects, I am sure Summoner will be all the more grateful to you for taking her off his hands.’ Templeton clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Go to him now and claim your prize.’
‘I cannot go to him looking like this,’ Ben said absently, staring across the room towards the woman who had attacked him. Could that have been the meaning of that glint in her eye? He had been sure there was some ulterior motive in her actions. But he’d have sworn it had less to do with marriage than a desire to unravel him like a fraying tapestry. ‘I do not want to marry Miss Amelia,’ he said, annoyed. He should not need to say those words aloud to clarify his intentions. If she was a spinster, the room was full of men who did not want her.
Templeton gave him a pitying look. ‘You want Belle, as does every other man in London. But you have lost before you’ve begun, dear fellow. If you break her sister’s heart with your indifference, Belle will have nothing to do with you. Women are like that, you know. They love each other more than they will ever love us.’
‘Break her heart? I did nothing of the sort. I gave no indication that I was interested in her.’ Unless she had seen something in the look he had given her. It had been but a glance, but it had seemed overlong, as if he had become lost in her eyes and needed to fight to get free.
‘Of course not, Lovell.’ The smirk on Templeton’s face revealed the mockery in his assuring words. ‘But I suggest you let Miss Amelia down as gently as possible. Then find another man she can affix herself to. If not, when you marry Belle, you will end with Amy Summoner permanently ensconced in your home, mooning over your lost love.’
The next morning, Amy came down to her father’s study, her list of prospective suitors in hand. In the matter of her sister’s courtship and marriage, things were moving far too fast. The Season had barely begun, and total strangers like Benjamin Lovell were already mapping out Belle’s future. The laissez-faire attitude that their father was bringing to a match might be acceptable for some girls, but not for Belle.
She rapped on the closed door and let herself in without waiting for an answer, then seated herself in the big leather chair in front of his desk.
Her father hardly looked up from his papers. ‘You wish to speak to me, Amelia?’
‘I wish to discuss last night’s visit to Almack’s.’
‘I trust you both found it enjoyable.’ The statement was a courtesy, nothing more. She could sense no real interest in it. Instead, there was the unspoken feeling that, since the fate of England hung on every decision he might make, Lord Summoner had no time for trivialities.
‘Belle enjoyed it,’ she said. ‘I found it much the same as I always do.’
He sighed. ‘Meaning you only bothered with it for your sister’s sake. It is no wonder that you are not married. You make no effort.’
‘I am not married because I found no one I could stand to spend a lifetime with,’ she said, for what felt like the hundredth time.
‘It is fortunate for me that your sister is not so particular.’ He signed the document he had been reading and shook sand over the wet ink before setting it aside.
‘Belle loves everyone. She does not know how to be particular,’ Amy said. ‘It will be up to us to choose wisely for her.’
‘Us?’ Her father looked up, fixing her with a quelling stare that she had long since learned to ignore.
‘To that end,’ she said, ‘I took the time to evaluate the gentlemen at last night’s ball, grading them according to their suitability.’ She pushed the list across the desk to the empty space his documents had occupied.
He pushed it back without looking at it. ‘You are overstepping yourself if you think to choose your sister’s husband instead of your own.’
She could not help an unladylike snort. ‘We have made progress, then. When I was actively searching, you were under the impression that the choice was yours alone.’
He sighed. ‘And so it ought to have been. When your mother died, I allowed you far too much latitude and now I must pay the price for it.’
It was the way he chose to remember the past. When Mother died, he had not allowed or denied anything. He had simply gone to London and forgotten all about his daughters. ‘It is fortunate that Arabella is more obedient,’ she said.
‘It is,’ he agreed, taking no notice of the sarcasm
