thrives on keeping track of who’s pursuing whom and who’s the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I ought to enlist her help. I’ve been thinking...’ He hesitated, not sure, given her probable reaction, he wanted to divulge his intent. ‘Perhaps it’s time I found a wife.’
Shocked silence reigned for a moment before his mother burst out laughing. ‘You, married?’ she said when she’d recovered herself. ‘What nonsense!’
‘No, Mama, I’m serious,’ he protested.
She fixed him with a penetrating look. ‘You’re just lonely, with all your closest friends wed now. Which is hardly a good reason to get yourself leg-shackled. But then, you’re well aware of my opinion on marriage.’
‘I miss my friends, it’s true,’ Christopher admitted. Especially Ben Tawny, who’d been his carousing partner on many occasions—until he met and married his lady. ‘Despite your view of the institution, all the Hellions have found wives who make marriage look quite attractive.’
His mother waved a dismissive hand. ‘But they are all virtually newlyweds, aren’t they? If they remain happy, they will be luckier than most.’
Luckier than she’d been, Christopher knew. His beautiful mother had been married off by her financially hard-pressed father to the highest bidder—Lord Vraux. A connoisseur of all things lovely, the years-older baron had been mad to add to his collection the most dazzling girl of her debut Season. Cold, withdrawn, and remote, he had never been able to give his passionate, outgoing, demonstrative wife the affection or companionship she craved.
Whatever the beldames thought of her morals, none could dispute that she’d been a devoted mother. Especially to Christopher, son of the man rumour said had been the love of her life.
‘You are serious, then?’ his mother demanded, after studying him as he’d sat silent, lost in thought. ‘Have you a candidate in mind?’
‘No. Which is why I need Aunt Augusta. I’m hardly a romantic, Mama. I’m not expecting to discover a woman who inspires me to write bad verse, like Lord Rogers.’
Even if his friends did seem to have found such joy, he thought, the loneliness that had dogged him of late deepened by a wistful envy.
‘All I require is a respectable young lady of good birth who can manage my household and give me heirs. Not a chit right from the schoolroom, of course; even a young widow would do. Although that’s not absolutely required, someone with an interest in politics would be a plus. As I’ve always avoided parties where respectable virgins gather, besides my sisters, I don’t know any. Hence my need for Aunt Gussie.’
‘A respectable young lady of good birth to manage your household and give you heirs? Sounds like a devilishly cold arrangement.’
‘Come now, Mama, you can’t claim to have been rapturously in love with every one of your...admirers!’
‘I was when the liaison began,’ she shot back.
‘A prudent match doesn’t have to be cold,’ he argued, not surprised she resisted the idea, after having been disposed of herself in a completely dispassionate manner. ‘I know better than to wed someone to whom I am indifferent, or who feels nothing for me. There’s no reason I couldn’t share a mutual respect and affection with a more...traditional woman.’
‘“Mutual respect” with a “traditional” woman?’ She shook her head. ‘Christopher, darling, you’re much too like me for such a match to ever work! After a decade of liaisons with the most beautiful, witty and seductive of females, a dutiful, respectable virgin would bore you to flinders. And what of passion?’
‘Just because a female is respectable doesn’t mean she must lack passion.’
She sniffed. ‘If that were true, I’d have far fewer married admirers.’
Giving up on that tack, Christopher continued, ‘I’ve reached the age where the idea of returning home to tranquillity and peace in the arms of a friend sounds more attractive than a night of drinking and debauchery in the bed of a courtesan.’
He wouldn’t admit to her—or even to himself—that the idea of possessing an eminently respectable wife did sound a bit dull. Or how much the loss of the camaraderie of the three now-married men who’d been closer than family to him for a decade was driving this newfound resolve to take a wife. Once he, too, married, their intimate circle would again be complete.
But above all, he couldn’t confess he felt compelled to wed that eminently respectable female so his own children would never have to wonder who their father was, endure the sniggers and whispers of their peers about their mother—or bear the cold disinterest of the man who was legally their father.
Such a confession would sound too much like an indictment. And despite all the turmoil, slights and indignities he’d endured growing up, he truly did love his volatile mother.
The disapproving expression on her face told him she wasn’t convinced. Before he could think of another argument to persuade her, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired woman.
Seeing him sitting beside his mother, the lady halted, her smile fading. ‘I’m sorry, Felicia! I don’t mean to intrude. Billings told me you were free.’
‘Ellie!’ Lady Vraux cried, jumping up from the couch in a swirl of silken draperies to go meet the newcomer. ‘Of course, you’re not interrupting—I got your note, and was expecting you! How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you this age!’
Gladness warming him, Christopher stood and drank in the pleasure of watching the quiet elegance that was Ellie Parmenter walk across the room. Though it must be ten years now since they’d met, each time he saw her he felt the same sense of awe—and sharp pull of sensual attraction—he’d felt the first time he’d beheld her in his mother’s drawing room, when he’d returned from Oxford on a term break. Her figure lush and well formed, her movements grace personified, her pale face perfection beneath a curly mass of dark hair, she had huge violet eyes with an air of mystery about them that he’d immediately lost himself in. The young collegian had been first mesmerised, then dismayed and disappointed to discover that this beauty a few years younger than himself was in keeping to a dissolute, much older peer.
Though neither she nor his mama had ever volunteered the details, he knew there’d been something havey-cavey about the way she’d come to be Summerville’s mistress. He’d been happy for her when the man died last autumn, freeing her from that relationship.
Had he not been entangled at the time with the Divine Clarissa, he might have pursued her himself.
‘I’m quite well,’ Ellie was saying as she returned his mother’s embrace. ‘I can wait in the drawing room until you finish your chat with Christopher.’
‘Nonsense! I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing your news, too. Wouldn’t you, my dear?’
‘I would indeed. Although, since I’m the one who turned up unexpectedly, if you ladies would prefer to have a comfortable coze, I could leave.’
‘No, please, stay, Christopher,’ Ellie said, echoing his mother’s request.
That matter disposed of, his mother rang for tea and, arm in arm with her visitor, proceeded to the sofa. He waved Ellie to the seat he’d just
