Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife by Mary Nichols

change into it. ‘Shoes, my lord?’ he queried.
    ‘Not the red heels, definitely not those,’ he answered, frowning at the pair Jack had produced. ‘The black with the silver buckles.’
    A tall white wig was fetched after these were donned, but was waved away. ‘The small toupee with the side curls,’ he said, looking in the mirror and meditating on where to put a patch and then deciding not to bother.
    He topped the outfit with a three-cornered hat and, picking up his cane, declared himself ready. Jack watched him go with some satisfaction. He liked to see his master well dressed and today he looked extremely fine. Ten to one there was a lady behind it.
    Harry smiled a little as his coach carried him to Chandos Street. He could be wrong, of course, but he would lay a guinea to a sixpence, Miss Chalmers had changed her mind, or been persuaded to, and Mrs Bullivant had determined to do the thing properly. This play was rapidly becoming a farce.
    He was admitted by a liveried footman and conducted to the drawing room, where he found Mrs Bullivant and Sir Max waiting to receive him, but no sign of Miss Chalmers. So, he was to be interviewed by her family before being allowed a few minutes alone with her. Considering their conversation in the Ranelagh Gardens, it was laughable. But he kept a straight faceas he bowed to them and Mrs Bullivant bade him be seated and ordered refreshments.
    While these were being prepared, they conversed about the warm weather, which Mrs Bullivant found very wearying, and the crowds who were already flocking to London for the celebrations. At a time when the haut monde would normally all be leaving the capital for their country homes, they were choosing to stay. ‘It is particularly tiresome for those of us who live here all the year round,’ the lady said. ‘When we can hope for a little peace and quiet, it is noisier and busier than ever. And not a chair to be had when one needs one.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.
    ‘I collect you have a country estate in Middlesex, I believe.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am. Bishop’s Court. It is between Isle-worth and Hounslow, conveniently near town and yet far enough out to escape the smoke and fog and noisome streets of the capital.’
    The conversation was brought to an end by the arrival of the refreshments and Mrs Bullivant busied herself making and pouring tea and offering little cakes. There was silence for a moment as they drank and ate. Harry waited patiently for them to come to the purpose of the summons. He wished he and Rosamund could have arranged everything together without this charade, but it would not be polite to hurry them along.
    At last, Mrs Bullivant put down her cup. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘My niece tells me you have offered her marriage.’
    ‘So I did. She declined.’
    ‘Perhaps because the manner of making it was…’ she hesitated, searching for a way of telling him politely that he had gone the wrong way about it ‘…not quite proper,’ she added lamely.
    He only just refrained from laughing. ‘I stand corrected.’
    ‘I think if you were to ask her again, you might have a different answer,’ the lady said. ‘Do you wish to ask her again?’
    ‘Naturally, I do.’
    She picked up a little bell from the table at her side and rang it vigorously. When a maid came in answer to the summons she was despatched to fetch Miss Chalmers.
    Rosamund was as amused by her aunt’s antics as Harry was, but she entered the room demurely and curtsied to him, as he rose to bow to her. ‘My lord.’
    ‘Your obedient, Miss Chalmers. Are you well?’ This was not simply a polite enquiry; he had noticed how pale she was. Was the prospect of being married to him so daunting?
    ‘Perfectly well, my lord.’
    ‘Rosamund,’ said her aunt, ‘Lord Portman has something to say to you, so we will retire and you may have a few minutes alone with him.’ And with that, she rose and majestically left the room, followed by Max.
    As soon as the