hundred thousand, someone will marry her, but it will not be anyone we know.â
âFortunately, the Duke of Berkshire has no need to marry for money,â Dorian said coldly.
âNo indeed,â she said. âBut I did think I ought to just let her try. However, itâs clearly no good. We must cut our losses and move on.â
Dorian stretched out in one of the chairs beside the fire. âWho is next on the list?â
âLady Rowena West. Pretty girl, just seventeen, quiet and pretty-behaved. Her father is the Earl of Ambersey. Her fortune is but twenty thousand pounds, but I understand there is a grandmother who might do something for her if she marries well.â
âDo you not think, Mama, that it would be better if Iâif I were to choose my own wife this time?â he said.
âDorian! You do not know what you are saying,â she protested. âChoose your own wife! My dear! That is how mistakes are made.â
âYou chose my first wife,â he said quietly.
She bristled. âThat was not my fault. Her family concealed from me the fact that she was sickly. If I had known she enjoyed poor healthââ
Dorian held up his hand. âItâs no oneâs fault, Mama. I donât blame you. I simply want the freedom to choose my own wife in my own time. I would never marry to disoblige you, if that is what you fear. You want a daughter-in-law of large fortune and good breeding. I want delicacy of mind and sweetness of temper. I want good health andâand laughter. I want conversation. I want a companion, notââ
âA moment, please,â she said, stopping him while she took out a clean sheet of paper. âYou were saying?â she prompted, her pen poised over the page.
Dorian sighed.
She set down her pen. âYou are tired, my darling. Go to bed. Tomorrow we will begin again. Weâll call on Lady Rowena, shall we? Iâll send a note to her mama in the morning to make certain she is kept home for you in the afternoon.â
Dorian grimaced. âSeventeen? What have I to say to a child of that age? Donât any of these girls have elder sisters?â
The duchess recoiled. âElder sister!â she repeated indignantly. âWe need not settle for that. My dear Dorian, if a girl is not snapped up by the end of her first season, then there is something wrong with her. If you do not find someone soon, and fix your interest, all the good ones will be taken.â
Dorian rubbed his eyes wearily.
âOf course we need not call on Lady Rowena tomorrow, if you do not wish to,â she said hastily. âI can arrange for you to meet her at Lady Torcasterâs ball on Saturday, if you prefer. I am sure she has been invited. If not, I can arrange that, too.â
He shrugged. âFrankly, Iâd rather be down at Ashlands for the foaling.â
His mother looked at him for a moment. âYou are tired,â she said gently. âPerhaps we have been concentrating too hard on the business of finding you a wife. You are a bundle of raw nerves. You need to relax. A man must think of pleasure as well as duty, after all. Why donât you ask Miss St. Lys to dine with you tomorrow night?â
Dorian started in his chair. âMama!â he said, blinking at her in astonishment.
âWhat?â she replied, looking back at him frankly. âYou have to see her tomorrow, anyway, to give her the ten pounds I promised to her for her foundlings.â
âI thought I would send it.â
âSend it! Donât be silly. She expects you to bring it to her. She wants you to. If she didnât, she wouldnât have given us her direction. Eighty-one Curzon Street.â
âEight-four,â he corrected her unthinkingly.
She smiled triumphantly. âThere! I knew you liked her. Indeed, who would not like her? She is beautiful, charming, spirited . . . In a perfect world, she would be the heiress with three
Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell