The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) Devlin, Barbara (that summer book .TXT) 📖

“Gentlemen, it is absolutely necessary, and he would do the same for us, were we in his predicament.” A tall, blond Adonis, sporting a patch over his left eye, made an impassioned plea and then turned his gaze on Arabella. “Ah, the ladies are here.” His demeanor transformed into something somewhat dangerous, as he bowed and favored her with a smile she didn’t trust for a minute. “Lady Arabella, I am Rawden Durrant, Earl of Beaulieu.”

“Yes, I remember, given we were formally introduced at my father’s impromptu dinner, although we didn’t speak beyond the customary greeting.” To her recollection, Anthony considered Beaulieu a close friend, although they appeared to avoid each other at the event. Then again, nothing went as expected after His Grace announced the engagement, so she understood her fiancé’s unusual behavior. With Patience firmly anchored alongside, Arabella led her friend to the chaise. “Please, be seated.”

“Thank you.” He perched at the edge of the sofa. “Allow me to present Lord Michael Donithorn, Hunter Lee, earl of Greyson, and Arthur James, earl of Warrington.”

“Welcome.” Arabella curtseyed. “Permit me to introduce my dearest companion, Miss Patience Wallace.” Beneath the weight of their stares, she fidgeted with the lace trim of her sleeve. “Pray, to what do I owe this impressive gathering?”

“Wallace?” Lord Beaulieu arched a brow. “Are you any relation to General Wallace?”

“Yes, he is my father.” Patience scooted closer to Arabella. “Did you serve with him at Waterloo?”

“Indeed, we all fought beside him at the great battle.” Lord Beaulieu again smiled, which did nothing to inspire confidence. “Along with our mutual friend, Lord Rockingham, and he is why we seek an audience.”

“Oh?” Arabella braced. “I am curious, my lord. What can I do for you, because any friend of my fiancé is a friend of mine?”

“Actually, it is what we would do for you that brings us here.” At Lord Beaulieu’s pronouncement, images of havoc flitted through her mind, though she knew not why. “To be specific, we would help you bring Lord Rockingham to the altar, given his reticence.”

Beaulieu could have knocked her over with a feather.

“Fascinating.” Patience tapped her chin. “Especially since Lady Arabella shares his reservations.”

“Really?” Lord Beaulieu’s gaze widened. “I thought all ladies lived for the auspicious occasion.”

“Just as not all men are the same, we are not like all ladies, my lord.” Patience cast a smug smile. “You would do well to remember that, Lord Beaulieu.”

“Well then, I suppose that settles it.” Lord Greyson stood. “What say we make for White’s, because I am in serious need of a drink?”

“Not so fast.” When Arabella expected Lord Beaulieu to cede the field, he stayed his friend with an upraised palm. “Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Miss Wallace.” No doubt his unveiled condescension grated Patience’s last nerve, and Arabella stifled a gurgle of mirth, because he knew just how to counter her friend. “But we are here to extend our assistance to Lady Arabella, that we might bring her hesitant beau to the church, on time, because Lord Rockingham is the best of men.”

“I could not agree more.” Curious, Arabella pondered his outrageous statement. Whoever heard of male matchmakers? “However, even the noblest of intentions cannot vanquish the trepidation of an ambivalent groom, and that is putting it mildly, because Lord Rockingham made it clear, in no uncertain terms, he does not wish to marry me. Given the delicacy of the matter, I require the utmost discretion.”

“That goes without saying, Lady Arabella. It might interest you to know that Lord Rockingham has had a change of heart.” Lord Michael huffed a breath and frowned, and his declaration echoed in her ears. “The question we face, in this moment, is whether or not you wish to marry Lord Rockingham.”

How simple his query sounded, when her answer would shape the rest of her life. Perched on the precipice of her own Rubicon, her options were few. Given the kiss she could not ignore, she owed it to herself to contemplate the positive aspects of a union. She could support Anthony in his previous position and end up with someone far worse, or she could fight for him. Yet, everything came down to one incontrovertible truth. She liked Anthony. Her instincts, which she trusted, told her that, despite his sporadic peculiar behavior. He was a good man, but there was something else she could not deny.

As Patience so aptly pointed out, whether or not Anthony realized it, he already relied on Arabella. The tryst in Papa’s study proved beyond all doubt that he needed her, and in some respects, she needed him. It was a rare opportunity to gain a husband who looked to his wife for strength, and theirs would function as a true partnership. Anthony was a man broken by the horrors of battle and still fighting a private war with himself, and she longed to help him. Not because she intended to rule him, but because she had developed tender feelings for the tormented soldier.

And then there was that kiss.

“Lord Beaulieu, just what do you propose?” Praying she was doing the right thing, in that instant, Arabella twined her fingers in Patience’s. “I am amenable to your offer of assistance, provided I know the extent of our collaboration, although I am not entirely convinced we will succeed.”

“Our aim is to act as matchmakers, of a sort.” Lord Beaulieu compressed his lips, and the other three gentlemen groaned, in unison. “After all, who knows better how to attract a man than a man?”

“Is that so?” Patience remarked with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “Have you any previous experience in such matters, Lord Beaulieu?”

“No, I do not.” Beaulieu stared down his nose. “How difficult can it be, given women do it all the time?”

Arabella knew not how to respond. Then she peered at Patience. In concert, they burst into laughter.

“That does it.” Lord Greyson stood. “I knew your plan was