Page 12 of The Language of Love

Chapter 2

Henry chose Lady Winifred Sedgwick as his matchmaker because he’d heard she was extraordinary when it came to finding suitable mates for the wealthy cits who were proliferating in a way that horrified the ton. He liked the idea of employing a woman who helped the merchant class penetrate the sacred inner circle of the beau monde.

The house the countess received them in was modest, but impeccably decorated. It was also a very feminine abode with no masculine imprint.

Colin was doing a fine job appearing the empty-headed charmer he was. He’d just finished mouthing some bosh about a new style of cravat while Lady Sedgwick regarded him with puzzlement. Henry could almost hear her thoughts: how on earth had such a lackwit accumulated a substantial fortune?

The door to the sitting room burst opened, and a girl entered, her attention fixed on her bonnet ribbon, which appeared to be wadded in a knot beneath her right ear. “This wretched thing,” she muttered without looking up. “Will you help me, Freddie?” It wasn’t a girl’s voice at all, but that of a woman.

Colin, who’d been saying nothing of any importance, stopped talking and both men shot to their feet.

The motion snagged the newcomer’s attention, and she glanced up, her blue eyes widening with mortification. “Oh, dear—I am sorry, Freddie, I didn’t know you were with anyone.” She turned as if to leave. “I shall just—”

Lady Sedgwick—or Freddie, an incongruous name for such an elegant woman—was already moving toward her. “Please, do come in, Annis.” She turned to Colin, “Lord Rotherhithe, this is my dear friend, Miss Annis Bowman.”

Colin bowed, his handsome face splitting into a fatuous grin. The way the younger man behaved around women—as if they were rare mythical beasts—made Henry doubt the veracity of Colin’s boasts about his prodigious experience with prostitutes. Henry thought it more likely that he was England’s oldest male virgin.

“I say, jolly good to meet you, er, Miss Bowman.” Colin jerked her hand up and down like he was working a pump handle.

Lady Sedgwick’s eyes flickered at Colin’s gushing welcome, and Henry made a note to school his protégé in the art of exhibiting aristocratic ennui.

The countess turned to Henry, “This is Mr. Colin Parker, Lord Rotherhithe’s—” A notch formed between her unusual slate-colored eyes.

“I am his lordship’s temporary secretary.” Henry could see his words surprised her. And well they should—what lord paid calls with his secretary in tow?

This was Colin’s cue, and, for once, he hit his mark. “Parker is more than a secretary. He’s also my good mate.”

Henry shuddered at being included in that loathsome group.

“We met at school in—” Colin glanced at Henry, grimaced, and blundered on. “Well, it hardly signifies where the school was—and probably still is, I’m sure. What matters is that we go everywhere together. Positively joined at the hip, you might say. Ha ha, that’s us, veritable twins.” He chortled and everyone else stared.

“His lordship is very kind to me,” Henry murmured, taking Miss Bowman’s hand, which was as slight and delicate as spun glass. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bowman.”

She dropped an elegant curtsey and Henry looked down into huge blue eyes fringed with long but nearly invisible blonde lashes that gave her a startled aspect. She was, he realized, much older than she initially appeared, perhaps somewhere in her mid-twenties.

Her gown was well made but threadbare and out-of-fashion, the hem so heavy with dirt that she must have walked a great distance.

She wasn’t exactly pretty, but striking in her own way. Henry had never seen such huge, limpid eyes. He felt like he was falling into them.

He shook himself, unnerved by the uncharacteristically fanciful thought.

A gentle tug on his fingers reminded him he’d not yet released her hand. When he did so, she took a step back.

“I was just going to ring for tea,” Lady Sedgwick said, turning an inquiring eye on Colin. “If that would be agreeable to you, my lord?”

Miss Bowman removed the battered bonnet, exposing a poorly restrained mass of corn-silk colored hair.

Colin was staring at the fairy creature with his grin intact and did not appear to have heard the countess’s question.

“Thank you, my lady,” Henry said to Lady Sedgwick. “Tea would be most welcome.”

If the countess thought it odd for an earl’s secretary to make his lord’s decisions for him, she gave no sign of it.

While Lady Sedgwick rang for a servant, Miss Bowman said to Colin, “You are new to your title, I understand?”

Colin nodded vigorously, a lock of glossy dark hair flopping on his forehead. “Indeed, so new I still squeak with it. Squeak, squeak!” He chuckled.

Miss Bowman’s brow furrowed.