Page 12 of Falling for a Forsaken Marquess
“Not just yet, but Mrs Mellors has promised me a beautiful girl who she believes I’ll love. She was supposed to be here already, but I suppose something has delayed her.”
“The girl or Mrs Mellors?” William asked, a bit confused. “Who is Mrs Mellors?”
“Mrs Mellors was supposed to be here, and she is the matchmaker I found to help us choose your bride.”
William never imagined his mother would hire a matchmaker to find his bride, but it made sense. Such a woman was only called in to maximise the choosing process and filter out any who would not make a good match.
“Perhaps she will come another day,” William suggested.
“I hope not. I am most anxious to find my daughter-in-law, plan the wedding of the year, and have my first grandchild. I do not mind if she is a girl as long as you have a boy as well.”
William stretched his neck from side to side, feeling stifled as though a noose had been tied around his neck. Their butler came to the door and announced the arrival of the very woman who William had hoped would not make her way to the estate.
“A Mrs Mellors for you, Your Grace,” said Stevens.
“Show her in,” the duchess replied excitedly.
Stevens disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a tall, middle-aged woman by his side. His mother stood up, and her face lit up with a smile as she approached the woman.
“My dear Mrs Mellors!” she said. “I am so glad that you could come.”
The woman curtsied before the duchess reached her. “It’s a privilege to be in your home, Your Grace. Forgive me for the delay. My carriage needed a little repair after riding into a ditch on the road.”
“Oh, do not think anything of it, my dear woman,” the duchess assured. “This is my son, Lord Hampton. This meeting is for him.”
William rose to his feet out of respect to the woman, waiting for her to curtsy. She did, more so bowing her head than bending her legs.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lord,” she said. “I look forward to helping you find your bride.”
“Thank you, Mrs Mellors,” he said with a nod of his head. “Would you take a seat?”
The woman thanked him and received a cup of tea and light talk before starting the conversation about his future wife.
“What do you wish to find in your wife, My Lord?” she asked him.
William scratched his ear and bit down on his tongue. The urge to admit that he did not wish to marry was strong and insistent, but he could not disappoint his mother. The duchess knitted her brows together, giving William questioning eyes that pulled an answer out of him.
“I suppose what many look for in a wife,” he said vaguely. “As a matchmaker, I am certain you are aware of the qualities that all women should have.”
“What my son is trying to say,” the duchess said, casting a brief look of exasperation his way, “is that he wishes to marry someone who loves her family. A young woman who is respectful and has no scandals attached to her name. She must also be humble but cheerful— I do not like overly serious people.”
“Of course,” the matchmaker agreed. “Cheerfulness is a lovely quality in a woman.”
“Indeed!” the duchess exclaimed. “My son has always been partial to fair-haired women, but we shall not restrict ourselves in that regard. As long as she is comely, healthy, and does not have any disabilities, then she is a candidate.”
The women kept talking and talking, not bothering to ask his opinions anymore. William’s mind was fixing to burst with the chatter, and if he didn’t excuse himself soon, he might blurt something he didn’t want to say.
“Would you excuse me?” he said suddenly, rising to his feet.
“Where are you going, son?” the duchess asked, surprised.
“I have a little headache and need some fresh air,” he lied.
“Would you like a cold compress?” his mother offered.
“No, thank you,” he refused. “The fresh air will do.”
William apologised for leaving during the meeting and almost ran out of the house to the stables, where he readied his horse and set off in no particular direction. He needed to clear his head and ignore the discussion in the house.
