Page 2 of The Baron and the Bluestocking

She just wasn’t quite certain which path she should be taking and she did not wish to be forced onto the one of her mother’s choosing any longer.

But despite what her mother said about Tillie complaining too vociferously, she kept these thoughts to herself. “I don’t find house parties all that enjoyable.”

“Why not?” her mother asked, the note of exasperation still clear in her tone.

“You can’t escape all the people.”

“Why,” her mother asked, partially turning toward her daughter, “would you want to?”

Her mother’s comment displayed the fundamental problem perfectly. Her mother didn’t understand her or what was important to her at all.

Which was why, any man whom her mother had chosen to potentially match her with was sure to be a disaster.

She let out a very quiet sigh as the first carriage stopped to unload its passengers. Tillie straightened up, ready to do her duty and greet their guests. She’d not be openly rude. At least, not yet.

She watched the viscount exit his carriage, his chin so high in the air, he looked to be studying the sky. His high, starched collar and elaborately tied cravat only punctuated the ways in which he appeared far more concerned with fashion than she had ever been in her entire life.

Not her sort of man at all.

He gave her mother a glowing smile and executed a bow with a twirling hand that set her teeth on edge.

Was this the man her mother had chosen? She’d walk all the way to the sea before she walked down the aisle to be this man’s bride. If it was him her mother had selected…

Tillie knew precisely why her mother had yet to share the would-be beau’s identity. The marchioness had made the mistake of sharing the names of potential suitors with Tillie before.

The information made Tillie’s job of avoiding them or scaring them off far easier when she knew who they were, but her mother had gotten craftier with each passing year.

She curtsied to the viscount before he was shown inside, and they prepared to greet the next guest.

Her mother might know not to tell her the name of the chosen man, but Lady Greenburg likely did not know it was a bad idea.

Bending her head toward the kindly baroness, she pasted on her most charming smile. “My mother doesn’t understand that I just don’t have her skill in these areas.”

Lad Greenburg began patting her hand again. “Nonsense. You’re a talented and intelligent woman. Why I was telling my son, Lord Greenburg, what a beautiful and vivacious woman you’ve grown into.”

“But not socially adept,” Tillie quickly assured her, ignoring the reference to Alex, Lady Greenburg’s son. He was her brother’s friend and had made his irritation with Tillie well known throughout their childhood. He also turned her into a fluttery mess whenever he came near, which only served to further irritate Tillie. “Which is why it would be helpful to know whom—”

“Oh no you don’t,” her mother scoffed. “I’ll not allow you to terrorize another lord of the realm.”

“Terrorize?” Tillie fluttered her lashes so innocently, even her mother should be proud, though she didn’t seem to notice. She was busy looking up at the sky as she ticked off a count on her fingers.

“There was Lord Michaels who accidentally landed in the pond when you went for a walk. Lord Andrew who found himself in the bog during your ride, and Lord Archer who ended up with soup on his lap during the first course of dinner.”

Even Lady Greenburg chuckled at that, and Tillie felt slightly mollified that someone found her amusing.

“She’s got spirit for certain,” Lady Greenburg added when she’d finished laughing.

“Spirit?” her mother wrinkled her nose. “She’s a menace.”

“Is that anyway to speak of your own flesh and blood?” she asked, not the least bit offended. None of those men had had imagination or spirit.

If she had her way, she’d end this house party and her mother’s attempts at matchmaking with her grandest display yet. Now if she could only discover whom they intended to match her with, she could begin her plot to dismantle their plans and then set about securing her own future.

Whatever that meant.

* * *

Baron Greenburg tried notto outwardly groan as he pulled into the grand drive of the Marquess of Farthington’s country estate.

---