That was true. The question was at what level of Polite Society did they reside. Although, by the style of their riding habits and the quality of their horses, Giff surmised they were, like him, in the haut ton. If so, there would be no question of eligibility. “I need a lady who will be acceptable to my father.” Giff couldn’t help scowling. His father’s idiosyncrasies made his hunt more difficult. “Excellent bloodlines are important.” Yet, that wouldn’t be hard. “She must also be intelligent and not afraid to stand up to him.” Those weren’t qualities thick on the ground. In fact, he knew he’d have trouble finding a lady who would show her true self during the Season. “He detests cowards.”
“I’m surprised he did not make a match for you.” His friend had obviously not thought the matter through.
“Wouldn’t have worked.” Even if Giff’s father had tried it, his mother would have been against it. “Any lady who would do what her father or mother said wouldn’t have enough strength of character to be a daughter of his.”
“I don’t envy you your search,” Montagu said.
Neither did Giff. “I’ll find her. And when I do, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she marries me.”
His friend raised his brows. “I daresay it will not be that hard for either of us. We’re titled, not bad looking, and wealthy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Giff grumbled. “Until I wed, I have only what my father gives me. I just hope I meet someone who doesn’t care about a love match. Messy things, those.”
“I agree.” Montagu practically shuddered. “My sister didn’t care to have one, but they seem to get on well enough.” They rode in silence for a minute or two, until he said. “Did you say your parents were in Town?”
“They arrive tomorrow.” That reminded Giff that his time would no longer be his own. “Your mother and sister?”
“Got here yesterday. M’sister’s at her town house, but Mamma is staying with me.”
He was glad for Montagu that his mother had come to Town. “That will be helpful. If you decide you do like a lady, she will be able to arrange a party for the theater or some other event.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” He sounded as if he hadn’t realized that gentlemen could not host entertainments that included ladies.
“They can also tell you which events to attend.” It suddenly occurred to Giff that he was not in the habit of attending events with young ladies. “I don’t have a clue which entertainments have the most eligible ladies.”
“In that case, I will rely on her.” Montagu appeared resigned. “As long as she doesn’t try to matchmake.”
Giff almost laughed out loud, but that wouldn’t be helpful. “I’m not sure mothers know how not to matchmake. Mine certainly doesn’t.”
“This is going to be a long few months.” Giff hoped not. He wanted this wife hunting to be over and done with. “I’m hungry,” Montagu said. “Would you like to break your fast with me? I’ve instructed my cook I shall eat early, even in Town.”
“Thank you.” Giff could have kissed the man. The truly bad thing about living at his parents’ house for the Season was that he was not yet allowed to occupy the heir’s wing and had to adhere to his parent’s breakfast schedule. “There won’t be anything but toast to eat at my house for another two hours.”
“In that case, you’re welcome to take your potluck with me anytime you wish.”
“Thank you.” That was a relief. He’d been trying to work out a way to eat earlier on something more than toast and cheese. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”
They arrived at Montagu House and Giff followed his friend into the breakfast room. The aroma of food made his stomach grumble. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. He followed Montagu to the sideboard and started filling his plate. This is what he’d order served in the mornings and at the appropriate hour. A pot of tea had been set on the table. They took their seats and began eating.
“My lord,” a servant that could only be a butler handed Montagu a note. “This is from Lady Lytton.”
“Thank you, Lumner.” Montagu opened the seal and scanned the short missive. “I’ve been invited to m’sister’s to join them for dinner. If you like, I’ll ask if you can come as well.”
Giff swallowed. All help was welcome. The more ladies he met, the more choice he’d have. “Do you think she’ll know some eligible ladies?”
“Even if she doesn’t, she’ll be happy to help.” Montagu sipped his tea. “I’ll send a note around asking.”
“Thank you.” Giff resumed eating. He’d have to look at the invitations he’d received. But, quite frankly, he didn’t think any of them would be worth his time. He needed young ladies looking to wed, not widows and high-flyers.
The next morning St. Albans met Montagu to go riding again. He’d like to get another look at the ladies he saw yesterday. The problem was gaining an introduction. No one else that could possibly know them and knew him as well was up and out that early.
“It is too bad you cannot attend Parliament,” Montagu said, shocking Giff so much he almost spewed out his tea.
What the devil? “Why do you say that?”
“I was at a meeting at Worthington House yesterday. Several gentlemen I met have wives who will hold social events this Season. Of course, you know Turley. I believe even Littleton is supposed to be in Town this year. But I also met Exeter, who is also a friend of Turley’s, and, of course, Worthington as well as some other peers. If you were a member, you would come to know the gentlemen more easily.”
“Ah.” St Albans considered his friend’s statement. It made a lot of sense. “For some reason, I hadn’t thought of our friends’ spouses holding entertainments. Silly of me really. Of course they would. They are part of the ton, and this is the Season after all.” They rode to the Serpentine. There was only one serious and insurmountable problem with what his friend had said. “I hope not to become a peer for a number of years yet. As much as m’father irritates me at times, I do not wish him dead.”
“There is that.” Montagu sounded sad, and Giff remembered that his father had died only a few years ago. “I hope you get your wish.”
“As do I.” Giff would be happier being the heir as long as he could have some real responsibility. “There they are again. The ladies. They’re leaving.” He was closer this time and could see that one had dark hair and the other two had blond hair. They looked almost exactly alike, but somehow different. The one on the far end caught his eye as a shaft of light shone on her. There was something about her. A quality he could not put into words. If he was a poet, he’d say that she had hair the color of the sun and a complexion like fine cream. But he wasn’t, and that didn’t capture what drew him to her. He was now certain he’d be introduced to her at some point. He was positive her family ran in the same circles as his. Or at least their mothers would.
“I wonder who they are,” Montagu mused softly.
“We’re bound to find out at some point.” Giff hoped it was soon. He was thankful his mother arrived today. Montagu had been so serious about wanting a wife who hadn’t a thought in her head that Giff decided to have some fun. “But it occurred to me late yesterday that if you want a lady who is a bit dim, you might want to appear the same yourself. Otherwise she could be wary of you.”
At first Montagu appeared startled, then it was clear he was taking the bait. “That is exactly what I will do. Thank you for the hint.”
“Anything to help a friend.” Oh, good God! He was actually going to do it. This ought to be interesting.
Again, Giff joined Montagu for breakfast.
“Littleton was right. This ham is excellent.” Montagu cut another piece.
“Did he tell you what he feeds them?” This was something Giff could do once he was given his estate.
Montagu swallowed. “Chestnuts.”
