"You don't have to be polite to him just because his brother is a duke," Annabel said.
Aunt Paulette added, "People have cut the prince regent."
"I wouldn't be so cruel," Meredith said. "If Mr. Partridge calls, I think we should receive him. But I doubt he will. He really owes me nothing."
Annabel let out a huff. "He couldn't take his eyes off you. He will call if you'll let him. Are you sure you forgive him?"
Meredith nodded. "It was not done with malicious intent, and no harm was done. We will receive him, and be polite, and . . ." She shrugged. "That will be the end of it." Or so she hoped.
"Very well." Aunt Paulette opened the box of candy and held it out to Meredith. "If you have forgiven him, then so shall we."
"I won't." Annabel folded her arms. "Not unless he has a very pretty apology. I know marrying into such an auspicious family would please your parents, Merry, but don't settle for someone who won't make you happy."
Chewing the candy, Meredith picked up a pillow and hugged it. "I'm not so naïve as to believe my happiness rests on another or that romantic love is required for a successful match. I will be content with an honorable man, if any still exists, and a home of my own. Perhaps I should go back to Sussex and marry Grandmother's vicar."
"Nonsense," cried Annabel. "A stuffy man like that is not for you."
"At least I would have no delusions about him being in love with me." Meredith hugged the pillow harder and savored the sweet candy in her mouth.
Annabel sat forward. "Don't give up just yet, Merry. You promised to stay with me the whole Season."
"Yes, I did. But since a love match is not in the stars for me, I shall employ my newfound powers of discernment to help others."
A maid entered carrying the tea service and plates of refreshment. After setting the tray on a nearby table, the maid bobbed a curtsey and soundlessly left the room. A second maid arrived with the flowers arranged in a vase and set it on a sideboard table. The flowers smiled from their crystal vase.
"I cannot like your goal of coming between couples, Meredith, but I have to admit, you were quite right about Mr. Wynn." Aunt Paulette inspected the plate of scones and biscuits.
Annabel also leaned forward to select a scone. "And about that peacock trying to woo my friend Charlotte."
Meredith nodded slowly. "I'm only grateful they were spared. And by the way, your handsome Mr. Barrett is not to be trusted either. He strikes me as a rake of the worst kind, just as you said."
Aunt Paulette's hand froze midway to her mouth. "Mr. Tristan Barrett? Oh, yes, indeed, he does have a wild reputation. He might be wealthy and well connected, but no one that rakish will do, Annabel. I hope you know that."
Annabel's expression turned almost sullen. "I know, I know. But he's so . . ."
"By all means, admire him like a piece of fine art, but don't fall for him," Meredith said firmly.
Annabel let out a huff. "But what if gossip has it wrong about him just like it was wrong about you? I mean, you didn't actually do anything truly bad, and if no one had discovered that you had eloped, you wouldn't be considered ruined."
Meredith blanched at the word that had been flung at her, beating her down like a battering ram, almost constantly for years. "I did do something wrong: I believed the lies of a handsome face." Twice, but few besides Grandmother knew about the second one. At least she had learned her lesson enough not to attempt an elopement a second time.
Aunt Paulette handed teacups around. "No need to bring up the past. We will focus on the future for you both. Promise me you won't get so jaded that you find faults that aren't there, Meredith."
"I will try, Aunt. And I will try not to be such a failure."
Seven years had failed to completely heal the hurt of lies and betrayal or restore her faith in herself or her trust in gentlemen in general. Nor had it yielded her parents' forgiveness. But if she could protect others from her own folly, she would feel a measure of satisfaction. That would have to be enough.
"Now, now," Aunt Paulette said. "One miscalculation does not mean you are no longer a candidate for a love match. If you are willing to forgive Mr. Partridge for his overzealous attempts to get your attention, you might consider allowing him to court you."
Meredith huffed a laugh. "No one of his status would align himself with someone of my background and the scandal attached to me."
"No one here knows of that," Aunt Paulette said in a soothing voice. "And surely everyone in Loughborough has forgotten all about it."
"Things like that have a way of resurfacing," Meredith said miserably. "Besides, nothing will change the fact that my father is in trade. That disqualifies me from anyone lofty-unless they need my dowry."
"Don't be so sure, my dear cynic. Keep an open mind and an open heart, and you might be surprised what delightful people will come into your life. Now, as far as tonight, our hostess is Lady Daubrey-she's such a dear. She will have a sumptuous dinner. I'm certain all the gentlemen present will be of the very best ton."
"Aunt," Meredith interrupted, "if the subject of my dowry comes up at all, could we imply that it's very modest?"
"But my dear, to make an advantageous match-"
"I must avoid fortune hunters, mustn't I?" Meredith interjected.
Aunt Paulette frowned thoughtfully. "Well . . . er . . . yes, but-"
"Would that not be easier to achieve if people believe I don't offer an impressive dowry?"
"Your father might-"
"He might understand, all things considered, don't you think?"
Aunt Paulette's brows creased, and she closed her mouth, frowned, and said nothing for a long moment.
Annabel piped up. "I think she's right, Mama. As her sponsor, you don't have to name a sum, just imply that it's very modest. And really, it's all relative anyway, isn't it?"
"Besides, the last I spoke to Papa," Meredith said as if that had been weeks instead of years ago, "he mentioned reducing my dowry but increasing trust money that would stay in my control even after marriage. For all I know, he's done that."
None of their letters had mentioned such matters. They'd been polite, filled mostly with local events such as marriages and babies born, or the new garden Mama had designed, but no words of forgiveness or an invitation to return home.
Aunt Paulette finally nodded. "I see what you mean. Enough of a dowry so as not to be a true deterrent, but not so much as to attract anyone seeking a way to restore the family coffers."
The tightness that had knotted inside Meredith relaxed enough to allow the first deep breath she'd taken in years.
The butler opened the door and said, "Forgive me, madam, but are you at home to a Mr. Partridge and Mr. Cavenleigh?"
He'd come. Meredith could hardly believe it. She would not allow herself to look too long at his stunning face or she might fall back into her former stupidity and fail to see his true intentions, whatever they may be.
"Show them in," Aunt Paulette said.
The ladies touched up their hair and smoothed their skirts. The butler returned a moment later, followed by two gentlemen. Mr. Partridge entered first, followed by his leaner friend, a sandy-haired gentleman who nearly matched him in height. However, Meredith saw little else of his companion with her attention so focused on Mr. Partridge.
The Master Craftsman had certainly taken his time designing this fine specimen of a man. With beautifully formed features and a mouth perfect for kissing, he seemed to embody her girlish dreams of a prince charming who would carry her off to his castle in the clouds.
He and his friend bowed. Aunt Paulette and Annabel curtsied, reminding Meredith to do so.
"Mrs. Stafford, Miss Stafford, thank you for seeing me."
Meredith had forgotten the musical beauty of Mr. Partridge's voice.
"So kind of you to call, Mr. Partridge, Mr. Cavenleigh," Aunt Paulette said. "May I present my niece, Miss Meredith Brown?"
Mr. Partridge's eyes, the green and blue of a dappled country lake, caressed her face with a contradictory intensity and softness. His blond patch nestled in his dark waves, shining like a beacon. The light in the room emanated from his face, and all else faded away to colorless trivia.
No. Not again. Love was a trite fantasy. She would not be duped again.
"Mr. Partridge," she said coolly. "Thank you for the flowers and candy. I assure you, it was not necessary."
He blinked as if trying to merge her gracious words and frosty tone. "It was not near enough, I assure you. I hope you will forgive me."
"Already forgiven. No need to fret." Her voice still sounded chilly, even to her own ears.
Her aunt cleared her voice. "Won't you both please sit and take a cup of tea?"