“Except I wouldn’t put it past Walter to challenge me about the events I want him to attend. He seems to relish sparring with me.”
“The two of you do seem to be at variance with each other.”
“It’s a strange circumstance, because I’m generally not at odds with gentlemen when first introduced. It typically takes me a good few weeks before I begin annoying them, or vice versa.” She blew out a breath. “Nevertheless, since it’s apparent I’m stuck with the unenviable job of finding Walter that perfect lady, I’m going to have to figure out how to get the ladies of society to cooperate with any scheduling I may attempt to do on Walter’s behalf. I’m convinced that trying to manage these ladies is going to be fraught with difficulties, because they’re bound to resort to underhanded tactics to steal more time with him, not to mention the shenanigans they’re probably even now devising against me.”
Adelaide readjusted the bodice of a gown that, while not nearly as hideous as the one she’d been wearing the night before, wasn’t well tailored to her form. “If you’re unaware of this, every lady out this Season is terrified of you, except for perhaps Tillie Wickham, because, well, it’s Tillie. I don’t think she’s prone to fits of terror.”
“Is it wrong there’s a part of me that wants to include Tillie often in Walter’s schedule simply out of spite, because I know she’s not a lady he’ll find appropriate?”
Adelaide soothed a hand down Gwendolyn’s arm. “You know you won’t do that because you told me you’re determined to become a top-notch assistant matchmaker by the end of the summer. That means you’ll need to find Walter his perfect match, which I have no doubt you’ll achieve, even with you being under assault—and not simply from the feminine set.”
Gwendolyn stilled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Have you not noticed how many gentlemen are watching your every move this evening?”
“I’m being watched by gentlemen?”
“Indeed,” Adelaide said. “And while I wish I could say gentlemen are watching you because of that delicious gown you’re wearing, I’m afraid that may not be the case, given the calculating gleam I’ve detected in more than one gentleman’s eye.”
“You’ve detected calculation?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That can’t be good.”
“I’m afraid not.” Adelaide grinned. “On a positive note, at least you didn’t take Walter up on that bet he offered about the likelihood of Mrs. Parker sponsoring him. If you had, not only would you now find yourself his buffer, you’d also be poorer.”
“That’s one way of looking at the situation.” Gwendolyn caught Adelaide’s eye. “Are you certain you won’t reconsider your position about your cats? I still believe you could be exactly the lady Walter needs in his life, which would put a rapid end to my association with the man.”
Adelaide’s eyes twinkled. “Even though I’d love to assist you with your unwanted association, I wouldn’t give up my cats for any gentleman. And while I know my mother, if she were to discover you’re keen to see me take up the Mrs. Townsend title, would be thrilled to have you attempt that unlikely accomplishment, I don’t believe Walter and I would suit each other. I have no interest in confining my conversations to fashion and the latest weather.” She readjusted her bodice again. “Fashion has never interested me, and I loathe fittings so much that my mother merely takes my measurements and gets my gowns made without my involvement.”
“Going for a fitting once in a blue moon might result in you having some gowns that complement your figure,” Gwendolyn pointed out.
Adelaide shrugged. “True, but there are so many more delightful ways to spend my time, such as reading, wandering through bookstores, or attending to my many feline companions. Besides that, I’m not convinced better-fitting gowns would lend me a stylish air. I simply don’t have the flair needed to look fashionable.”
“Style is not difficult to obtain. It’s merely an attitude and how you present yourself to the world.”
“I don’t have attitude either. At a ball last year I tried to use a fan in an attempt to look the part of a femme fatale instead of a bluestocking.” She shook her head. “It was abject failure at its finest because I flipped my fan open while engaged in conversation with Mr. Daniel Mizner, hit him squarely in the nose with it, and watched in horror as his nose began to bleed. He then dashed away from me, trailing blood as he dashed. He’s not spoken to me since.”
Gwendolyn’s lips twitched. “How unfortunate.”
“Not really, because Daniel Mizner is rumored to be a fortune hunter. That most likely explains why he was engaged in conversation with me in the first place, and . . .” Adelaide’s voice trailed away as her eyes narrowed on something behind Gwendolyn. “Don’t look now, but Mr. E. J. Boettcher seems to be heading our way. Given that he was just in conference with a few other gentlemen who’ve been watching you, I believe he’s been elected to approach you first.”
“Approach me for what?”
“I think you’re soon to find out. With that said, I’m going to casually saunter away, because Mr. Boettcher isn’t overly fond of me either. It’s a long story, one I’ll explain later, but know that an unintentional kicking of his shins may have occurred.”
After sending Gwendolyn a wink, Adelaide strolled away, barely making her escape before E. J. appeared at Gwendolyn’s side, smiling brightly as he took hold of her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to it.
“Miss Brinley, how delightful you look this evening,” E. J. began. “I’m not certain you remember meeting me, but I’m . . .”
“Mr. Boettcher,” Gwendolyn finished for him, which sent a touch of wariness flickering through E. J.’s eyes. “Of course I remember meeting you. We shared a lovely conversation at Mrs. Elbridge Gerry’s pre-Season picnic—until you discovered I was in Mrs. Parker’s employ. You then fled from me without another word.”
E. J. winced and released her hand. “I suppose that was not well done of me.”
“There’s no supposing about it.”
He winced again. “An excellent point. Allow me to make reparations for my blatant rudeness and extend you a most sincere apology. My hasty retreat was not well done of me, and I truly beg your pardon.” He sent her a genuine smile. “I hope you’ll forgive me, and if so, then hope you can spare me a few minutes of your time.”
Gwendolyn resisted a sigh, checked her watch, and then returned her attention to E. J. “I have exactly two minutes I can spare now.”
“Only two minutes?”
“I’m a very busy woman, Mr. Boettcher. It’s two minutes or no minutes at all, and you’ve already used up five seconds of your time.”
His smile dimmed ever so slightly. “With such a time constraint, I might as well just blurt this out. I’m interested in having you represent me in the matchmaking business this summer, and before you say no, understand that compensation has no ceiling.”
“Oh . . . dear,” Gwendolyn muttered as understanding regarding the calculation Adelaide had noticed residing in gentlemen’s eyes finally registered.