How could she have forgotten?
“You’re right,” she told Kit. “We were catching up, but we’ll do that later. At the moment, he needs to focus on the young ladies.”
“Glad to hear you agree.” He sipped his drink and gestured to the room. “Now, let’s discuss said ladies and decide which prospect we like for Harrison.”
“Should Harrison not decide for himself?”
“Yes, but that’s hardly fun.”
God knew, Kit was all about fun. Still, he was her conspirator in matching Harrison with a bride this weekend. Perhaps Kit could be of use. “The woman in the blue silk with blonde hair is Angelica Dent, a cousin to President Grant. Next to her is Alice Lusk. Her father is big in shipping.”
“Met her mother earlier,” Kit said. “Terrible person.”
“Unfortunately, that is true. But Alice is smart and kind, the complete opposite. Now the group by the fireplace is Nellie Young, daughter of Cornelius Young. She’s the auburn-haired one.”
“I’ve heard of her.”
“Most everyone has. She’s quite the troublemaker.” Kit’s eyes gleamed with speculation, so Maddie snapped her gloved fingers in front of his face. “Off-limits, Christopher.”
He waved his hand. “I remember. Keep going.”
“Next to Miss Young in the cream silk is Louise Martin, and next to her is Martha Thorne. Both old money. Knickerbockers through and through.”
“In other words, boring.”
“That is a terrible thing to say.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
He was but she would never admit it. “Emily Mills and Katherine Delafield are on the sofa.”
“Delafield, like the real estate family?”
“That’s the one.”
“Preston absolutely hates her father,” Kit murmured. “Good thing he decided not to come.”
Their friend Preston Clarke was currently buying up most of Manhattan to erect skyscrapers. Maddie was not surprised to hear that he was at odds with Mr. Delafield.
Kit nodded to where Harrison stood. “And the one talking with our man over there?”
“That’s Lydia Hartwell. Her father owns most of the silver mines in Montana.”
Kit whistled under his breath. “And pretty, too. They look cozy.” He tipped his chin to where Harrison and Lydia stood at the sideboard. “This seems promising.”
Was it? Harrison and Lydia had chatted before dinner as well, so perhaps this would work out for Harrison, after all.
And Maddie was happy about that. Really.
She decided to mention the rumor from earlier. “Someone told me he fathered two children in Paris.”
Kit’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “Harrison?” When she nodded, he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve never seen a person want children less than Harrison.”
He didn’t? She hadn’t known that. They hadn’t ever discussed having children, not until tonight when he’d mentioned his mistress and preventing “consequences.” Information that had been, frankly, unnecessary.
Harrison had a longtime mistress in Paris.
It shouldn’t have surprised or upset her, yet for some reason it did both. Hearing about his mistress had unsettled her stomach with a sickening weight that slid down to her toes.
“One can hardly blame him,” Kit continued. “The Archers were not the most loving family. He said if it weren’t for you and your parents, he never would have known what real familial affection looked like.”
Warmth filled her, chest fluttering with memories of all their time spent together. What fun they’d had. “There were lots of children around, but Harrison quickly became a fixture here.”
“Never a hint of anything romantic between you?” Kit looked away, studying the room as if memorizing every detail. “That is to say, a teenaged boy has one thing on his mind, and I cannot imagine Harrison was any different.”
She remembered a sixteen-year-old Harrison, with his lanky limbs and shy smile. Not once had he ever hinted at feelings for her—or any other girl. “No, never.”
A huff of laughter escaped Kit’s mouth. “No wonder he was so unrestrained in Paris.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He rose and pulled on his cuffs. “I see that your mother is throwing me a disapproving look. I sense she’s about to reprimand me for not allowing you to circulate.”
“I needn’t circulate. That is Harrison’s job.”
“Well, I wouldn’t wish to upset—”
“Mr. Ward,” her mother said, interrupting. Mama’s scowl could be fierce when she wanted, like when Maddie misbehaved. “Run along and let me speak with my daughter. Go charm one of the other girls.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kit hurried away as if his life depended on it.
“I cannot understand why you dislike him so much,” Maddie said to her mother. “He’s been a good friend to me.”
“Yes, a good friend who almost ruined your chances with a duke.” Mama lowered herself into the seat. “I’ll never forgive him for trying to discourage Lockwood, pretending you were spoken for.”
“Mr. Ward thought he was protecting me from a fortune hunter.”
“As if that is his right.” Her mother’s nose went into the air. “Fortune or not, we are honored by the duke’s association with our family. You will be one of the most powerful women in England when Lockwood proposes.”
“I know, which is why I sought him out in the first place.”
“And I applaud your ambition. As I’ve said many times, the match a girl makes dictates the rest of her life. Marrying someone as powerful as the duke means you’ll want for nothing.”
Maddie reached over and patted her mother’s hand. “You’ve been a wonderful mother and role model.”
Her mother softened at those words. “I remember what it was like to starve and scrimp growing up, before I met your father. My parents worked themselves to an early grave. I don’t wish that on anyone, let alone my daughter. You should be protected and pampered.”
Years ago Mama had angled to meet Stephen Webster, already a wealthy man at twenty-five, in Detroit. The two had fallen in love, and Daddy had given Mama a leg up from her middle-class upbringing. It was a story Maddie had heard many times over. “And I will, should Lockwood ever propose.”
“He will—though I do hope your tennis obsession is not giving him pause. Women participating in sports and sweating in public.” She made a face. “Furthermore, I don’t care for all those men hanging around the matches, trying to talk to you afterwards. It is unseemly, Madeline.”
This was an old battle, one Maddie had no intention of caving on. She loved tennis and she was good at it. Why would she ever stop playing? “Then you shouldn’t have allowed me to take lessons all those years ago.”
Mama sniffed. “Your father allowed it—over my objections, I might add.”
Daddy had always been a softer touch than her mother. They both looked at Maddie’s father where he stood across the room, holding a glass of amber-colored liquid and talking to Kit. A boisterous sportsman, Daddy had inspired her love of all things outdoors. While at the chateau, he would play golf or tennis in the morning, then sail every afternoon. Her grandfather had made a fortune in steel and iron at the end of the war, and Daddy liked to brag that most every train in the nation ran on Webster rails.