His Duchess (His and Hers 1)

“You have the right of it, Mother. I am ready to choose a bride.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to smile. He wasn’t truly ready, but then he probably never would be. He couldn’t imagine living daily with any of the young women out in society, especially knowing that such a woman would undoubtedly only marry him for his wealth and title. However—Taviston suppressed a shudder—he couldn’t leave the fate of the dukedom in the irresponsible hands of his next brother, Peyton. The sooner he had an heir, the longer he would have to teach and guide the boy in regards to his future obligations.

His mother must have noticed his reticence for she didn’t display any outward satisfaction, but merely replied calmly, “You’ve made an excellent beginning then. How many marriageable young ladies have you garnered introductions to?”

“None.”

She clicked her tongue. “If you will not even condescend to speak with eligible ladies, however are you going to find one to marry?”

Taviston shifted in his seat. He wasn’t one for small talk and the inanities of Society conversation, though he muddled through. Any deeper thoughts and personal opinions he shared only with a few people, among them his mother, his siblings, and a few close friends. All of them he had known for years and he was entirely comfortable with them.

As for the rest of the ton, with them he adopted a dignified and distinctly restrained demeanor. Oh, he was polite, but he owed society nothing more than that. As long as they considered him an upstanding gentleman with not a hint of scandal attached to his name, he didn’t consider anything else their due.

However, in order to obtain a wife who suited him, he would have to speak to countless young women on more than a superficial level. This he was loath to do.

Suddenly a brilliant idea struck him. He rose and began to pace around the room.

The satisfaction of having a plan energized his voice as he explained to his mother, “I don’t need to meet numerous silly young ladies in order to choose one. I shall inquire ‘round and find one, or possibly two, who meet my criteria. Then, and only then, will I become better acquainted with her, or them, to ascertain whether or not they possess the qualities I seek.”

“Hmmm,” his mother mumbled vague

ly and then suspicion danced into her eyes. “Criteria? What criteria?”

“Simply this, Mother. She should be dignified, circumspect, intelligent, confident, sociable, and organized. She should come from an excellent family, preferably the daughter of a peer. Physically, she should be taller than average with blonde hair and blue eyes and cut a nice figure.” Taviston, who had come to a standstill as he imparted the image of his ideal duchess, now sank back into his chair and gazed into the fire.

“She sounds like a paragon. I cannot believe you have not found her yet.” Sarcasm dropped from his mother’s every word and drew Taviston’s gaze quickly back to her face. Disbelief clouded her blue eyes.

He shrugged. “You asked a question and I answered it. I would think you would be pleased I have even thought about the subject long enough to formulate such a list of qualities. My future wife is to be the Duchess of Taviston. She will need all those qualities to succeed in the position and to ensure our family’s name and reputation are upheld.”

“I should imagine being tall and blonde will help her immensely as she sees to her daily tasks as duchess!”

“Oh please, Mother. Obviously, I am looking for such requirements so as to enhance the physical characteristics of any future Danforth children.”

“It is not that obvious to me!”

“I know what I want,” Taviston responded without yielding. He didn’t doubt for a minute his mother wanted to bring up love and the wonder it had wrought on her marriage to his father. But he would have none of it.

The silence lengthened until her eyes grew guarded. “You certainly have a vision of your bride. I think I had best leave you to find her. I am sure you will bring this lovely person to meet me when you do.”

“Of course. You will have more grandchildren yet.” He smiled, attempting to lighten the suddenly oppressive mood.

“Excellent. Will you begin this quest at the Northfields’ ball tomorrow night?”

“Mother,” he said with some irritation. He was quite capable of managing his own social affairs.

“Well, there is no need to dawdle. You will not find this quintessential bride of yours wandering the streets.”

Certainly not, if Miss Victoria Forster were anything to go by. Aloud he said, “Of course I’ll be supporting Northfield by attending. If nothing else, Edmund is always amusing.”

His closest friend had married just over a year ago, and he and his marchioness were throwing their first ball. Taviston didn’t hold out much hope of finding his future bride straight away, but perhaps Lady Northfield could help him with his search.

As he rose, his mother grasped his hand. “Do remember the finer feelings, Taviston. They play an important role in any marriage, be it a duke’s or a haberdasher’s.”

With the restraint of years of practice, he refrained from rolling his eyes. He did not, however, relent. “Feelings will only complicate the matter. I’ll stick to my list.”

As he closed the door behind him, he heard a heartfelt sigh escape from her lips.

Chapter Five