The Return of Lord Avondale (London Season Matchmaker 1)

Eliza swallowed hard and looked away, refusing to let his words touch her heart. Her anger was billowing towards her mother, unable to understand why Lady Whitehaven had offered such kindness towards Lord Avondale when it was more than apparent that Eliza wanted nothing more to do with the gentleman. She waited until the door closed firmly before rounding on her.

“Whatever were you thinking, Mama?”

Lady Whitehaven looked back at her, a little surprised. “What do you mean, Eliza?”

“You invited Lord Avondale back to our household!” Eliza exclaimed, rippling anger coursing through her. “Why should you do such a thing when you know what he has done and how he has treated me?”

Lady Whitehaven gave Eliza a soft smile, which did nothing to dampen Eliza’s fury.

“He is suffering, Eliza, can you not see that?”

The gentle words penetrated through Eliza’s ire, giving her the first inkling into her mother’s consideration towards Lord Avondale.

“He has lost his wife, Eliza,” Lady Whitehaven said, softly, turning towards her daughter with a look of grief in her eyes. “Even if you are angry with him, even if you are truly set against him – which I fully understand – can you not feel even the slightest compassion for what he has lost?”

Eliza hesitated, not wanting to answer and yet finding that the truth of her mother’s words was already settling over her heart.

“You will never need to be present should he be invited to afternoon tea or the like,” her mother promised, reaching for Eliza’s hand and holding it tightly. “I should never force you to do such a thing. However, it may be that he requires someone to speak with who will truly understand his grief and pain.” She lifted her shoulders. “Whom else can understand but another who has lost a spouse?”

Eliza shook her head, her tension draining away from her despite her desire to cling onto it, to allow it to add fuel to her anger.

“You are much too generous, Mama,” she admitted, slowly. “I have no such sympathy for him.”

Her mother sighed and let go of Eliza’s hand. “That may well be so,” she answered, gently, “and I would not hold such things against you. But you may recall, Eliza, that forgiveness is something that we are often encouraged to take a hold of. Your prayers end with such a request, do they not?”

A small pang of shame burst through Eliza’s heart and she turned away. She did not want to be reminded of such things, nor of her Christian duty to forgive the wounds and pains of the past. It was all much too fresh, much too soon for such things.

“This will take time, Eliza,” her mother finished, calmly. “You will not have to even converse with him, if you do not wish to. I will not say that you need never see him again, for most likely, you will be at some of the same social occasions as one another, and you therefore must be prepared for that.”

Sighing inwardly, Eliza nodded, making for the door. She no longer wanted to be in the same room as her mother, no longer wanted to hear what she would have to endure, now that Lord Avondale would be in town.

“I shall, Mama,” she muttered, half-heartedly. “And in the meantime, I shall look forward to Lord Montrose’s visit to you, so that our courtship might finally begin.”

Lady Whitehaven held Eliza’s gaze for a long moment, not saying even a single word.

“I am quite certain that this is what I want,” Eliza continued, a touch defiantly, as though she could see her mother’s thoughts. “You will not refuse him, Mama, will you?”

“Of course I will not,” Lady Whitehaven replied, steadily. “Just as long as you are certain that it is still what you wish.”

Eliza nodded, pulling open the door and making to quit the room. “I am quite certain, Mama,” she replied, her voice echoing into the room behind her. “More certain than ever before.”

Chapter Two

Jeremy, the Duke of Avondale, felt his heart drop to the floor as he left Lady Whitehaven’s townhouse. That had been the most disastrous encounter of his life.

Making his way back to his own townhouse, Jeremy felt his steps drag, the heavy weight of his heart seeming to pull him down. There was no happiness in this. There was no joy in his heart. That had gone the moment he had been forced to step away from Eliza and do his family duty.

Eliza would never forgive him. That was more than apparent. The anger and upset in

her eyes had said more than her words could ever explain. As much as she had stated that she cared nothing for his explanations, that she no longer felt even a single modicum of emotion for him, Jeremy could not believe it was true. There had been too much raw agony in her expression, too much ire spitting through her words for him to believe that.

All he had wanted was the opportunity to explain, now that he was able to do so. At the time, he had been desperate to tell her the truth but his loyalty to his family had held him back. He had been forced to make promises that had subsequently torn Jeremy’s life apart, and broken Eliza’s heart completely.

Climbing into his carriage, Jeremy sat back against the squabs and closed his eyes. The way that she had looked at him as he first entered the room was something he would never forget. Her face had paled, her eyes widened, and then color had burned in her cheeks. Her brows had lowered, her dark ringlets darkening her appearance as she had folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her gaze at him.

He had not been welcomed in that house.

Bursting into the room in the first place had been a mistake, of course, but the butler had insisted that, even though Lady Whitehaven and Miss Eliza Wells were at home, they could not see him – and his desperation had forced him to react. He had hurried into the drawing room, all sense forgotten, in the desperate hope that Eliza would give him just a few minutes of her time.