The Discerning Gentleman's Guide. Virginia Heath

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      On the road to London, November 1816

      Choosing a wife is not a task that should be undertaken lightly. Too many young gentlemen allow their hearts to rule their heads and rush into marriage without any forethought whatsoever—but remember! So many who marry in haste repent at leisure.

      You must take time to select the perfect bride because a wife is a reflection of who you are. What if she is not a good hostess? Or is too forthright in her opinions? Or prone to temper tantrums or bouts of excessive melancholy?

      Such a wife will ultimately turn out to be a hindrance to you and you will rue the day you entered into the Blessed Union.

      This collection of advice, gathered from the wisdom of my esteemed late father and the follies of my peers, is intended to warn you of the pitfalls that might lure you into making a regrettable choice and to guide you through the process of selecting the perfect wife.

      ‘What drivel!’ Amelia Mansfield tossed the book on the carriage seat and stared at it as if it had just bitten her. ‘Your nephew must be a very pompous man indeed to have written that rubbish. After reading just one paragraph, I am already dreading the prospect of spending a month trapped in his company.’

      Lady Worsted smiled, clearly amused by her reaction. ‘Bennett is not so bad, Amelia. He is prone to be a little imperious at times, but then again he is a politician and politicians are rather inclined to tell us what to do. And, of course, he is a duke. Therefore, he is expected to be a little pompous. All dukes are bred that way.’

      The title, as far as Amelia was concerned, was yet another strike against the man. In all of her twenty-two years she had never met a single man in possession of one who was not completely obnoxious, her own father included. In fact, her father, or Viscount Venomous as she preferred to call him, was probably the most obnoxious and disagreeable of the bunch. Just thinking about him made her mood sour.

      ‘It is a shame that we are not going to your nephew’s castle. I should have enjoyed that. I have never stayed in a castle before. Do you think he might take us there during your visit?’

      ‘I believe that we may go there for a few days, if Bennett can be spared. Aveley Castle is just an hour or so away from London and my sister loves it there.’ Lady Worsted’s sister was the priggish Duke’s mother. ‘But any visit will be fleeting. In these challenging times Bennett needs to be close to Parliament—he is one of the Regent’s most trusted advisers, after all.’ Another strike against him. ‘I am sure that we can find plenty of entertainments in town. The season is in full swing. I do believe that you will enjoy it.’

      Having been denied a season because of her father’s treachery, Amelia had long consoled herself that she was completely disinterested in such puerile pursuits. Balls and parties were for silly girls who had no other ambition than to marry well, embroider and live a life of subservience to their well-born husbands. When she had been younger she might have enjoyed the spectacle and the dancing that the season offered, but she had been a viscount’s daughter then and would have been able to dance. Now she was a mere companion, she would be doomed to watch the festivities from the wings while the older ladies gossiped. That was not how she wanted to spend her first visit back to Town in almost a year.

      Amelia already had a long list of things that she wanted to do whilst visiting the capital. She had missed the place and, more importantly, she had missed the many political associations and reform groups that represented all of the many causes she held so dear. Unfortunately, a goodly few of those wonderful organisations and the people who ran them had been unfairly labelled as Radical by aristocrats who felt threatened by their common-sense opinions. For too long she had only been able to read about their work second-hand. This winter she would once again attend and contribute to the proceedings and help to campaign for all of the changes that needed to be made in society if poverty was ever going to be alleviated. More importantly, she would be able to help out at the soup kitchen run by the Church of St Giles. It was a place she owed a great deal to and it would always occupy a special place in her heart. Although she had religiously sent them half of her wages since she had left London last year, she had missed getting her hands dirty. The sense of fulfilment that she got from helping other unfortunates was its own reward. It mattered; therefore as a consequence she mattered too.

      Unfortunately, Lady Worsted would find all of these totally worthy causes totally unsuitable while they were guests of the Duke and would doubtless forbid Amelia from going if she knew about them. The older woman had been most insistent that, as a member of His Majesty’s government, he had to be spared the taint of any scandal and, as so much about Amelia was scandalous already, it would probably be best if she avoided all of her dubious good deeds while they were his guests. It would also be prudent, her employer had cautioned, to avoid mentioning her unfortunate past for exactly the same reason.

      Fortunately, life as Lady Worsted’s companion meant that Amelia always had a considerable amount of free time as her employer made so few demands on it. It was a mystery why she even bothered with a companion in the first place. It was not as if she was lonely. Lady Worsted had a great many friends and acquaintances who liked to visit her and, better still, the old lady was rather fond of her afternoon naps. Which meant that Amelia hoped to be going on a great many ‘long walks’ while she was a guest at the Duke of Aveley’s conveniently located London town house. She was not prepared to miss the opportunity to become fully involved in her good causes rather than dreaming about them from a distance. Political groups were not that well organised in Bath, nor were the people, and even the poor muddled along without needing a great deal of her help. But London was the heart of it all, the beating, pulsing, putrid centre of everything, and she was determined to make up for lost time. For the next month she would be useful again and her voice would be heard. Amelia could not wait.

      Noticing