The Perfect Fiancé (Matchmaking for Wallflowers Book 0) Read Online Free Page A

preferred.
    Attraction was an emotion invented by poets and playwrights. All of Rosamund’s suitors had happily married other women, exchanging her easily for other, equally appropriate women at her encouragement.
    Matchmaking was about suitability. Her parents hadn’t had a love match. They’d married at the urging of their relatives. And yet no one could doubt their happiness. Practicality had been essential to their romance.
    Rosamund was here for Fiona. She mustn’t forget that.
    No matter what sort of handsome men with chiseled features and roguish grins wandered around the forest. No matter how heroic they acted. No matter how much they resembled the heroes in Rosamund’s favorite books.
    “You remember her!” Aunt Lavinia clapped her hands. “His lordship’s wisdom is renowned throughout Great Britain.”
    The earl blinked.
    “My niece looked quite different as a child,” Aunt Lavinia continued. “Rather smaller. But of course a man with your intelligence—”
    Somerville’s lips swung up, but he kept his gaze on her. “I remember.”
    Rosamund reached for her teacup, hoping that the strange fluttering that raced through her body was not visible to him.
    “I remember saving you,” he continued, his voice still melodic, the deep sounds still tugging at her heart.
    “Is that what you called it?” Her lips twitched at the man’s behavior yesterday. No way would Uncle Seymour’s bullets have reached her.
    He shook his head solemnly.
    “Oh I remember,” Aunt Lavinia laughed.
    Rosamund swiveled her head toward her aunt. Surely Somerville wouldn’t have told Aunt Lavinia about his outrageous, if heroically inspired, behavior.
    “Don’t you remember?” Aunt Lavinia laughed. “You were about four and had followed your sister into the creek, even though you didn’t know how to swim. Somerville dragged you out and carried you home.”
    Rosamund tilted her head, and the lace edges of her collar prickled her neck.
    Somerville chuckled. His laugh was velvety and warm. “Miss Amberly seems to have succeeded in banishing that memory from her mind. I must confess, I’d forgotten it as well. I believe we were searching for speckled toads. London, I’m afraid, is rather limited in its variety of animals.”
    “You should get my darling niece to draw one for you,” Aunt Lavinia said. “She is a most talented artist. And she has even learned to swim.”
    “Indeed?” Somerville’s eyes flared again, and heat rushed through Rosamund.
    “Personally I consider swimming to not belong in a lady’s repertoire,” Aunt Lavinia sniffed. “Yet society’s rules are rather laxer here, and her parents had a desire to keep her alive.”
    “I am most appreciative of her continued presence,” Somerville murmured.
    “Anyway,” Rosamund hastened to say. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Your book on zoology was most fascinating, and I am certain you are on your way to creating another venerable work.”
    Somerville blinked.
    Aunt Lavinia chuckled. “I suspect the earl is mostly accustomed to being lauded by men.”
    Heat prickled the back of Rosamund’s neck, but she held her head steady. “You should not underestimate us Yorkshire women.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Somerville said.
    “Why, my sister is most intellectual,” Rosamund said, remembering the person whose skills she should be extolling.
    “I have no doubt.” Somerville took a seat in an armchair. He crossed his legs, and Rosamund averted her gaze as his breeches tightened and revealed muscular thighs. Her collar definitely seemed too tight.
    But of course Somerville would remember Fiona. The two had been closer in age. When Rosamund had been following the others around, needing to be rescued and looked after, Fiona had been an equal.
    “I am happy we can become better acquainted,” Somerville said, and his lips spread into a wide smile more suited to an angel than a scientist.
    Rosamund’s heart rate escalated, and she turned her head