A Winter Wedding by Amanda Forester

said, my friend.” Marchford gave him a smile. Penelope wished he would clarify any confusion regarding an elopement, but Marchford went on along a different train of thought. “I shall confer with the stable master and let him know the change of plans.”
    Marchford strode off into the damp, early morning fog, leaving Darington and Penelope alone in the dark gray mist.
    “There is no elopement.” Penelope felt the need for a quick clarification. “No romantic adventure.” More’s the pity .
    “If you say so,” said Darington without emotion. “Speaking of romantic adventure, is the dowager duchess available for visitors this morning?”
    Penelope could only smile. The dowager would not be ready to receive guests any time before noon. “I fear she does not receive anyone so early.”
    “I understand she helped Wynbrook by serving as an intermediary between him and a matchmaker.”
    “Yes, we do know a matchmaker, but she remains quite elusive and does not want her identity known.”
    “I see. Do you know how she may be contacted on a matter of business?”
    “I can assist you and take your request to her. Are you looking for a wife, my lord?”
    “No!” he exclaimed with more power than was necessary. “Looking for a husband for my twin sister.”
    “The sister who chose this conveyance as a Town coach?” asked Penelope, hoping for a negative response.
    “Yes. Lady Katherine.”
    Penelope swallowed dashed hopes. “I believe she indicated at the ball her desire never to wed.”
    “Precisely why I have come,” he said as if the conclusion was obvious. “Kate does not wish to wed. But it is time. She should marry.”
    “Indeed, all women should be married.” Except, of course, her own spinster self.
    “How much does it cost?” Darington was clearly a blunt man, quick to get to the heart of business. A sea captain too long she guessed. So Penelope told him, assuming he could not afford the going rate. He did not even blink. “I accept your terms.”
    “So do you have a particular man or type of man in mind for your sister?”
    “Breathing.”
    Penelope smiled, but Darington’s face was so impassive she hardly knew if he was attempting humor. “I shall guarantee that all of Madame X’s grooms are in the land of the living. Have you any other attributes you would like to mention?”
    “Whatever the standard kit is will do for my sister.”
    “Standard kit?”
    Darington shifted on his feet. “Acceptable society, plump in the pocket, modest in vice.” He crossed his arms before himself. “In truth, it would be good if her intended groom were of modest habits. She has no tolerance for men who suffer from moral failings.”
    “You want a young, rich, English gentleman who does not chase women or drink in excess?”
    “Or smoke or take snuff,” Darington added, utterly missing the sarcasm in her voice.
    “And where would you think such bastions of society would congregate?”
    “Honestly, I have no idea. If I did, I shouldn’t need to call the matchmaker, would I?”
    Penelope could hardly argue with his logic. “I shall relay the message to Madame X.”
    “Thank you for taking this case,” said Darington. “I understand my sister can be…challenging. Has her own mind about her is all. Good gal.”
    “Yes, of course.” From their brief introduction, Penelope would have to say she would make a most difficult case.
    Marchford reappeared out of the thick, cold fog along with the stable master, happy and warm in his new greatcoat. “We are all arranged,” said Marchford. “Willie here will take you back home in the town coach if that is acceptable.”
    “Quite. I fear you will not be as comfortable in this contraption,” said Darington with utter candor.
    “You have a wonderful sense of understatement, Lord Darington. I wish you a pleasant day.”
    Darington bowed and followed the stable master into the mist, leaving Penelope and Marchford and the broken-backed horse.
    “Adventure