The Pursuit Of Marriage by Victoria Alexander Page A

more confidence than he felt.
    “That remains to be seen, but what I meant was prepared for a wife.” Again she met his gaze with hers.
    “Dear Reginald, I have given this a considerable amount of thought, and now that the end may be near—”
    “Mother!” Lucy moaned.
    Her mother ignored her. “I should hate to see you bring a new wife into this house. Everything here is so…so…”
    “Out of fashion, my lady?” Higgins prompted.
    She favored the butler with a grateful smile. “That’s it exactly.”
    “The house appears fine to me,” Reggie said.
    “It’s far from fine. The public rooms, at least, need to be completely refurbished.” His mother’s voice was weak but determined. “They are positively shabby.”
    “The furniture does look a bit worn, Reggie,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “I can’t remember when the walls were last repainted or papered. Why, Mother hasn’t replaced anything in years.”
    “I’ve been very frugal,” his mother said wistfully, as if admitting to a vile crime. Frugality was never a quality he would have attributed to his mother.
    “Nonetheless, I see nothing wrong with the furnishings or the walls or anything else,” Reggie said firmly. “I can’t believe this is your dying wish?”
    Higgins cleared his throat and leaned toward Reggie, his voice low and pointed. “Delirium, my lord.”
    “Of course,” Reggie murmured and thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely certain he would want a wife who was influenced by such things, but if buying a few pieces of furniture or painting a room or two would ease his mother’s obviously confused mind, make her happy, and, better yet, improve the state of her health, why on earth not? It seemed a rather simple request. “Mother, if this is what you want
    —”
    “You are a saint and I am a lucky mother. Now then.” She squeezed his hand. “I want the public rooms completely refurbished. Drapes to carpets. Paint, paper, furniture, everything. We shall make it a fitting setting for your new bride.”
    “I daresay, I would hope anyone I chose to marry would not care about such things,” Reggie said wryly.

“I know I would care about such things,” Lucy said under her breath.
    “My dear heart, you know so little about women.” His mother smiled up at him affectionately.
    “Apparently.” As ridiculous as his mother’s request seemed, it also seemed innocuous. Besides, he wasn’t sure, but she did look a shade better. Perhaps the doctor was right about humoring such absurd requests. He got to his feet. “I shall see to it at once, although I must admit I haven’t even a vague notion where to begin such an endeavor.”
    “Darling boy, I would never thrust such decisions upon you.” Lady Berkley’s eyes widened, as if she could scarce dream of such a thing.
    “I know I cannot imagine leaving the selection of furnishings to Reggie, let alone paint or paper.” Lucy snorted. “He can barely tell the difference between a chiffonier or a commode, or an emerald green from a sky blue.”
    “I have no difficulty determining one color from another—I have simply never particularly cared.”
    Reggie cast his sister a quelling glance. “Nor do I care as to the difference between one piece of furniture and another.”
    “Of course you don’t, nor should you. And it will not be necessary.” Even his mother’s smile seemed stronger. This was obviously a good idea. “The daughter of an old friend of mine has exquisite taste and has guided the refurbishment of the houses of several ladies I know with excellent results. Oh, certainly, it’s a bit eccentric of her, as she is from a good family and she charges an exorbitant amount to do so, yet she is well worth it.”
    Reggie narrowed his eyes. “How exorbitant?”
    “Mother said she was well worth the cost.” Lucy frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Surely you can’t begrudge her this, regardless of the expense? It is, after all, a dying