It had never occurred to James that even the men on his list might not see Jack as someone to marry.
When he looked at her, he saw a marvelous, fiery woman. But when everyone else looked at Jacqueline?
They seemed to be completely disinterested.
James swiped up a glass of champagne from a passing silver tray and downed the flute in one.
His mother came up behind him, her turquoise skirt swooshing against the grass.
“Not going exactly as you hoped?” she drawled.
“One loves a challenge,” he said with forced cheer.
She arched a dark, knowing brow. “Even so, for you, this does seem to be quite the mess. My dear, you did not realize, did you, that not everyone can be maneuvered on the board as you would desire?”
“Mama,” he said patiently, “I do not see Lady Jacqueline as a pawn.”
“Yet you are maneuvering her without care.” His mother tsked. And as she shook her head, the peacock plume in her bonnet bobbed. “Would you truly see her married to one of those old fellows, peering down at her as if he would happily have her as his daughter instead?” She frowned. “I suppose we should be grateful they’re not the leering sort.”
Grateful indeed. But it was clear that not a single man here saw Jacqueline as a mate.
“Indeed, I would, Mama,” he declared. “That is half the point of this. She and I do not want her to have a grand, passionate marriage in which something could go wrong. And she was adamant. She does not wish a lord who would forbid her from pursuing her favorite things.”
Her eyes softened and some dark memory flitted over her face. She looked away and rested a gloved hand on his forearm. “Oh, my darling, you are too good. I admire you so, your determination to protect as many ladies as you can. But you shall have to search further afield. None of these fish will bite.”
He scowled. Not just because his mother was correct, but he hated seeing dark memories play across her face. If he could, he would have eradicated her sorrows and his pain for all time.
But he could not, and so he would simply have to ensure as many people as possible never had the sort of lives he and his mother had had.
The truth was, every single one of them was interested in marrying, but apparently not to Jacqueline. He drew in a long breath, then blew it out. Why the devil were old men intent on marrying silly pieces? Why could they not see that Jacqueline was the best possible choice? He certainly saw it.
His mother tilted her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Oh dear,” she said, “this really is going to go amiss, isn’t it?”
“It is not. I have it well in hand,” he countered, straightening, not yet willing to admit that he may have made a mistake.
She nodded. “Oh, of course you do, my dear. Of course you do.”
With that, she, too, swiped up a glass of champagne from a passing tray before heading off into the populated garden.
He closed his gloved hand into a fist then rested it at the small of his back, lest he drive his hand through his hair.
Damnation. He had to do something.
Surely, he could cause someone to see Jacqueline as a marriageable piece. It wasn’t possible that only Drexel and he found her to be a desirable person.
He headed toward Lord Hever, but then winced as he realized Jacqueline was giving the fellow remarkably good advice for how to handle his gout. And he caught her advising the best music to sit and listen to when he was in need of a bit of calming.
It was so damned kind of her.
She was supposed to be looking for a husband, and instead she was listening to Lord Hever, caring about his situation.
Not many people would do that.
Certainly not many young ladies with an older gentleman. He stared down at her, his heart aching. How was it possible that Jacqueline cared about so many people?
He had to find someone who would care forher. He wanted her to be happy in this life. Lord Hever seemed to barely know that she existed, except as someone to be a listening ear to his travails.