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“Thank you.” Mei hesitated because she was the one unsure of what to do now. Jocelyn stood next to the wardrobe, waiting patiently for some kind of direction. “Ah, I believe I will wear my dark green aoqun, the jacket and skirt with the gold embroidery.”

It was one of her favorite pieces to wear when she was matchmaking. The voluminous pieces—so different from the corsets and boning and tightly fitted clothing the other young ladies would be wearing—helped draw the difference between her and them in the ballrooms of the ton. It would have the same effect on Mei’s mind, her own outfit serving as a reminder that she was a matchmaker—not a potential match. Not to any of the nobility, much less a duke.

This fancy she had for the duke needed to run its course. Wearing a day gown that was similar to the other young ladies might be part of why her mind was so confused as to her place.

“It is very beautiful.” Jocelyn sounded dubious, though, and she hesitated, glancing over to the right side of the wardrobe where Mei’s English-style dresses were. Several of them had similar embroidery to her aoqun because she’d specifically requested such, but they were much more akin to what the debutantes would be wearing this evening.

Just like her day gown.

“The aoqun, Jocelyn,” Mei said firmly, and Jocelyn sighed as she picked up the requested garment. Mei directed the ladies’ maid through helping her dress, and then doing her hair, as she refused to let Jocelyn attempt the heating of an iron to curl her hair, much to the ladies’ maid’s dismay. She did a good job of hiding it, but Mei was an expert at reading faces and emotions.

Feeling as though she’d donned armor, giving her the inner strength she needed for the evening, Mei made her way from her room down to the main floor. Jocelyn had informed her they would be gathering in the drawing room before supper.

Due to using Jocelyn’s assistance, Mei was not the first to arrive. She slipped through the door and along the wall, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible to the gathered attendants. The Duke of Bolton was there, in conversation with both Lady MarcyAnne and Lady Juliette, while Lord Hayworth hovered at Lady Juliette’s side. He was part of the conversation as well and doing his best to mask his jealousy at Lady Juliette’s attention on the duke.

That could be a problem, but it was not yet. Mei would have to keep an eye on it.

Both ladies had changed from their travel wear and were now dressed in delicate gowns that made the most of each of their charms. Despite the very good reasons Mei had for choosing the outfit she had, she had a wild moment of wishing she’d put on one of the more dazzling English-style dresses. Something with a dipping neckline and a nipped-in waist. Then she gave herself a shake and continued to peruse the room.

Lord Fenley and the elder Fenley brother were holding court with the Dukes of Clarence and Hereford, and Lord Blackstone, involved in some deep conversation, while Lady Fenley was across the room with the Dowager Duchess of Clarence and Lady Blackstone. Miss Fenley was at her younger brother’s side, speaking with the Duke of Montagu rather than Bolton.

Mei supposed she could not ask that all of Bolton’s potential brides eschew speaking to the only other eligible duke at the party. It was interesting that two of the ladies had focused on Bolton, rather than on the Adonis of the Ton. Personally, Mei preferred Bolton’s darker good looks to Montagu’s fair ones, but she had to admit that Montagu made a cutting figure with his flashing blue eyes, crisp collar, and maroon velvet waistcoat under a dark grey jacket.

“There you are.” Tiffany appeared at Mei’s side and gave her a tug, while running a critical eye over Mei’s attire. “I thought you were going to wear one of your new dresses.” There was no outward rebuke in her tone, but the very lack of inflection gave the feeling of disapproval.

“I never said that.”

Yes, she had meant to, but… she needed the reminder that she was a matchmaker.

“You are supposed to be enjoying your time with us this weekend, not working,” Tiffany replied, as if she’d read Mei’s thoughts. Because she did not know that Mei was working for her brother, and Mei could not tell her.

“I wanted to be comfortable tonight.” It was at least a partial truth.

“Then tomorrow night, you will wear one of your new gowns.” Tiffany said it firmly and loudly enough for the rest of their little group to hear as she approached Astrid, Lady Isabella, and Lady Annabelle, who were all sitting together. “Lady Isabella, Lady Annabelle, this is my friend Hu Jumei, though she prefers to be called Mei.”

“Miss Mei,” Lady Annabelle said warmly in greeting as Tiffany returned to the spot on the couch where she’d been sitting beside Astrid, pulling Mei down on her other side with her. “I have seen you about this Season and heard so many wonderful things about the matches you’ve made.”

“Matches?” Lady Isabella peered at Mei curiously. Like the rest of Astrid’s friends who Mei had been introduced to, she did not appear at all taken aback by being introduced to a woman with no ties to the aristocracy.

“My grandmother has become a rather sought-after matchmaker for the ton, and I assist her,” Mei explained.

“She is a wonderful matchmaker in her own right, even if she will not take the credit for it,” Astrid said, smoothing her hands over her orange and cream striped skirt. “And yes, Mei, I am looking forward to seeing you in one of your new gowns tomorrow.”

Astrid gave her a pointed look. As she’d been the one to push for Mei to have some English-style gowns in her wardrobe and to help Mei at the modiste, of course, she wanted to see the final product. Mei sighed inwardly. She’d agreed because there would be times when it was beneficial to blend in more with the rest of the ton’s ladies… and this weekend would have been the perfect time to start doing that.

Her skin prickled, and she glanced over, her gaze catching the Duke of Bolton’s. Their eyes met for just a moment before his attention was pulled away by something Lady MarcyAnne said, and Mei’s stomach flipped over. She jerked her gaze back to the other ladies, who thankfully were not watching her.

They were watching Astrid, who was now glaring at the doorway.

Ah.

Mei was completely unsurprised to twist in her seat and see Astrid’s fiancé, the Duke of Ormonde, standing there, clearly having just arrived. He was not dressed for supper, still in his riding clothes. Tall and brooding, his expression looked carved from stone as he turned his head, taking in the room. Conversation slowly petered out as the other guests realized there was a powerful new arrival to the space.

By then, he was already striding forward, prowling across the room. Astrid had already turned her back on him, and she sniffed derisively as Tiffany got to her feet to greet him.

“Your Grace. You are late.” Tiffany’s lips curved upwards in a teasing smile as the Duke of Ormonde bowed over her hand.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he replied as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I was unexpectedly detained in London.”