Her Perfect Match (3 page)

And when she looked at that list, she thrilled at its nine points. And realized there was one missing.

One loose end she had never resolved. One loose end that haunted her daily, weekly, monthly.

She caught up the pen, dipped it in ink and added a final number to the list:

10. Benedict Greystone.

Benedict Greystone lifted a slice of toast to his lips and took a bite as he scanned over the paper before him. Having dispatched with the business sections and important news, he had moved on to the large portion of the paper that dealt with Society and gossip. Most of the items were benign enough, a party here, a piece on the Regent and his estranged wife there.

But it was the blind items that often caught his eye. There, the writers sometimes made reference to people outside the normal social circles in circuitous descriptions one could easily decode if aware of the parties involved.

And there, the third item in, was the one he had been seeking, though he would deny it if asked.

A certain popular “lady” celebrated her birthday last night with a fete that would turn real ladies into vermillion-cheeked messes. The author wonders which of the gentlemen in attendance stayed after-hours to offer her a gift.

Benedict gripped the paper so hard that it crumpled and glared at the mess in his hands.

“Vivien,” he murmured.

The woman was entirely inescapable. Not that he did a very good job of trying.

Behind him, he heard his brother clear his throat, though he had not heard Derek enter the room. He set the paper aside, but the Earl was already leaning over his shoulder glancing at what he had been reading.

“Vivien Manning?” his brother said with a cluck of his tongue. He took a seat at the head of the table next to Benedict and took the mangled paper. There was no masking his disapproval as he sighed, “Still?”

Benedict leaned back in his seat and shrugged. There was no use denying what Derek knew and had known for years.

“We cannot help who we love, my lord,” he said softly. “Only what we do about it. And my duty is very clear.”

Derek glanced at him with a brief flash of concern, but then he smiled. “Does this mean you will be taking my advice and begin a search for a bride, then?”

Benedict let his brother’s question sink in and wished there would be a moment of excitement of pleasure at the thought. There was none. Only drudgery and duty and dread.

His brother turned the paper away from the Society page and Benedict let out a sigh. Now, at least, he no longer felt as if
she
were watching him.

“Yes,” he finally responded. “It is time, I suppose. After all, you have married. As spare, I should be certain I too am doing my level best to protect the family name. The Earl requests it, does he not?”

His brother laughed. “Oh, please do not refer to me as if I’m not in the room.”

“My apologies, I am merely still growing accustomed to your lofty title, brother,” Benedict said with a smile of his own.

“Marriage is not as terrible as you make it sound with your tone,” Derek reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You should consult with Mother on the matter. I would wager she has suggestions for ladies who would be perfect for the job.”

Benedict’s smile fell and he paced away from his brother. “Oh, I’m certain she does. Horse-toothed heiresses abound, I imagine.”

His brother folded his arms. “She chose my wife.”

Benedict’s heart sank at his brother’s stiff posture. He had certainly put his foot in it this morning.

“Of course, I know that. And Jocelyn is beautiful both inside and out. You are lucky to have her as a bride and I am proud to call her my sister. I’m sorry.”

Derek’s countenance softened a fraction at Benedict’s sincerity. He moved closer.

“You believe you love that Manning woman,” he said softly. “But if you open your heart, you might find something similar with a woman of a proper class. A woman who would not use you.”

Benedict gritted his teeth so that he would not tell Derek that Vivien had never used him. That would only cause a fresh argument on an old subject. Instead, he nodded.

“Perhaps you are correct that I will somehow stumble upon happiness in the ranks of the debutantes. You never know, stranger things have happened.”

Derek hesitated and Benedict could see his brother had more to say. But he didn’t. Instead, he glanced at his pocket watch and swore beneath his breath.

“I have an appointment I must leave for now. But we should talk about this again soon, Benedict.” His brother clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by and out of the dining room.

Benedict sighed as he heard his brother depart and was left alone. Whatever his brother thought, whatever his mother said, the life that would greet him through their matchmaking was a very empty one.

And he was left feeling that none of it had meaning anymore.

Chapter Three

There was a mantra running through Vivien’s head as she entered her ballroom a few days after her birthday.

Celebrate Friends, Celebrate Friends, Celebrate Friends.

She couldn’t help but smile as she allowed the repetition to run over and over through her mind. It was one of the items on her unfinished business
 
list. Once she had completed it, she would take the first step to her escape from London and the life she led here. The first step toward starting over.

It was certainly a most pleasant step to take, which is why she had begun here. She stared across the ballroom and found Lysandra and Mariah standing together with their husbands at their sides. Even though she felt a brief twinge of something a little unpleasant, she swallowed that back and instead enjoyed what she saw.

Lysandra had come to her two years before, a perfect stranger and an innocent one at that, begging for help. Vivien had arranged for her to be matched, albeit temporarily, with Viscount Andrew Callis and the two had fallen deeply in love. Vivien had been taken aback by the outcome. She had matched dozens of gentlemen with new mistresses over the years and had never seen one couple marry.

And then, just a year later, it had happened again. This time with her best friend Mariah and John Rycroft. Although, to be fair, she had not exactly matched them. But she
had
encouraged their relationship.

But that fact mattered little. She had gone from being called the Mistress Matchmaker to the Mistress Marriage Matron almost overnight. And while most of that was teasing from friends, she
had
noticed fewer gentlemen asked her for help in finding a new mistress.

Still, she couldn’t complain. Vivien had become close friends with Lysandra since the Viscountess wed and could see how truly happy the younger woman was. The match had been beneficial to her husband too. Andrew had gone from grief-stricken recluse to a man who laughed and loved.

The same was very much true for Mariah and John. In the end, she was happy for her friends.

Which was why she was hosting this fete tonight in celebration of their two unions. It was a far smaller gathering than most of her parties, without the sexual overtones hanging in the air. No, it was just a party amongst friends.

As she smiled, Lysandra caught her eye from across the room and moved toward her.

“
You
have a very odd expression on your face,” her friend laughed as she slipped an arm around her waist.

Vivien returned the laughter even as she marveled at Lysandra’s transformation over the past two years. She had gone from shy and frightened to a composed and confident lady. Love had done that for her.

“I do not mean to look
odd
, that is certain,” Vivien said. “I was just pondering how happy I am for both you and Mariah, but also how your matches have lessened my requests from gentlemen to find new mistresses.”

Lysandra shook her head. “Oh dear. I suppose many fear you will curse them with wives, not lovers. Heaven forbid.”

Vivien shrugged. “It matters little. I did the service for one gentleman years ago and it somehow became a business of sorts. It was never something I asked to do. I shall not miss it.”

She blinked as she looked around her once again. There
were
things she would miss when she was gone, though.

“This is a lovely party,” Lysandra said, seemingly oblivious to Vivien’s thoughts. “You were so kind to host it for us.”

“Both of you have friends in our sphere,” Vivien explained. “I realized I had been remiss in not celebrating your happiness with our friends. And I am happy to see such a good turnout when—”

She broke off and felt the blood drain from her face. Across the room, the crowd had parted slightly and she thought she had seen…

But no. It wasn’t possible. Benedict Greystone had not been on the guest list tonight. She always checked those things carefully so she would never be taken off guard by his presence in her ballroom or anyone else’s.

“Vivien?” Lysandra asked. “What were saying?”

Vivien shook her head and opened her mouth to continue with her line of thought, but before she could, the crowd shifted a second time and her first thought was confirmed.

Benedict. In her home. Not ten feet away from her.

“I—why is Benedict Greystone here?” she whispered, unable to keep a slight crack from her voice.

Lysandra followed her line of sight and looked at him, then slowly turned her gaze back to Vivien. “I—er—
we
invited him.”

Vivien blinked and tore her stare away from him to put it on her friend. “You did? But I did not see him on the guest list.”

Lysandra shrugged, but her discomfort was evident.

“He is a friend of Andrew’s, you know, from school. We saw him at the park yesterday afternoon and somehow the topic turned to this event. He seemed very interested in the subject, so we invited him.”

Vivien said nothing. She tried not to look at him, but it was an impossible battle. She shot a side glance in his direction and her stomach fluttered. Dear God, but he was handsome. With dark hair, stormy gray eyes and broad shoulders, he always seemed to have stepped from the pages of a novel. A very naughty novel, as she considered all of his attributes when he was naked.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra continued, her voice dragging Vivien away from her thoughts. “I intended to tell you and it slipped my mind. I realize you two once…well, you were…”

Vivien arched a brow. Lysandra was still such an innocent.

“Lovers,” she supplied.

“Yes. I should have told you. Is it horribly uncomfortable?”

Vivien swallowed. A loaded question if ever there was one. Was it uncomfortable to see the last man she had ever called protector? The one who she had shared such a passion with that it still resonated within her, no matter how she tried to forget him? The one who had told her he loved her? The one she had walked away from for so very many reasons.

“Of course not,” she said with little strength to her voice. “Everyone knows that Benedict and I have stayed on very good terms over the years. I always enjoy seeing him.”

Lysandra stared at her and Vivien could see she didn’t truly believe her. Did that mean her conflicted emotions were obvious? That would not do.

“In fact, I should go and welcome him, since I did not do so earlier.”

Lysandra nodded. “Would you like me to come with you?”

Vivien hesitated. There would be some comfort in having a buffer there when she spoke to Benedict. But he would know that was her reason for bringing her friend when she spoke to him. Showing him that weakness was not wise.

“I see Andrew eyeing you from across the room,” she said with a motion toward the handsome Viscount. “You should join him and return your thoughts to those here to celebrate you. I’m perfectly capable of talking to Benedict on my own.”

Lysandra smiled. “Of course.”

Her friend stepped away and Vivien thrust her shoulders back as she began the short walk across the room to Benedict’s side. She could do this. She had talked to him dozens of times since their parting. There was nothing different about this time.

Except that he was now her final item on a list of loose ends to resolve before she departed London forever. Only she wasn’t certain she could ever truly resolve her complicated feelings for him.

Still, she smiled as she reached his side and prepared to pretend that his presence here meant nothing to her.

Benedict saw Vivien coming across the room in his direction from the moment she turned ever so slightly. But that was nothing new. Whenever they were in the same space, he couldn’t help but be utterly aware of her and her every move. Her every breath. That was the curse of his feelings for her. They forced him to track her when he knew he should not.

His distraction must have been obvious, for the people he had been talking to a moment before moved off and left him alone as Vivien reached his side with a smile he knew too well. It was her false “mistress” expression meant to soothe and seduce. It wasn’t real.

“Benedict,” she said as she reached for his hands. She squeezed them briefly and then let them go, but the touch blasted him back in time to a night when they had lain out on the grass after making love, holding hands and staring up at the stars.