The Matchmaker's Match (11 page)

Forcing her mind to the subject at hand, she studied Lord Ashwhite. “You speak of God’s love. How can such a thing change a man? And from what were you changed?” She certainly couldn’t see this kind and respectful person beside her as someone in need of a metamorphosis.

“Oh, in different ways.” Lord Ashwhite paused as though weighing his words. “In the past I was very selfish. Uncaring. I used others for my own ends.”

She thought of his cook, the immigrant from France. “That does not sound like the man I know.”

It seemed a struggle for him to smile. “I hope not.” He cleared his throat. “What about you? If you were to marry, what qualities would you look for in your groom?”

A sharp laugh slipped out before she could stop it. She gave him an incredulous look. “Marriage is out of the question. I will never be tied down in such a way.”

“You are saying you’ve never considered it?” His brows rose.

“I did consider the ordeal and had no problem dismissing the thought.” Not quite the whole truth, but she did not wish to spread her shame out like a picnic for him to feast upon. She pushed herself to a standing position, clutching paper and pen.

He stood also, holding out his hand to take her finished ice. “What made you dismiss marriage? You would make a good wife.”

“You say such unsuitable things.” She fanned herself with the paper, glad the heat covered what she was sure was a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Is the truth unsuitable?”

They picked their way across the park’s lawn while Amelia tried to think of a response. How could she tell him that she’d longed for a husband and that she’d thought she found the perfect man, only to discover him in the gardens with another woman...?

“Have I offended you with my candidness, Lady Amelia?”

“Not at all,” she said briskly. “Honesty is something I’ve come to cherish. I am merely sorting through my schedule.” Not entirely a lie. She did have much to accomplish.

“A schedule that is no doubt robust with activities.” They were nearing his curricle. He dropped their waste with a waiter whose sole duty was to serve those who chose to eat in the park rather than at Gunter’s. “I’d be happy to assist you.”

“I’m sure you have more to do than follow me around.” And she didn’t want his unsettling presence anyhow. “But we will need to finish our list.”

“What else is there?”

“Rank, dowry, expectations of children.” She ticked off the list on her fingers. “And that is only the beginning.”

“You’re very thorough.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard laughter in his voice.

“I do try,” she said with her chin in the air.

Grinning, he helped her into his curricle. His hand was warm and firm, his grip ever so much larger than hers. She removed her fingers as quickly as possible and found her seat. When he climbed in beside her, she shifted to the side a bit to make sure her dress did not touch his impressively expensive breeches.

Not that she cared one whit how much his clothes cost. Perhaps vanity was his flaw, for surely he must have one. Every man did.

“Where to, my lady?”

“Home.”

“Nonsense. Let me ride a bit more with you.”

“People may talk.”

“Unlikely. We’ve been out for little more than an hour.” He winked at her, and she felt her resolve melting.

Perhaps his accompaniment might be helpful, for she did need to travel to a more dangerous area. “Very well. But you are not to interfere while I speak with Mr. Ladd.”

“Your runner?”

She nodded and gave the driver the address, and they set out. The movement and flow of air kept the heat from stifling her, but never once was she unaware of Lord Ashwhite beside her. His lips were compressed quite firmly.

“Do you disapprove of my activities?” she finally asked.

“They’re dangerous.” He turned to her, the blade of his nose as sharp as the look in his eyes. “What would you do if I were not with you? Please do not say you traverse these streets without protection.”

She countered his glare with one of her own. “Perhaps you don’t understand how many women and children live here? They cross those streets daily just to survive. If you must know, I don threadbare clothing to walk in the area. There’s no cause for worry.”

“Worry?” He scrubbed his face with his palms. “You’ve not the clue of it. And is Eversham aware of these jaunts?”

“Why should he be?” A prickle of guilt scuttled through her, but she squashed it determinedly. “He is not my father and is no longer my guardian. In fact, I am not sure I shall even move in with him. If he forces me out, I have friends to stay with. Perhaps even Cousin Lydia. And after I find you a wife, I shall have enough funds for a new home.”

“Not in Mayfair.” He squinted at her as they rounded a corner and sunlight hampered his vision. “What if Eversham cuts you off completely?”

“I still have a small stipend of my own apart from him, which I inherited from my mother.”

“You seem as though you’ve thought of this deeply.”

“I have,” she assured him, though a small niggling voice prodded her to rethink her strategy. But how could she give in to Ev based on nothing more than his fears of social status? No, indeed. She was made of sterner stuff.

The curricle jostled and bumped as the roads deteriorated. This part of London was not her favorite, but hopefully her familiarity would keep her safe. Her fancy clothes certainly wouldn’t. She glanced at Lord Ashwhite and saw his face had hardened somehow, become more astute.

Considering the way he looked at this moment, she doubted anyone but a fool would accost them.

“Well, here we are,” she said brightly, aiming to lighten the mood.

The driver pulled the curricle to a halt, and she didn’t wait for Lord Ashwhite to help her down. No need for such nonsense, she told herself, refusing to acknowledge the small pleasure his gentlemanly assistance usually brought her.

She stepped down, careful in her flats, and straightened her skirts. Lord Ashwhite appeared beside her, his face a study in disapproval.

She felt a bit bad for him. “Really, my lord, there are worse places than this. Why, this isn’t even considered the slums.”

“But it’s close,” he muttered.

“We shall only be a few moments,” she told the driver. Then she looked at Lord Ashwhite. “Will he be able to protect himself in this place?”

“All my men are trained with pistols, if that’s what you mean. But should anyone take my curricle, they will not last long.” He beckoned toward his seal on the side of the curricle, the visual mark of his rank.

“Quite correct. Follow me, then, and try to wipe the frown from your face.”

“I hope you do not come here often.” His voice sounded as surly as his expression.

“Not that often,” she said, rapping on a rotting door in the broken building facing her.

“Who’s it?” a gruff voice called from the other side.

“Miss Amelia.”

A series of thumps and bangs followed, and then the door swung open and three wonderful, smelly children launched themselves at her.

“Not often, huh?” Lord Ashwhite stepped back to avoid their feet as they hopped about, squealing and begging for a bit of candy.

She handed out the pieces she’d stowed in her pocket, and then beckoned her disgruntled companion. “Come along, now. Business won’t wait.”

Chapter Nine

S
pencer leaned against a flowery wall while Amelia scanned Lady Cuthbert’s drawing room, making notations upon the small pad of paper she’d brought with her. Her stance in the corner sufficiently hid her from view and yet allowed her to detail the available females of the room.

Or so she’d told him.

He thought she rather liked being incognito and had missed her calling as a spy. This seemed to suit her well enough. Yesterday had been enlightening as to this lady’s nature. The children adored her and the runner, Mr. Ladd, had been as protective as the last time Spencer saw him. Though he didn’t detect anything of a romantic nature in Mr. Ladd’s manner, there was certainly a high level of respect.

Spencer glanced at Lady Amelia again. She appeared lost in thought, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. He considered nudging her but found that he liked looking at her more. When she wore that rapt expression, her features softened and she looked exceptionally pretty.

Such a shame some gentleman hadn’t nabbed her when she was younger. He recalled the guarded look upon her face at the park yesterday. Certainly there was a story there. A kind of heartbreak. He felt a frown curl his lips at the thought of some cad hurting this kind woman.

“What about Lady Whitney?” Lady Amelia interrupted his thoughts. Her pen pointed directly ahead to a stunning young woman with light brown curls cascading down her back. She danced artlessly, and the smile upon her face looked genuine.

“Why do you think she might suit?” Her hair was not even the right color, though why that should irritate him, he wasn’t sure.

Lady Amelia sported a perky smile. “Her mother helps at the prison, and sometimes she comes with. Her breeding is impeccable, and her voice soft. I hear she’s an excellent singer and does well with the pianoforte.”

“Those items were not on my list.”

“But how nice would it be to have a bit of music in the home? Many comfortable evenings could be spent listening to her splendorous voice.” She arched a brow. “And admiring her generous curls.”

Spencer shifted on his feet, wanting to sit and possibly disappear from this gruesome event. “I like that she helps at the prison. How can we get an introduction?”

“I shall arrange it. A house party at my brother’s, and then we shall also plan one at your estate.”

“Oh, no.” He held up his hands. “Absolutely no parties at Ashwhite.”

“Come now. How do you expect to meet a potential bride? Remember, the banns must be posted in two months’ time. This gives you little preparation. It shall have to be a whirlwind romance.” Her gaze shifted and unfocused as some daydream caught up to her and pulled her in its wake.

Unexpectedly enthralled, he noticed the soft glow of her skin and the way her lips, rosy in the lamplight, tilted in a tender smile.

“My lady,” he said quietly, watching as her attention returned to him, “you appeared to lose yourself for a moment.”

A hint of color passed across her face. She blinked and then stood quickly. “I only remembered a story I recently read about a similar situation.”

“One of your novels?”

“Do not laugh at my reading choices, or I shall laugh at your choice of clothes.” Her gaze traveled the length of him and then returned, smug, to his face.

“What about them?” Should he be offended? It was hard to be so when she flashed that adorable smirk.

“I shall not say unless you persist in your mockery of my literature. I’ll have you know that I’ve come up with many a great idea while in the throes of one of those novels.”

“No doubt,” he said drily, thinking of Mr. Ladd and this lady’s unusual activities. “And you believe a house party shall do me well?”

“Yes. We will schedule one at Eversham’s first. Yours will be at the end of the month. This gives you time to enter into a month-long courtship with a young lady before announcing an engagement.”

A horrific thought occurred to him. “And what if the young lady says no? What if she rejects my invitation?”

Lady Amelia’s head tilted. Behind her spectacles, her gaze looked quizzical. “I hardly see that happening. Why, you’re an eligible marquis... Say you enjoy the company of Lady Whitney. She is the eldest daughter of an earl, but her family has been impoverished. It is only through good relations that she is able to have a Season this year. Do you not think she’d be most grateful for your offer of marriage? With such an honor, she and her family will be provided for, and her life will be secure once again.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” He rubbed his chin. Did he want to be in the position of rescuer? He didn’t know much about marriage, but it seemed an unwise start to their relationship. “I don’t favor a woman fawning over me.” He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Of course not. But could a touch of thankfulness hurt?” Lady Amelia smiled up at him.

The effect of that smile hit him hard. Like a punch to the gut, or something worse—a pull on his heartstrings. With effort, he forced a smile. “I suppose not. Do you have any other potential wives?”

“Yes, indeed.” She named off other women, some in their first Season and others whom he’d heard of but never met. Finally she read the last name and offered him the paper. “Would you care to look over this?”

He gave an impatient head shake. “Keep it. Those women are strangers.”

“Not for long, my lord. I am a highly capable husband hunter, and I am determined to do no less in finding you a wife. Remember, I need that money.”

“Is your brother due tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Because you refuse to quit this side business?”

Her eyes widened, and she jerked her chin toward the dance floor, where dancers swirled past them in flurries of dresses and glittering hairpieces. “Keep your voice down.”

“You think they don’t know?”

“Most of them don’t, and I plan to keep it that way. My services are irregular and potentially damaging to my reputation. Word of mouth is the only way to hire me, and I depend upon my clients to use discretion.” She squinted at him. “What is that look you’re giving me? Are you laughing at me again?”

“No.” He cleared his throat, swallowing his chuckle. “I find you interesting. That is all.”

“Oh, well, in that case...” She shot him a crooked grin. “I shall forgive your lack of manners.”

“Keep your forgiveness handy, for my manners are deplorable and liable to lapse at any time.”

She giggled, a bona fide giggle, and he couldn’t stop the chuckle this time. If anyone could find him a wife, it was Lady Amelia. The more he discovered about her, the more he liked her.

The music changed to a quadrille, drawing his thoughts to the first and only dance he’d shared with her. She looked at him, and he could see she remembered, as well.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.