The Matchmaker's Match (13 page)

Lydia only lifted a brow.

“I tried repeatedly to speak with Harriet. She has refused to give me an audience,” Amelia felt compelled to explain. In fact, she’d been made to feel unwelcome here and couldn’t understand why Ev didn’t let her stay at his London house. It was those ridiculous wagers at White’s. What did those gentlemen know, who did nothing more than sit around arguing politics and gambling away their money?

“Do you have your visit to Newgate today?” Lydia’s gentle voice brought Amelia back to the present.

She nodded. “Do you wish to join me?”

“No, Mother has planned an outing for us this afternoon.” Amelia handed her stack of invitations to the butler, who walked around the stairs at that moment. “Please see that these are delivered immediately,” she told him. She returned her attention to Lydia. “Now, do you have a meeting with Mr. Brighton today?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Can you put it off until I see Mr. Ladd?”

“Absolutely not. I told you, nothing he says will change my mind.”

“But something is not right,” Amelia persisted despite the mulish expression upon her cousin’s face. “At least let me prove that he’s suitable for you.”

“I feel in my heart that he is. Really, cousin, you must know that not all people are hiding some horrible secret in their past. He is who he says. Why can you not accept that?”

“It makes no sense to merely take him at his word.” Amelia felt irritation building and tried to suppress her temper. Logic and order. That was what was needed here, not a willy-nilly emotional outburst.

“I trust him,” Lydia said with remarkable calm. And it was in her eyes as well, a peaceful look Amelia found herself envying. “You will have someone to trust someday, too. Don’t shake your head at me. You will.” Lydia hugged Amelia. “I enjoyed our morning together. I’m going to scrounge for some more of those delicious cookies while I wait for Mother to show up. Enjoy your time at Newgate.”

“I’ll try...” It was often painful to see how the women and children at Newgate were treated. Though she wrote letters on their behalf, Amelia often thought she should be doing something more. Mrs. Fry spoke of organizing a kind of aid society, and Amelia felt that would be beneficial. She’d considered starting it herself, but since Mrs. Fry evinced formidable organizational skills, she’d leave the details to her.

She glanced once more up the stairs, wondering at Harriet’s absence of late. Was she ill? If so, wouldn’t Ev say so? She grimaced. With the way things stood between them, perhaps not.

She retrieved her things from the parlor. The curricle was to be ready at noon, which must be nearing. Arms full of clothing and the fresh bread she’d snagged from Cook this morning, she walked outside and waited for Ev’s curricle to be brought around.

The day was filled with the sounds of twittering birds and the whisper of a soft breeze sweeping through the branches of stately oaks. Sunshine glowed against the grassy lawn.

How many times had she played here in her youth? Chasing Ev, laughing and dreaming? No worries of grass in her skirts, of maintaining proper posture or impressing stuffy old ladies. Years when Ev had been her playmate and not her keeper. Then their parents had died, and everything had changed.

A hackney came bouncing down the drive, sending clouds of dirt to trail behind its rushed progress. Amelia squinted but saw no crest upon its side. The driver stopped in front of the terrace and the side door opened.

* * *

Spencer dismounted from the hackney, great rushes of relief spiraling through him when he saw Lady Amelia standing on the porch. His worry had escalated over the past three days, and he’d finally decided a visit was in order. The last time he’d seen her, she’d rushed off in a huff, and a bad feeling had plagued him thereafter. Especially when Eversham had been quick to turn on him for knowing about Lady Amelia’s jaunts and not saying anything.

That
had not been fun to explain.

He paid the driver and waved him off before turning his attention to the woman before him. Her foot tapped, and she wore a scowl. Spectacles glinting beneath the sun’s hot rays, mouth tight, she quite obviously held a grudge against him. He bowed to her and grinned when her scowl deepened.

“My lady, you look resplendent,” he said. And she truly did. Though she’d chosen a simple dress in a pale lavender shade, it complemented the fairness of her complexion. Her hair was done up, pulled away from her face—

“Don’t patronize me, Ashwhite.” In her miff, she left the title off his name. He found he rather liked it. He also liked the determined glare upon her face. “I know exactly how I look, and it is an appearance suitable for a jail, not a ballroom. What reason are you here, pray tell? For I am to be on my way in minutes.”

He advanced up the steps and noted how she stepped back. “I apologize for my tardiness, but I’ve come to speak of the other day. Unfortunately politics stole my time, but now we’ve a break, and I wanted to speak with you.”

“About business, I’m sure.” She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

An alarming urge to knock the spectacles off her face and kiss her silly slammed into him. He frowned. “Not quite.”

“Well, stop staring at me that way.” Her chin lifted, and she looked past him. “We are business partners. That is it. Do not think you can go traipsing with me on any more adventures. If I’d thought you’d go tattling to my brother at your first opportunity—”

“Now, hold on.” Spencer held up a hand. Irritation spiked through him. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you pretending you don’t know?” Her brows furrowed, and those pretty lips of hers pursed again. “Very well. I shall spell it out for you. My visit to see Mr. Ladd is none of Ev’s business, and I certainly did not expect you to share that with him.”

Well, this explained her strange behavior. He didn’t like it. Growling low in his throat, he stepped closer. “I don’t tell tales, my lady. Perhaps you should work on your assumptions.”

“You deny it?” She set her chin and threw him a belligerent look.

“Vehemently.”

She glanced away from him, a soft flush suffusing her cheeks. “I find myself wanting to believe you, but it doesn’t change the lesson learned.”

Spencer took a deep breath to calm his temper. At the moment he battled two instincts: pull her close and kiss the downturn of her lips away or throw his hands in the air and stomp off. Obtuse woman. He moved back, plunging his fists into the pockets of his light waistcoat.

“Dare I ask what this lesson was?” he asked drily.

“Never trust a stranger.”

“I’m a stranger?” Incredulity lit his temper once again. “Madam, you are illogical and entirely ruled by your emotions.”

“I certainly am not.” She glared at him, hugging her arms to herself. “My practical nature is one of my assets, I assure you.”

“That’s a humble way to see yourself.”

“You insulting man. I trusted you to keep our trip to Mr. Ladd’s a secret.”

“And I did,” he enunciated very slowly.

Her eyes flashed. “How else would Eversham know my whereabouts? There is only one other way...” She trailed off.

“He’s following you,” Spencer supplied, giving her an arch look.

“Could he be?” Surprise, maybe hurt, scattered across her face and pulled those lovely lips into a frown. “But why? Can he care so much about reputation?” The confused sadness of her face gripped Spencer in a way he didn’t care to examine.

Throat tight, he gestured to a bench situated against the stone wall of the terrace. “Have a seat.”

She seemed not to hear him, and so he carefully took her arm, which felt small and light beneath his touch, and guided her to the bench. Sitting beside her, he waited.

“He’s been so distant lately,” she finally said. “And he looks at me as though I’m an unwanted responsibility, a burden. Never before has he treated me so.”

“What do you think has changed?”

“When he married four years ago, I believe he saw that I am not an ideal lady.” She looked at him with sadness in her dark eyes, which contrasted so beautifully with her skin.

He mentally shook himself. Where was he going with all these thoughts? He had a wife to find, and Lady Amelia had been quite clear about her stance on marriage. Still...he took in how he felt sitting beside her, the gentle curve of her cheek as she stared out over the lawn and that tapping foot of hers, which signaled an active and ready mind.

He probably liked her more than he’d ever liked another woman. And there had been plenty of women to like.

Yet he empathized with Eversham. His own childhood had been rife with tension as his parents had battled over his mother’s bids for independence. He himself wanted a lady of a certain quality, one who did not make too much of a social fuss but who had a good head on her shoulders.

Leaning back against the bench, he stretched out his legs and mused on the situation. Was Ev’s relationship with his sister so untenable? Yes, Lady Amelia drove him a bit mad, but she was also interesting, with an honorable core that intrigued him.

Deeply
intrigued him.

“What do you think, Lord Ashwhite?” Lady Amelia prodded him with her elbow. “Has Eversham fallen beneath the evil influence of his wife, or does he just detest me that much?” Though she smiled, he heard the vulnerable timbre of her tone.

“It remains to be seen, my lady, but I do not think you should overly concern yourself with him just now. Look.” He pointed at the curricle barreling up the lane. “There is your ride to Newgate. Let us visit those in need, and perhaps it is there I will find a woman who steals my heart.”

Lady Amelia scoffed. “I shall be the judge of that. Stealing hearts is not a good basis for marriage.”

They stood and walked to the steps, where the curricle parked. She scooped up a pile of items he hadn’t noticed resting against the stone wall. Deftly he plucked the stack from her arms.

“The gentleman should carry the load,” he said. “What constitutes a good marriage, in your mind?”

It seemed her shoulders stiffened as though she did not wish to answer. “Friendship, mutual interests.”

“Attraction?” he put in, biting back his grin at the firm shake of her head.

“That will follow with those other things, my lord. Now hand me my items, please.”

“I will accompany you,” he persisted, and gestured to the curricle, where the footman waited to help her in. “I see your lady’s maid is already inside. Let us join her.”

“Very well.” Lady Amelia offered him a somber look. “But prepare yourself for the dankness that is Newgate.”

“I will.” He bit back his humor at the melodramatic words. She had a point, though. He must ready himself to trust a woman who resisted matters of the heart to find him a wife. A woman who denied her own emotions, though it was plain to see she wore them on her sleeve. At this juncture, he had only God and Lady Amelia to trust to sort out this situation.

He couldn’t live with himself if he lost the family home. Once again he bemoaned the ultimatum to gaining his inheritance. Though there was his mother’s family estate, a cousin presently cared for it, and he did not wish to usurp another family. The entire situation was ridiculously complicated, and he could blame only himself.

His carefree ways had disappointed both his parents. Now his father was gone, but his mother, despite the unsettled feelings he held toward her, deserved a son she could be proud of.

He would be that son, even if it meant being tied down to someone he disliked the rest of his life. With Lady Amelia on the case, though, he hoped for at least a convenient marriage.

Chapter Eleven

A
melia did not care one whit for convenience.

She surveyed the young lady handing out clean clothes next to Lord Ashwhite. Her glossy dark hair shone with health, cascading down her back in an enviable shimmer of beauty. Rose-hued ribbons accented her chocolate eyes and flawless skin.

A convenient wife did not measure against a smart, compassionate one. And Lady Hope was all that and more. She’d been helping at Newgate for as long as Amelia, though they’d never taken the time to strike up a friendship. They held a mutual respect for one another, though.

Amelia eyed Lord Ashwhite and Lady Hope as they conversed quietly with the young children waiting in line for their portion of goods. They worked well together and appeared to take a mutual liking to each other.

A twinge tightened Amelia’s chest. She rubbed at her collarbone before returning to her own sorting. The other ladies had brought a variety of clothes for the poor children who lived here with their convict mothers. There was also lye to distribute and a few loaves of bread. Not enough, though. Never enough for the sweet children who behaved, at times, more like starving mongrels in the streets.

Their mothers were no better. Rarely did Amelia come in contact with a woman prisoner, for they could be dangerous. Though Mrs. Elizabeth Fry did seek to change the situation. Amelia had heard plans to start a school at the prison, which seemed a wonderful idea. She slanted another look toward Lord Ashwhite, just in time to catch his laugh at something Lady Hope said.

Frowning, she handed the last item to a child and then surveyed the tiny room for anything she’d missed.

“Are we finished here?” Lord Ashwhite’s deep voice startled her, and she jumped.

“I believe so,” she answered despite the race of her heartbeat. “Did you enjoy your conversation with Lady Hope? Shall I add her to our list?”

“Absolutely. She’s a lovely woman.” Crescents dipped into his cheeks.

Ignoring the flutters beneath her ribs, Amelia managed a brisk nod. “Very well. I shall make sure she receives an invitation to your country party.”

“About that...”

Amelia quirked an eyebrow. “Surely you are not backing out of such a necessary endeavor?”

“It seems over the top.” He grimaced.

“Fiddlesticks. You’ll be able to mingle with many prospects, get a taste for their personalities and characters.” She thought of Lady Hope and searched their small group of volunteers with her eyes until she found the young woman. She was staring at Lord Ashwhite with a smitten expression.