The Matchmaker's Match (16 page)

“Shall I drop you at home first?”

Changing the subject. A rudimentary diversionary tactic. “No, I’ve instructed the driver to drop you off first.”

“He’s not your driver to instruct.”

“I feel responsible for you, especially since you seem to have no care for your own safety. This was to be a simple arrangement. You find me a wife. I pay you. Not strange adventures in the middle of the night.” Irritation and concern mingled together, making his voice gruff and unyielding. Lady Amelia was no sensitive miss, though, and he did not get the impression he was hurting her sensibilities.

In fact, he had the distinct impression her chin was lifting, and as they passed beneath lamps, their flickering glow played across her face. He thought he saw her eyes flash.

“Do not take that tone with me. You had the opportunity to back out and you did not take it. In fact, your curiosity compelled you to join Mr. Ladd and me on our excursion. Is this not true?”

He bit back a groan. “What is the reason for this? Why not just tell Ev the whole thing is a hoax? Why seek out Lord Dudley and gain...what? What exactly did we gain? No proof it’s a scam, certainly. Besides what you already have, which is the word of a captain who may not have all the information at hand. I fail to see the reason behind this trip. Or the logic behind your clothing and sneaking into White’s.”

He fixed her with a hard stare. She was not a young woman ignorant of repercussions. No, she was smart and independent, and that was why he could not explain this odd behavior.

“I...”

“You...” he prompted her, ignoring a twinge of conscience at how he pressed her for information. But they were almost to Ev’s, and he owed his friend at least the responsibility of watching over his sister.

A broken sigh. The sound of her feet shifting on the floor. And then, “Very well. I shall tell you something I haven’t told anyone else.”

He leaned forward, his gut twisting at the tone of her voice.

“Eversham is... He is very angry with me. Perhaps he even hates me.” The fleeting shadows showed her hands twisting in her lap. “I must fix this somehow.”

“By sneaking into White’s dressed as a man?”

“No, by getting proof. By saving him. I have already damaged so much...” Her voice trailed off, and the strange, forlorn quality to her tone sent ice down Spencer’s spine. This was not his normal Lady Amelia.

He reached for her, then withdrew. “Damaged?”

“Don’t you see?” Her pitch rose. “My antics have caused Lady Eversham to miscarry. Not once, but three times.”

They rolled to a stop, and Spencer had no time to speak past his shock when the hackney doors opened. Ev stood before them, peering into the carriage, face haughty with anger.

“Amelia, get into the house. Ash, I shall speak with you in my library. At once.”

Chapter Thirteen

A
melia watched her brother settle at his massive desk. A cold and desperate dread scuttled through her, weighting her limbs as she plastered herself against the farthest wall. Lord Ashwhite seemed completely disaffected. He sprawled on Ev’s armchair, a relaxed look upon his features.

She wished she could be so blasé about the situation, but she was quaking. Such an unknown feeling. She had felt this massive fear of the future when she and Eversham were twelve and their parents died. Where would they go? How would they survive? But Eversham had been capable and strong. He’d overtaken their estate duties and given her a Season at eighteen.

And she’d failed him.

Hadn’t caught a husband, had done nothing to add to their waning coffers. Wasted money on clothing and fripperies and parties. Then, when she’d had The Great Disappointment, she’d languished. Poor Ev had had to lift her from melancholy. He’d rented the London house for her, and she’d thrown herself into painting and reading, gradually earning money by helping a friend with her Season.

Things had progressed until she’d felt independent and no longer a drain on her busy brother. He’d married, and while she dodged Harriet’s various attempts at control, she had overall felt successful at being someone of whom her brother could be proud.

Until now.

Everything within her protested meeting her brother’s eyes, but she made herself lift her gaze, only to find Ev staring hard at Lord Ashwhite.

“What exactly is going on, Spencer?”

Her brother’s use of Lord Ashwhite’s given name took Amelia aback. This was serious indeed. And his name was Spencer? She rolled the name in her head, tasted it silently on her tongue. The temptation to call him by name was already growing inside. She must not be so ostentatious as to use his given name.

Lord Ashwhite—Spencer—gave Ev an indolent grin. “A mad adventure that’s over now. There’s no need for you to worry or get angry. Let your sister go to bed and me return home. I don’t have patience for histrionics.”

A muscle in Ev’s jaw quivered. “You were out
alone
with my sister. Care to explain?”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“Why, you—”

Amelia jumped forward, grabbing her brother’s arm and positioning herself between the two men. “Please, Ev...” She swallowed hard, glancing back at Lord Ashwhite before turning her attention away. “It’s not Lord Ashwhite’s fault. He is merely trying to protect me, which he doesn’t need to do. The truth is, I did this for you.”

“For me?” Eversham snorted. “Do you pretend this is the first time you’ve snuck into places dressed as someone other than yourself?”

Amelia blanched. “How do you know these things?”

“Never mind that. My biggest concern now is that my supposed friend has been escorting you around alone. Doing who knows what, setting tongues wagging.” Eversham brought a hand to his forehead. Then he pivoted and went to a chair, his shoulders more bent than any young man’s should be.

Amelia bit her lip and willed the tears far from her eyes. Her willful ways had done this to her brother. With a sinking heart, she realized what she must do. She turned to Ashwhite.

“You can go. I shall explain the situation to Eversham.”

Lord Ashwhite’s beautiful green eyes held hers. No twinkle now, only a steady soberness that made her breath catch. He looked concerned. For her?

He straightened, rising above her, looking down at her. His hand came up and then dropped as though he’d thought better of touching her. Which would have been absolutely unacceptable.

“Do not feel overly burdened, my lady,” he said.

“It’s too late,” she whispered.

And she realized it was. She couldn’t bear to do this to her brother, not even for her own happiness. Distressing him, distressing his wife to the point of losing their child.

Casting Lord Ashwhite one last glance, noting the concern in his eyes, she gave him what she hoped passed for a reassuring smile and went to her brother.

* * *

He would not allow it.

Spencer spurred his horse across his land, wind rushing past his face, his heart thudding with the pounding of hooves. No, Lady Amelia was not backing out of their agreement, no matter what she’d told her brother.

The very next morning he’d received a letter in which the lady had politely explained how she no longer was at liberty to help him.

She’d penned no other news, and for days he’d stewed on how best to approach her.

Tonight he planned to attend a soiree at which several young women on Lady Amelia’s list were to be present. He had it on good knowledge that Lady Amelia might also attend. Eversham was nursing a grudge and refused to see him or let him explain.

He could only hope Lady Amelia had shared her discoveries about Ev’s investment with him. For himself, Spencer had done what he could by sharing his concerns with the constable and planting a few seeds in the ears of some fellow peers. It was the most he could do at this stage, though.

He reined in his mount, turning and surveying the land. Acres and acres of emerald green hills unfolded before him. Bright and healthy. His crops and gardens shimmered in the distance. Well cared for and orderly, bringing in food and revenue for the people who were his responsibility.

He didn’t know if Lord Dudley was aware of this potential inheritance and, if God willed it, he never would. Jaw firm, Spencer motioned his mount toward the estate. If only his mother was home. She had a way of reading people that might be useful in his choosing a wife, but alas, she was still journeying the Continent with a friend of hers.

Never mind. With Lady Amelia’s help, and he would most certainly insist on her help, he wouldn’t worry about events outside his control. Tonight he’d go to that soiree. He’d speak with those young ladies and figure out who might suit as a marriage partner.

* * *

And so it was that five hours later, Spencer found himself drinking watered-down lemonade and eating stale cake while some bright-eyed girl played a tedious song on the pianoforte.

He eyed the doorway, waiting for Lady Amelia to show her face. For such a paragon of virtue, she was uncommonly late. He sipped his drink again, tapping his foot and cringing when the girl hit a false note. If only Amelia would get here... He caught himself, realizing he’d used only her first name in his thoughts.

It wasn’t exactly appropriate, but then again, they’d become friends of a sort. Business partners, at least.

A familiar blonde swept into the room. Miss Stanley. Spencer craned his head, searching for Lady Amelia. No sign of her, though. He strode forward, intent on answers.

One of the women on Amelia’s list stepped in front of him, a hopeful smile on her pretty lips. What was her name? He couldn’t remember, and it took all his restraint not to brush past her. He forced himself to stop and reciprocate the smile. It wouldn’t do for a marquis to give the girl what some might call a
cut direct
just because he was in a hurry.

“Lord Ashwhite, how good to see you here.” Blushing, she fluttered her lashes at him.

Even in his wilder days, he’d never flirted with girls in their first Season. Certainly didn’t chat with them or show them the slightest attention. Young girls fell in love easily, and he’d learned a long time ago to stay away from the snare of fancy. By instinct, he gave her a remote smile and then caught himself.

What if this girl was the one he’d spend forever with? His mind bucked at the idea. No, her hair was too light. All the same shade.

“And good to see you.” He gave her a friendly nod and continued through the press of oversize dresses and heavy colognes. The girl probably had wanted him to stay and talk, but first he must find Amelia.

Spencer empathized with Ev’s anger. It was regrettable that Lady Eversham and his friend must go through so much pain. If it wasn’t for the sake of the people on his estate, Spencer might not press for Lady Amelia’s help. He hated to cause his friend more grief. If only there was a way to gain Lady Amelia’s help without causing a rift...

There! He spotted her familiar locks and busy fan. He stopped midwalk, irritation galvanizing him.

Not shock, though. These feelings did not surprise him. He was aware of a certain attraction to the artistic and stubborn Lady Amelia, and the emotion was getting in the way of his goals. Finding a wife proved hard enough and was made worse when his mind kept wandering to unlikely places.

Though he didn’t think the lady was immune to him... Of course, he hadn’t turned on too much charm. Maybe it was time to start.

No
. What was he thinking?

She was too similar to his mother, and he well remembered the strain on his parents’ marriage. To the point that his mother had traveled abroad and his father spent most of his time at the House of Lords, leaving Spencer to play with the village children and sneak Cook’s raspberry tarts.

Annoyed beyond reason, he brushed past several tittering ladies and didn’t make eye contact. After what seemed an absurd amount of time, he finally reached Lady Amelia.

“My lady, might we have a word?” he asked during a lull in her conversation with a gray-haired matriarch who found no trouble in giving him the
cut direct
. Her brows rose, and her lips quivered before she turned her back on him.

Lady Amelia’s fan looped precariously through the air.

He didn’t have time for this nonsense. He gently took her arm and prompted her to follow him. They needed somewhere private to talk. But not too private. It was obvious his reputation still preceded him, and even though Lady Amelia acted as though her reputation didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be the cause of any mean-spirited gossip about her.

“Whatever was that for?” she sputtered.

Spencer was acutely aware of the warmth of her arm beneath his hand. She moved gracefully, too, which put him in mind of the quadrille they’d shared.

Gritting his teeth, he steered her through guests toward a small settee in a corner alcove. She sat delicately, her flouncy dress settling beside her in gauzy purple lines.

“We need to talk.” He sat beside her, an appropriate distance between them.

“I am not stopping you, my lord.” Though her tone was kind, a flash of mischief lifted the corners of her lips.

If he wasn’t so annoyed he might have smiled. “You’ve left me in the lurch.”

“I?” Her hand fluttered to her collarbone, traces of paint discoloring her thumbnail.

“Yes, you. We had an arrangement. A deal. And for you to back out now... I only have a month and a half left or I’ll lose Ashwhite. I am here to insist you fulfill your part of the bargain.”

The mischief fled her face, replaced by resistance. “It is not fair to ask me to continue something that so disturbs my family. You’re quite fine on your own. You have all the qualities necessary to land a wife. Both the ladies here are good candidates.”

“I can’t remember their names,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?”

He repeated himself and glared when a little snort escaped her. “Not ladylike, that.”

“Oh, pshaw. You’ll do fine.” She patted his hand as if she was a dowager comforting a child. He didn’t like that feeling, didn’t like her playing to his emotions or even acting as though touching him was like taking care of an infant.