The Matchmaker's Match (7 page)

“I told you, this is not a game,” he said languidly.

“My mistake.” Her tone softened, for how could she not empathize with wanting to save a childhood home? “I have been blessed in that my brother inherited my father’s estate when my father died. He loves the people there as much as I do.”

His bright eyes centered upon her face. “Then, you can imagine how I feel?”

“Indeed.” She nodded slowly, gripping the seat as the hackney jolted over some unevenness in the road. “My trouble lies in wondering why you do not go about the traditional way of obtaining a wife. There are plenty of young women who would be delighted to marry you. A title, wealth and a good disposition cause many mammas to salivate.”

His nose wrinkled, which caught Amelia by surprise. She felt an unwilling urge to smile.

“As I have only three months in which to marry, there isn’t time to get to know the lady. I am not looking for a young miss. Ideally, my wife will be refined and mature. She must have a good sense of humor and live in a godly way.”

Amelia cocked her head. “Do you mean to say her church attendance is important to you?”

“No.” He leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees and clasping his hands together. “She must have a personal interest in God. A relationship with Jesus, if you will, that influences her daily living.”

How absolutely intriguing. Amelia eyed him carefully. A marquis who felt Christian values were important. That Christianity should be a part of living rather than a Sunday ritual. Her own parents had been pious. She remembered the large ornate Bible on a table in the library... Where had that disappeared to?

“Have I embarrassed you, Lady Amelia?” Lord Ashwhite’s winning smile bunched his cheeks. “Your brother finds my religious fervor baffling, and my friend Waverly finds it annoying.”

“Not at all. I find it most impressive.” And attractive, though she certainly couldn’t say so.

“Meeting such a lady is bound to be difficult, as most seem to bend their beliefs to reflect their company.”

“Perhaps try a church?” Overhead the sunlight shifted with the hackney’s movements, and she adjusted her hat. Lord Ashwhite’s face moved out of shadow. “There are many societies that aid the less fortunate, and within those I’ve found a number of young women living out their lives in godly service.”

“Might I attend such a meeting with you?” The question, while casually delivered, came with such a mischievous smirk that she felt tempted to rap his arm with her fan. Rather, she gave him a sidelong glance that felt a tad flirtatious.

“Perhaps one day, my lord.”

The hackney rumbled to a stop. Lord Ashwhite exited, and then held out his hand to her. The barest hesitation rippled through her. His mannerly approach could not stifle the fluttering that had resumed in her belly or the reluctance she felt in making contact with him.

Nonsense.

She summoned resolve and put her hand in his. Through her gloves she felt the gentle strength of his grip, his thumb resting lightly on her hand, his fingers curled around her palm, insurance against a fall. She could not meet his eyes for the emotion coursing through her. It would do no good to let this marquis see feeling plastered across her face.

He spoke intelligently, listened to her ideas, danced like a dream and cared for his people. What of it? Many men did the same. There was no logic to the emotions stilting her thoughts. As soon as her slippers touched the cobblestones, he released her hand. She paid the hackney driver, and then they commenced to her brother’s front door.

“I will pay back your fare,” Lord Ashwhite said as they mounted the steps to the door.

“Certainly not.”

“Indeed, or shall I call for my landau and offer you a ride home?”

He was too charming, with that sun-induced twinkle in his eyes and that handsome curve about his lips. She adjusted her hat and gave him a prim look. “You’ll do no such thing, my lord.”

Twisting forward, she rapped smartly on her brother’s door and steeled herself for a conflict.

“You didn’t tell me about Lord Dudley,” he said abruptly.

“Oh, dear... Well, now is not a good time. I do not wish to bandy about information where the servants might hear.”

“I’m quite sure they know more than you do.” He paused. “That runner, Mr. Ladd, seems protective of you.”

“Surely your imagination.” She rapped on the door again, harder this time, more desperately.

“Have you been doing business with him for a long time?”

“You ask too many questions.” She raised her hand to knock again, but the door swung open, much to her relief. Confounded man. Why had he taken such an interest? It would not bode well for her should he decide to impart what he knew to her brother.

Eversham’s butler showed her into the library, her favorite room, as he well knew. He left the door open while he went to rouse her brother.

“I see old Ev’s sleeping habits haven’t changed.”

“They attended Lady Blight’s rout last evening.” Amelia perused the shelves for something new to borrow. Unfortunately her sister-in-law was more of a talker than a reader. More was the pity.

“And you?” Lord Ashwhite questioned.

“My, but speculation does seem to be your favorite game.”

“Whilst you excel at charades.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Really, my lord, must we engage in verbal battle?” She turned and unexpectedly found him behind her. Breath caught, heart pumping, she paused.

“Yes, my lady, we really must, for I intend to win at this game.”

“I do not lose easily,” she said, refusing to back up. In fact, she’d give him a taste of his own antics. An exciting quiver of anticipation arched through her as she stepped forward. Only inches away.

His cravat was tied exceptionally well. The breadth of his shoulders surpassed her own, and she pointed her face upward, fixing him with a determined look that she hoped did not belie the curious thrum stretching her nerves wire taut. To her surprise, an indefinable look crossed his face.

What was that in his eyes? For a moment, it seemed as though he swayed toward her. But then his features smoothed, and politeness blanketed his expression.

He backed up and made a terse little bow. “Forgive me for intruding upon your space.”

Suddenly uncertain, she nodded a pardon.

“Am I interrupting?” Her brother stood in the doorway, looking displeased. His forehead creased as it was wont to do when he became upset. Deep circles ringed his eyes.

“Not at all.” Smoothly Amelia skirted Lord Ashwhite and went to her brother. She clasped his hands and drew him into the room. “And I do apologize for waking you, but this cannot wait. Is Lady Eversham asleep still?”

“Yes, and not to be disturbed.”

They sat on the couch while Lord Ashwhite continued his elegant stance against the wall shelves. Amelia acutely felt the heat of his gaze upon her but chose to ignore it. She hoped Ev would dismiss his friend, but when her brother called for morning tea, that hope withered.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. Very well. Lord Ashwhite would find out her circumstances soon enough should things not go the way she wished.

“Did Ash come with you, Amelia?” Ev steepled his fingers. She noted the clumsy knot of his cravat and felt a pang of guilt for showing up so early.

“Yes.”

His brows rose, waiting, but she wouldn’t say more. He’d already interfered in her life enough. And she’d let him know that, regardless of Lord Ashwhite’s presence.

“We had business to discuss.” The low rumble of his voice interrupted the tension between her and Eversham.

Amelia gave Lord Ashwhite a warning look before turning to her brother. “I received your note, brother, and am most disturbed. Could we discuss your plans in private?” Perhaps not the politest way of ridding the room of Lord Ashwhite, but she had to at least try. He was distracting in too many ways.

“Ash can hear whatever you have to say. It’s good for him to learn what happens when forced to choose between relatives and a wife.”

Amelia frowned. “But this is family business.”

“Yes, and business is what got you here in the first place. I meant what I said in my letter, Amelia.” He gave her an annoyingly stern glower. She hated that look.

“You’re being insufferable,” she said quietly. Anger was stirring in her belly, hot and viscous. “My life is not yours to dictate.”

A flicker of empathy crossed Ev’s face before being tamped down by an even worse emotion: resolve. “I know you don’t like it, but I have responsibilities now. Four years ago I wouldn’t have cared, but I’ve the properties to look out for as well as my wife. Your ridiculous rants against the prison system, not to mention this...
business
of finding husbands... It has to stop.”

“But one week—”

“Is more than enough to pack up your house,” he finished for her. “I’m going back to bed unless, Ash, you have something to add?”

“I’ve heard quite enough,” said Lord Ashwhite.

Amelia hardly dared look at him—at anything, really, lest the men see the burning anger that swept through her at the unfairness of it all. A week to move in with her brother and his wife. No choice at all. Even if she stopped all her activities, he would not give her a stipend large enough to rent her own home. What was she going to do?

Chapter Six

T
wo nights later, as Amelia and an excited Lydia swept into Almack’s, the question of Amelia’s future dampened her enjoyment of the evening. They mingled, and Amelia introduced Lydia to several notable ladies, who in turn introduced Lydia to eligible family members. It wasn’t long before her dance card was filled.

Amelia had deliberately left her card near the punch bowl. She didn’t intend to dance with anyone. Look at what one quadrille with a marquis had done—sent her into a romantic fit of emotions that could do no good for her, especially with the threat of losing her home a pall that continued to darken her mood.

No, indeed. Her dancing days were over, just like her courting days. Spinsterhood beckoned with all its freedoms...though not so many now her brother had become involved. She frowned.

“Are you feeling all right?” Lydia touched her shoulder. “Perhaps we should get a bit of air?”

Amelia gave her cousin a rueful smile. “I am simply pondering the recent turn of events.”

“I am so sorry.”

She had filled Lydia in on her brother’s machinations. Sometimes two heads worked better than one, but in this case, neither woman had been able to think of a suitable plan to change the situation.

Now Lydia’s face brightened. She looked beautiful, her blond hair coiffed perfectly, her complexion healthy and smooth. “There is always teaching at a girls’ school. You would do exceptionally well.”

Amelia blanched. “But there are so many rules to follow. Etiquette and languages...not to mention the noise. When would I read or paint?”

“Life cannot always be pleasure,” Lydia said gently. “You must work for some things.”

“Of course I know that, but if I can find work I enjoy, so much the better.” That was true, right? She hoped she wasn’t being lazy or unthankful, but to live miserably seemed such a waste if she could live happily. “Perhaps I am being a spoiled earl’s daughter. In truth, I think I’d find a noisy school of adolescent girls preferable to living with my brother. He is overbearing at times.”

“It won’t be all bad.” Lydia squeezed her arm. “You’ll have your own wing to live in, plenty of space to breathe. You’ll be able to go riding and visiting. We shall plan a vacation to Bath and wade in an ocean somewhere.”

Amelia tried to smile but wasn’t quite able. “You make valid points, though I cannot but help feel suffocated. The past few years’ taste of freedom has ruined me, I fear.” When her first Season had ended with no engagement, she’d been disappointed. The second Season, she’d fared the same. But the third Season... That was when she’d met Lord Markham. The year she’d decided she would never marry anyone.

And now, at the ripe age of five-and-twenty, after she’d lived four years independently, the thought of submitting to her sister-in-law’s reign gave her the shudders. But a lady had no choice. She should count herself blessed that she did not live on the streets as so many in London did, or that her family had not squandered their fortunes and left her in ruin.

“’Tis not so bad, being a woman,” said Lydia. “Even as a country baron’s daughter, I have been spoiled and cosseted. My family is loving and kind, and I would do anything for them.”

This time Amelia managed a chuckle. “Even throw yourself into the marriage mart.”

Lydia cringed, her smile wry. “Even that, though I wish I did not have to do so. But that is why I have you.” Her palm swept the air. “You shall introduce me to a man whom I will love forever. We will be happy, and this won’t seem like such a great sacrifice.”

“I truly hope so.” For if she ever found that she’d brought two together who could not find happiness, then she’d gladly quit this business.

The music started, and an eager-looking young lord claimed Lydia for her dance. Amelia watched them for a moment, feeling a stirring of sorrow in her chest, for when had she ever experienced such an enthusiastic response from a man?

She could think of only two, and she did not wish to think of either. Biting her lip, she meandered to a quiet alcove to sit on a brocaded chair. The corner partially obscured her from view, and she could lend her attention to the dilemma she faced.

When she’d left her brother’s the other day, Lord Ashwhite had tried to hire a hackney for her, but she had decided to walk home. She’d hoped sunshine might soothe the storm inside, but even though she’d walked briskly, she hadn’t been able to shake the tension upon her shoulders.

Sighing now, she watched Lydia swirl around the ballroom floor. The girl didn’t want to marry, yet she would lay her life down for her family. Amelia frowned, thinking of her own selfishness. She wanted to paint and make her own decisions.

Poor Ev had married a shrew to bolster their family’s flagging finances and to fix up their estates. He’d performed his sacrifice. But what of her? Yes, she was involved with several societies that helped those less fortunate, but she must be missing something. What, she wasn’t sure.