The Matchmaker's Match (8 page)

She must have a personal interest in God
.

Lord Ashwhite’s words about his future wife rounded through her. He’d looked so very earnest as he said that. Remembering his expression caused her discomfort, and she could not pinpoint why.

“Ah, at last I’ve found you.” The rumble of a deep voice interrupted her self-analysis. The subject of her thoughts settled beside her, his cologne fragrant and light. She sniffed appreciatively, telling her heart to stop its ridiculous pattering over nothing more than a pleasant aroma.

Lord Ashwhite tipped a lazy smile toward her. While dressed handsomely, he did not cross the line into the dandy style that she found so abhorrent. His clothes fit him perfectly, and someone had tied his cravat neatly.

She gave him an arch look. “What are you doing here?”

“Where are those manners you teach your clients?” he countered. His relaxed posture suggested good humor.

“Did you find a wife, then?” she couldn’t resist asking. “You’re looking awfully happy with yourself.” Which made her feel rather disgruntled. To cover her emotions, she searched for Cousin Lydia. Satisfied her charge was safe and behaving above reproach, she returned her attention to the marquis and his smug expression.

“No wife, but I do believe I shall be able to help you with your dilemma.” His eyes, full of amusement, met hers.

“I am not in a dilemma,” she said, feeling stubborn. “And if I was, I wouldn’t need your help.”

His hand went to his chest. “You wound me, my lady.”

“I heartily doubt that,” she muttered beneath her breath. Oh, how she wished her heart would stop its dreadful knocking against her sternum! One dance, one conversation, and now she could not escape this peculiar excitement she felt whenever she saw him. Like a silly miss out for her first Season, head turned by her very first suitor.

“On to a serious note.” Lord Ashwhite straightened in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. “I have a proposition for you.”

“You are fairly bursting with propositions.”

“This is one that will suit your needs very well.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I have thought about buying your house—”

“My house?” She covered her lips, alarmed by the screech she’d uttered.

“Very attractive, my lady.”

She scowled at him. “Go on.”

“But after consideration, I thought it might be better to engage your sympathies once more. You see, you never told me the details of what your runner discovered about Lord Dudley. And I never told you why I wanted to know.”

Curiosity piqued, she studied him. “This is true. And I do apologize, but I had much on my mind.”

Surprisingly, his look was gentle. “I know that, which is why I determined to give you a few days’ rest before—”

“Hunting me down?” she offered.

“Fair enough.” He inclined his head, though she didn’t see a trace of repentance in his face. “Here is my conundrum. Lord Dudley is a distant cousin, but he is the direct heir to Ashwhite should I fail to fulfill the obligations of my father’s will.”

“To marry within three months.”

“Yes. Less than that now.”

She fanned herself, spotted Lydia dancing with a different young man, who wore the same look of eagerness as the last and chewed her lip. The right thing to do would be to help Lord Ashwhite. Especially in light of what she’d learned of Lord Dudley. “This information does change how I view your problem, but I must have a night to think on it. Could you meet me tomorrow, say around four in the afternoon, in my parlor? I will be prepared to give you an answer as well as share Mr. Ladd’s findings on Lord Dudley.”

Her gaze drifted past Lord Ashwhite and locked on Lord Dudley, who had spotted her hiding spot and now marched toward her with determination.

How had Lord Dudley gained entrance to Almack’s? Granted, he was an earl whose proclivities remained unknown to most of the
ton
. She was beginning to tire of seeing him at every event she went to, especially now that he was out of the running for Cousin Lydia.

Lord Ashwhite followed her look. “Trouble, Lady Amelia?”

“Not at all.” She stood quickly and gave Lord Ashwhite what she hoped was a confident smile. “Handling suitors is my specialty.” Head high, she swept out of the alcove to meet the earl who couldn’t seem to understand her very firm
no
. And as she left, she felt Lord Ashwhite’s stare upon her.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she’d have to decide whether to work with Lord Ashwhite or not. She might have to accept his offer in order to avoid the dregs of a caged life.

* * *

Spencer watched as Lady Amelia glided away. The way she moved spoke of gracefulness and poise. One might never guess from the way she walked that she indulged in intellectual and political pursuits. From the outside, she appeared to be a fashionable lady of the
ton
. He saw the exchanges she made, how the dowagers greeted her with warmth and comfort. They trusted her status and knowledge. There were no suspicious or haughty glances directed toward her. Not like the ones his mother used to endure. How would that change if they discovered her less than ladylike activities?

The memory of her direct gaze and delightfully straightforward talk brought a smile to his lips but heaviness to his heart. It might be that engaging her services could cast a gloom about her reputation. After all, those same ladies who offered her their approval tended to frown at him.

It was far too close to how they’d looked at his mother. But she’d flouted society’s conventions in numerous ways, bringing shame to his father and pain to Spencer. Their disapproval of her was of a far different nature than their disapproval of him. After all, he did manage to coax a grudging twinkle in their eyes when he put his mind to it.

He stood, keeping his gaze on the maddening Lady Amelia. He was beginning to understand Eversham’s frustration with his sister. He stepped into the ballroom and headed toward the entrance. He’d done what he’d hoped for, proffered an exchange of information, at the least.

As he rounded the room, he noticed the gentleman standing near Lady Amelia. Something about the way he stood... It was familiar, and it was too close. Spencer frowned and immediately reversed direction. As he neared, he realized that the man next to Lady Amelia was none other than Lord Dudley. His distant cousin bothered Lady Amelia, though Spencer noticed she took great pains not to show her unease.

Perhaps it was the stiffness of her shoulders that gave her away. Or the tight press of her lips. Either way, his gut told him to move quickly. Jaw tight, he pushed past a group of giggling misses. He dodged a dowager who was giving him the evil eye, no doubt wondering how he’d snagged an invitation to Almack’s.

A marquis title came in handy every so often.

Finally he reached Lady Amelia in time to hear her curtly say, “No, Lord Dudley, I am overheated at the moment. Really, a dance would be too much.”

“But my lady, I saw you dance last week, and you are adept at it.” His facetious cousin bestowed a sickeningly sweet smile on Lady Amelia. “I long to share such an experience with you.”

Her fan came out, nearly smacking Spencer’s face. “Really, my lord, you flatter me. But I must insist you find another partner.” She hadn’t noticed Spencer yet; she was too busy fanning her face, which looked remarkably red beneath the elaborate glass lights.

“Shall we retreat to a cooler spot in which to rest?” The hopeful look on Lord Dudley’s face, and Lady Amelia’s barely controlled grimace, spurred Spencer to action.

“May I borrow Lady Amelia for a moment?”

Dudley had not recognized him. Spencer gave a terse nod. He ignored Dudley’s surprise and reached for Lady Amelia’s arm, lightly turning her toward him. “There is a family matter I wished to discuss with her.”

Though Lord Dudley’s cheeks drooped, he gave a grudging nod. “Farewell, my bonny lady. Perhaps later this evening we might share a waltz?”

Spencer didn’t give her time to respond. He propelled her toward the balcony, where a light breeze fluttered the simple curtains. They passed the orchestra and moved into the cool evening air. Her arm felt small and fragile beneath his grip. She moved away as soon as they passed through the doors.

“That was unnecessary,” she said, looking up at him.

He wanted to take the spectacles from her face and get a good look at her eyes. They were very dark, fathomless, and he could not tell her mood.

Unsettled by his forward thoughts, he looked down. “You seemed as though you needed an escape from my cousin.”

A short, humorless laugh rushed out of her. “Perhaps I did, and perhaps I should thank fortune you provided it.”

“They say God works in mysterious ways.”

“Yes... God.” Her eyes met his, and he saw no anger on her features, only blatant curiosity. “You speak of Him in a way I’m unused to. Sometimes at the prison, I overhear the women discussing the Bible. They share verses they’ve studied or different theologies they’re pondering. Their experiences while praying. It all seems much more personal than what I’ve witnessed in my life.”

The breeze blew a dark strand of hair across her shoulder. He almost reached to brush it back but stopped himself in time. This was no actress or lowborn woman. Every movement or word said could have devastating consequences for her. He peeked into Almack’s and, as expected, caught a patroness studying them.

Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms and thought about her words. “Neither had I, but my trip to the Americas changed my outlook.”

“That must have been quite the change for you.”

“It was.” He thought back to the past year, which already seemed a long time ago. “I learned much about myself. I found out I wasn’t who God made me to be. My priorities changed when God changed my heart.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Your heart?”

Spencer fumbled for words, feeling awkward and far from the smooth rake he’d been rumored to be. Something about this woman caught him off guard. There was more than attraction between them, but he couldn’t tell just yet if it was curiosity or something rarer.

“I don’t know how to explain what happened, only that when I needed God, when I realized my own sinfulness and cried out to Jesus, He was there.”

Lady Amelia’s eyes widened, and then her features took on a blank look. “You had an emotional experience.”

“It was real,” he told her quietly, all awkwardness gone as he realized just how true that was.

She pushed her spectacles upward. The look she gave him was very serious. “From what I have seen, emotions are not to be trusted or to be used as proof of anything.”

The breeze caught the barest hint of her perfume, and it lingered beneath his nose, tantalizing and sweet.

“I hesitate to argue with you, my lady, but your supposition is based on experience, and experiences are interpreted by feelings.”

“A valid point. I shall concede to that.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth, which Spencer found unexpectedly adorable. “Thank you for your rescue earlier.”

“Why do you dislike Lord Dudley?”

“Trust you to ask the impertinent questions.” She sighed, but he could tell she was not irritated. “In truth, I am not sure. There is something in his expression that warns me away. And perhaps I should not have investigated his financial background, but I did, and what I found makes me wary.”

Spencer’s brows rose. “Do you investigate all your suitors?”

Her nose wrinkled. “He was intended for Miss Lydia, and I investigate all marital prospects.” She quirked a smile his way. “But yes, I have a curious nature, and if someone intrigues me, I will look into their lives a little more closely than the casual acquaintance.”

“And what about me? Have you investigated my background?” His throat felt oddly tight as he awaited her answer.

Her smile wavered the slightest bit before turning cheeky. “Only men who intrigue me, my lord. I believe you to be an open book.”

Before he could refute that erroneous assumption, her cousin came rushing out of the ballroom.

“Oh, Amelia,” she gushed, seeming not to notice him. “It has finally happened.” Her breaths were quick and light. Apparently Lady Amelia felt the same alarm he did, for she hurried forward and took Miss Stanley’s arm.

“You must take deep breaths or you shall faint.” Lady Amelia delivered the instruction in that strident tone he’d come to admire. “Now, what has happened? Are you well?”

“Better than I have ever been.” Miss Stanley beamed a radiant smile that transformed her into a gorgeous creature. “I have met him.”

“Who?” Lady Amelia cast Spencer a quick, searching look before returning her attention to Miss Stanley.

“The love of my life. The man I’m going to marry.” At that, Miss Stanley’s eyes fluttered closed and she collapsed, dragging the smaller Lady Amelia down with her.

Chapter Seven

C
orsets were a nuisance.

Amelia relaxed in the drawing room, thankful she rarely wore one. Styles had certainly changed for the better, and many day dresses did not require one. If Cousin Lydia’s hadn’t been pulled so tight last evening, she wouldn’t have fainted. And all over a man. A man with whose name Amelia had never heard. She touched the sore spot where Lydia’s elbow had connected with her brow on their downward trip to the floor.

“My lady.” Dukes appeared in the doorway. “Lord Ashwhite has arrived.”

She straightened. “Send him in, and then please instruct Sally to bring us refreshment.” For a bit more in earnings, Sally served as both housemaid and personal maid. Her Yorkshire accent and practicality added much to Amelia’s household. She did not look forward to losing Sally when she moved to Ev’s home.

If
, she reminded herself. No use counting chickens before they hatched. She adjusted her spectacles as she waited for Lord Ashwhite. And then she shifted on the chair. Perhaps she should stand. But then she’d have to look up at him. Better to sit, forcing him to sit as well, and they could face each other eye to eye.

Her fingers played with the paperwork carefully balanced on her lap. Only a few pages that told quite a story.