A Lady's Perfect Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  In the great dancing hall there were small slips of linen, discarded cups, and long cloths crumpled in various parts of the room. The dance floor seemed suddenly vast and lonely without the guests milling about inside, and the shades were drawn so only a few dim strands of light crept along the floor.

  Brody walked out to the center of the room, hearing the sound of his boots echoing against the floor, and stood for a moment surrounded by the shabby after-effects of A Midsummer Night's Dream. He raised his arms for a moment and took a step forwards in the traditional waltz step, then to the side, and then back again. Then he lowered his arms as though for a promenade and took a few steps around the room.

  He could almost feel her there again in front of him; Hannah, her light eyes and bright face turned expectantly up towards him. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped and looked at the corner and the column where Montgomery had leaned for much of the evening. He felt a stab of guilt and walked away from the ballroom and down the hall to the breakfasting chamber.

  "Master Brody," the housekeeper said with surprise when he walked in. She was sweeping away a few cups that had been left there the night before. Brody well understood the allure of sneaking off as a couple to some quiet room away from the merriment to whisper sweet nothings to a lady. He smiled a little weakly at the evidence that such goings on had been present at his own fine affair. The housekeeper put the basket of cups on one hip and smoothed her cap nervously with the other. "Usually you sleep in after a party, sir. I hadn't even begun to serve the breakfast yet."

  Brody waved his hand. He knew that his habit was to sleep in, even on days when he didn't have a ball as a rightful excuse. "No matter," he said. "I don't know what's gotten into me as of late. My mother and brother won't be up for some time. Don't concern yourself with breakfast." He stepped away a little distractedly. "I think I'm going for a morning walk."

  The housekeeper smiled at him. She'd relaxed a bit after realising that he didn't think her lax in her duties, and she waved him over with a motherly motion. "I'm sure a walk would be fine for you," she said, clucking her tongue gently, "but not without a touch of something in your stomach. Come downstairs and I'll make you a toasted cheese like I used to make my own Danny when he was a lad."

  Brody followed the woman down the servant's staircase, where he rarely walked, and into the warm kitchen. The cook had already started a fire in the hearth and looked up with surprise when he walked in.

  "Master Brody?" The cook smoothed her hands on her skirts and curtsied. "Was aught the matter with last night's fare that you should come down here to speak about it so early?"

  "Nothing," he answered quickly, a bit saddened by how quick the staff were to assume that something had gone awry. "You did everything just as I requested, and the party was a major hit."

  "I'm just getting him a spot of breakfast," the housekeeper said, putting up her hand when the cook protested. "He hasn't time for any special meal, so don't worry yourselves, and the rest of the family won't be up for hours. I'm just going to toast some cheese."

  Brody noted with amusement that the cook looked doubtful about the housekeeper's efforts to toast cheese, and sat down by the fireside to watch as the two older women produced some thick rye bread and cheddar to melt upon it. In only a few moments he held the warm meal in his hands and ate it with relish.

  The whole thing, eating with the staff, waking before his family, thinking over the events of last night; all this was unlike his normal routine. He found himself looking forward to sharing the whole affair with Hannah the next time he saw her.

  With a start, Brody realised that it was the first time he'd thought about sharing something—anything—with specifically Hannah and not Emelia.

  When he finished eating he thanked the ladies profusely for their offering and hurried back upstairs and outside to the grounds, still lost in thought. He was on his way to the stables when he nearly collided with Emelia. She was dressed in the same brown and calico gown that she always wore on days of strenuous activity, and she had a cloak over her shoulders to cut the chill. Her hair was tightly back in a bun, and her eyes looked grave.

  "Good heavens, lass," Brody said sharply, pulling away from her with a hoarse little laugh. "Last night I thought you looked light-hearted and happy, and yet here you are as morose as I."

  "Why are you morose?" Emelia pulled her cloak around her shoulders. There was something different about her this morning; something that he couldn't name. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was hiding something from him.

  "Just the post-party malaise," he said lightly, trying to brush off the realisation that he was lying to her. He couldn't tell her that Hannah was behind his thoughtfulness and introspection. He waved his hand airily towards the livery. "I was thinking about going on a walk or saddling up my mount for a turn around the grounds. Would you like to accompany me?"

  "I came to speak with you, yes." Emelia shifted, not even looking where he pointed. "But I'd rather not be riding on horseback. Could we go back into your garden and sit for a moment?"

  "So grave," Brody teased.

  He led her back around the house and through the delicate beginning of the garden to a stone bench. It was damp with dew and he laid out his own coat so they could sit without being assaulted by the chill.

  "Did you not enjoy the party last night?" he asked after a moment's quiet passed without interference from her. "You seemed victorious enough in our mutual quest, although I wasn't sure until afterwards how your dancing with Montgomery would help the situation with him and Hannah."

  "It's just that I mean to speak with you about," Emelia said quickly.

  "Hannah?"

  "No," she said a little too sharply. "I mean, not exactly. Just our mutual quest. I can't go on with it, Brody, and I don't think you ought to either. It won't work out. I went along with you earlier because it seemed to me that Hannah and Montgomery might be happy with each other."

  "And you don't think so any longer?"

  "I don't think…" her voice trailed off and she picked at her skirt nervously, "I don't think they have anything in common."

  Brody thought about how happy his brother had looked dancing with Hannah the night before. He had wondered the same thing, and perhaps on paper they didn't have much in common, but in reality he wanted to put his brother's happiness above all else.

  "Montgomery and Hannah are both just quiet," he said slowly. "You think they have nothing in common because they are not so open about their likes and dislikes as you are."

  "It is not that simple, and you know it," Emelia retorted. "Think about last night. Both you and I had to dance with each of them before they danced with each other; they had to be pushed to even socialise, and when it was done Hannah said nothing to me about Montgomery. I'm her sister. She would have shared with me if she cared for somebody." There was that edge again in her voice. Brody peered at her closely.

  "What do you mean? Has she told you she cares for someone else?"

  Emelia opened her mouth and then shut it again quickly. "Hannah's too shy to expose her true emotions."

  "Exactly. So I don't believe you can make any assumptions about her and Montgomery." Brody checked himself, wondering why he was suddenly so desperate to force Hannah and Montgomery into each other's arms, even when the thought of it rankled him after the moment he'd shared with Hannah the night before.

  "You should just trust me," Emelia pressed on. "I came here today to tell you that there are no further steps we should take towards this particular match. I can't, in good conscience, and I implore you as my longtime friend to step away from this foolishness as well."

  In a flash, Brody remembered another girl he'd been interested in once, years ago. It was when he was a young boy at the seaside with the Shaw sisters. Montgomery had returned from his first year of study for holiday, and he'd teased Brody endlessly about a blond-haired lass who lived by the sea with her father.

  The girl's name had been Alice, or El
oise—it was difficult for Brody to remember now. He'd brought her along to every event, and she'd joined every one of the walks they'd taken with the Shaw sisters down the beach. He'd been smitten at the time, as he always was in the first few moments of love, and even Emelia's mockery and Hannah's silence hadn't driven him from Alice or Eleanor or whatever her name was.

  It was Montgomery who'd finally hit upon the truth in one of his moments of insight. He'd pulled Brody aside and put a brotherly arm around his shoulder.

  "You like this lass," he'd said, "because she's safe. You know that you're more wealthy and dashing than she, and you know that she won't challenge you. If you keep pursuing this now, you'll always chase girls like this and you'll never find the kind of woman that could share your life with any real strength and stability."

  "I don't want to take romantic advice from a man who characterises love with the same adjectives one might use for a well-built bridge," Brody had retorted with a laugh. "Besides, what do you know of the whole matter? You hardly look at ladies, though they'd throw themselves if you if you'd let them. Until you capitalise on your training and wealth, I won't take suggestions from you."

  "I'm only saying you ought to consider going after a girl who could match your wit."

  "You overestimate my wit. Besides, if a girl came along who was my match in every way, as you claim, then I know I would not be afraid. I would welcome her with open arms."

  Brody blinked, coming back to himself as the memory faded. Emelia was looking at him with a strange expression.

  "Are you alright?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

  "I am," he answered slowly, but his head was spinning. He knew, with a cold certainty, why it was that he was continuing to push the match between Montgomery and Hannah—if he didn't push them together, than he would have to face his own feelings for the girl he'd known all his life and only now felt a stirring towards. That scared him. He was doing what Montgomery had predicted he would do all those years ago; he was running because something that he was facing was a good something—a something with real potential.

  "I'm just saying that you should look elsewhere for Montgomery's match," Emelia said, looking at him as though she was still not convinced he was alright.

  But that was just it, wasn't it? If he really cared about Montgomery, than the realisation that Hannah was a worthy woman should encourage him to bring the two together, not push them apart. Biting back the ache growing in his chest, Brody shook his head.

  "I can't agree with you on this, Emelia," he said, trying to keep his tone lightly. "I want my brother to find happiness, and Hannah is the perfect woman to bring that about."

  ***

  Emelia felt something unwinding as she watched Brody talk. He was so set on Montgomery and Hannah being together; he listed all the positive qualities that each held, he clung to the things that they both brought to the circles in which they ran, painting a picture of bliss and happiness that she couldn't see. He seemed preoccupied, yes, but set in his ways nonetheless.

  She thought back to the conversation she'd had with him only a few weeks ago after the garden party, when he'd teased her about the local expectation that they should surely end up together one day, and if neither of them were married in ten years they should settle down as friends. She cared for him, certainly, as much now as ever, but the older they grew she felt the less they had in common.

  "I have a question," she said abruptly, putting a hand on his arm. "For you. Not about Montgomery."

  He stopped talking and raised one of his fine, flirtatious eyebrows. "Go on, lassie."

  "If you could go anywhere in the world," she said, musing, "where would you go?"

  He wrinkled his brow for a moment, with that preoccupied look again flitting over his face. "You're an odd one, Emmy. One moment we're talking about Montgomery and Hannah's impending happiness, and the next you're trying to get me off topic with a discussion of 'where would you rather.' We aren't children any longer."

  "No, we aren't," she said quietly, thinking that was just the issue at hand, "but indulge me nonetheless. I feel we've talked about nothing but Montgomery and Hannah for weeks, and I would like to hear a little of your own thoughts on things other than matches and romance."

  Brody gave a confused smile, but shrugged anyway. "Fine. I will indulge you as I always do, Emmy. Your wish is my command. If I could go anywhere in the world it would probably be the Great Bazaar in London during the height of fashion week, or France when they finally get their business together and stop charging against us in open war."

  Emelia remembered the same conversation she'd had with Montgomery the night before, when he'd told her about a village he'd read about in Africa; a village where the children had been suffering from a wasting disease that he'd studied during his residency.

  Montgomery was convinced that some proper nutrition and a poultice he'd stumbled upon in a sixteenth-century medical textbook could bring a solution to the problem. He'd talked about it for a generous portion of their dance, and she'd listened with interest. It was adventures like this, rooted in meaning, that didn't come naturally to her but answered a call of her heart nonetheless.

  She had thought often over the last few weeks what it would look like to be married to someone like Brody—she could never bring herself to imagine marrying Brody, exactly—and the more she thought about it the more she knew that she would grow bored and weary of all the lace and frills and social engagements. She wanted to learn things; to grow, to expand her mind without fear of reproof from her significant other.

  "What about you?" Brody asked.

  "I think I'd like to see the Indies," Emelia said slowly, "or some such place with jungle."

  Brody shivered. "Haven't you read about the creatures there?"

  She couldn’t hold back a smile, thinking about the moment in the bookstore with Montgomery. "Yes, I've read a bit. But I'd like to know more."

  "If I had to die," Brody said with an arch of his playful gaze, "I don't want it to be by poisonous snake or cruel insect, far from those that I love."

  "What if those that you loved agreed to journey with you?" she answered back, feeling as though she were watching herself from a distance. She didn't fully understand why she was asking these questions, pursuing this line of inquiry and speaking like one of those dull missionary women she'd read about in the books Hannah liked to read.

  "I can't imagine a single person I love who would go over there," Brody said wryly, "unless of course it was Montgomery, and as much as I love the lad I don't think I'm willing to die in his arms at the behest of a cruel jungle creature."

  Emelia smiled and held her tongue. Brody nudged her shoulder.

  "Why are you asking all these questions? Why the sudden interest in the Indies?"

  "I just think that if there was a way to go, that would be it," she said suddenly, surprising herself.

  "I thought you loved this part of the county. I didn't know you had any interest in moving."

  "I don't," she said, feeling a press of unexplainable annoyance. "I want to live here all my life and grow old in these undulating hills and mountains, but I wouldn't mind travelling; seeing something of the world outside, learning things that are beyond me."

  "You were never the one to press studies any longer than the governess enjoined," Brody frowned. "Suddenly you want to travel to the Indies and…what…study plants and animals? What has gotten into you, Em?"

  Emelia shook her head. No, that's not exactly what she'd meant, although she wouldn't have minded any of those things. What she really meant, at the heart of it, was that she'd grown since she and Brody were children; she cared about things she hadn't cared about before, she was interested in things she'd never before wanted to know more about, and she no longer wanted to be indulged always as her family and Brody indulged her. She'd enjoyed Montgomery's questions and the things he'd taught her.

  Why are you thinking so much about Montgomery? Her thoughts were tumbling around.
She was trying to sort through what she personally wanted out of marriage and life.