“Limited?” Albemarle prompted. He could not think why he was interested in this poor woman’s story, but any connection to Theodosia and his spirits picked up.
“I would say so. Sewing, embroidery, that sort of thing,” Miss Lymington said dismissively. “My word, but she was dull. I was seated beside her at Lady Howard’s, once, and I tell you, I almost cried at the boredom of it all.”
“So many people thought,” said Miss Darby, looking a little abashed. “We shouldn’t laugh, really, but her parents grew concerned that she would never find a match. Her parents scraped together and found the fee for Miss Ashbrooke. Five weeks later, she was engaged to a tailor.”
Albemarle frowned. A tailor? A tradesman?
“Lenskeyn is not impressed,” said Braedon with a grin. “Yes, well, may you look down on such a trade, but not everyone has titles and wealth pouring from their ears. Mr. Weston is a well-respected tailor to the nobility and St. James’ Court, and you have probably worn some of his creations, though you may not have known it.”
“An excellent match for her, and by all accounts, Mrs. Weston is pleased,” said Miss Lymington drily, making it clear no tailor would do for her.
“You know, I find that rather impressive,” Albemarle admitted. “She had been ignored, cast aside by society—and many of you, by the sounds of it—and Theo…Miss Ashbrooke, I mean, was able to turn her peculiarity into a success.”
Braedon pulled a cigar from his waistcoat along with his tinderbox. “Yes, I suppose it was rather impressive. She’s not good company, though.”
Albemarle started at the strange comment as his companion lit his cigar. “Not good company?”
“The trouble is, whenever in her presence, you just know you are …well, sized up,” said Wynn almost apologetically as he rearranged his stacks of coins. “Before I met Letitia, I avoided her.”
“Difficult, though, when she attends every blasted wedding,” muttered Braedon as he pulled on his cigar. “Oh, apologies, ladies.”
Miss Darby was too busy attempting to catch the eye of the gentleman on the other side of the room, and Miss Lymington merely simpered.
Albemarle rolled his eyes. “Strange, I found her quite interesting.”
“Yes, but she is not short of gentleman at the moment, so I have heard,” Braedon said with a laugh. “Short on ladies! Always on the hunt for an eligible young lady to add to her roster, so that when the right gentleman comes along…”
The table laughed as Wynn started to deal the next hand.
“I did not know your sister had used Miss Ashbrooke’s services,” he said as he passed her a card. “How did that come about?”
Miss Lymington smiled and started to tell the story, which to Albemarle’s mind sounded rather dull and nothing like the Miss Ashbrooke he had encountered.
No, Theodosia was utterly different. When he had taken her hands into his own, he had felt…something he had never felt before.
The sensation of her lips on his own…and she had not pulled away. Quite the opposite. His neck prickled as he remembered the sensation of her hands pulling him closer.
He had seen the desire in her eyes when she had risen to escape. She wanted more. She had tasted carnality and wanted it—but refused. The cast-iron grip on herself had slipped, but only for a moment.
How much more pleasure could he take from her? How much could he give?
“Ah, I see what has happened.”
Braedon’s voice cut into his thoughts, and he looked conspiratorially at the table.
“What has happened?” Miss Darby looked a little flustered.
Braedon grinned. “You have decided to contract Miss Ashbrooke to find you a wife, have you not, you old dog?”
Albemarle sighed. What was the point in lying? “My mother has.”
Wynn almost sprayed his wine across the green baize, and Miss Lymington shifted her chair closer to Albemarle.
“You can laugh,” he said to Wynn in particular and the table in general, “but if your accounts are correct, you never know. She might find my true love!”
Braedon grinned. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Miss Lymington said softly under the noise of the room, “you have already met her.”
Albemarle was not stupid. He was not ignorant of the ways young ladies attempted to catch future husbands, and Miss Lymington was perhaps the most blatant of the lot.
She was pretty, to be sure. But she was not Theodosia. It was a foolish thought, but one he could not help.
He inclined his head gracefully without saying anything.
Then he blinked. Damned teeth, why did he not say something cutting? An insult, something to put Miss Lymington and her heaving breasts in her place.
Just a week ago, that would have been precisely what he would have done. Today, he left it at that.
Was Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke having such an effect on him already?
“Well, you will soon be able to tell us whether Miss Ashbrooke is as impressive as rumor would have us believe,” said Miss Darby with a small smile. “Unless she has found someone for you already?”
Albemarle laughed. “No, I do not think it will be possible for her to find—”
“There you are, my lord.”
A hand had fallen firmly onto his shoulder, and as Albemarle turned around to see who had so rudely interrupted him, his mouth fell open.
Theodosia.
“You do not mind if I borrow him, do you, my lords, Miss Lymington, Miss Darby?”
She was smiling at his table companions. Was she avoiding his eyes? Albemarle swallowed and found his throat dry. He rose hastily to his feet, his chair falling in his haste, and he smiled idiotically.
“Oh dear,” she said with no recognition in her eyes that just a few hours ago, she had been in his arms being thoroughly kissed. “We may have to consider some additional conversations about spatial awareness, my lord. Now, come and meet Miss Worsley.”
Albemarle’s face fell. For an instant, he had forgotten the reason they had met here in the first place.
He could see out of the corner of his eye that Braedon and Wynn were carefully keeping their faces neutral, but they could have taken a leaf from Theodosia’s book. She was looking at him as though they had only met but a handful of times—which, now he thought about it, was true.
She was going through with it then, just as his mother had instructed her. A bride for the earl! What nonsense.
“Come on, my lord,” she repeated as though speaking to a child who did not wish to attend school. “Miss Worsley is waiting.”
Albemarle stepped around the fallen chair without saying a word. As soon as he could explain he had no interest at all in speaking with Miss Worsley, whoever she—
“Ah, Miss Worsley, there you are.”
Albemarle found he was now standing before a young woman who looked just as bored and disinterested as he felt.
She curtseyed, however, and as he bowed, she said, “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Albemarle rushed through before immediately turning away. “Theodosia—Miss Ashbrooke, I wished to speak with you about—”
For a woman who had attempted to train him out of the habit of interruptions, she was a most infuriating woman.
“Not now, my lord,” Theodosia said airily with a swift smile that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. “I need to speak with Lady Wynn, but I leave you in the capable hands of Miss Worsley.”
She had bustled off before she had reached the end of her sentence, leaving him standing in silence with Miss Worsley. The entire occupants of his card table were goggling. Albemarle felt a flush threaten to blossom out from his cravat. This was intolerable!
“You look a little discomforted from being seated so long, my lord,” said Miss Worsley graciously.
“’Tis nothing, I assure you,” he said quickly. Theodosia was on the other side of the room, speaking with a woman who looked incredibly shy. “
Will you take a turn about the room with me?”
She inclined her head in agreement but did not reach for his arm. Thank goodness, Albemarle thought hazily, or I would have been obliged to take it. Who knows what the gossips of the ton would have thought about that?
“Are you enjoying Bath?”
Ironically, the only woman he wished to be joined with in a rumor was the reason he was stuck with this Miss Worsley. Albemarle kept his eyes on Theodosia as she elegantly made her way around the room. She was a natural—never staying too long, but always leaving her conversationalists with a smile.
“I said, are you enjoying Bath?”
A flicker of jealousy curled around Albemarle’s heart as Theodosia placed her hand on a gentleman’s arm. How dare she just flaunt herself like that, knowing he wished to speak with her?
“My lord!” Miss Worsley’s voice was sharp.
He blinked. “What?”
“I said, how are you enjoying Bath?” Her face was a picture of annoyance, but she controlled herself and tried to smile.
Poor woman. Raised in the same poisonous society he knew all too well. He could be her best possible opportunity for a match. What a strange world they lived in.
“Oh, you know,” he said with a shrug.
Miss Worsley expected there to be more, but when the silence had continued for another minute as they walked around the room, she tried again.
“I have not seen you in town before, I think, nor Bath.”
“No,” he said shortly. “I am not often here.”
Now, where was she? Ah, yes, speaking with Lady Romeril. Goodness, Theodosia had the patience of a saint to spend more than a minute with that woman.
“I am in Bath quite often,” said Miss Worsley with no spirit in her words.
Albemarle sighed. It was quite possible for him to have a charming, nay, sparkling conversation with Miss Worsley. He would amaze her, impress her with his wits, make her laugh, make her feel important, special.
But he would rather speak with Theodosia. His damned matchmaker. What was happening to him?
“You will have to excuse me, Miss Worsley,” he said without a second glance as he moved toward Theodosia.
“Well, really!”
He was too far across the room to bother replying, even if he had wanted to. “Theodosia.”
She was speaking now to an elderly couple, but she had no opportunity to make polite goodbyes to them. That was because Albemarle had taken her by the arm and pulled her across the room, through the door, and into the hallway.
“Albemarle Howard, that was very rude!”
“I do not care,” he said roughly, dropping her arm and moving closer to her. He wanted to be closer to her. He needed to be. “Miss Worsley is boring.”
Theodosia stared. “Miss Worsley is a well-known wit!”
“I would rather talk to you.” He did not care how many other people were moving along the hallway into different rooms, looking for friends, avoiding enemies. Smoke and the sound of laughter made the whole place feel hazy.
Theodosia rolled her eyes. “This nonsense again—come here, let me show you something.”
Enthralled, Albemarle allowed himself to be pulled into a different room. What could she have to show him? Was it, perhaps, a ruse to get him alone so she could speak with him privately?
“Good evening, Miss Marnion,” said Theodosia with a smile as she stopped before a lady with the most extravagant feathers in her hair that he had ever seen. “Albemarle Howard, Earl of Lenskeyn. Miss Agatha Marnion.”
Albemarle could have shouted with frustration. Another young lady dangled under his nose!
“I actually meant—pleasure to meet you, Miss Marnion—Theodosia, I wanted—”
“The earl and I were just discussing Mozart,” Theodosia said breezily to the woman who had pinked at being introduced to an earl. “But then, I think sometimes Salieri is to be preferred. What do you think, Miss Marnion?”
“I—well, I have many thoughts on this subject,” she said in surprise, eyes darting between Theodosia and Albemarle.
The matchmaker smiled. “Really? What a coincidence. Miss Marnion is a budding musician and greatly enjoys chamber music,” she said to him as she walked away.
He stared, open-mouthed, at the audacity of the woman.
“Although Mozart is perhaps better known, I do believe Salieri has many superior compositions,” Miss Marnion said, a little timidly. “What do you think, my lord?”
His mouth was still open, but no words came.
After all his posturing, his sharp words to his mother, his jest with Theodosia—it had come true.
He liked her. Of all the ladies he had ever met, it was his damned matchmaker who had caught his eye.
Her spark. Her fire. Her determination to ignore him when it suited.
She was his match, there was no doubt about it. All this standing around and being introduced to other ladies was a fool’s errand when he had already found the woman he wished to bed and wed.
Chapter Seven
A gaggle of ladies walked by Theodosia as she settled onto a bench in Sydney Gardens. The sun was bright, dancing off their jewelry, and she could not help but smile. Their laughter, albeit at a distance and naught to do with her, was infectious.
Unlike the first group, which had appeared a little too old to be suitable, this group contained two or three ladies who would have been perfect matches for a few of her gentlemen.
If she had not agreed to meet the Earl of Lenskeyn at this particular bench, she would have raced after them. One could never be too eager to sign a few more pretty girls onto the books, especially when so short of them.
If the earl arrived on time, she would have been able to explain to him what she needed to do and spoken with them.
As it was…
The women turned the corner and disappeared. Theodosia sighed heavily and glanced at the church tower on the other side of the gardens. It clearly showed twenty minutes past three.
Irritation flared, but it was tempered by her racing heart as Albemarle crossed her mind.
She had woken not once but thrice last night from dreams in which she had not managed to reach the drawing room door almost a week ago.
No, in her dreams, he had slammed the door closed and pulled her into his arms.
They had been heady, untamed dreams. Dreams that made her question whether she had made the right decision in the moment.
The same feelings were stirred when she had arrived ten minutes early for their three o’clock appointment today. She had wanted to see him, longed for it, despite having seen him the day before.
A day without him was starting to feel meaningless.
Theodosia shook herself. She should not have kissed him—or at least, she should not have permitted him to kiss her. That was where all this trouble had started.
She was the matchmaker. She was supposed to be finding him a wife!
The trouble was, despite her best efforts—efforts at odds with her spirit, as her soul hated seeing him with any other lady—the Earl of Lenskeyn was no closer to the wedding aisle than when she had first started.
In the last week, she had introduced him to no fewer than six of her best ladies, and that did not include the serendipitous introductions to ladies such as Miss Marnion.
Theodosia smiled as she watched a boy play with his dog, his parents looking on fondly. Poor Miss Marnion. She had not deserved to have Albemarle thrust upon her like that, and in public, too.
She had almost forgone attendance at Lady Romeril’s card party. Anything to avoid him and the way he made her feel.
But her absence would have gained far more comment than her attendance, and so she had attempted to palm him off—first to Miss Worsley, who had been strangely demure that evening, and then to Miss Marnion.
Whether Albemarle found someone to enjoy the evening with, she did not know. She had left before her self-control deserted her, and she permitted him to kiss her again.
Theodosia watched the dog fetch a stick for the boy who shouted something back to his parents, seated on a similar bench to hers. A pair of ladies, arm in arm, walked past her, chattering about some delectable bit of gossip one of them had just heard.
“That is what I said!”
“Well, you had guessed her affections were otherwise engaged when you saw them at…”
Theodosia watched them with the eye of an expert. Too flighty to be seriously desiring a match, too young to be considering marriage at this stage. Too silly to be a good match for Lenskeyn.
What was it he had said about one of the ladies she had introduced him to?
“Far more interested in spending my money than holding the hand that offered it.”
She smiled. He did have a way with words, and a cutting remark from him would hurt to the core. She would not want to be on the receiving end.
“Theodosia, if you make me marry that one, I shall have to hire you as a nanny. She’s a complete child.”
She laughed aloud, gaining a few intrigued looks from those walking in Sydney Gardens. Forcing a more solemn expression, she scolded herself silently.
One cannot just sit on a bench in public and laugh randomly! She was supposed to be giving the Earl of Lenskeyn another lesson today. At least, she would be, as soon as he decided to arrive.
She must not get distracted. She must stop thinking about the way she would tease him, the words she would use to tempt him, and how she would step away from him to drive him even wilder.
But the earl in her mind’s eye did not take kindly to being treated in that way. No, he followed her, pinning her against a convenient wall, kissing her neck so tenderly that she…
Theodosia coughed. It was most improper to have such thoughts. Ladies did not obsess over these sorts of things. If Albemarle ever knew how much she daydreamed about him…
She swallowed. He never could. She would never permit herself the wild abandon that it would take for her to reveal such nonsense. She needed to be serious.
She needed to find him a bride as quickly as possible.
Always the Matchmaker (Never the Bride Book 8) Page 7