“Don’t go.”
The words were breathed rather than said and came from somewhere vulnerable inside him. He did not want to part with her. He could not countenance losing her, not yet.
There was something unfathomable in her gaze. Something fierce and wild but untamable.
She did not speak but slowly lowered her lips onto his and took possession of them, utterly controlling the kiss that grew deeper and deeper as her hand teased the nape of his neck.
And for goodness knows how long, for Albemarle could have sworn time had stopped in that carriage, they lost themselves in kisses that said far more than words ever could.
Chapter Nine
The instant Theodosia sipped her tea, she regretted it. The scalding liquid burned her tongue, robbing it of all sensation but pain. Managing to keep quiet in the almost silent drawing room of Lady Howard, she placed the cup back in its saucer and waited for her tea to cool down.
Her tongue still burned, but it was still not as hot as when Albemarle had kissed her in that carriage.
“There is nothing in the world I want more than you, right now.”
Her cheeks warmed. Theodosia glanced around the drawing room quickly, but none of the ladies present seemed to have noticed anything was amiss with the demure matchmaker.
This was a very different type of affair than many of her social occasions. At nine and twenty, Theodosia was at a rather discomforting age. One of the oldest when with the young ladies of the town, far too young to be one of the matrons.
Add in her seniority in society as a matchmaker, but her inferiority as an unmarried and childless woman…
She sighed. She should be grateful to be invited anywhere at all. This particular gathering was a stroke of luck. Lady Howard had mentioned it in passing at Viscount Braedon’s ball, and Theodosia had cleverly won herself an invitation.
All the fashionable Mamas were here—Mrs. Lymington, Mrs. Chesworth, Mrs. Howarth. Perfect for Theodosia, still struggling for eligible young ladies.
“And what marvelous weather we are having, for the time of year,” Mrs. Chesworth was saying loudly enough to ensure she controlled all the conversation in the room. “Keeping the gentlemen in the country, of course, which is a real shame. My son-in-law—the Duke of Axwick, you must know him—has delayed his plans to arrive in town twice.”
Theodosia hid a smile as she listened. How like Mrs. Chesworth to casually mention her daughter’s husband like that, but then, what society mother did not delight in showing off to friends and enemies alike? And with a son-in-law who was a duke, there was no end of opportunities for Mrs. Chesworth to ensure her acquaintance knew just how fortunate she was.
“I thought her behavior very vulgar,” said Lady Romeril on the other side of the room, holding court with a deferential Mrs. Marnion. “And when I say vulgar, I mean it. I mean, dressed up to the nines at another lady’s engagement picnic! If he had not married Miss Seton, it would have been a scandal…”
Yes, it was true. Miss Priscilla Seton had acted far more wildly than society ever could accept, but she had married her man. In the eyes of the ton, that meant almost everything was forgivable.
But not, it appeared, in the eyes of Lady Romeril.
“I would not have countenanced such behavior if it had been my house,” she was saying to the rapt Mrs. Marnion. “But then, Lady Audley, my cousin, you know, always had a very particular way of doing things.”
She sighed impressively, leaving Mrs. Marnion and any other Lady Howard guests who were listening in no doubt of her opinion.
Theodosia smiled. Her settee was comfortable, and she had been on her feet all day, up and down Bath, conducting interviews for potential new clients. It was rather peaceful, seated here amid mature womanhood, with nothing to distract her.
Almost nothing. Unbidden, the memories of kissing Albemarle quite disgracefully in his carriage resurfaced once again.
She shivered. The memory of his hands around her body, his lips kissing a trail down her neck…
She should not have kissed him. It was most indecorous, and worse, he would now have quite the wrong idea about her intentions. She had meant what she said to him that day in the garden after his ridiculous proposal, that she could not possibly even consider it.
Theodosia was his matchmaker. Earls did not marry matchmakers!
That had been three days ago. Se had managed to keep her hands away from him during that time—although she had been forced to avoid his a few times, hating herself, knowing all she wanted was to give in to temptation.
But she must not. As Theodosia drank her tea, thankfully now cool enough to swallow, she tried not to think of the Earl of Lenskeyn.
It was easier said than done. Her host, Lady Howard, was Albemarle’s sister-in-law, widow to his brother. There was a painting of the two brothers on the wall, painted at least twenty years ago, but one could still see the handsome man she knew so well in the youthful face of the elder boy.
“And I hear your eldest is to be married!”
“No, actually, ’tis my second—but they are twins, you see, so in many ways, it hardly matters which is to marry first,” corrected Mrs. Lymington with a self-satisfied smile. “The Duke of Larnwick, don’t you know? A fine man, such a good connection for our Isabella. Still, we must find a good match for Olivia! Our youngest is not out, and…”
Theodosia made a mental note to inquire, delicately, of course, as to the youngest Miss Lymington’s age. If Miss Isabella Lymington were to be married soon, then there would be another Lymington available to join Theodosia’s circle.
Too rich for poor Mr. Birch’s youngest, and too plain, if the rumors were true, for Mr. Croft. If she had the same dowry as her older sisters, perhaps one for…
Theodosia swallowed. Well. Albemarle. There would be at least twenty years between them, but that had not stopped many a societal match. Indeed, some marriages were all the better for the husband having a few more years of maturity and wisdom.
The thought of introducing the earl to the youngest Miss Lymington made her stomach churn.
Was it not enough that she was so indecorous as to kiss one of her clients? A gentleman for whom she should be spending every waking hour finding a bride for? No, it was worse. She was even considering not introducing him to ladies who would be most suitable, just because she felt…
Attached to him. She would not permit herself to consider it any more than that.
“And there is no animosity between your girls?” Mrs. Coulson asked skeptically. “No ill-feeling between Isabella and Olivia, for example, due to the younger getting married before the elder?”
There was too much of hesitation from Mrs. Lymington for her next words to be credible. “No, to be sure, no animosity whatsoever. They are the best of friends, always have been, and I am sure always will.”
Theodosia smiled as she sipped her tea. One of the wonderful things about gatherings like this, and she had to applaud Lady Howard for its organization, was to invite just enough people who liked the sound of their own voices. Lady Romeril and Mrs. Chesworth were perfect examples of this. They could continue conversations in empty rooms, and the gentle chatter ensured that ladies like herself could merely sit and enjoy the afternoon.
Mrs. Marnion moved to help herself to more tea on the sideboard, and the portrait of the Howard brothers came into Theodosia’s focus again.
She smiled as she looked into the painted gaze of Albemarle.
She prided herself on her ability to judge a gentleman, often within minutes. From the end of her first interview with Albemarle and his mother, she had known he was rude, arrogant, opinionated, and dismissive of others.
The more she became acquainted with him, the more she saw through that façade. True, he was rude and considered his opinions far superior to those around him.
But those were merely shields designed to keep out the world. The earl had hidden from society, and so society had deemed him as unworthy of its attention.
Whether it was her directness, her forcefulness, her inability to be cowed by him…Theodosia did not know. However she had done it, she had broken through the barrier Albemarle had put up against the world and seen him for who he was.
And liked him. Was attracted to him, in fact, a thought that made her whole body shiver.
He made her smile. He said the things she only thought. In a life ruled by convention and society’s expectations, Theodosia had rarely done anything she wanted just for herself.
Albemarle did. He made her want to throw off her shawl and go dancing in the rain.
When would she see him again? They were both invited to another party in a few days, she had seen to that—but she ached for him now. Not just his kisses, which she had decidedly promised herself she would not permit herself to enjoy again, but for his company. His laugh. His sarcastic view of the world that did not darken it but merely illuminated it in a new way.
“Marry me, Theodosia.”
She smiled. After kissing for nigh on twenty minutes in his carriage right outside her rooms, perhaps she should start to take his protestations of affection seriously. After all, she could not continue to just kiss the man in secret.
At some point, she would have to make a decision. Maybe—
“Miss Ashbrooke? Are you quite well?”
Theodosia blinked. Their host was in mourning, a gown of the deepest black flowing down her, making her young face look far more lined. She was staring at Theodosia with a concerned expression, and all the other ladies in the room were staring, too.
The rare sensation of discomfort in a public setting crept over her, prickling her skin and making her corset feel a little too tight.
But she was not society’s most prodigious matchmaker for nothing.
“I do apologize,” she said gracefully, smiling around at the ladies. “I must admit myself utterly absorbed in thoughts of the Seton wedding and how wonderful it was. One of the risks of being such a successful matchmaker, I suppose!”
A few of the ladies smiled, while Lady Romeril snorted and muttered something to Mrs. Marnion.
Mrs. Chesworth did not look convinced and said tartly, “Ah, but it was not the wedding you had originally organized, was it? That poor Miss Lloyd, I wonder what she thought of it all!”
It was not a new perspective to Theodosia, for she had heard it before, whispered when others thought she could not hear them.
And of course, Mrs. Chesworth’s only daughter was already married, removing the need for a matchmaker to befriend her. That meant she could be direct with the woman—although careful, naturally, to ensure that any other mamas in the room did not hear her.
After all, her son-in-law was the Duke of Axwick, and little Tabby Chesworth had managed that on her own. Theodosia could not help but be impressed, nor wonder whether the duke could introduce a few more ladies into her circle.
“No, it was not the originally planned wedding—to the untrained eye,” Theodosia said smoothly, reaching for her cup of tea. “But what I needed to do was make Charles—I beg your pardon, the Duke of Orrinshire—come to his senses. He needed to discover on his own, with a little help of course, that the woman he really wanted and was best suited to was right before him.”
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Chesworth haughtily.
Yes, the Orrinshire affair had been far wilder than most of her matches typically were, but there was always an anomaly now and again.
Theodosia took a sip of tea before nodding. “It was a close call in the end, far closer than I had expected, but the right people wed in the end.”
She was gratified to see a few nodding heads of agreement around the room and had to hide her smile as Mrs. Chesworth rose, looking a little ruffled, to help herself to more tea from the corner of the room.
As the conversation in the room grew, Theodosia helped herself to another biscuit. The sugary confection crumbled in her mouth, and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the taste.
Money was never exactly restricted. After paying off those foolish acquired debts, she made a good living from her work and had been careful in saving a fair amount each time a bill was paid. She had a tidy little nest egg that should see her through retirement if she ever decided to retire.
That approach did mean, however, that biscuits, cakes, and other sweet things were few and far between at home. Any opportunity to taste their delights…
“I must say, I did not realize you took such a close interest in the relationships of your clients,” said Mrs. Lymington, rising from her seat to position herself closer to the matchmaker. “You seem…well, so absorbed by them.”
Theodosia nodded. The poor woman. Four daughters, and even with dowries of thirty thousand pounds each, there were few eligible men of that weight to go around.
“Yes,” she said aloud, “I dedicate myself to my clients, much like a mother would. In many ways, they become my children. I have no offspring of my own, you see, and so I take them under my wing and try to find the best places for them to be happy. ’Tis a rewarding thing to do in life.”
The conversation seemed to have focused on her for far longer than anyone else, and Theodosia was starting to feel a little strange. It was rare that she was in the limelight.
“Tell me about Miss Isabella’s wedding plans,” she said to Mrs. Lymington, knowing full well this topic would entertain both of them and, most importantly, remove the spotlight from herself.
But before Mrs. Lymington could open her mouth, another voice spoke out.
“I heard that earl is giving you some trouble.”
Both Theodosia and Mrs. Lymington looked around to see Mrs. Marnion with an eyebrow raised.
“That’s what many people tell me,” she continued, elegantly sipping her tea with her little finger sticking out.
A rush of heat had flowed through Theodosia the moment Albemarle was hinted at. The idea that she was now a topic of gossip herself purely because of his antics…well, she should not be surprised. It was a little scandalous, however, for Mrs. Marnion to bring it up at Lady Howard’s tea party. Why, she was his sister-in-law.
Theodosia glanced at Lady Howard, but she did not appear to mind. She was sitting alone, watching the world go by through the window.
“No, of course not,” Theodosia said aloud, knowing Mrs. Marnion and probably half the room were waiting for her response. “I will find someone for him, eventually. ’Tis vital, as I am sure you can understand, Mrs. Marnion, that the suitability of his partner is balanced. An earl, you see…”
She allowed her voice to trail off delicately, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“Albemarle Howard, Earl of Lenskeyn,” said Lady Romeril quietly.
“Yes, I know of whom we are speaking,” said Theodosia a little tartly. Well, really! Did the old baggage think she could not keep up? “He is a little difficult at times, and admittedly is not to everyone’s tastes. Nevertheless, I am sure I will find someone who will put up with him.”
She laughed at the jest, but no one else in the room laughed with her.
It was at that moment that Lady Howard turned around and said, “Albemarle.”
The hairs on the back of Theodosia’s neck prickled. It could not be—fate would not be so cruel as to…
Turning, she saw Albemarle standing behind her, that crooked smile on his face, which he always had when looking at her. Her heart fluttered, breath caught in her throat.
He was smiling with that self-satisfied look, and she hurriedly tried to recall what she had just said as her cheeks burned.
“He is a little difficult at times, and admittedly is not to everyone’s tastes. Nevertheless, I am sure I will find someone who will put up with him.”
Theodosia swallowed. She was falling in love with him. There was no other explanation for this rush of feeling each time she saw him, the utterly unmanageable man that he was.
What was the one rule she had given herself, all those years ago when she had first start
ed out as matchmaker—the rule she had never broken?
Never fall in love with the client.
But Albemarle did not make it easy for her. There was something about him no other gentleman had ever sparked in her. Something very similar to a feeling she thought she would never feel again.
Every inch of her was on fire as she stared, transfixed. She was falling in love with him.
His smile broadened. “I do hope, Lady Howard, you do not mind if a gentleman ‘not to everyone’s tastes’ joins the party?”
Theodosia whipped around to look at his sister-in-law, who smiled wanly and rose from her seat by the window.
“Of course not,” she said quietly. “No brother-in-law of mine will ever be unwelcome here. Do you know Mrs. Lymington?”
With all the gracefulness of a well-practiced hostess, she swept the earl toward the woman in the room with the richest unmarried daughters. Theodosia had to give her that; the woman was a natural.
“You know, I have not yet had the immense pleasure,” said Albemarle smoothly, taking the hand of the woman and kissing it gently. “But I have to admit, I have had the pleasure of speaking with your daughter, Miss Olivia, and what a charming woman she has grown to be.”
Mrs. Lymington simpered and invited him to sit beside her, proudly looking around the room to ensure everyone heard the compliment the earl had given her daughter.
“Now, you must tell me,” he continued, leaning slightly toward her and placing his hand on her arm, “how you managed to have so many pretty daughters and keep so much of your own beauty! You are a marvel, Mrs. Lymington. Do tell us how you did it.”
Theodosia watched in horror as Albemarle started to charm Mrs. Lymington. He used all the tricks she had taught him, flattery, careful listening, compliments, the gentle hand on the arm—everything!
She should have been proud. She should have been silently applauding Albemarle for his excellent command of the skills he had learned in only a few weeks.
But shards of jealousy were stabbing through her heart. How could he speak to her like that, be that close to her when she was just a few feet away!
Always the Matchmaker (Never the Bride Book 8) Page 10