The Matchmaker

by Kay Hooper

—

  “The storm’s over,” she said a long time later as she reached for her corset. He was dressing as well, and though she didn’t feel uncomfortable or self-conscious with him, she’d been careful not to turn her back to him. He hadn’t seen her naked back, and she didn’t want him to. Not yet, at least. She didn’t want the peaceful, curiously sweet mood between them to be damaged.

  But now he eyed her corset with a frown as he was buttoning his shirt, and she went still, waiting.

  “We’re going to have to talk about that thing,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Julia didn’t move, and her voice was soft. “All my clothes are designed for it, and they don’t fit without it. Adrian insisted.”

  Cyrus looked at her for a long moment, then stepped closer and turned her face up gently as he bent to kiss her. Smiling a little, he said quietly, “If you’re determined to be fashionable, I won’t protest too much—but aside from the fact you don’t need any artificial device to look beautiful, that style of corset is too rigid and too tight to be anything but dangerous. There are less drastic designs available, and I hope you’ll agree to choose one of them. Your clothes can be altered.”

  She drew a short breath, a flicker of relief showing in her eyes. “I—I hate this thing,” she said. “I hate the fashion, too, when it’s taken to extremes.”

  “Good, then we agree. Don’t tighten your stays any more than necessary for now, and we’ll see about making a few changes first thing tomorrow. All right?”

  Julia nodded, realizing only then that she’d been unnerved because he had frowned. It had been an automatic reaction, and even though she despised her own timidity, she knew it would take time—as well as a better understanding of Cyrus and trust in his rationality—before she could stop fearing punishment for the slightest mistake or problem. He seemed to realize that too.

  “Julia my sweet, never feel you have to do anything just to please me.” His low voice was very gentle. “You have an intelligent mind and will of your own, as much a part of you as those beautiful green eyes. If you don’t like what I say, tell me so; if you don’t agree with anything I ask of you, tell me. Don’t be afraid to be honest with me. No matter what you said or did, I could never hurt you.”

  She almost believed him. Nodding again, she began fastening her stays, eyeing him uncertainly as he stepped away and continued dressing. It would have been very easy for her to believe what he said, but she didn’t dare. Not yet. Shattered illusions hurt too much to be risked.

  “What time is it?” she asked as he opened his pocket watch and studied it.

  “After six. We’d better start back.”

  Julia was both surprised it was so late and surprised so much had happened in a few short hours. The rain had stopped only minutes before, and since there was no break in the clouds to the west, the sun hadn’t made an appearance; it was still like twilight outside, and could have been any hour before nightfall.

  Cyrus waited until she put on her blouse so he could fasten the buttons for her, then went to get the horses. While he was gone, she got into her skirt and collected as many hairpins as she could find on the floor. It was a struggle to get her hair into some kind of order without a brush or comb, but she managed to wrestle the heavy mass into a reasonably neat knot and secure it with the pins.

  There were, she thought with an unexpected spurt of amusement, definite drawbacks to taking a lover in a partially completed house with few amenities. Not that she minded.

  Cyrus had left his coat. She picked it up, cast a last look around at what had been a haven from more than a sudden storm, then blew out the lamp and made her way through the house. Oddly enough, she wasn’t worried about the turmoil ahead when Adrian discovered she’d left him. Whatever happened, she had burned her bridges and there was no going back.

  Physically, she felt better than she had in a long time. She was relaxed, yet she’d never been so alive, as if all her senses had been heightened by the joining with Cyrus. There was a faint soreness in her thighs, and a tenderness deep in her body, but what she felt was more awareness than discomfort or pain. She was different.

  It was a difference she liked. She stood at the top of the steps leading outside and waited for Cyrus, smiling as she smoothed his coat over her arm. The storm had dropped the temperature considerably so that it felt almost like autumn, and the air had a fresh-scrubbed smell. Gray clouds still lay heavily overhead, but they didn’t look particularly threatening now, and it was obvious the storm was over.

  It was a few minutes before she heard the sounds of the buggy, and she looked up to see Cyrus driving it around the corner of the house. He’d tied his horse to the back of the buggy. Neither animal was wet, so she assumed there was an old barn or some other shelter she hadn’t seen. It didn’t seem important.

  She went down the steps to meet him, and held his coat up as he got out of the buggy. “You forgot this.” She had to stand on tiptoe to hold it for him as he shrugged into it, and thought again how big he was.

  “Thank you, sweet.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her lightly, then helped her into the buggy.

  “I blew out the lamp,” she told him as she settled into the padded seat, wondering vaguely if he intended to make it a habit to kiss her no matter where they were. She had a peculiar idea that he would.

  “Thank you for that too,” he said, getting into the buggy beside her and picking up the reins.

  Julia didn’t speak again until they were on the road to Richmond, and when she did her words were hesitant. “Cyrus? Will I live with you? In your house?”

  The question surprised him. He shifted the reins to one hand and slipped his arm around her, drawing her closer to his side. “Of course, love.”

  She glanced up at him. “Lissa too?”

  “When she isn’t at school and until she marries, certainly.”

  “I was…just wondering,” she murmured.

  Cyrus was puzzled for a moment, but then he realized what Julia must have been thinking, and he chuckled. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I’ve been unclear about future plans, haven’t I?”

  “I shouldn’t have asked—”

  “Julia, you have every right to ask. My only excuse for not making myself plain is that I haven’t been thinking much beyond the utter delight of being with you.”

  The glance she sent him this time was startled, and he chuckled again.

  “Sweetheart, as soon as you’re free of Drummond, we’re getting married.”

  “What?” That was so unexpected she could only stare up at him in total shock. Married? He wanted to marry her? But he wasn’t a marrying man, everyone said he wasn’t, and besides, why would a man like Cyrus Fortune choose a woman like her?

  In a chiding tone he said, “I know I’m considered to have few graces and a tendency to do things my own way, but I’m really not such a reprobate as you seem to believe. Ruining your excellent reputation by setting you up as my mistress would be bad enough; taking Lissa into my house as well would be inexcusable.”

  “I didn’t think you—cared about reputations,” she managed to say unsteadily.

  “Not mine, no. But I know too well how important a woman’s reputation is to her. And how cruel society can be when the most rigid rules are broken.”

  After a long moment she said very quietly, “I won’t marry to protect my reputation.”

  Cyrus glanced at her, and immediately drew the horse to a stop. She looked so numb he couldn’t bear it. He gathered her into his arms and merely held her for a moment, then pulled back just a bit and gazed down at her gravely. “Julia, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “You said—”

  “I said what I did because I thought the reason would persuade you more than any other. I’m sorry, sweetheart—that was inexcusable.” He cupped her face in his hands and held her eyes steadily with his own. “I want to marry you because I love you, not for any other reason.”

  His eyes weren’t fair, she th
ought, they just weren’t fair. “I don’t know…I can’t think,” she whispered.

  Cyrus kissed her gently, then kept an arm around her as he picked up the reins and urged the horse on again. “I won’t force you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel you have no other choice. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you and Lissa; you can be sure of that. If marriage—to me or anyone—is repugnant to you after what you’ve been through, I’ll understand. I’ll do my best to change your mind, because I believe we belong together, but I’ll try not to pressure you.”

  Her thoughts were awhirl. It had never crossed her mind that he might want to marry her, and she didn’t know how she felt about the idea. It would, of course, make her situation and Lissa’s much more acceptable in the eyes of society if she eventually married the man under whose protection she was living. But she wasn’t at all certain she wouldn’t rather take her chances with society’s condemnation than tie herself legally or morally to another man. Even Cyrus.

  At least there would be time for her to think; she was grateful for that. Even if Adrian were completely agreeable to a divorce, the process would require months; since he was extremely unlikely to be agreeable, it would take longer. Perhaps by then she’d know what was best for her to do.

  Julia felt Cyrus tense at that moment, and when she looked up at him, her thoughts scattered. He was staring straight ahead, his face almost masklike in its stillness, and his black eyes were filled with a radiant intelligence so intense it was almost shocking. She only just stopped herself from crying out, and was vaguely surprised her voice sounded so normal when she said, “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t see it.” He blinked, then looked down at her, the intensity gone or hidden. But his expression was grim. “We’d better hurry.” He slapped the reins against the horse’s rump to urge it on.

  She felt a cold touch of fear, but bewilderment as well. How did he know something was wrong? It was precisely like the moment he’d slipped the wedding band off her finger, something which should have been impossible. How could he do such a thing?

  Cyrus was silent as he drove the buggy rapidly into Richmond. He had to slow down once he reached the city streets; the break in the weather had apparently stirred the populace, and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of cooler temperatures to run errands or simply get a little fresh air.

  He swore softly as he threaded the buggy through brisk traffic, using both hands on the reins now to guide the horse. Worried, Julia sat very still beside him, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She didn’t think about what anyone might say after seeing her with Cyrus in an open buggy with his horse trotting behind; all she could think of was the worst possibility that had occurred to her. If Adrian had come home. And Lissa was there.

  They reached the elegant neighborhood where both the Drummond house and Cyrus’s were situated, and given the direction they’d come from, it was easier for Cyrus to pull the buggy over and stop across the street from the Drummond house. There wasn’t so much traffic on this residential street; a couple of carriages tooled along briskly, quite a few people were strolling along the sidewalks, and far down the block a heavily laden ice wagon pulled by two huge, placid draft horses rumbled slowly toward them.

  Cyrus got out of the buggy and handed the reins to Julia. “You wait here, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll go and get Lissa.”

  “I should—”

  “No.” He covered one of her hands with his and squeezed gently. “Wait here, please.”

  “All right,” she murmured, a little pale.

  He turned and paused to wait for a carriage to pass. Glancing to one side, he saw Noel standing a few yards away on the sidewalk, and couldn’t repress a faint flicker of amusement even though he was feeling unsettled and worried. His friend looked as if he’d been stuffed, mouth slightly ajar and bushy eyebrows climbing his forehead in surprise.

  Noel took a step toward the buggy, then stopped, his head swiveling around as a door slammed violently across the street. Cyrus looked quickly as well, and his heart lurched when he saw Lissa running from the house. Her face was paper-white except for the brutally plain, reddened mark on her cheek; her hair was falling down and her white blouse was torn away from one shoulder.

  Weeping hysterically, she darted across the street and, though tears must have made her half blind, unerringly found Cyrus and flung herself into his arms.

  “He—he set the house on fire!” she sobbed, clinging to Cyrus with terrified strength. “And he has a gun! He said he’d kill Julia and me—”

  Immediately, Cyrus swung her up and put her in the buggy beside Julia. As the younger sister collapsed against the elder, he said sharply, “Drive to my house, Julia, now.”

  The instinct to obey was so strong, she lifted the reins automatically, but then said, “No, not without you—”

  “Julia—”

  A sudden report from across the street made him swing around again, and he saw Drummond stumble from the house, waving a pistol—which he had accidentally or with mad deliberation fired into the air. His clothing was disheveled, his blond hair standing up wildly, and his eyes were utterly insane. A torrent of filthy words and hideous threats poured from his mouth, shouted rather than spoken, and as he staggered down the sidewalk toward the street, his demented gaze was fixed on Cyrus and the two women in the buggy. He was trying to get the pistol cocked, using both shaking hands in the attempt.

  Forever afterward Cyrus remembered that scene as if Mathew Brady himself had made a photograph to freeze the moment in time. Passersby, motionless now, shocked, stared at an armed madman, at the sight of flames licking windows and the open doorway of the elegant house behind him.

  Cyrus turned his head swiftly, his eyes locating the plodding ice wagon less than fifty yards away. He looked back at Drummond just as the man stumbled into the street and lifted the muzzle of the pistol with a hoarse, triumphant cry.

  At the last moment he must have heard the thunder of runaway horses and a massive wagon bearing down on him. But by then it was too late.

  Chapter 9

  “No one can determine what caused the horses to bolt,” Noel said softly. “I can’t understand it. I know those animals; both nearly twenty years old and completely without vices, and they’ve been plodding up and down these streets for a decade without shying at anything.”

  Cyrus was standing by the fireplace in his study, a forearm resting on the mantel as he gazed down at the cold hearth. He was expressionless, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t look up, or respond to his friend’s low words.

  Noel tried again, unable to forget the quick, curiously intense sidelong glance he had seen his friend throw the oncoming ice wagon—just before the placid horses had inexplicably bolted. “Did you hear what the doc said? Virtually every bone in Drummond’s body was broken.”

  “Don’t expect me to grieve for him,” Cyrus said.

  Sighing, Noel decided some questions couldn’t be put into words simply because they weren’t meant to be asked. “There won’t be anything left of the Drummond house,” he offered. “We’re lucky the storm hit today, or the whole neighborhood would have gone up in flames.”

  “I know. At least Drummond’s servants managed to get out, and no one else was hurt.”

  Perfectly aware that he should leave, since it was nearly midnight, Noel remained because he was determined to get at least a few answers. “How’s Lissa?” he asked.

  “The doctor says she’ll be all right,” Cyrus replied. “Shock and bruises, mostly. We put her to bed about an hour ago, and Julia’s been sitting with her.”

  “How is Julia?”

  Cyrus half turned to face his friend, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the mantel. A slight smile curved his mouth. “Did anybody ever tell you you’re a damned nosy bastard, Noel?”

  “You’ve told me frequently,” his friend rep
lied without offense. “But that was a perfectly proper question.”

  “I know. It’s the ones I can see trembling on your lips I’m leery of.”

  A short bark of a laugh escaped Noel. “Get your answers ready. In the meantime, how is Julia?”

  “Numb. In control. Withdrawn. Shall I go on?”

  “She was leaving him, wasn’t she?”

  “Don’t cross the line, Noel,” Cyrus warned quietly.

  Noel leaned forward in his chair, staring at Cyrus. “I think our friendship can bear it. I hope so, anyway. Besides, it’s a fairly obvious conclusion, and one I’m not alone in reaching. Cy, people are already talking.”

  “Do you think I give a damn?”

  “On your own account, no. But what about Julia? At least two families offered to take her and Lissa in, and you refused both of them. As if you had a right to. A lot of people heard that, and took note. So the eyes of the curious are gawking at a very recent widow and her young sister staying with a bachelor to whom they are not related—who has a reputation for fleeting affairs. By morning every inquisitive soul in the city is going to be chewing on that little tidbit. Drummond’s obvious insanity might make some people hesitate to brand Julia with a scarlet A, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “I’m going to marry her,” Cyrus said quietly.

  Though those words from his friend would have utterly confounded Noel weeks before, he was curiously unsurprised to hear them now. He didn’t even wonder if the motive was to protect Julia’s reputation; he knew Cyrus too well to believe such nonsense. “Well, it’ll eventually give the gossip a new direction,” he said wryly.

  “I mean immediately. Next week at the latest. If I can persuade Julia, that is.”

  That was a surprise. “For God’s sake, Cy, her husband isn’t even in the ground yet!”

  Cyrus hesitated, studying his friend, then said, “Noel, Drummond didn’t just go insane—he’s been insane for a long time. Years, at least. He hid it well, except in private. He didn’t hide it from her. No one who knew what Julia’s gone through could ever condemn her for not mourning him.”