The Matchmaker's Match

by Jessica Nelson

  Her runner? As in Bow Street? Spencer forced his face to blankness despite the questions ricocheting through his mind. Lady Amelia might have much more happening in her life than strained familial relationships.

  She nodded to Dukes, back straight and that no-nonsense tilt to her chin lending her an air of authority. “Very well. Would you show him to the parlor while I finish with Lord Ashwhite?”

  “Certainly.” Dukes bowed and disappeared from the doorway.

  “Before we were interrupted, you made a proposition.” Lady Amelia turned to him. Whatever vulnerabilities he’d sensed only moments ago were gone, replaced by the sheen of pragmatism. “I must decline...again. As I said, I am not taking on new clients. It very well could be that this business of mine is ended. While I admire your persistence, you must stop now, for I do not foresee a change of mind or plans.” With that, she gave a quick jerk with her head as if to underscore the firmness of her words.

  “I am not one to give up lightly,” he warned her.

  “And neither am I.”

  Perplexed, feeling at a crossroads, he studied her. He had the strongest intuition that this lady could help him, and yet she refused. Lord, what now?

  He had a responsibility to the people of Ashwhite. Furthermore, he did not trust Dudley to look over the property the way he could. His fingers tapped against his legs as he worked through the situation. Lady Amelia looked flustered, though knowing her, she’d deny such a feeling.

  Her hands gave her away. She sported the most interesting look of sternness upon her face, but her fingers knotted within the folds of her dress, a rather pretty shade of pink that put roses in her cheeks. Or mayhap it was his words doing that.

  He met her eyes and saw the determination there. There was only one way he could think of to sway her. He moved closer so that she might see the sincerity upon his face.

  “My lady, might you consider my plight more seriously? It would probably be well to explain my need of a wife.”

  Her lids flickered and there was the barest hesitation of breath, so he proceeded. “It is not only for my well-being but also for the people who depend upon my property for their livelihoods. Ashwhite is a prosperous estate near Kent. Through different ventures and progressive farming methods, I’ve increased its profits and created a home for many.”

  Lady Amelia looked away, but her fingers had stilled their fidgeting.

  “It is my fear that should the estate leave my hands, the one to whom it is going may not manage it as well. I love my childhood home, and I love the people there.” His voice unexpectedly caught, for at that moment images from boyhood rose to his mind. Cook, with her flushed cheeks and wide smile. His old nanny, who now lived a happy life in a small cottage on the grounds. His childhood friends who’d grown to become the barons and rectors living nearby.

  “Truthfully, my lord, you make a compelling argument.” Lady Amelia raised her gaze to his, worrying her bottom lip. He saw the compassion radiating in her direct look and felt the first stirrings of hope. “I still must decline, however, for should I take on your case, it could ruin me.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

  “The wherefores are too complicated to speak of now, but I would like you to know I respect your desire to protect your people. If I could help, if I thought it were profitable for both of us, I would. Please believe me, my lord.” She placed her hand upon his arm.

  He looked down, felt the heat of her imprint against his sleeve. Her hand was small and delicate, with tapering fingers that hinted at her artistic temperament.

  “Perhaps someday I shall see your paintings,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. A heady sensation was taking over him, one he well recognized but did not care to resist. “Perhaps when I find a wife, I shall commission you for a portrait?”

  A fine blush spread across her face, and he decided that she felt the same strange pull he did. Not only that, but he’d rendered her speechless. His stare dropped to her lips, which parted ever so slightly.

  She stepped back quickly and would have lost her balance had her hand not still rested upon his arm. Her grip tightened. “My guest is waiting for me. I must go, but thank you...” She trailed off, sounding uncertain and perhaps afraid.

  He had much more experience than she in the ways of attraction. Whether she knew that about him or not, he wasn’t sure, but he bore the responsibility to put her at ease. He gave her a short bow and gently removed her touch from his arm. The absence of her hold left a curiously cool place upon his sleeve.

  Swallowing past the tightness of his throat, he smiled. “Thank you, my lady, for your time. I hope you might change your mind.”

  Her head shake was curt. “I fear not.” She backed to the door. “Perhaps I shall see you next week at Almack’s. Fare thee well, my lord.”

  He nodded as she left the room in a graceful sway of skirts. What an enigma, and yet...he had no idea why Eversham found her exasperating. Then again, he’d just discovered that his feelings toward her were not quite brotherly.

  He’d had these feelings before with other women. The emotions were short-lived and passed quickly. No doubt they would for Lady Amelia, as well. He let out a heavy sigh. It appeared this avenue led to a dead end. He might have to go about finding a wife the old-fashioned way.

  Soirees, balls and, worst of all, the throat-clutching, loathsome house party.

  Stifling a groan, he stalked out of the library. As he entered the small hallway, he noticed the parlor door remained open. Lady Amelia’s skirt was visible just past the entrance. A man’s voice carried into the hall.

  Had he said “Dudley”?

  Spencer glanced around. Not seeing the aging butler or any other servant, he ventured closer to the door.

  “Are you quite sure, Mr. Ladd?”

  “Yes, my lady. My information has been verified several times.”

  Lady Amelia responded, her voice low and refined. Spencer couldn’t catch her words. A puckish intention overrode good sense, and he strode into the parlor.

  They turned toward him, shocked. Lady Amelia with her sharp eyes and pretty mouth both rounding, and the runner who was surprisingly young and fit looking with a wild mane of hair that rode about a curiously blank face.

  Spencer made a neat bow and then straightened. “Please pardon my rudeness. I could not help but overhear your dialogue concerning Lord Dudley.”

  Lady Amelia, to her credit, remained composed. She curtsied and then beckoned him in. “Lord Ashwhite, this is Mr. Ladd. He is in my service on a special project.”

  They exchanged civilities, and then he looked to Lady Amelia and waited.

  She arched a brow at him. Sunlight streaming in through large windows glinted off the edge of her spectacles. Very well. He’d make the conversational overture. It did not matter to him in the least if Mr. Ladd found him rude.

  “I have an interest in Lord Dudley and will pay to hear what you have discovered about him, Ladd,” he said.

  The runner leaned on his heels and rocked a bit, his face a quiet study of consideration. At last he held out a palm. “A farthing will do.”

  “Done.” Spencer retrieved his money purse from his pocket and gave the man what he had asked for. He slipped a glance at Lady Amelia. Her face looked a tad pinched. He had the feeling she wanted to reprimand him, but not in front of the runner. An absurd sense of satisfaction settled over him.

  Mr. Ladd gave the piece a nip and then slid it into his pocket. His eyes, a remote brown, took in Spencer. He allowed the perusal and did his own. Shabby coat but expensive shoes. Clean nails and unkempt hair that looked, nevertheless, washed. This man might be a trusted source for Lady Amelia.

  “Mr. Ladd, if it is all the same to you, I will fill Lord Ashwhite in. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to this morning.”

  “An excellent notion, my lady.” The runner retrieved the coin but Spencer shook his head.

  “Keep it,” he said.

  After a
brief hesitation, Ladd nodded. He gave Spencer what felt like a warning look and then smiled at Lady Amelia. “Are you sure you’ll be safe in his company?”

  Spencer bristled. Did this man disapprove of him?

  Lady Amelia let out a delicate chuckle. “But of course, Mr. Ladd. He is a family friend. I do thank you for your most excellent work once again. You’re an asset to the agency.”

  To Spencer’s surprise, and possibly chagrin, he watched as Mr. Ladd’s impassive features took on a flush. The man bowed to Lady Amelia, murmured, “At your service” and left the room.

  Once again, Spencer was alone with Lady Amelia. Exactly what he wanted. A grin overtook his features. “My lady, you have information to share?”

  * * *

  “Tell me again why I am riding with you?” Lord Ashwhite sat in the corner of the open hackney Amelia had hailed. He looked quite perturbed, most likely because she hadn’t shared with him yet about Lord Dudley’s financial straits.

  Instead, she’d hustled out of the house, the need to see her brother more important than indulging a marquis’s curiosity.

  She did not own her own phaeton or curricle, which did not usually pose a problem because she was in walking distance of most everywhere she wished to go. When she traveled to Bath, she borrowed her brother’s landau.

  Arcs of sunlight from the window splayed against her dress but left the marquis across from her in shadows. She scowled at the man, whose arresting gaze irritated her to no end. Or did it stimulate? She shrugged off the unwelcome thought. Stuff and nonsense, that was all. Her life did not resemble a fluffy novel with its exciting tales and dashing heroes. No, real life required choices and practicality.

  “Well?” Lord Ashwhite prompted her.

  “I—uh—” Amelia’s mind scuttled for an answer whilst hardly remembering the question. Oh, yes. His annoying presence in the hackney.

  Summoning a bit of steel to her spine, she gave him an arch look. “You’ve disrupted my business for three days. If you must know, it is paramount that I see my brother this morn. I don’t have time to dillydally with you and your games.”

  “I told you, this is not a game,” he said languidly.

  “My mistake.” Her tone softened, for how could she not empathize with wanting to save a childhood home? “I have been blessed in that my brother inherited my father’s estate when my father died. He loves the people there as much as I do.”

  His bright eyes centered upon her face. “Then, you can imagine how I feel?”

  “Indeed.” She nodded slowly, gripping the seat as the hackney jolted over some unevenness in the road. “My trouble lies in wondering why you do not go about the traditional way of obtaining a wife. There are plenty of young women who would be delighted to marry you. A title, wealth and a good disposition cause many mammas to salivate.”

  His nose wrinkled, which caught Amelia by surprise. She felt an unwilling urge to smile.

  “As I have only three months in which to marry, there isn’t time to get to know the lady. I am not looking for a young miss. Ideally, my wife will be refined and mature. She must have a good sense of humor and live in a godly way.”

  Amelia cocked her head. “Do you mean to say her church attendance is important to you?”

  “No.” He leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees and clasping his hands together. “She must have a personal interest in God. A relationship with Jesus, if you will, that influences her daily living.”

  How absolutely intriguing. Amelia eyed him carefully. A marquis who felt Christian values were important. That Christianity should be a part of living rather than a Sunday ritual. Her own parents had been pious. She remembered the large ornate Bible on a table in the library... Where had that disappeared to?

  “Have I embarrassed you, Lady Amelia?” Lord Ashwhite’s winning smile bunched his cheeks. “Your brother finds my religious fervor baffling, and my friend Waverly finds it annoying.”

  “Not at all. I find it most impressive.” And attractive, though she certainly couldn’t say so.

  “Meeting such a lady is bound to be difficult, as most seem to bend their beliefs to reflect their company.”

  “Perhaps try a church?” Overhead the sunlight shifted with the hackney’s movements, and she adjusted her hat. Lord Ashwhite’s face moved out of shadow. “There are many societies that aid the less fortunate, and within those I’ve found a number of young women living out their lives in godly service.”

  “Might I attend such a meeting with you?” The question, while casually delivered, came with such a mischievous smirk that she felt tempted to rap his arm with her fan. Rather, she gave him a sidelong glance that felt a tad flirtatious.

  “Perhaps one day, my lord.”

  The hackney rumbled to a stop. Lord Ashwhite exited, and then held out his hand to her. The barest hesitation rippled through her. His mannerly approach could not stifle the fluttering that had resumed in her belly or the reluctance she felt in making contact with him.

  Nonsense.

  She summoned resolve and put her hand in his. Through her gloves she felt the gentle strength of his grip, his thumb resting lightly on her hand, his fingers curled around her palm, insurance against a fall. She could not meet his eyes for the emotion coursing through her. It would do no good to let this marquis see feeling plastered across her face.

  He spoke intelligently, listened to her ideas, danced like a dream and cared for his people. What of it? Many men did the same. There was no logic to the emotions stilting her thoughts. As soon as her slippers touched the cobblestones, he released her hand. She paid the hackney driver, and then they commenced to her brother’s front door.

  “I will pay back your fare,” Lord Ashwhite said as they mounted the steps to the door.

  “Certainly not.”

  “Indeed, or shall I call for my landau and offer you a ride home?”

  He was too charming, with that sun-induced twinkle in his eyes and that handsome curve about his lips. She adjusted her hat and gave him a prim look. “You’ll do no such thing, my lord.”

  Twisting forward, she rapped smartly on her brother’s door and steeled herself for a conflict.

  “You didn’t tell me about Lord Dudley,” he said abruptly.

  “Oh, dear... Well, now is not a good time. I do not wish to bandy about information where the servants might hear.”

  “I’m quite sure they know more than you do.” He paused. “That runner, Mr. Ladd, seems protective of you.”

  “Surely your imagination.” She rapped on the door again, harder this time, more desperately.

  “Have you been doing business with him for a long time?”

  “You ask too many questions.” She raised her hand to knock again, but the door swung open, much to her relief. Confounded man. Why had he taken such an interest? It would not bode well for her should he decide to impart what he knew to her brother.

  Eversham’s butler showed her into the library, her favorite room, as he well knew. He left the door open while he went to rouse her brother.

  “I see old Ev’s sleeping habits haven’t changed.”

  “They attended Lady Blight’s rout last evening.” Amelia perused the shelves for something new to borrow. Unfortunately her sister-in-law was more of a talker than a reader. More was the pity.

  “And you?” Lord Ashwhite questioned.

  “My, but speculation does seem to be your favorite game.”

  “Whilst you excel at charades.”

  Despite herself, she smiled. “Really, my lord, must we engage in verbal battle?” She turned and unexpectedly found him behind her. Breath caught, heart pumping, she paused.

  “Yes, my lady, we really must, for I intend to win at this game.”

  “I do not lose easily,” she said, refusing to back up. In fact, she’d give him a taste of his own antics. An exciting quiver of anticipation arched through her as she stepped forward. Only inches away.

  His cravat was tied exceptionally wel
l. The breadth of his shoulders surpassed her own, and she pointed her face upward, fixing him with a determined look that she hoped did not belie the curious thrum stretching her nerves wire taut. To her surprise, an indefinable look crossed his face.

  What was that in his eyes? For a moment, it seemed as though he swayed toward her. But then his features smoothed, and politeness blanketed his expression.

  He backed up and made a terse little bow. “Forgive me for intruding upon your space.”

  Suddenly uncertain, she nodded a pardon.

  “Am I interrupting?” Her brother stood in the doorway, looking displeased. His forehead creased as it was wont to do when he became upset. Deep circles ringed his eyes.

  “Not at all.” Smoothly Amelia skirted Lord Ashwhite and went to her brother. She clasped his hands and drew him into the room. “And I do apologize for waking you, but this cannot wait. Is Lady Eversham asleep still?”

  “Yes, and not to be disturbed.”

  They sat on the couch while Lord Ashwhite continued his elegant stance against the wall shelves. Amelia acutely felt the heat of his gaze upon her but chose to ignore it. She hoped Ev would dismiss his friend, but when her brother called for morning tea, that hope withered.

  She took a deep, fortifying breath. Very well. Lord Ashwhite would find out her circumstances soon enough should things not go the way she wished.

  “Did Ash come with you, Amelia?” Ev steepled his fingers. She noted the clumsy knot of his cravat and felt a pang of guilt for showing up so early.

  “Yes.”

  His brows rose, waiting, but she wouldn’t say more. He’d already interfered in her life enough. And she’d let him know that, regardless of Lord Ashwhite’s presence.

  “We had business to discuss.” The low rumble of his voice interrupted the tension between her and Eversham.

  Amelia gave Lord Ashwhite a warning look before turning to her brother. “I received your note, brother, and am most disturbed. Could we discuss your plans in private?” Perhaps not the politest way of ridding the room of Lord Ashwhite, but she had to at least try. He was distracting in too many ways.

  “Ash can hear whatever you have to say. It’s good for him to learn what happens when forced to choose between relatives and a wife.”