The Matchmaker's Match

by Jessica Nelson

  “There must be some mistake.” Dukes would never steal...but perhaps hunger had forced him to it? Though she was gladdened he hadn’t passed away, her hands remained clammy. Newgate would not keep a feeble old man alive for long. What could she do?

  Summoning her resolve, she took a deep breath and patted Sally’s shoulder. “Thank you, Sally. You’ve done the right thing in coming to me. I shall remedy this at once.” With what money remained to be seen.

  “Oh, thank ye!” Sally bobbed her head and curtsied. “I better return to my duties.”

  “It was good to see you.”

  “And ye, my lady.”

  The maid scurried out, and with her retreat, Amelia’s strength waned. Trembling, she leaned against the wall and dragged in a heavy breath.

  “How can I help?” Lord Ashwhite took her hand, his thumb rubbing circles against the tops of her fingers.

  “I have relied too much on you.” She closed her eyes. Just for a moment. Just to gather her wits. Which, unfortunately, were being scattered by Lord Ashwhite’s quite comforting touch. She yanked her hand away. “Why did you follow me? Our discussion is done. I am not finding you a wife. I realize it is dishonorable of me to go back on my contract.” She swallowed hard, for her spontaneous declaration the other night certainly rankled now. “However, my brother’s wife’s health is more important than my...hobbies.”

  Lord Ashwhite’s eyes narrowed. “We had a deal.”

  She wet her lips. “You’re right, but please understand my position.”

  “I do.” His face softened, and the gentle look in his eyes curled warmth through her belly. “You’re doing what you feel is the right thing. But I have to do what I think is right, as well. And saving my land, the people who rely on me—that’s my priority. I won’t stop until it’s done.”

  She shook her head, despising the discombobulated feeling lurking inside. Normally decisions appeared cut-and-dried for her. But now there was so much to weigh. Her brother. Lord Ashwhite’s tenants. And Dukes. She had to take care of Dukes somehow.

  The stipend she had from her mother... Would that be enough? She squared her shoulders.

  “First I must make a list.” Yes, that was what she would do. A list. She pushed past Lord Ashwhite and strode into the main room. The scent of perfume and flickering candlelight battered her senses, and suddenly the walls were tilting toward her...

  “My lady, you are not well. Perhaps a bit of fresh air will do.” Ashwhite took her elbow and prodded her toward a door that led to a patio. His fingers were firm and strong. She knew from experience gardens waited outside, with curved walking paths and ornate benches. The dizzy feeling persisted, a heavy pressure against her skull.

  It was the silly old corset she wore. The new maid had drawn the strings far too tight. She tried to take a deeper breath and only managed to see stars. Her steps faltered.

  “Take care, my lady.” Ashwhite’s breath ruffled past her ear, intimate, and his grip tightened. “We’re almost to a bench.”

  They moved through the door, and humid air engulfed them. The moon cast a bright radiance that clarified the path before them whilst darkening the shrubbery into muted shadows.

  “Spectacular, isn’t it?” Lord Ashwhite tilted his head up, staring.

  Amelia studied the moon, too, feeling the quietness of the moment, the gentle hum of insects and muffled sounds of music. Lord Ashwhite’s arm was still linked with hers. The lunar glow illuminated his features. And then he turned to look at her. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a quirk to his lips, that caused a different type of dizziness to pass over her.

  Was she floating? Because she felt the solid ground beneath her feet, but her head was...starry, or was it her heart beating unnaturally fast? Yes, that was it. Too much blood flow to the brain.

  “Are you feeling better now?” he asked.

  “I think I should sit,” she murmured. Perhaps that would calm her racing heart. This beastly attraction. It was certainly causing problems with her equilibrium. “Stop smiling like that,” she said, crossness snipping her words.

  “Like what?” His eyes creased at the corners.

  Oafish man.

  She shot him a scowl but allowed him to lead her to a bench swathed in moon glow. Gratefully she sank onto its cool surface, resting her fingers on the edge. Lord Ashwhite sat beside her, and his scent surrounded her. Sandalwood soap, mostly. Perhaps the slightest hint of cologne.

  Discreetly she inhaled.

  “What happened in there?”

  “Too much perfume,” she said simply. Her vision was clearing nicely and her pulse slowing. Very good. All she’d needed was to sit and catch her breath.

  “You’re not having corset troubles again, are you?” He chuckled at his reference to the first time they’d met and his comment that dancing could relieve an overly starched corset. She resisted the urge to swat him. That would be quite unladylike, though, oh, so tempting.

  “This is not a laughing matter,” she said sternly. “Dukes is in real trouble. I must deliver him from Newgate. Somehow.” She felt a frown tugging at her lips, but she would not give in to such an insidious expression of defeat.

  “What do you propose to do? Break him out?” Lord Ashwhite let out a short laugh. “If Dukes committed a crime, getting him released might be nigh unto impossible.”

  “But if he only owes money, if he stole because he was hungry, it may be that I can pay his fines. Then I must bring him home. I don’t know why Eversham didn’t hire him in the first place.”

  “Your brother is strapped for cash.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Hazarding a guess. He has invested in Lord Dudley’s scheme, which tells me he’s looking for quick money. How did the estate’s crops do this year?”

  “Why, I don’t know...but Ev has an income from serving in the House of Lords, does he not?”

  “It wouldn’t cover the costs of maintaining an estate. Food, clothes, servants.”

  “Doctor’s fees.” Poor Harriet.

  “Do you really believe you’ve caused her miscarriages?” Ashwhite peered at her, his face kind and handsome.

  She swallowed hard. “Logically, I know I cannot have caused such a thing. But it is said extreme stress can provoke illnesses, and I worry that my being a burden on Ev has transferred to her. And now there is Dukes and whatever costs he might incur.” Her chest constricted. “I cannot leave him there. I just cannot.”

  “You’re very devoted to him.”

  “He’s been with my family since I was a little girl.”

  “And when your parents died?”

  “Yes.” She blinked, surprised by how the memory snuck up on her and stole her breath. She hadn’t expected still to feel pain over such a long-ago tragedy.

  His hand covered hers. “I’m sorry for your loss, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Ashwhite.”

  “About this list you mentioned.”

  “Rescue Dukes is the first thing I must do.”

  “And then?”

  “The cottage I looked into has unfortunately been let to someone else. With Lady Eversham’s malady, I didn’t feel right in leaving. Once she is recovered, I think I should permanently remove myself from their lives.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re speaking from emotion and not practicality.”

  “It’s not practical to leave so that she and my brother can live a restful life, free from worrying over me and my wayward decisions? Then, what, pray tell, do you suggest I do?”

  “As much as you love your independence, it is my observation that your wish for a ‘permanent’ leave is due to hurt feelings. It’s as simple as that.”

  She felt her spine stiffening. “That’s an insufferable thing to say.”

  “But it is the truth, isn’t it, my lady?” He leaned forward, his eyes piercing, the pupils huge and dark. “This outer mask of pragmatism you wear hides
a tender and hurting heart. You should tell your brother how you feel. Stop trying to control everything.”

  He was very close to her.

  An odd sensation stole over her, traveling through her limbs and filling her with a heady anticipation. Her heart tapped a sluggish beat against her sternum. Her stomach clenched as she waited...

  Her throat was tight, and her senses reeled from the onslaught of moonlight and sandalwood. The moment stretched between them, suspended by a connection she could not bring herself to break.

  Then he blinked. Backed away. Took the initiative she could not find. Her pulse roared in her ears. From relief or disappointment, she wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll help you with Dukes,” he said.

  In his eyes she saw resolution. Steadiness. She wet her lips and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Now she owed him. Perhaps she could still assist him in finding a wife. If she didn’t accept payment, then technically she wouldn’t be violating her word to her brother. It was only fair to follow through on her promise to Lord Ashwhite.

  His tenants didn’t deserve Lord Dudley’s management. Not when Lord Ashwhite loved his home and wanted to care for it. And she could make it happen. She did not doubt her abilities to find him a wife one whit.

  So why did she suddenly feel so hesitant?

  * * *

  The next morning found Amelia creeping up to Harriet’s door. She carried a breakfast tray. A truce of sorts. She also needed to ask her sister-in-law about the upcoming house party. There was still time to cancel. Though invitations had been sent, a menu must be created and an orchestra appointed.

  Why had she planned this soiree? She reminded herself that she’d been forced into this house. Manipulated, even. Once she spoke with Harriet, she intended to pay Lord Ashwhite a visit. After last night’s promise of help, she knew she’d need to move fast to rescue Dukes. He couldn’t withstand Newgate for long.

  She nudged the bedroom door open, hoping her sister-in-law would not order her out. They’d engaged in many verbal battles in the past, neither backing down from an argument. Sometimes Amelia felt it hadn’t been her fault. Harriet had waltzed into her life with ready-made ideas on how the sister of an earl should behave. Though Amelia was her senior, that hadn’t stopped the lady from expressing dissatisfaction. Which had only spurred Amelia to continue on her own way, in her own time.

  But to think of all Harriet had suffered recently...well, Amelia could only do what she could to make amends. As she entered the room, the stale odor rushed to greet her. This would not do at all. She set the tray of food beside the bed and then went to draw the blinds. They opened to reveal sunlight at its zenith. Such a beautiful summer day should be enjoyed. Sunshine spilled into the room, exposing the aimless dust motes that traveled through the undisturbed air.

  “I prefer those closed.” A sullen voice emerged from the four-poster bed.

  “Darkness will do you no good.” Amelia swept toward that voice, ignoring the tiny twinge of fear inside. Fear of what? Of being chastised yet again?

  “You are not in control here. Close my curtains.”

  “Take a hint of light, my lady.” Amelia settled on a chair next to the bed. “You are in need of it.”

  “Go away.” Harriet pouted, turning her delicate face away from Amelia. “And remove that food. I’m not hungry.”

  What could Amelia say? How she longed to fix things, if only a little? But Harriet’s querulous nature grated deeply. A strong craving to grasp the lacy coverlets and yank them off her sister-in-law’s uncombed head washed over Amelia. With gritted teeth, she tamped back the urge. “Would you care for a bit of story? I have an exciting tale of a damsel—”

  “No,” Harriet interrupted. She peeked out of the coverlets, her eyebrows narrowed into accusing lines that gouged her forehead. “This entire disaster is your fault, and if Ev didn’t tell you so, then he is a bigger coward than I thought.”

  The angry words slapped her across the face. She couldn’t breathe. The chair in which she sat dug into her spine, its ridges hard and unyielding.

  “Not only have you dragged this family’s reputation into danger, but my babies—” at this, Harriet’s voice caught in a half sob “—are dead. Dead! I have been overcome with worry trying to understand your activities and nonsense, but we’ve had enough. If you ever want another farthing to spend on those ridiculous, ugly paintings, you must understand that your silly letters and uncouth notions better stop.” Her head lolled back and she uttered a deep sigh, as though speaking to Amelia had cost her a great deal of energy.

  Horrible waves of regret rolled through Amelia, drowning any good intentions she might have had for her brother’s wife.

  If it was true... Amelia swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the now-silent lady. Those words of hers had severed any possible attempts to bridge their relationship. Despite what Lord Ashwhite had said, Amelia knew that she had played a part in her family’s loss.

  Again.

  Tears didn’t often visit Amelia. She was far too pragmatic, but at the moment her throat felt curiously tight. Thick with emotion. Blinking hard, she swallowed back the tears, willing them to a hidden place never to be visited.

  Her sister-in-law suddenly sat up, throwing her blankets aside. She glared at Amelia. “Oh, whatever are you staring at? Leave at once, and do not bother me again.”

  “I only came to remind you that we will be hosting a party in two weeks’ time,” she managed through numbed lips.

  “And who, pray tell, gave permission for this party to be held here?” asked Harriet in a cold voice.

  Amelia wet her lips, summoning a strength she did not feel. “I shall cancel it immediately if you wish. I’m so sorry—”

  “If I had a wish, it would be never to hear of you again. In fact, if I was a man, I’d put you on a ship to another country and tell everyone that you’d gone overseas to visit relatives.” Light caught Harriet’s icy blue eyes, turning them into shards of glittering anger. “Believe me when I tell you that I shall be speaking to your brother about this...thing...you have planned.”

  “Whatever you feel is best.” Amelia stood, spun on her heel and marched out the door before Harriet could see the stricken state of her soul. Certainly she had experienced pain, but to treat Amelia thus? It was unwarranted...and yet there was that tiny part of her insisting she deserved it.

  Deserved it for bucking tradition and societal norms. For engaging in less than ladylike behavior. Had her parents been alive, they might not have allowed her to behave so. As much as she disliked remembering them for the hurt it wrought, a memory stymied her path down the stairway.

  Mother sitting in the garden, the family Bible in her lap. Father singing a hymn as he pruned overzealous bushes. She didn’t know where Ev had been, but she’d been playing near the pond when she had seen the most exciting bullfrog. It had belched at her before plopping into the water. Without thinking, she had reached for the bulbous creature and fell into the pond.

  Even now she remembered the burn as water had gushed through her airways. It had been her mother who’d yanked her to safety. Never mind the dripping mess of her pinafore or the pond scum coating her braids. Mother had held her close, crying and thanking Jesus for keeping her baby safe.

  Amelia blinked and continued down the stairs. Perhaps her mother’s French Huguenot heritage had contributed to the family religion. It was difficult to remember, but the impression that her parents had not lived by all the rules of polite society stayed with her.

  That was a lineage she could be proud of. No matter what occurred, she’d not allow Ev to stifle her. In any way. She must contact Lord Ashwhite, spring Dukes from Newgate and then somehow make things right with...everyone.

  “I can do it,” she whispered. The life of her former servant was at stake, as well as Ashwhite’s tenants and her own future. She would not give up so easily. She would not bow beneath the cleverly aimed barbs of her sister-in-law, despite the truth to them.

/>   Chapter Fifteen

  Spencer strode up to Eversham’s house, a letter in his hand. His friend would see him. He knew that there were no sessions today and Ev wasn’t at White’s. Which meant he might be home.

  As he knocked, he couldn’t help but hope to see Lady Amelia. Granted, it was early in the morning and she’d still been at the soiree when he left. He’d slept well after she told him she’d still try to help him.

  Though she’d seemed discomfited doing so.

  He drew in a deep breath and, when the butler opened the door, gave him his calling card. He followed the butler to the parlor. The house was quiet. Perhaps he’d shown up too early, but he needed Ev to see this letter as soon as possible.

  He paced the floor, skirting the fine rug. Mayhap Ev made faulty investments, but truthfully, he didn’t look as though he hurt for money.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Spencer pivoted. Ev stood in the doorway, hands planted on his hips. He looked like his sister just then, with his chin jutting mulishly and his lips pursed.

  “Hear me out.” Spencer held up his hands in surrender. “Has Lady Amelia spoken with you about Dudley and his scam?”

  Ev squinted. “Dudley, you say?”

  “You heard me, Ev. This is uncommon, to be sure, but it came to Amelia’s—”

  “Amelia? Since when are you using my sister’s given name?”

  “A slip of the tongue.” Ashwhite grimaced. This wasn’t going quite as he planned. “I know you’re still angry about the other night, but I assure—”

  “You don’t know the half of it. That’s my sister we’re talking about, Ashwhite.” Ev advanced forward, finger pointing and brow lowered. “You stay away from her.”

  Spencer eyed the man who’d been a close friend since university. Jaw tight, he didn’t back away but held out the letter. “You may be interested in this. And while you’re reconsidering your superior decision-making abilities, give a thought to this sister you claim to love so much. She is miserable.”

  He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. He stopped in the hallway. Lady Amelia hovered near the front door, in a froufrou dress that did her no justice. Her expression was—he frowned—sad, perhaps. Or resigned.