“My lady.” He bowed. “How do you do this fine morning?”
“Well enough, my lord. Would you care for a stroll through our gardens?” She picked up her chin and thrust it toward the door.
A not unsubtle hint. Evidently she had something of import to say and wished to tell him in private. Even though Ev remained in his study, she obviously feared his overhearing their conversation.
Being alone with her wasn’t the best idea, though. Last night had been...close, he thought ruefully. Very close indeed.
He was no stranger to moonlit kisses or enraptured ladies, but that was in his past, and he didn’t intend to revisit such a place. Not for anyone.
He took her arm and escorted her outside. “I have an appointment at Newgate, my lady, and can spare no time for a tête-à-tête. Perhaps this evening or tomorrow?”
Her eyes brightened. “Excellent! That is exactly what I meant to speak of with you. Let us go now and rescue Dukes before he perishes.” She took her arm from his fingers and shook it as though jiggling his touch from her sleeve.
“Wait a minute. You’re not coming with.” He frowned.
“’Tis only right. He doesn’t know you.” She winced. “I recant that statement. He does know you. As an irritating caller who wouldn’t leave me alone. I think it best if I come to assure him all is well.”
“So that he doesn’t think I mean him ill?” Spencer asked drily.
“Precisely.” She beamed him a smile so bright that despite the ugly dress she wore and her odd hairstyle, he found himself staring a little longer than he should. He marveled at how her eyes gave the impression of sparkling with merriment.
“Now let’s leave before Ev stomps out here and demands I play nursemaid.”
Perspiration tickled his neck. The sun was warming the day quickly. He pulled at his collar. “Have you told him about Dukes?”
“And add to his burdens?” She wrinkled her nose, a guilty look passing across her face. “In truth, I’ve done my best to avoid my brother today.”
“Avoidance doesn’t solve anything.”
“Oh, don’t lecture me.” Her hand waved through the air in a flowing gesture. “I know perfectly well that procrastination is the key to failure. But in this case, do you think it right to load him with such dour information when he already has so much on his shoulders?”
“It would be wrong not to tell him.”
Again that guilty look. It was in the way her eyes skittered away and her pretty lips twisted. “Very well.” She turned, and he followed her into the house.
Surprisingly Ev took the news calmly and gave permission for his sister to go with Ashwhite. Perhaps he’d thought about Spencer’s earlier words and sought to lessen his sister’s entrapment. Or maybe he just didn’t care because of the worry he held for his wife. Either way, soon enough Spencer found himself alone in an open carriage with a very satisfied-looking lady.
Off to rescue Dukes, though how he would manage it, he wasn’t sure. But he found himself determined to do it not only for the old man’s sake but also for Lady Amelia’s.
* * *
Amelia fanned herself as she waited for Ashwhite to return with Dukes. On the way into London, they’d stopped by his house and exchanged the open carriage for a curricle, as a few clouds on the horizon hinted at a storm brewing. If she sat far enough inside, no one would know she’d ridden alone with a man.
The carriage didn’t mask the stench emanating from the gruesome place. Odors marred the breeze that intermittently passed through the carriage. Though she longed to see Dukes and assure him all was well, by the time they’d reached the city, it had occurred to her that going inside might not be the best idea. Newgate’s reputation created no end of speculation and worry. She feared Dukes might no longer be alive, and it was that fear causing her to shift to and fro as she waited.
Waiting brought about other mental ignominies, as well. With her body forced into stillness, her mind frolicked about, revisiting all sorts of things and finally landing on the moment she wished to avoid most: the prior evening.
Last night on the bench, when her corset had been strung too tight and she’d imagined Lord Ashwhite might wish to kiss her.
Her! Of all creatures. A proudly on-the-shelf spinster/artist/bluestocking. She never could decide what she wished to be and felt all three suited her rather well. But while they suited her, those qualities had never attracted men. Well, not men like Lord Ashwhite. There was a certain tough masculinity to him, coupled with kindness, that she found hard to ignore.
Oh, fine. Impossible to ignore.
No, he had been distracted. She’d mistaken that look in his eyes last night. She must have. Why, what would she do with a kiss anyhow? She had no use for men or marriage. Look at how much trouble Ev had proved himself to be. Or rather she to him. She’d probably make a horrid wife.
But an excellent matchmaker.
She’d written such a dandy list of wives for Lord Ashwhite, too, and he hardly showed interest in the women he might spend the rest of his life with. It was enough to make any decent businesswoman have a serious case of the vapors.
Biting her lip, she looked at the nasty old prison, a blight upon London.
She wouldn’t think of Ashwhite when she had so many other problems on her plate. Cousin Lydia, for one, who still insisted on marrying a second son when it was obvious she could find a better prospect.
One with a little more to his pocket and a lot more to his life expectancy.
Then there was Lady Eversham. This morning had proved a deeper problem than Amelia expected. It seemed a situation beyond remedy. Besides refusing to see her, Lady Eversham had given the housekeeper a list for Amelia. Different items to accomplish from letter writing to supervising the meal menu. She had been told to refrain from balancing the books, for which she was extremely grateful. The thought of looking at numbers in a ledger sent palpable waves of panic through her.
And had she been able to paint once?
No, not at all. The sketch she’d begun of Lord Ashwhite still sat in a closet. Amelia thought of the pout on Harriet’s face this morning. A horrible part of her longed to capture the look in oils and show it to her.
Which solved nothing.
Certainly it couldn’t bring back the lost babes.
She frowned, tapping her restless fingers on the seat. Ev knew about the financial scam now. She hoped that when she returned, he didn’t ask her how she’d discovered the investment in the first place. Her twin had little patience for her investigative methods.
When the doors to the prison swung open, she perked up. Scooting to the edge of her seat, she peered out and saw Ashwhite and Dukes heading toward her. The poor man walked with a limp. His arthritis must be paining him.
Her heart constricted. Why had she let this happen to him? She should have double-checked his whereabouts. Made sure he was safe.
She hastened to the far side of the curricle as Lord Ashwhite helped her former butler inside. Dukes’s face was lined more deeply than when she’d last seen him, grooves ridged into his skin. But his eyes met hers and, though rheumy, they seemed to smile.
“My lady,” he rasped.
She could not speak past the lump in her throat. She took his arm and brought him to her side, where he settled with a relieved exhalation. Lord Ashwhite sat across from them. She flashed him a grateful look, stifling the quick surge of feeling that swept through her at his answering nod.
The curricle started on its way, winding through factory smoke and litter, leaving the dankness of Newgate behind. She inhaled deeply once they’d reached a part of the road where sunlight cut through clouds and warmed her face. She found Dukes’s hand and clasped it. He did not return the gesture, and to her surprise, she saw his eyes had closed.
He must have suffered in such a place.
She looked to Lord Ashwhite. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get him out.”
“You were r
ight about the petty thievery. I paid his fines and dropped some names, and they were happy to release him. Seems things are a bit overcrowded lately.”
A wonderful relief crashed over her, so intense her whole body seemed to sink into the seat as the weight of worry lifted from her shoulders. “I cannot thank you enough, my lord.”
He waved an elegant hand. “Nonsense. You may thank me as much as you want.”
“Very funny.” She tried for a frown and failed. “Once we get home, I shall ensure Dukes gets a long rest, complete with full meals and a soft bed.”
“We are not headed to Eversham’s, though.”
“What do you mean?” She craned her neck to the window and saw that, indeed, they were on their way out of London, but not toward Ev’s estate. “Wherever are we going?”
“My mother’s.” The corners of Lord Ashwhite’s eyes crinkled.
“Your mother’s?” Flummoxed, Amelia could only stare.
“She unexpectedly returned from a trip to the Continent. I spoke with her this morning and discovered she’s in need of a new butler at the dower house.”
Amelia wet her lips before glancing at Dukes. His eyes remained closed, sleep temporarily softening the age of his face and giving him a peaceful look she hoped wouldn’t be destroyed by this news.
“I assumed he’d be returning with me to Eversham’s. With people who care for him,” she said pointedly. “Once I find a cottage, I should have enough left to cover our living expenses.” Some might think it very crass of her to discuss financial matters with Lord Ashwhite, but after everything that had happened, she couldn’t deny she felt a certain trust with him.
“It is no business of mine, of course, but perhaps Dukes would like to make a little extra money until your cottage is ready.”
“Yes, perhaps,” she said hastily, though her insides felt as though they were plummeting to the wheels. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was happening how she wanted it to. She would just have to try harder. Pick up that sturdy spine she was known for and walk with it.
“You look quite forceful right now.” Lord Ashwhite’s teeth flashed.
“Do I? It is this list of duties I must accomplish. Nothing is going my way.” At once she regretted the plaintive words. He’d mark her a whiner, no doubt.
“Why don’t you share your list with me? Mayhap my male practicality can lend some insight.” A mischievous grin furled the corners of his lips, and Amelia felt her own mouth twitch in reply.
“Very well,” she said primly. “My most important job has been accomplished. Dukes is now safe, and I’ll not let him out of my sight. Which is why he should come home with me.”
“We’ll ask him what he prefers when he wakes.”
“Excellent idea.” Of course Dukes would want to be with her. That heavy feeling that plagued her began dissipating. A bubble akin to satisfaction lightened her chest. Tapping her chin, she gave Lord Ashwhite a cocky look. “I must cancel next week’s soiree due to Lady Eversham’s illness. This leaves me with only the house party at Ashwhite to plan. Less mingling for you but more time to invite the perfect guests.”
“I’m feeling an acute onset of the ague,” Lord Ashwhite said drolly, but the corners of his eyes remained crinkled.
“Don’t be silly. I need this income, and you need a wife. A cottage I can afford exists somewhere, but I need time to find it. Between my duties at home and helping at Newgate, I’ve found no time to search for a place to live. Let alone paint.” She missed painting the most. A knot had formed in her stomach, and every day she didn’t get time to release her emotions, the thing only grew larger. “Then there’s Cousin Lydia. She is insisting on marrying this...this second son.”
“Your voice is dripping with haughtiness.”
“I am trying not to be snobbish, but really, Ashwhite. Cousin Lydia could do so much better.”
“And when you say better, you mean more money and a title?”
“Yes. What do you think I mean?” Was he playing with her? Frowning, she picked at her dress, an ugly new thing she hated but wore because her wardrobe was slim at the moment.
“So these husbands you find for wives...”
“Are all good prospects. They must be titled and have a solid financial standing, and compatibility is necessary, as well.”
“How do you determine compatibility?” His head tipped.
She had the uneasy feeling he disapproved of her somehow. She forced her chin up. “Mutual interests are the best indicator, but I also consider temperament and hobbies.”
His brow arched.
“You are surprised, my lord?” she asked stiffly.
“Not really. Suppose this second son meets the other requirements and only lacks the title? Miss Stanley’s prospect has a career, does he not?”
“A dangerous career. One that will leave Lydia a lonely and impoverished widow.”
“Most likely she’d have more money than you.”
Amelia wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. “This is not a laughing matter, Ashwhite.”
Beside her, Dukes snuffled, his sleep temporarily interrupted by her strident tone. Deliberately she softened her voice. “Lydia does not know men the way I do. This man is taken with her looks, nothing more. I haven’t had time to see if he’s suitable or to ascertain his compatibility. She is in the mad rush of first love, and her heart will be broken.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“What?” Her brain fogged.
Ashwhite leaned forward, his green eyes intense and bright. “Your heart was broken, and you fear the same for Miss Stanley.”
Amelia’s mouth dried. She clenched her skirt. Unclenched it. “That is neither here nor there. We are speaking of my cousin’s future.”
“Nay, my lady, you are speaking of your past. He hurt you badly, I daresay. I’d like to punch the man in the mouth.”
“Ashwhite,” she gasped, her hand going to her lips.
“It’s a horrible thing to trifle with a young woman’s heart.” He shook his head, and a piece of dark hair swung over his brow. “But you need to step back and be objective. Understand that your experience doesn’t define everyone else’s. Attempting to control Miss Stanley’s heart will lead to nothing but pain between the two of you.”
Amelia’s chest hurt horribly. She wasn’t quite sure why. “We made an agreement. Her family asked me to find her a husband, and if she chooses the wrong man, my reputation as a matchmaker will be harmed.” Even though she wasn’t being paid in this instance.
“That won’t be an issue, since you’ve quit matchmaking.”
“Only for a bit. Once I have my cottage, I might do a little on the side.”
Ashwhite’s eyes weren’t twinkling anymore. “Lady Amelia, might I offer you advice?”
“You may.” She waited for his response. Dared him with a steady gaze.
He took his time in answering. His eyes had sobered, his mouth relaxed as he took in her question. At last he leaned back, crossing his feet at the ankles and giving her a lopsided tilt of the lips. “I was not referring to my earlier words, but perhaps you would like to discuss the matter?”
* * *
Spencer could tell by the look on Lady Amelia’s face that his response greatly displeased her. Or maybe it discomforted her. She arched her neck as though trying to look down at him. All stiff pride and wounded heart. He had the undeniable impulse to wrap her in a hug and protect her from whoever the cad had been who’d hurt her.
That was an inclination he’d ignore, though.
This lady amused him. He enjoyed watching her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement over the list of deeds she claimed to dread. It seemed to him she relished planning and controlling life. Though she missed her painting. There was no denying the sadness in her voice when she spoke of her art.
“God is...” Lady Amelia trailed off, looking past him with one of her vacant stares. The kind that told him she’d gone off in dreamland somewhere, forsaking her practical faç
ade for a more gentle place. “I’m not quite certain who He is and what I’m supposed to do with the idea of Him.”
An honest answer, though it pained him. “A Bible is a good way to get to know Him. That’s how I learned.”
She laughed. “A Bible? I don’t know that I could read such a thing.”
“It contains more adventure than your novels, and quite a few romances.”
Her mouth did that cute little purse it did when she was intrigued by something. “You don’t say? Like what?”
“A man who falls in love with one daughter and works out a deal to marry her, but then is tricked at the last moment into marrying her sister.”
“Why...that is quite scandalous.” Her eyes grew wide. “You’re saying that story is in the Bible?”
“And many others.”
“But what is the purpose? Surely God has more important things to tell us than stories of romances gone awry.”
“Don’t you see, my lady? God’s relationship with us—with me and with you—it’s a romance gone wrong.”
“I believe in logic, but I must say that I also believe in romance. I shall admit you’ve intrigued me with all this talk of God and feelings.” She glanced out the window as though searching for God in the sky.
The carriage made a turn and the rising sun splashed into the curricle, splaying against Lady Amelia’s face and hair, throwing streaks of gold through her tresses and warming her cheeks to a becoming pink.
She faced him, making the sun glint against her spectacles.
“Believing in a personal God is difficult. If there is this deity, and if He cares for us, then why did my parents die? Why do children suffer in the streets from neglect and malnutrition? Mothers wasting away for lack of food and clean water. You’re a marquis. I think...perhaps...that it is easier for you to believe in a God who cares.”
His windpipe contracted at her words. He had to work to draw breath. Did she think he had never felt sorrow or suffering? “I’ve never experienced the pangs of starvation, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to pain.”
“I am only suggesting that faith comes easier to those who’ve not had their beliefs crushed beneath the realities of life.”
The Matchmaker's Match Page 15