The Matchmaker's Match

by Jessica Nelson

The silence that followed spoke quite loudly, but she waited anyhow. If she planned to make amends, then she’d have to be pushy.

  And Lady Amelia Baxley had never worried about being pushy. When the silence stretched to a ridiculous amount of time, she knocked a second time.

  “Harriet, may I enter?”

  “Come in.” Definitely a more querulous tone this time.

  Amelia set her chin and opened the door. Light filled the room. Harriet sat in a rocker near the window, a pile of colorful squares at her feet and a needle in her hand. She kept busy. That was a good sign. Amelia came closer. Pretty squares. Soft pastels.

  “Good morning, my lady. You are making a quilt?”

  Harriet’s bright blue eyes lifted from her lap. The dark circles were gone, and her skin held a healthy pink glow. Not knowing where to sit or what to do with her hands, Amelia stood near the window and peered outside. The summer sun made the grass look like a verdant ocean.

  “Would you care to go for a horse ride?” she asked.

  “No, it is better for me to stay here. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Still?” Amelia frowned. “I would think you’d be almost recovered...but forgive me. I know nothing of these things.” Foolish tongue.

  “Amelia, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something.”

  That sounded unpleasant. Amelia braced herself. “Yes?”

  “The things I said about you causing my miscarriages were...” Harriet looked down at the blanket in her lap. “I’m ashamed to say they were cruel words and unbefitting of a lady of my station. You did not deserve such accusations. Ev shall be apologizing to you, as well.”

  Amelia did not know how to respond. Humbled and contrite, she knelt before her sister and placed her hands upon hers. “No, you were deeply hurt, and my actions have been thoughtless. I did not want to live beneath the rule of another and did not consider how my lifestyle might affect you.”

  “But that is just it. You did not affect me.”

  Amelia met Harriet’s dewy gaze, and her heart twisted. “There is no more need of apologies. I forgive you and will do my utmost to cause our family shame no longer.”

  Though Harriet managed a wan smile, her eyes glistened. “I confess I do not understand your desire to dirty yourself with oils or to write inflammatory letters. This business of yours, that I do understand. Every woman deserves a man like my husband.”

  “Many years ago I wrote a scathing letter about your father.” Amelia paused, searching her sister-in-law’s face. “Though I cannot regret my opinions of his actions, I am deeply sorry for hurting you in the process.”

  Harriet inclined her head, the visual forgiveness easing the vise in Amelia’s chest.

  “So it’s true that you love my brother?”

  “He is an amazing man. I know that I am not an easy woman. I have expectations and perhaps am too needy, but he genuinely likes me. I make him laugh, and I can’t say that I’ve ever accomplished such a thing with anyone else.”

  Amelia kept a straight face. Ev laughed with her? It was incomprehensible, but then again, what did she know? Ashwhite had turned out to be an accomplished rake, and she’d not once suspected his true nature.

  Harriet let out a blissful sigh that sounded a little too much like Lydia’s for comfort. “A man who can be trusted to do what’s right is worth his weight in gold. One who will protect you and is kind... But I suppose you know about these traits, as you find husbands for women like me?”

  Amelia nodded. Perhaps those traits should be higher on her checklist.

  “I want you to hold that soiree for Ashwhite. While you were gone, I took the liberty of arranging for an orchestra and setting a menu.”

  Now Amelia felt like crying. She blinked hard. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Ashwhite is a good man. When he returned from the Americas, I saw the change in him.” Harriet blushed. “Shame on me for withholding something that could bring him further happiness.”

  “My lady...I am speechless.” Could it be true? Could Ashwhite truly be the man she believed him to be? Her sister-in-law had no reason to say otherwise.

  “I’m tiring, Lady Amelia, but there is one more thing you should know before you go. Ev and I are expecting.” Harriet broke into a grin.

  Amelia straightened, shock rippling through her. “Why, that’s wonderful! But how? I mean, the miscarriage?”

  “The doctor was mistaken. When he visited the next day, he detected a faint heartbeat but waited to tell me until he was sure. Now it is certain.”

  “I am so very happy for you,” said Amelia. She leaned forward and embraced Harriet.

  Her sister returned the hug. “I didn’t expect love with Ev,” she said into Amelia’s hair, “but it found me nevertheless. Should love find you, do not turn it away.”

  * * *

  “I’ve had quite enough.”

  Ashwhite’s mother barged up to him, interrupting his stint with a hammer and nail. He paused in the common labor to take in her flushed cheeks. “With what?”

  “With you. With this.” Her hands arced through the air. “Whatever are you about fixing fences when you’ve a woman to win back to your side?”

  “She’s better off without me.” Ashwhite placed the nail in the board and, in one strong swoop, drove it an inch closer to home.

  “Says who?” His mother poked him in the leg.

  He smashed the nail again.

  “Quit visiting the pub every night. You’re not a rake anymore, and I read those letters you sent your father.”

  Spencer bolted up. “You what?”

  “That’s right.” Her face paled a bit, but she didn’t back down. “He gave them to me to read, and that is how we decided you were ready for a wife.”

  He didn’t know how to answer. He could be angry, but all his anger had been expelled within the past few days, replaced by a morose certainty that the one woman he wanted might be forever outside his reach. And perhaps she was better off that way.

  “Son, go to Lady Amelia. Isn’t your soiree tomorrow evening?”

  “It is.”

  “Then, go. If she will not have you, we might lose Ashwhite, but I still have my unentailed property.”

  “We will keep Ashwhite. I will see to it.” And he prayed God helped him love another the way he did Amelia.

  “You’re a good son, Spencer. I’m very proud of you.” His mother hugged him then. Chest constricting, he returned the embrace. She might not have been what he needed as a child, but she was what he needed now.

  “I haven’t been to the pubs every night,” he found himself confessing. Though the temptation to seek solace in old, empty ways had been strong, he’d had the strength to continue on the path God put him on.

  She pulled away, relief clearly marking her features. “Where have you been?”

  “Riding. Getting rid of energy. Praying.”

  “And has God answered you?” The concern in her eyes roused a deep love that swelled in his chest. He knew that look. The one she’d worn when he’d fallen from a tree as a brash ten-year-old. The time fever had raged through him and she’d happened to be home. Funny how bitterness wiped good memories from a heart. They rushed to him now. He remembered her touch upon his brow. She’d stayed with him in his room, refusing to leave until the fever had broken.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “He will, one way or the other.” She put her hand against his cheek. “Follow His leading.”

  Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Mother. For everything.”

  The following hours were busy. Seeing his mother, their talk, had actually brought him a certain level of peace that in turn had inspired a rush of ideas. First he dug through the library until he located Lady Amelia’s painting. It belonged in a London gallery, and he intended to see it put there. He gave a servant instructions on where to deliver it, and when his bags were packed, he, too, left Ashwhite.

  He had a ball to attend and a lady to woo.

&n
bsp; There was no time to waste.

  Yes, there were other ladies he could marry, but he’d rather try again with Lady Amelia. She hadn’t actually told him no. She’d been shocked, thinking of a past love. If she held his mistakes against him, if that was her reason for refusal, then he’d not bother her again.

  But if she was merely afraid, then he could soothe her. These past few days had taught him that he wasn’t the man he used to be, no matter what Ev or anyone else thought. He’d gone to the pub the first night but turned around.

  It wasn’t where he’d wanted to be, and the only lady he wanted to hold wore a pair of spectacles she used like a weapon.

  * * *

  His time in London was fruitful. He dealt with Lord Dudley, whom the constable had jailed with multiple charges. His cousin would have a hard time, but Spencer left knowing all would turn out well.

  He had to rush to make it to his own soiree. It was surprisingly packed. A crush.

  He pushed past people, searching Ev’s ballroom for Lady Amelia.

  There. In a frothy confection of creams and blues and some kind of green. The hair piled high on her head revealed her slender neck and strong bone structure. For a moment he admired the view. The proud set to her shoulders and the line of her profile. Such a perfect nose for an impossibly, amazingly imperfect woman.

  He tapped her shoulder after an arduous trek through the crowded room. She pivoted, delight etched across her face. Behind her spectacles, her eyes sparkled.

  “Isn’t the turnout fabulous? You will have your pick, my lord.” That fan of hers was out, waving wildly. Did he detect jealousy in her tone?

  “You have done a noteworthy job, worth a hundred more than what I’m paying you.” He searched her face, but she was blank to him, offering nothing but a canvas of what she wanted him to see.

  All the determination that had buoyed him for the past day and a half faltered. Dare he face another rejection? As he took in the dogged jut to her jaw and the gentle curve of her lips, both testimonies to the personality beneath the skin, he knew he dared.

  A prize was worth the challenge, and never had he worked so hard to regain a woman.

  “And whom do you suggest I choose?” he asked mildly, hiding his feelings for now. After all, he was more skilled than she in this game of flirtation, and though he loved her, he must be smart about things. He did not wish for his heart to be completely smashed.

  “Do you have the list I gave you?”

  “I discarded it.” He winked at her.

  She flushed. “My lord, that is not appropriate given the setting.”

  “But you see, I do highly inappropriate things. As a former rake, it’s in my nature.”

  “Pish posh.” She tapped his arm with her fan, her color high. “That is ridiculous. I would never find a wife for a rake.”

  “And yet you work for me.”

  “First, my lord, you must understand that I do not work for you. Second, you are a former rake. There’s quite a difference, you see.”

  Weight he didn’t realize he carried lifted from his shoulders. Without it, his smile loosened. “I believe there is a difference, and I’m relieved you know so.”

  Music for a quadrille started. He leaned over and peeked at her dance card, inhaling a delicious whiff of her perfume. She jerked away, brow raised.

  “If you want a dance, simply ask, though I must warn you that I have an atrocious habit of stepping on feet.”

  Spencer laughed. “That is an outright falsehood. But I shall take you up on the offer and prove you wrong.” Though he enjoyed the repartee, he wanted to steer her closer to talk of marriage. This delightful lady was the one he wanted to be with.

  Forever.

  As they danced, Lady Amelia said, “A bird told me there is a mysterious painting hanging in an upscale London gallery. It is signed AB.”

  True surprise shot through him. News spread fast. Unless the little bird was his mother. He wouldn’t put it past her.

  “I’ve also heard Lord Dudley is in custody. A shameful thing he did, cheating honest people of their money.”

  They twirled again. He counted down for the end of the dance. He had a plan, and her flirtatious ways, while beguiling and adorable, did nothing to further his goals. He wanted to sit her down, demand she admit her love, suggest they marry and then kiss.

  Yes, he most definitely wanted to kiss her.

  The quadrille was torturous, but it finally ended, and he had her to himself. Almost. A man came up to inquire about her dance card, but before she could answer, Spencer snarled and tugged her toward the punch table.

  “How about a bit of drink?” he asked.

  She pulled away. “How about a bit of manners? You were quite rude to that young man. He will think you gave him a cut.”

  Chagrined, Spencer nodded. His desires were making him impatient. “I’ll fix things later.”

  “Very good.” She joined him at the table. “I have more to tell you. God and I have been talking.”

  He almost choked on his punch.

  “Don’t look so alarmed. I don’t actually hear a voice. I just feel that peace you mentioned. Surrendering truly does bring about a wonderful freedom. I would have never known that if you hadn’t told me.” The teasing note left her voice. She took the glass he handed her and swallowed her punch in one long gulp.

  Probably the most unladylike thing he’d seen her do.

  Oh, wait. He was sure he’d seen her do the same when she’d dressed up like a man. Biting back his smile, he steered her toward chairs set against the wall. “I’m happy something I said made an impression.”

  “Indeed it did. In fact—” she drew a deep breath and stopped walking, halting him “—I have a solution for you.”

  “A solution?”

  “To your current dilemma.”

  “Ah, my wife dilemma.”

  “Yes, that.” There was pink in her cheeks again.

  Perplexed, he sipped his punch and scanned the ballroom. Many danced, but he caught curious stares averted at the last moment. “I have a solution, too, but you go first.”

  “During our time apart, it occurred to me that I have been going about things all wrong. Putting logic before emotion, ruling out the necessity of feelings. It has become clear they work best hand in hand.”

  His attention centered on her face as what she was saying began to sink in. “That sounds pragmatic.”

  “Yes, well, I do try. And my solution is...” She licked her lips, and he saw nerves in her movements, but in her eyes he saw something far different.

  Did he dare hope?

  “Your solution is?” he prompted her.

  “It involves a bit of finagling, but I believe two levelheaded people can handle such a thing. Eventually, leastwise.”

  “I am still waiting to hear this solution, my lady.” If she didn’t say it soon, he’d haul her up and kiss her in front of the entire room.

  Her fan waved, and he stopped it in one movement. Her eyes widened.

  “Confess it now, before I tell you my solution and ruin everything,” he warned.

  “Considering our mutual compatibility, our friendship and your time constraint, I believe it your best interest to marry me.”

  “And is there anything else you wish to say?” His arms ached. One more moment, one more sentence and then a kiss to seal the deal.

  “How did you know?” Her eyes glittered, and this time he realized it was with unshed tears. “I love you dearly, you pushy, insufferable—”

  He did not let her finish. He pulled her against him and planted his lips on hers. She was as sweet as he’d expected, as alive and beautiful as he didn’t deserve.

  But God had given him more than he believed he could have, and hers was a love he’d not lose.

  She returned the kiss, her arms encircling him. Her temerity might cause a scandal were it not for the imminent announcement of their engagement. She knew the rules well enough, he supposed. Well enough to break them, w
hich he had to admit held an irresistible draw.

  For now, there were only the two of them, their melding hearts and the God who’d brought them together.

  Epilogue

  Amelia smiled down at the infant cradled in her arms. Little Johnny turned three months today. His cousin, Roger, toddled over to Harriet, who sat at the desk balancing the books.

  Johnny made the sweetest mewling noise Amelia had ever heard and she sighed.

  “I never would have taken you for a sighing mama,” Harriet remarked, her head bent over the ledgers.

  “I adore children.” Amelia grinned as Roger put his pudgy hands on Harriet’s skirts and yanked with all his might. Of course she did not move. He plopped on the floor, his face turning a deep shade of red as he primed his vocal chords.

  “Oh, no, not again.” Harriet shoved up from her chair and plucked him from the floor, but it was too late. Her determined son had not reached his goal and he must let the entire world know so.

  “Here, read him the post. He enjoys a good story.” Amelia handed Harriet the letters from the table beside her chair. Ev’s wife had not yet had a chance to sort the mail, as Roger kept her quite busy throughout the day.

  Unlike little Johnny, who insisted on sleeping throughout the day and squalling throughout the night.

  “I am so happy you decided to visit today,” Harriet said, settling into a chair opposite Amelia. The rustle of paper caught Roger’s attention and he stopped his dreadfully adorable cries.

  “Mama?” he questioned as his fingers sought to rip the papers from his mother’s hands. Poor Harriet looked a sight as she wrestled the letters away from him.

  “There is a letter for you...” Harriet’s brow lifted.

  “Why ever would it come here?” How very odd. Amelia shifted in her seat. “Perhaps it is from Lydia? I do worry how she is faring so far away.”

  “India, is it?”

  “Yes, her husband is with the East India Company.” Footsteps sounded, followed by the entrance of Ev and Spencer. While her brother went to his wife and rescued her from their wiggling son, Spencer planted a soft kiss on her lips. He lingered.

  Contentment spread through Amelia. How had she thought she could live without this?