The Matchmaker's Match

The music started, and an eager-looking young lord claimed Lydia for her dance. Amelia watched them for a moment, feeling a stirring of sorrow in her chest, for when had she ever experienced such an enthusiastic response from a man?

She could think of only two, and she did not wish to think of either. Biting her lip, she meandered to a quiet alcove to sit on a brocaded chair. The corner partially obscured her from view, and she could lend her attention to the dilemma she faced.

When she’d left her brother’s the other day, Lord Ashwhite had tried to hire a hackney for her, but she had decided to walk home. She’d hoped sunshine might soothe the storm inside, but even though she’d walked briskly, she hadn’t been able to shake the tension upon her shoulders.

Sighing now, she watched Lydia swirl around the ballroom floor. The girl didn’t want to marry, yet she would lay her life down for her family. Amelia frowned, thinking of her own selfishness. She wanted to paint and make her own decisions.

Poor Ev had married a shrew to bolster their family’s flagging finances and to fix up their estates. He’d performed his sacrifice. But what of her? Yes, she was involved with several societies that helped those less fortunate, but she must be missing something. What, she wasn’t sure.

She must have a personal interest in God.

Lord Ashwhite’s words about his future wife rounded through her. He’d looked so very earnest as he said that. Remembering his expression caused her discomfort, and she could not pinpoint why.

“Ah, at last I’ve found you.” The rumble of a deep voice interrupted her self-analysis. The subject of her thoughts settled beside her, his cologne fragrant and light. She sniffed appreciatively, telling her heart to stop its ridiculous pattering over nothing more than a pleasant aroma.

Lord Ashwhite tipped a lazy smile toward her. While dressed handsomely, he did not cross the line into the dandy style that she found so abhorrent. His clothes fit him perfectly, and someone had tied his cravat neatly.

She gave him an arch look. “What are you doing here?”

“Where are those manners you teach your clients?” he countered. His relaxed posture suggested good humor.

“Did you find a wife, then?” she couldn’t resist asking. “You’re looking awfully happy with yourself.” Which made her feel rather disgruntled. To cover her emotions, she searched for Cousin Lydia. Satisfied her charge was safe and behaving above reproach, she returned her attention to the marquis and his smug expression.

“No wife, but I do believe I shall be able to help you with your dilemma.” His eyes, full of amusement, met hers.

“I am not in a dilemma,” she said, feeling stubborn. “And if I was, I wouldn’t need your help.”

His hand went to his chest. “You wound me, my lady.”

“I heartily doubt that,” she muttered beneath her breath. Oh, how she wished her heart would stop its dreadful knocking against her sternum! One dance, one conversation, and now she could not escape this peculiar excitement she felt whenever she saw him. Like a silly miss out for her first Season, head turned by her very first suitor.

“On to a serious note.” Lord Ashwhite straightened in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. “I have a proposition for you.”

“You are fairly bursting with propositions.”

“This is one that will suit your needs very well.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I have thought about buying your house—”

“My house?” She covered her lips, alarmed by the screech she’d uttered.

“Very attractive, my lady.”

She scowled at him. “Go on.”

“But after consideration, I thought it might be better to engage your sympathies once more. You see, you never told me the details of what your runner discovered about Lord Dudley. And I never told you why I wanted to know.”

Curiosity piqued, she studied him. “This is true. And I do apologize, but I had much on my mind.”

Surprisingly, his look was gentle. “I know that, which is why I determined to give you a few days’ rest before—”

“Hunting me down?” she offered.

“Fair enough.” He inclined his head, though she didn’t see a trace of repentance in his face. “Here is my conundrum. Lord Dudley is a distant cousin, but he is the direct heir to Ashwhite should I fail to fulfill the obligations of my father’s will.”

“To marry within three months.”

“Yes. Less than that now.”

She fanned herself, spotted Lydia dancing with a different young man, who wore the same look of eagerness as the last and chewed her lip. The right thing to do would be to help Lord Ashwhite. Especially in light of what she’d learned of Lord Dudley. “This information does change how I view your problem, but I must have a night to think on it. Could you meet me tomorrow, say around four in the afternoon, in my parlor? I will be prepared to give you an answer as well as share Mr. Ladd’s findings on Lord Dudley.”

Her gaze drifted past Lord Ashwhite and locked on Lord Dudley, who had spotted her hiding spot and now marched toward her with determination.

How had Lord Dudley gained entrance to Almack’s? Granted, he was an earl whose proclivities remained unknown to most of the ton. She was beginning to tire of seeing him at every event she went to, especially now that he was out of the running for Cousin Lydia.

Lord Ashwhite followed her look. “Trouble, Lady Amelia?”

“Not at all.” She stood quickly and gave Lord Ashwhite what she hoped was a confident smile. “Handling suitors is my specialty.” Head high, she swept out of the alcove to meet the earl who couldn’t seem to understand her very firm no. And as she left, she felt Lord Ashwhite’s stare upon her.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she’d have to decide whether to work with Lord Ashwhite or not. She might have to accept his offer in order to avoid the dregs of a caged life.

* * *

Spencer watched as Lady Amelia glided away. The way she moved spoke of gracefulness and poise. One might never guess from the way she walked that she indulged in intellectual and political pursuits. From the outside, she appeared to be a fashionable lady of the ton. He saw the exchanges she made, how the dowagers greeted her with warmth and comfort. They trusted her status and knowledge. There were no suspicious or haughty glances directed toward her. Not like the ones his mother used to endure. How would that change if they discovered her less than ladylike activities?

The memory of her direct gaze and delightfully straightforward talk brought a smile to his lips but heaviness to his heart. It might be that engaging her services could cast a gloom about her reputation. After all, those same ladies who offered her their approval tended to frown at him.

It was far too close to how they’d looked at his mother. But she’d flouted society’s conventions in numerous ways, bringing shame to his father and pain to Spencer. Their disapproval of her was of a far different nature than their disapproval of him. After all, he did manage to coax a grudging twinkle in their eyes when he put his mind to it.

He stood, keeping his gaze on the maddening Lady Amelia. He was beginning to understand Eversham’s frustration with his sister. He stepped into the ballroom and headed toward the entrance. He’d done what he’d hoped for, proffered an exchange of information, at the least.

As he rounded the room, he noticed the gentleman standing near Lady Amelia. Something about the way he stood... It was familiar, and it was too close. Spencer frowned and immediately reversed direction. As he neared, he realized that the man next to Lady Amelia was none other than Lord Dudley. His distant cousin bothered Lady Amelia, though Spencer noticed she took great pains not to show her unease.

Perhaps it was the stiffness of her shoulders that gave her away. Or the tight press of her lips. Either way, his gut told him to move quickly. Jaw tight, he pushed past a group of giggling misses. He dodged a dowager who was giving him the evil eye, no doubt wondering how he’d snagged an invitation to Almack’s.

A marquis title came in handy every so often.

Finally he reached Lady Amelia in time to hear her curtly say, “No, Lord Dudley, I am overheated at the moment. Really, a dance would be too much.”

“But my lady, I saw you dance last week, and you are adept at it.” His facetious cousin bestowed a sickeningly sweet smile on Lady Amelia. “I long to share such an experience with you.”

Her fan came out, nearly smacking Spencer’s face. “Really, my lord, you flatter me. But I must insist you find another partner.” She hadn’t noticed Spencer yet; she was too busy fanning her face, which looked remarkably red beneath the elaborate glass lights.

“Shall we retreat to a cooler spot in which to rest?” The hopeful look on Lord Dudley’s face, and Lady Amelia’s barely controlled grimace, spurred Spencer to action.

“May I borrow Lady Amelia for a moment?”

Dudley had not recognized him. Spencer gave a terse nod. He ignored Dudley’s surprise and reached for Lady Amelia’s arm, lightly turning her toward him. “There is a family matter I wished to discuss with her.”