The Matchmaker's Match (10 page)

“I said no.” The sharpness in her brother’s tone wiped the smile from Lady Amelia’s face. Spencer felt an unusual urge to knock some sense into Ev for ruining his sister’s enjoyment.

“Why are you even here?” Eversham gave her a pointed look, then swiveled to Spencer. “Since when did you two become friends? I’d like to know what’s going on, right now.”

He glanced at Lady Amelia, expecting her to remount and leave him to answer somehow. But no, her eyes were blazing, and the gooseberries lay forgotten in her clenched hands. Spencer calmed his horse with a soft stroke to his neck, who had picked up on the tension and begun prancing uneasily.

“You go too far, John.” She addressed Eversham by his given name—not a good sign. “First you attempt to take my home, and now you’d like to pick my acquaintances? I think not.”

Ev’s eyes flickered to Spencer, clearly uncomfortable.

“Quite frankly, it is none of your business whom I spend time with.”

“It is when you choose your company unwisely,” Ev countered.

Her eyes narrowed. “And have I thus far? I am a pillar in the
ton
, a bastion of good sense and propriety.” She said it without any pride, in a humble, no-nonsense manner.

It was the truth, which led him to wonder what exactly Ev meant by his comment. Spencer watched him closely, his nerves thrumming. As far as he understood, Lady Amelia knew nothing of his past. How that was possible, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to tell her now, not with her so close to agreeing to help find him a wife. His past wasn’t relevant, anyhow. It had nothing to do with fulfilling the terms of the will.

“Oh, forget it,” Ev said. “You’ll do what you want no matter what I say. I’m just warning you.”

“About what?” A thread of vulnerability entered her voice.

Ev shrugged and looked away, meeting neither her gaze nor Spencer’s. “Let’s get on with things.”

Lady Amelia hurled her brother an unladylike scowl. “This is a wonderful outing, and I appreciate the chance to see Lord Ashwhite’s home.” She tossed the gooseberries toward the bush and, pulling a handkerchief from some hidden pocket in her dress, proceeded to wipe her hands violently. “Let us continue the tour without your negative attitude.”

Giving Eversham an imperious glance that almost made Spencer chuckle, she swiftly remounted and clucked her horse forward. They followed, though Spencer felt the stiff silence beside him. Ev was clearly attempting to hold his temper.

He frowned. That had been close, and he hadn’t expected to be thrown into the mix. Of course he realized that he wasn’t Ev’s first choice of a friend for his sister, but then again, they weren’t friends. They were forming a mutually beneficial alliance.

But he couldn’t tell Ev that without betraying Lady Amelia’s trust. Groaning, he nudged his horse into a canter.

They spent the afternoon touring the grounds and meeting his tenants. Lady Amelia charmed them all, surprising Spencer. She praised the look of the land, the fruitfulness of gardens and the cleanliness of their homes. She even held Hilda Smith’s newborn while chatting about the differences between goat’s milk and cow’s milk.

Spencer grew more and more impressed, and by the time they were heading back to his home, he knew with great certainty that she was the one to pick out a wife for him.

They left their horses with the groomsmen, and as they entered the house, Lady Amelia’s smile broadened. “Oh, this is a lovely home!”

He looked at the house through her eyes. He hadn’t been here for a while, being busy in London with his political responsibilities. Now he took in the warmly hued walls, decorated by his mother. The pastels contrasted nicely with the light oak furniture. There was an openness to the rooms. He’d forgotten how large the windows were.

“So much light,” Lady Amelia said.

He felt the customary pride. “Ashwhite has been in our family for five generations.”

“Such a lineage.” She smiled, and his chest felt unaccountably tight.

Madness, he told himself, backing away. Madness to feel drawn to a woman such as Lady Amelia. A bluestocking and an artist. Like his mother, who, while holding many good attributes, also clung to her independent ways, which led to the demise of her marriage.

“We have rooms like this,” Eversham said from where he stood inside the library. “You’ll be able to paint at our home.”

All at once Lady Amelia’s expression fell. “If
she’ll
let me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” asked Eversham.

“Do you remember last Christmas? What about when I visited during the spring? She kept me busy planning menus and calling on neighbors.”

Eversham laughed. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Don’t even mention the budget,” Lady Amelia warned, her face dark.

Spencer couldn’t resist. “What about the budget?”

Both faces turned toward him, one amused, the other disgruntled.

“Family business,” Lady Amelia declared and abruptly turned to leave the room.

“My sister and numbers do not mix well. Harriet keeps a close eye on the ledgers and is now determined that Amelia shall never touch the accounts again.” Ev smiled and watched Lady Amelia depart. “She’ll look in your parlor next.”

Sure enough, she wandered across the hall and disappeared from view.

“You know her well.”

Ev nodded, and his gaze turned serious. “She’s my twin, and I know her like the property lines of my estate. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Spencer stiffened. “Meaning?”

“I can put two and two together. You want Amelia to find you a wife. She needs money to maintain her lifestyle. You’re working together.”

Spencer forced his features to remain placid. Trust Ev to figure things out so quickly. “When is she moving in with you?”

“She has four more days. I’ve told her to quit this business of husband hunting, and I didn’t expect you to go behind my back and encourage her.”

“I have a little over two months to find someone whom I can say vows before God with in good conscience,” Spencer said quietly. He met Ev’s gaze. “If your sister chooses to, she can help me.”

“And your reputation? That won’t help her. If she discovers—”

“She won’t,” Spencer said curtly. A deep regret over his past rolled across him, dousing any hope he felt for a new life.

“How are you going to stop that from happening?”

“She doesn’t know yet. There’s no reason for it to be brought up, especially since it has no bearing on the present.”

“You’d better not hurt her.” Eversham glanced past him to where they could see Lady Amelia looking out the window, lost in a daydream. “I’ve seen her with many people, but with you, her guard is down. She’s...different somehow.”

Spencer frowned. “You’re one to talk of hurt. How do you think she’s taking your dictate that she leave her home? She’s unhappy, and it has nothing to do with me.”

“It can’t be helped.” Eversham grimaced. “There are things I can’t tell you just now, but you’ll have to trust that I need her at home for a time.”

Spencer nodded. Though he didn’t understand, he wouldn’t press Ev. He’d give him the privacy he wanted, and he’d expect the same treatment. He watched Lady Amelia, how the sunshine swathed her in light. Even outside he’d noticed her hair was not the plain brown he’d assumed. Golden strands threaded through her chignon and glimmered in the spring sun.

He stood at the edge of a precipice. One false move and things could go badly indeed. But with the correct step, everything could be righted. He’d save the futures of his tenants and friends. His title came with responsibility, and he couldn’t shirk that.

He tore his gaze from Lady Amelia’s pretty hair. His attraction to her was a complication he couldn’t afford. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Eight

A
melia tasted the lemon ice Lord Ashwhite had bought her from Gunter’s. Delicious tartness coated her tongue, and its chill made the afternoon heat more bearable. Though seated beneath a shady oak, she felt the pure blueness of the day multiplied the strength of the afternoon sun.

Yesterday’s tour of his home had been lovely. Before leaving, she’d informed Lord Ashwhite that she would help him. This morning he’d sent a note inviting her to enjoy afternoon ices.

She was not one to turn down a free dessert.

“Gunter’s is my favorite place to stop,” Lord Ashwhite said beside her.

They’d found a nice place in the park across from the tea shop to conduct business. While anyone could see them, Amelia felt certain a tête-à-tête here would not arouse suspicion or gossip. This was a safe arena for all, and quite popular.

“And mine, as well.” She took another lick before the melting ice could dribble upon her fingers. “Thank you for this treat.”

“You’re quite welcome. I am indebted to you.” A peculiar intensity entered his gaze.

She looked away, focusing on finishing her treat while watching other picnickers enjoy their day. Someone’s dog had been let loose and ran yapping across the verdant lawn. A child laughed and chased it.

Amelia smiled at the scene. “I had a pup as a child. Rooster.”

“Rooster. Dare I ask how such a name came to be?”

“His bark.” At the memory, Amelia couldn’t stop a snicker from tumbling past her lips.

Lord Ashwhite chuckled. “That would be something to hear. My dogs were utterly normal, and I gave them names like Buster, Mutton... It’s hard when they die, though.”

“It is.”

The somber turn stopped their talk, and they finished their ices in silence. Amelia saw many new faces here. She’d been so focused on finding Cousin Lydia a husband that she hadn’t paid attention to the newest additions to the
ton
. Even while presenting Cousin Lydia to the queen, she hadn’t noticed the misses fresh from their schoolrooms.

Not an efficient way to establish a business. And now she had only two days left before Eversham came and carted her away. She peered at her ice, frowning.

“Do you think Eversham shall physically carry me from the house in two days’ time?” she asked. “Or will he arrive with a bevy of servants and start unloading my home?”

“You know your brother better than I do,” Lord Ashwhite said carefully.

Irritated that he was right, Amelia glowered. “He shall arrive and begin taking things. That is how he will do it. He will give my servants their letters of reference and no doubt secure them employment somewhere. He will force my hand—”

“To do what?”

“To go with him. What do you think?” She hated the feeling of powerlessness burning through her, a mad fire within her chest, cutting off her air. “Even with the money you’ll pay me, I don’t know if the owner will renegotiate the contract. I will have to move in with Ev.”

“Do you want an advance?” There was no cautiousness on Lord Ashwhite’s face, only curiosity. His trust in her dampened the flames of resentment.

“Thank you, and I do appreciate that, but no. I accept payment only upon success. If I do not find you a suitable wife, then I shall not charge you.”

“Those are high expectations, my lady. And very little reward for the work you put into this.”

“Nevertheless, it is my policy. That is something you should know up front.” She glanced down at the paper on her lap before lifting her pen. “How about we start with attributes you’re looking for? Hair color?”

“Looks are of no importance.”

Amelia’s head jerked up. “Surely you jest?”

“I don’t.” He grinned at her. “What, my lady? You have never heard of marriage based on more than a liking of looks?”

“It’s unnatural,” she said, frowning. “You will be married to this woman for the rest of your life. Certainly you’d want to enjoy looking at her?”

“I believe our respect for each other will lead to a harmonious relationship in all areas.” His eyes crinkled, and the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree behind them caused his eyes to sparkle. “But if you insist on a physical preference, I would say I quite like brown hair with strands of gold throughout.”

“That is very particular, my lord,” she grumbled, but she grudgingly wrote “strands of gold” on her paper. “For the eye color, let’s stick to one shade. A man too particular has a slimmer chance of catching a wife.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said in a voice so docile and false that an unwilling smile edged her lips.

“Blue, green or brown?”

“Irrelevant,” he said firmly. “I’d like a normal-looking woman with more sense than most in the
ton
. A heart bigger than her fortune. Hands quick to help those in need. Not a gossiper.”

“That last one will be nigh impossible.”

“Then, I shall need a woman who does not speak.”

They laughed, and though Amelia doubted she’d ever forget his list, she wrote the attributes down anyway. What a strange man he was. This task might be more difficult than she’d anticipated.

“I forgot one thing,” he said quietly beside her.

Looking at him, at the smiling seriousness of those eyes, Amelia knew what he planned to say. “Her relationship with God.”

“Yes.”

“How shall I know if she has one?”

He tipped his head, holding her gaze. “It may be evident in her conversation, but most likely in her actions. Her spirituality will be something I will be responsible for noticing.”

Amelia wet her lips, feeling strangely relieved. What did she know of religion or God? Perhaps in childhood, at the bedside, through songs her mother sang. A faint memory that she pushed away. Her times at church were spent daydreaming or planning lists to write later. “Religion is very important to you.”

Lord Ashwhite broke visual contact and stared out over the grass. “Not religion, no. But discovering God’s love...that changed me.”

Now she was curious. She hadn’t bothered to investigate Lord Ashwhite. Her funds were dwindling, and she planned to stop by Mr. Ladd’s flat to discuss Lydia’s newest suitor. The one she was in love with. He’d already taken her cousin for a ride in Hyde Park, or so she’d written Amelia in a quick letter that had come in the morning’s post.

Amelia had read the note with foreboding. The courtship was moving entirely too fast.