The Matchmaker's Match (9 page)

“My lady.” Lord Ashwhite entered the room, bowing and then striding toward the other chair. He wore a crooked smile that bespoke mischief. It was both utterly attractive and supremely irritating. “I pray this afternoon finds you and Miss Stanley well?”

Huffing in a quick breath, she nodded to him as he sat. If only her pulse would slow. A spinster such as herself should not have these reactions...should she? She became aware of the afternoon sunlight highlighting the marquis’s face and making his eyes shimmer.

Such color...such texture. Stubble darkened his chin. Sunbeams skimmed over his cheekbones, carving hollowed shadows. An attractive man with a charming personality. Any woman would be susceptible, she assured herself.

“Is that a bruise?” Lord Ashwhite lifted forward as if to come inspect her face, of all things. She held up a hand.

“My lord, pray stay seated. It is merely a swelling.” Which Sally had been told to powder, but evidently she had not been liberal enough with the concealment.

“From last night?”

“An unfortunate collision with Lydia’s elbow.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Stanley.” He relaxed back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Does she fancy herself in love?”

“You are full of questions. They never cease from you.” Though she sounded disapproving, Amelia was surprised by the feeling of kinship sweeping through her. For didn’t she also have many questions? She could understand such curiosity. “I think it would be best for Miss Lydia to discuss her emotions with you herself.”

Lord Ashwhite’s brow moved upward. “And yet you are without opinion?”

“I did not say that.” She shifted in her seat. “You are well acquainted with my thoughts on the validity of emotions.”

“Somewhat, though I would learn more.” He studied her, head cocked to the side as though examining an unusual specimen. “Your stance creates great curiosity. What must have happened to turn a young woman into an unfeeling—”

“I am not unfeeling,” she retorted. Her face felt extremely hot again. His doing, no doubt. The man enraged her. “Do not look at me as though I am a curiosity to you, some insect to be studied. I have feelings, but I do not allow them to rule my decisions.”

“Because you don’t trust them.”

She blinked. “Well...yes.” Wasn’t that obvious?

His grimace lowered her ire. “My lady, I apologize. You are not unfeeling, and that was an insensitive word choice. I greatly admire your work at Newgate.”

“It is not only my work,” she felt obliged to point out. “Mrs. Elizabeth Fry has led the movement, though she is very often busy with her children. But I believe she has great plans for helping the prisoners, and it seems a practical way to show love.”

“Yes, it does. I’d like to be involved.” He paused. “You cannot tell me your emotions are not related to your decision to help.”

She frowned, feeling at a loss suddenly. “Our conversation has veered off track.”

“Your tea, my lady.” Sally came in with a tray and placed it on the small table. “Shall I pour?”

“Please.” Amelia nodded. Normally she would do the task, but at the moment she felt quite shaky. It was not every day someone questioned her motives or challenged beliefs she’d clung to for years.

Discombobulated. That was how she felt presently.

In an effort to look calm, she took the tea Sally offered and sipped slowly. Once Sally had served Lord Ashwhite and left the room, Amelia carefully set her cup on the table. She picked up the papers and held them out to Lord Ashwhite.

“You may peruse these if you wish.” Her voice sounded steady, which was a blessing.

He took the papers and flipped through them, giving her several moments to scrutinize him. The thick hair, the finely pressed clothes. The strong line of his jaw and tanned fingers. Lean and long... Suddenly she knew she must paint him.

It would have to be from memory. He could never know she’d memorialized him in oils. Feeling flushed, she averted her eyes. The drawing room was her favorite room in the house. Whoever had owned the home before her brother had decorated in the Adam style. The rich splashes of turquoise-robed peacocks enriched the dark wood furniture. When the thick green curtains were drawn, sunshine spilled into the room through overly large windows.

The thing she adored most about this room was the closet. Not many drawing rooms had one, but this one did, and she stashed her easel and paints within its confines. Though she kept the turpentine outside, its odor stubbornly remained and reminded her of her greatest love.

Lord Ashwhite slapped the papers on the table and planted his hands on his knees. “This is precisely why I need a wife. I had no idea of his financial troubles, or that he had brought them upon himself. And it appears that he may be collecting money for a sham investment.”

Bringing her mind to the present, Amelia nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m looking further into who is involved in the scheme. It was distressing to learn of this. Lord Dudley has such a bright and open face. One never knows what lies beneath such a facade.”

“For all have sinned,” Lord Ashwhite murmured, almost to himself.

“Is that from the Bible?”

He nodded. “No one is perfect. He might not purposefully wear a facade, but it is hard to escape our own natures.”

“But some people are better than others,” she pointed out, thinking of Mrs. Elizabeth Fry.

“True, but our goodness can never be good enough to be holy. Never enough to bring us to God.”

“Such heavy matters on a bright day,” she said lightly, hoping to change the subject. This conversation struck something deep within. It discomforted her, though she could not pinpoint why. “Let us return to the topic at hand. We should discuss our possible partnership and what it will entail.”

“Very well.” His lips curved as he regarded her with eyes a touch too merry. “I propose you find me a wife so that my lands will be safe and my people properly cared for. In return, I will pay you handsomely.”

“I thought you were going to buy my house?”

“My lady, a gentleman is allowed to change his mind.”

Cad. But she could not blame him as it had seemed an extravagant offer. She understood practicality.

“How much will you pay me?” she asked cautiously. Her breath hung suspended within her chest, and she did not move as she awaited his answer.

He named a figure that drew the air from her lungs in a sudden gasp. Why, such an amount would go far in securing her own home, even if it was but a tiny cottage in the country. Ev would have no say in her life then. And though everything within her protested working with Lord Ashwhite, could she honestly refuse a plea that helped both her and so many others?

He must have seen her discomfort, for he cleared his throat.

“If you are uncertain, perhaps you’d like to visit Ashwhite tomorrow afternoon for a tour. Your brother will be there on business matters, and I am sure you could accompany him.”

Amelia pressed her lips together, battling her rising elation. She’d been on the cusp of saying yes to his proposition, but the thought of seeing his estate, of being more in his company, was proving irresistible.

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” she finally said. “I will give you my decision tomorrow, on one condition.”

He tilted his head in question.

“You must not tell Eversham about our discussion. He is a tad upset about my side business, and I’ve no notion to upset him further.” Soon enough she’d have enough money saved to move out, and then she’d deal with Eversham’s wounded pride. When Lord Ashwhite looked hesitant, she rushed on. “I do not ask you to lie to him, for I don’t condone dishonesty, but should the subject arise, I would appreciate discretion.”

There was a pause. Then he dipped his head in concession. “Very well. I shall exercise discernment and try to keep your trust without betraying my conscience.”

She allowed herself a relieved smile. “I shall be there in the morning, then.”

“Wonderful.” He flashed her a grin so bright her heart fluttered. “What kind of mount shall I have ready for you?”

“I prefer a horse with spirit.” She gave him a no-nonsense look so he would take her seriously. “And a sensitive mouth.”

“Somehow I am not surprised.” His grin widened.

They stood, and she reached out her hand. “My papers, please.”

He set them in her palm. “Come hungry. My cook prepares the most delicious meals. He came from the Continent, escaping the revolution.”

“How intriguing. And you did not turn him away?”

“No, he brought his family, and they have been a blessing to the estate.”

She nodded, digesting this information. Such compassion moved her greatly. They said their goodbyes, and she tried hard to memorize the planes of his face before he left. As soon as his curricle pulled away, she rushed to her desk in the library, penned a note to her brother about tomorrow’s trip and gave it to Dukes to have delivered.

Then she went to her drawing room. Though it was five in the evening, darkness had not quite arrived. She went to the closet and studied her canvases. Perhaps a portrait would do for now. She pulled out the right size and set to work priming it so that it would be ready within a few days for painting.

By the time she’d finished, darkness had fallen. The excitement she’d felt at the thought of her new painting faded with the sun and, tired, she ate the dinner Sally brought her and then crawled into bed.

Sleep did not come easily, though.

Too many plans; too many things that could go wrong. Lydia, for one. She must find time to investigate this suitor who had caught her cousin’s eye. From what she understood, he was the second son of an earl. More than likely he was enlisted in the military. Surely Lydia could not want to be married to someone with so few monies to his name, no title and a job that might send him all over the world? Had she forgotten her entire reason for marrying? To save her family. And how could she accomplish that with a second son?

Amelia frowned into her pillow. The sound of carriages in the street filtered through the walls. The Season was in full swing, but she had no parties to attend this evening. Her thoughts turned to Lord Ashwhite and his peculiar words about sin.

Of course, she knew no one was perfect, but Lord Dudley’s gambling problems seemed a little more than just imperfection. Why, he could ruin his new estate that way. Leave his people with no employment opportunities and starving.

She might be imperfect, but she would never do that to anyone.

Gambling.

She made a little noise with her mouth and rolled over. Bunching her pillow with her fists, she closed her eyes. Lord Ashwhite’s face swam before her, his expression laughing and kind. What compassion he had to offer refuge to his cook and family.

He spoke of God and sin as real things. She believed there was a God, but had she ever felt as though she could speak of Him as she would a friend? Not hardly. She squeezed her eyes tighter, nuzzling the softness of her pillow, willing sleep to take these thoughts from her.

Everyone sinned, but some sinned more than others. She wanted the notion to make her feel better, but all it did was tangle her stomach and push the comfort of sleep further from her. Her nerves were awash with worry. What would Ev say if he discovered her plans to help Lord Ashwhite? And how would she feel when she saw the marquis in the morn? What else might he say to her?

Questions that must wait for answers.

* * *

Spencer thought he might like Lady Amelia very much indeed. Not enough to want to marry someone like her, though. A woman with such strong opinions often left the family to suffer while she tried to convince everyone else how right she was.

That had been his experience with his mother. Ideology left little room for basic responsibilities, like caring for her husband and child. Even now, he felt the painful sense of abandonment he’d grown up with. Always hoping for his mother’s return from whatever adventure she’d left on. The way he’d covered his ears at night when she was home so as not to hear the terrible arguments between her and Father.

Childish feelings he stuffed away. He didn’t care for their reemergence now.

He grimaced. He would need to vet carefully the women Lady Amelia chose. Certainly good works were admirable, but he did not want someone who would put those things above her family as his mother had.

He watched her control her mount with finesse and gentleness. While he and Ev discussed politics and the upcoming issues in the House of Lords, Lady Amelia wandered ahead, expression alive with excitement. She rode with perfect posture, as well.

He smiled, thinking of how much he’d enjoyed showing her the estate thus far.

“Did you hear me?” Eversham’s disgruntled words cut through his musings.

“What was that?”

“Just as I thought.” Ev frowned. “You’re ogling my sister.”

“Certainly not.” But Spencer couldn’t stop his smile. “She’s very amusing.” At the moment, said person had dismounted by herself and was picking gooseberries.

“Her manners apparently deserted her when we left London this morning.” But even Ev’s mouth twitched. “I still don’t understand why you invited her. This was to be a ride for us. And Harriet was none too happy to see her arrive, especially since she could not come herself.”

Spencer urged his horse to go a bit faster, hoping Eversham wouldn’t press for more details. Ev followed him, though.

Spencer cleared his throat as they neared Lady Amelia. “Why didn’t Lady Eversham join us?”

Ev shrugged, looking pensive. “She has a touch of sickness and hasn’t been able to leave her room.”

“Gooseberries, anyone?” Lady Amelia held up a handful. Her lips were stained with their juice, and the sparkle in her eyes grabbed Spencer’s attention. She looked quite pretty. The rosy flush on her cheeks and wide smile disarmed him a bit.

“No, thanks,” said Ev in a glum tone.

Spencer shot him a look. He must really be upset over his wife’s ill health.

“Come now.” Lady Amelia gave him a teasing grin. “These are your favorites. I might be persuaded to make you a pie if we gather enough.”