The Matchmaker's Match. Jessica Nelson
began. Something about one of the actresses niggled at her memory, but she couldn’t place her. Eventually the story line pulled her in, and the night passed with laughter, temporarily relieving her from the worry that had gnawed at her since her brother’s visit.
Despite her interest in the play, she never forgot who sat beside her. His laugh was low and contagious, and she discovered that they invariably laughed at the same lines.
Finally the play ended. As they rose from their seats, she felt a tap upon her shoulder. She turned and found Lord Ashwhite studying her closely.
“My lady,” he said, voice serious, “I would have a word with you.”
“Privately?” Her gaze shifted to where Eversham was busy helping his wife.
“Yes.”
She blinked. Oh, dear, this was not going as planned. She could feel those exuberant butterflies waltzing within. Heart pounding, and despite her better judgment, she nodded.
His hand pressed gently against her back as he guided her toward the box’s exit. She shot Lydia a glance, but her cousin had become entangled in a conversation with Lady Eversham.
Slipping out, she gave Lord Ashwhite a bland look. Best to keep her voice modulated, as well. She did not want to give away her nerves in his presence. They were jangling wildly and affecting her ability to think clearly.
“How may I help you, my lord?”
He moved closer and glanced furtively about the theater before meeting her gaze square on. “I am in need of your services.”
Baffled, she couldn’t help squinting at him through her spectacles.
He chuckled. “You heard me correctly. At the present moment, I find myself in a quandary that I think only you will be able to help me out of. My lady—” his grin faded “—how much would it cost for you to find me a wife?”
* * *
Spencer repressed a smirk at the stunned expression crossing Lady Amelia’s face. Indeed, her lovely mouth rounded as if she’d forgotten those manners she seemed to pride herself on. Then she drew herself up, and her eyes flashed beneath the lowered lights of the theater.
“Sir, you are mistaken.” Her nose lifted, though she couldn’t possibly look down at him from her spectacles because he towered over her. He had the feeling she wished he would shrink. “I am not for hire.”
He allowed his lips to tilt in a mocking smile. From experience, he knew women tended to be partial to his smiles. Lady Amelia would be no exception. “Come, now, my lady, that is an untruth.”
“I beg your pardon?” She had the audacity to look shocked. The fan she’d been gripping tightly waved about her face, which was turning an attractive shade of pink.
There was something about her movements as she fanned herself, something both hurried and graceful. His gaze rested upon her fingers. Discoloration marked the tips of her nail beds. Oil paint residue? It must be costly to paint...
“I believe you heard me quite clearly and are being deliberately obtuse,” he said.
She gasped, and her fan picked up its pace.
“In fact, if I were a wagering man, which I’m not, I’d say you are most definitely for hire, but the fact you wish to conceal this is intriguing.” The purse of her lips was distracting him. Her eyes were indignant behind the spectacles, but even more, there seemed to be a spark of curiosity there.
“My lord.” Her gaze darted past him to the opening of her brother’s box. “I am not in the habit of finding wives.” She pinned him with a severe look that made him want to laugh. “I beg you to forget this conversation and leave me be.”
Noise filled the space as Eversham, Harriet and Miss Stanley joined them.
“The play was ever so lovely. Do you not agree, my lord?” Miss Stanley batted her eyelashes at him, amusement playing about the corners of her mouth.
“It was,” he said, though he found his stare returning to Lady Amelia. Said lady appeared to be communicating with her brother via glares. Tension filled the air as the group fell silent.
“Well, I believe we shall be going. We have an early-morning stroll planned for tomorrow.” Miss Stanley linked her arm through Lady Amelia’s and flashed an even row of teeth. “I do hope we’ll see you again, Lord Ashwhite. Perhaps at Almack’s next week? We shall be there often, and I shall reserve a place on my card—” Her voice cut off suddenly, and then Lady Amelia bestowed a syrupy smile upon the group.
“Good evening, everyone.”
Was he mistaken or did Lady Amelia just forcibly nudge Miss Stanley to turn and leave? Unable to stop his grin, he watched the two depart.
“I do not understand why you invited her,” said Lady Eversham beneath her breath.
“You must get used to her presence.” Eversham’s voice held a stern note.
Lady Eversham’s eyes cut to Spencer then back to Eversham as if warning him to keep their personal matters out of public hearing. A mischievous streak prompted Spencer to speak.
“I quite enjoyed their company. Will Lady Amelia be living with you? Seeing her more often would boost my mood immensely.”
Eversham growled and stalked toward the theater’s exit. Lady Eversham kept quiet, confirming Spencer’s suspicions.
So the lady might have to move in with her brother and his difficult wife. What a dilemma. His mind raced as he followed them to their waiting curricle.
A dilemma for her, but for him, quite possibly the opportunity he needed to keep his estate.
“There has to be a way out of this.” Spencer flexed his fingers and watched the lawyer carefully. After realizing the dearth of suitable ladies on the marriage mart and being subjected to Lady Amelia’s forceful refusal to help in his search for a wife, Spencer decided to call on the lawyer again. Perchance he’d misunderstood him on the first visit. Early-morning light slanted against the elderly man’s wig and outlined the offensive papers upon his desk.
“No, my lord. The will is airtight. You must find a wife within three months’ time or your entailed property will pass to your cousin, Lord Dudley.”
“He already has an earldom.” An earldom that was mismanaged, to say the least. “I will not lose Ashwhite to him. My father... I don’t know what he was thinking.” He ground his teeth. As always, his father had gone too far in meddling with his life. Even after death, the old man insisted on controlling things. “I will fight this.”
“Perhaps you should marry and be done with it.” The lawyer adjusted his spectacles, reminding Spencer of Lady Amelia’s refusal last night to help him.
He wondered what she might think of this clause in his father’s will. He focused on the lawyer. “When was this updated? Might it be said my father’s mental faculties were impaired when he wrote it?”
“When did you last see your father, if I may ask such a thing?” The lawyer’s quizzical gaze burned Spencer.
It had been too long. Guilt swept through Spencer and shook his resolve. He inclined his head, accepting the lawyer’s question with regret. “Four years.”
“I see.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “Well, your father was in the pink of health when he had his accident. The horse had to be put down, and it was the infection that took your father. I was there that last day, and his faculties were fully functional. The will was made a year ago, though, and has not been altered since.”
A year ago... Right about when Spencer had begun doubting his place in life. He’d had a particularly rough patch with gaming debts and irrational,