“It’s a good day for the Braddocks. A very good day.”
ILSA FAIRCHILD kept her eye on Theadosia Berenson throughout the wedding reception at Braddock Hall. Not a particularly difficult task, since Thea had left the periphery of the outdoor party only twice so far this evening, both times to fetch a drink for her grandmother. What hold did old Davinia Carey have over her granddaughter? Ilsa wondered. And why did Thea continue to live on at Grace Place with her grandmother, when she was over twenty-one and possessed a sizeable fortune of her own? It was a strange relationship and it bothered Ilsa a great deal, mostly because of a persistent, niggling impulse to set up an introduction of possibilities between Thea and Peter Braddock.
Such a match would never work, would never even get past the initial setup. Not in a million years. But something drew her thoughts to Thea every time she set her mind to finding a love match for Peter. She was losing her touch, obviously. And Ilsa did not enjoy the feeling. Not that every match she set up worked out. Not that she believed every possibility would result in a fairy-tale ending. Life wasn’t that orderly and sometimes what might have been the perfect match under one set of circumstances, turned out to be entirely wrong under another set. But this time her instincts seemed to be leading her in a completely wrong direction right from the start, and that hadn’t happened before. Ever.
Certainly the Braddock men had been her biggest challenges in years. They were all handsome, all intelligent, all wonderful young men, heirs of a proud and prosperous New England family. They were gentlemen, born and reared, possessed of the same old-world manners and charm as their grandfather and their father. Adam had been a relatively easy match—almost anyone could have seen the sparks of attraction that flew between Katie and Adam the minute they met. It had taken only a little ingenuity and a bit of luck to set their hearts onto the same path. With Bryce, it had taken longer, required some serious study, but the tension that sizzled in the air between he and Lara was unmistakable. Once Ilsa recognized it and realized their hearts had already chosen each other, it was relatively easy to bring their possibilities into focus.
But Peter was different, tougher in ways Ilsa couldn’t quite divine. And her intuition, which rarely led her astray, kept turning her in the direction of Thea Berenson, the definitive ugly duckling.
Maybe it was time to take on an apprentice. Training someone in the intuitive arts might help Ilsa refocus her own abilities, sharpen her perspective, and—if nothing else—at least, give her someone with whom she could discuss ideas. Since Adam’s marriage to Katie, business at IF Enterprises had increased markedly, and just since the announcement of Bryce’s engagement, she’d had private referrals from as far away as South Carolina. Not that she intended to advertise or expand her business outside of New England, but perhaps it was time to think about the future and a time when she might not find matchmaking such a delightful endeavor.
“No frowning now, Ilsa.” Archer came up behind her and steadied himself with his cane. A handsome man for all of his seventy-nine years, Archer had become her friend during these past months as the two of them had talked, planned and hoped to find a match for each of his three grandsons. “Not when Bryce and Lara are so happy. Not on their wedding day.”
“Who could frown while watching Calvin? He’s having a perfectly grand time, isn’t he?” She offered the smile he’d requested with hardly any effort at all. “A bonus for you, Archer. A great-grandson, as well as another lovely daughter-in-law.”
“A bonus, indeed,” Archer agreed. “But Janey is whispering to me right now that you’re the one who deserves a bonus.” He pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket and extended it to her. “You’ve more than earned it, Ilsa.”
She looked at the envelope. “A lovely gesture, Archer, but I can’t accept that. I’ve only done what you hired me to do, and my fees are the only compensation necessary. Besides, there’s still Peter left.”
“Yes, yes.” Archer looked toward the dance floor, where his grandson was dancing with a willowy blonde, under a canopy of tall trees, discreet lighting and a starlit sky. “There’s still Peter.” He turned again to Ilsa, his smile gentle with the pleasures of a long life well spent. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but any prospects for him as yet?”
“I’ve had a thought, but…” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s right. He’d never get past who she is.”
Archer watched the dancers in silence for a moment or two. “Peter does have a fascination with the debutantes. The bluer the blood, the better he seems to like them. I’m afraid trying to work one of your introduction of possibilities with someone outside of that inner circle may prove difficult.” His lips curved with a very gentlemanly smile. “Of course, you’ve already proven yourself to be a miracle worker, Ilsa.”
“I’m having serious doubts about my ability this time.” She paused, hating to ask, but needing to know. “Can you tell me something about Peter’s life before he came to live with you, Archer? Not now, but perhaps we can have lunch one day soon and you can give me a little better understanding of him.”
With a soft sigh, Archer inclined his head. “Of course. That would, I think, shed some light on the man he is now. I will tell you that we didn’t even know Peter was in the world until he was nine. By that time, his mother had told him so many different things about this family, I honestly think he believed we were royalty or some such nonsense. If Janey hadn’t immediately set about to demystify the family history to make him feel a part, I’m not sure Peter would ever have felt he belonged with us.” Archer shifted his weight and brought his old eyes back to her. “I’m sure you know some of the story. We tried to keep the circumstances out of the newspapers, but it was quite a scandal at the time.”
“I heard some things,” Ilsa said, because it was true. “But because I knew James, I always believed there was a great deal more to the story than the newspapers printed.”
“James swears he never knew about the boy,” Archer said, his gaze steady on hers. “Janey and I believed then…and now…he would have done something to prevent the tragedy had he known.”
“James may be guilty of poor judgment when it comes to choosing a wife, but I know he genuinely loves his sons.”
Archer’s smile emerged with a touch of youthful glee. “I imagine you’ve noticed Monica’s conspicuous absence today.”
Ilsa didn’t want to show too eager an interest in those details, although she was dying to know what had happened between James and his latest fiancée. “I did wonder where she was.”
“Colorado,” Archer said with satisfaction. “Day before yesterday, she left in a huff. At James’s request.”
A whisper of excitement stole through Ilsa for no good reason. “I’m surprised she didn’t at least stay for the wedding.”
Archer chuckled. “She would have if James hadn’t been adamant about her leaving sooner rather than later.”
“A lover’s quarrel, perhaps?”
“More like an unholy war. He was unhappy with her from the start and I never thought he’d go through with the marriage, anyway. But the important thing is, Ilsa, that James is no longer engaged to be married and I think this could be the perfect opportunity to make an introduction of possibilities for him.”
That Archer had illusions of making a match between her and his son was no secret to Ilsa. What she hadn’t bargained for was the unexpected thrill of anticipation she felt at the possibility. “I believe I’ve said this to you before, Archer, but matchmaking is not a precise
