shall work with what we have. My particular specialty is providing young ladies with a love match.” Amelia met Lydia’s gaze. Her eyes were a delightful cornflower blue most men would adore gawping at. “You will not have a problem attracting admirers, but to find a man who sees past your outer beauty...that is our challenge.”
“There may not be much beyond my face.” A glum note entered Lydia’s tone.
“Come, now.” Amelia touched her hand. “You are intelligent and lively. A good man appreciates those qualities.”
“And why are you not married? You possess those qualities in abundance.”
Amelia tried not to groan. She finished her bacon and patted her mouth with a delicate napkin. “This is a conversation about you and not about my marital status. I am perfectly happy with the shelf I have set myself upon.”
“Is that so?” A mischievous spark glinted in Lydia’s eyes. She leaned across the table. “Then, why did I see you dancing last night? And with an eligible marquis, no less?” A smirk hovered across her face.
“That was nothing,” Amelia said firmly, though her nerves felt afire. “I saw an overzealous suitor practically running toward me and needed an escape route. Lord Ashwhite is an old friend of my brother’s. Dancing was a deviance from the norm, I assure you.”
“I have never seen you dance before. You were lovely. So very graceful. The gentleman looked quite enraptured with you.”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense.” Amelia stood quickly, unsure why she felt so skittish. “We have much to accomplish today. A new gown for next week’s ball and then the theatre tonight. I am hoping you shall see Lord Dudley there. What did you think of him, cousin?”
Lydia stood as well and rounded the table.
“He is nice enough, but I think we should keep our options open,” she said as they walked to the small library on the other side of Amelia’s modest townhome.
She was fortunate the stipend her brother gave her covered the cost of maintaining her own house. The home was located at the edge of Mayfair, a distinguished and safe neighborhood, and whilst small, suited her purposes most admirably. She enjoyed the privacy and location, not to mention the salon boasting huge windows that let in a good deal of light, perfect for her paintings.
Her allowance also provided for a cook, a butler and a housemaid. She needed her side career of matchmaking only for paints, canvases and good deeds. And once in a while, a new gown. She’d started her business two years prior and had no plans to end it.
She and Lydia spent the rest of the morning practicing an assortment of fine arts every lady must know. As the oldest child of a country baron, Lydia lacked some of the refinement a lady of the ton demonstrated, but Amelia was confident she’d learn quickly. She’d begun her lessons last week. Her mistake was the reason she’d been pulled out of finishing school. Her parents had decided a personal tutor would work better. Thanks to a successful matchmaking assignment, Amelia’s services had been recommended to them.
Unbeknownst to Lydia, Amelia was not charging her parents. She was family after all. This put her in a bit of a bind, but she hoped a sold painting might put her in a more comfortable spot until a new client came along.
After discussing subject matter a lady should and should not indulge in while conversing, Cousin Lydia left with her parents to go back to the townhome they rented during the Season.
Amelia exhaled with relief when the lessons ended. She detested how ladies must be bound by proprieties men did not observe, but it was the society in which she lived, and if Lydia wished to flourish in this society, she’d have to know the rules before she could break them.
Pursing her lips, Amelia went to her writing desk situated near a window. Speaking of rules, she had a few complaints to send to the House of Lords. Not that anyone there would take her seriously, but she meant to irritate them. Then she’d plant a few nuggets in their wives’ ears.
Perhaps next week at Almack’s. She’d finally gotten the invitation for Lydia, and she did not intend to miss such a prodigious opportunity. If Lydia did not wish to know Lord Dudley better, then Almack’s might present a whole new round of young men for her perusal.
Love blossomed when least expected. It could not be forced, though. How she wished it could. Her thoughts wandered to the past, to the man whom she tried so very hard not to remember. Their last dance...
Dipping her quill, she forced herself to concentrate on her letters. What was past was past. There was nothing to fill that broken space within.
As she finished her final letter—more a rant, really—her butler, Dukes, poked his head into her study.
“My lady,” he said softly, his voice as old as his age. “Lord Dudley left his card.”
“You may dispose of it, Dukes. I shan’t be seeing him.” The man could not take a hint, it seemed. She did not wish to be cruel, but considering her plans for Lydia, she certainly could not encourage the avid tendencies of Lord Dudley.
She rummaged on her desk until she found the letter she’d written requesting a Bow Street runner. Some investigations were better handled by professionals. She held it out to Dukes. “See that this is delivered immediately, please.”
He took it. “Very well, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “Also, Lord Eversham is here to see you.”
“Oh, bother.” She dropped the quill into its holder and spun around. “You don’t suppose you could direct him to come back later?”
“No, my lady. He is insisting he see you at once.”
“What is the delay?” Her brother’s voice grew louder and then he was at the door, sliding past Dukes with a scowl upon his handsome face. She’d never understood how he could have inherited all the looks, but to be fair, she considered herself to possess the bulk of the brains.
“Good morning, brother. How do you fare this fine and bright day?” She plastered on a sweet smile, smothering the laugh that threatened to escape as his scowl deepened.
“A moment, Dukes.” He waved off the butler, who flashed Amelia an apologetic look before closing the door.
Amelia folded her letter to the House of Lords before taking her stick of sealing wax and heating it above the flame of her candle. She pressed the stick against the paper and sealed the letter closed. She placed it on the teetering stack of her correspondence and returned the sealing wax to its place on her desk. “Do calm yourself, Eversham, or you shall pace a hole in my already faded rug,” she said mildly.
“You...you...” He could not finish but rather continued his erratic pacing, his breathing ragged.
Why, he was really at the end of his tether! She frowned. Though her brother often proved to be a bossy irritant, she loved him dearly and had no wish to cause him undue pain.
She cleared her throat and rose from her seat but did not approach him. “Dear Ev, please take a breath and explain what I have done to upset you so.”
He stopped abruptly and faced her. Though they shared the same nose, the same eyes and the same hair, on him those features became suave and handsome. He’d always been popular with the ladies. At this moment, though, his eyes were dark with anger, his lips
