To Marry a Matchmaker. Michelle Styles

blurted out her real intention of regaining her composure after The Shocking News.

      ‘Lady Thorndike, since when did you need to know about The Good Husbandry of Cattle on the Yorkshire Moors? Are you truly a secret bluestocking? Or is this in aid of some match that you intend to facilitate at some later date?’

      ‘That is not what the book is about,’ Henri said, putting a hand on her hip, trying to ignore the way his sandalwood scent enveloped her. ‘You are merely seeking to discomfort me.’

      He held out the spine. Henri read the title with a sinking heart. Of all the books she could have randomly chosen, it would have to be one that she had not the slightest interest in. She hurriedly replaced the book on the shelf. ‘It simply proves why I couldn’t find what I was looking for.’

      ‘And here I thought you were trying to avoid me.’ The richness of his voice rolled over her in delicious waves.

      ‘Why would I want to do that?’

      He gave a maddening shrug of his shoulders, emphasising their breadth. Henri forced her gaze upwards to his sardonic face. ‘You know better than I. A guilty conscience? How are your attempts at keeping the wager going? Finding it difficult to stop playing Cupid? I hear the curate took the vicar’s youngest daughter for a stroll after church last Sunday. Did you have a part in that?’

      ‘I’ve kept to the letter of our agreement, which is more than I can say for you.’ Henri gave him a stern look. How dare he insinuate that she was attempting to hide something! She had played the hand strictly according to Hoyle, not deviating at all, not even when Doctor Lumley had asked about the vicar’s eldest daughter and whether she could sew a fine seam. He, on the other hand, had cheated. Manipulated her for mysterious reasons of his own and, what was worse, she had fallen for it. ‘You attempted to deceive me. You procured our wager on an entirely false premise. It is only because I never go back on a promise that I’m even contemplating keeping it.’

      He stilled and his cheeks flushed the slightest tinge of pink. ‘What gossip have you heard, Lady Thorndike?’

      ‘I’ve heard all about Miss Ravel’s arrival. The village buzzes with the news.’ And the impending nuptials, she thought with a pang. But she wasn’t about to stoop that low and mention them! Robert Montemorcy had to reveal the news and then she’d make some withering retort, the perfect sort of response for when one with whom one’s name has been inadvertently linked becomes engaged to another. Henri touched her little brooch that Edmund had given her for luck.

      ‘News travels fast. Miss Ravel and her stepmother only arrived last night. I am attempting to choose some reading material for Miss Ravel as she has a preference for popular fiction, rather than the scientific tomes that populate my library. Do you think Ivanhoe will strike the right tone? Or would she prefer the latest Fenimore Cooper?’

      He was searching the stacks for reading material for the unknown Miss Ravel. Henri hated how the knowledge hurt. ‘If she likes such books, the young woman in question will have probably read Ivanhoe. And I believe Mr Crozier has the latest James Fenimore Cooper out. He might not be going to America, but he has developed a taste for adventure.’

      ‘You are quite right. I will have to find another selection.’ He stood there, looking at her, waiting.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me that someone from London was arriving? With two carts full of trunks and bags. And a birdcage, general rumour has it.’ Henri tapped her boot against the wooden floor as the words rushed out of her.

      He gave her a level look with his dark brown eyes. ‘Was it any of your business, Lady Thorndike? You would have given me a long list of things that needed to be done, people that she needed to meet and committees she needed to be on without ever having encountered Miss Ravel.’

      Henri ground her teeth. Being new in a village like Corbridge was difficult. When she’d arrived, she had longed for someone to take her under their wing and provide some guidance. No one, not even her aunt, had, and she’d resolved never to allow that fate to happen to anyone else. She had organised the Corbridge Society for Hospitality, making Miss Armstrong her deputy, in part because of Miss Armstrong’s ability to learn of new arrivals first, but also to keep Miss Armstrong fully occupied. ‘Was Miss Ravel one of the reasons why you enticed me into this ridiculous wager?’

      He was silent for a long heartbeat. Anger coursed through Henri. He was playing games with her. Nobody did such a thing. And it hurt all the worse that it was someone she liked and respected. She had thought he understood that she only wanted the best for people, and the fact he so offensively misunderstood her motives was deeply upsetting.

      ‘I won’t lie,’ he said gravely. ‘Miss Ravel’s situation did have some bearing on my request.’

      ‘Mr Montemorcy, you have treated me with contempt,’ Henri ground out. Her insides ached. Robert Montemorcy hadn’t trusted her enough to confide that his guests were expected up from London. He thought her so callous that she’d spread gossip or worse. And even now he kept the true reason for Miss Ravel being here hidden from her. ‘I deserved better than that.’

      ‘I had my reasons.’

      ‘And they are.?’ Henri asked in a low tone. ‘Is there anything I should know? I have no wish to make any more mistakes.’

      ‘That is Miss Ravel’s business and not mine to tell.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw and his face appeared more remote than ever. ‘I will not have her become the subject of common gossip. I made her late father a promise and I intend to keep it.’

      Henri took a step backwards and felt the books dig into her back. Her throat became dry. He had given Miss Ravel’s father a deathbed promise. She’d rather thought her life was going to go on an even keel, but suddenly it was all change. She’d mistaken everything. Her blood fizzled. ‘And you don’t trust me with the truth. What are you afraid of, Montemorcy? What did you think I’d do? Shout the news from the top of the church steeple that you were about to be betrothed?’

      ‘Miss Ravel is the daughter of an old and dear friend, Lady Thorndike, and my ward.’ Robert attempted to contain his anger. How dare she stand there wearing a fierce expression and the ribbons of her bonnet trembling! His private life was private. And he certainly was not serving it up for her delectation, fetching bonnet or not. If he ever became betrothed, he certainly would not be informing Henrietta Thorndike first. Asking for her advice? The thought was unconscionable. ‘Please choose your words with care.’

      Her blue eyes opened wide. ‘You have a ward? Why have you never divulged this information to me?’

      ‘There are many things you do not know about me, madam.’ Robert looked her up and down slowly, taking in the way her purple-and-white-checked day dress hugged her curves and then flared out into a full skirt. ‘We are neighbours, rather than intimate companions.’

      Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Having a ward is hardly a state secret.’

      ‘My business, no one else’s.’

      ‘But pertinent to our wager. The fact remains—you manoeuvred me into that wager so that you could protect your ward from what you considered to be my unwarranted inference! I have never interfered when I was unwanted, sir! A simple request would have sufficed!’

      Various other library patrons turned around and Robert winced. The gossip that he’d quarrelled with Lady Thorndike would be around the village in a matter of minutes. And it would only add to the speculation about his visitors and their reason for abandoning London. He should turn on his heel and walk away, but he quickly rejected the notion. If the village would talk, he’d give them something infinitely more interesting to digest than the suspiciously sudden arrival of his ward.

      He placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the bookcase. ‘I gave you the main reason at the wedding breakfast, madam. You are entirely too involved in your matchmaking schemes. You think of nothing beyond the next match. You dominate village social life with your musicales, picnics and dancing classes, which are all