The Matchmaker's Match. Jessica Nelson

uncertain, she nodded a pardon.

      “Am I interrupting?” Her brother stood in the doorway, looking displeased. His forehead creased as it was wont to do when he became upset. Deep circles ringed his eyes.

      “Not at all.” Smoothly Amelia skirted Lord Ashwhite and went to her brother. She clasped his hands and drew him into the room. “And I do apologize for waking you, but this cannot wait. Is Lady Eversham asleep still?”

      “Yes, and not to be disturbed.”

      They sat on the couch while Lord Ashwhite continued his elegant stance against the wall shelves. Amelia acutely felt the heat of his gaze upon her but chose to ignore it. She hoped Ev would dismiss his friend, but when her brother called for morning tea, that hope withered.

      She took a deep, fortifying breath. Very well. Lord Ashwhite would find out her circumstances soon enough should things not go the way she wished.

      “Did Ash come with you, Amelia?” Ev steepled his fingers. She noted the clumsy knot of his cravat and felt a pang of guilt for showing up so early.

      “Yes.”

      His brows rose, waiting, but she wouldn’t say more. He’d already interfered in her life enough. And she’d let him know that, regardless of Lord Ashwhite’s presence.

      “We had business to discuss.” The low rumble of his voice interrupted the tension between her and Eversham.

      Amelia gave Lord Ashwhite a warning look before turning to her brother. “I received your note, brother, and am most disturbed. Could we discuss your plans in private?” Perhaps not the politest way of ridding the room of Lord Ashwhite, but she had to at least try. He was distracting in too many ways.

      “Ash can hear whatever you have to say. It’s good for him to learn what happens when forced to choose between relatives and a wife.”

      Amelia frowned. “But this is family business.”

      “Yes, and business is what got you here in the first place. I meant what I said in my letter, Amelia.” He gave her an annoyingly stern glower. She hated that look.

      “You’re being insufferable,” she said quietly. Anger was stirring in her belly, hot and viscous. “My life is not yours to dictate.”

      A flicker of empathy crossed Ev’s face before being tamped down by an even worse emotion: resolve. “I know you don’t like it, but I have responsibilities now. Four years ago I wouldn’t have cared, but I’ve the properties to look out for as well as my wife. Your ridiculous rants against the prison system, not to mention this...business of finding husbands... It has to stop.”

      “But one week—”

      “Is more than enough to pack up your house,” he finished for her. “I’m going back to bed unless, Ash, you have something to add?”

      “I’ve heard quite enough,” said Lord Ashwhite.

      Amelia hardly dared look at him—at anything, really, lest the men see the burning anger that swept through her at the unfairness of it all. A week to move in with her brother and his wife. No choice at all. Even if she stopped all her activities, he would not give her a stipend large enough to rent her own home. What was she going to do?

       Chapter Six

      Two nights later, as Amelia and an excited Lydia swept into Almack’s, the question of Amelia’s future dampened her enjoyment of the evening. They mingled, and Amelia introduced Lydia to several notable ladies, who in turn introduced Lydia to eligible family members. It wasn’t long before her dance card was filled.

      Amelia had deliberately left her card near the punch bowl. She didn’t intend to dance with anyone. Look at what one quadrille with a marquis had done—sent her into a romantic fit of emotions that could do no good for her, especially with the threat of losing her home a pall that continued to darken her mood.

      No, indeed. Her dancing days were over, just like her courting days. Spinsterhood beckoned with all its freedoms...though not so many now her brother had become involved. She frowned.

      “Are you feeling all right?” Lydia touched her shoulder. “Perhaps we should get a bit of air?”

      Amelia gave her cousin a rueful smile. “I am simply pondering the recent turn of events.”

      “I am so sorry.”

      She had filled Lydia in on her brother’s machinations. Sometimes two heads worked better than one, but in this case, neither woman had been able to think of a suitable plan to change the situation.

      Now Lydia’s face brightened. She looked beautiful, her blond hair coiffed perfectly, her complexion healthy and smooth. “There is always teaching at a girls’ school. You would do exceptionally well.”

      Amelia blanched. “But there are so many rules to follow. Etiquette and languages...not to mention the noise. When would I read or paint?”

      “Life cannot always be pleasure,” Lydia said gently. “You must work for some things.”

      “Of course I know that, but if I can find work I enjoy, so much the better.” That was true, right? She hoped she wasn’t being lazy or unthankful, but to live miserably seemed such a waste if she could live happily. “Perhaps I am being a spoiled earl’s daughter. In truth, I think I’d find a noisy school of adolescent girls preferable to living with my brother. He is overbearing at times.”

      “It won’t be all bad.” Lydia squeezed her arm. “You’ll have your own wing to live in, plenty of space to breathe. You’ll be able to go riding and visiting. We shall plan a vacation to Bath and wade in an ocean somewhere.”

      Amelia tried to smile but wasn’t quite able. “You make valid points, though I cannot but help feel suffocated. The past few years’ taste of freedom has ruined me, I fear.” When her first Season had ended with no engagement, she’d been disappointed. The second Season, she’d fared the same. But the third Season... That was when she’d met Lord Markham. The year she’d decided she would never marry anyone.

      And now, at the ripe age of five-and-twenty, after she’d lived four years independently, the thought of submitting to her sister-in-law’s reign gave her the shudders. But a lady had no choice. She should count herself blessed that she did not live on the streets as so many in London did, or that her family had not squandered their fortunes and left her in ruin.

      “’Tis not so bad, being a woman,” said Lydia. “Even as a country baron’s daughter, I have been spoiled and cosseted. My family is loving and kind, and I would do anything for them.”

      This time Amelia managed a chuckle. “Even throw yourself into the marriage mart.”

      Lydia cringed, her smile wry. “Even that, though I wish I did not have to do so. But that is why I have you.” Her palm swept the air. “You shall introduce me to a man whom I will love forever. We will be happy, and this won’t seem like such a great sacrifice.”

      “I truly hope so.” For if she ever found that she’d brought two together who could not find happiness, then she’d gladly quit this business.

      The music started, and an eager-looking young lord claimed Lydia for her dance. Amelia watched them for a moment, feeling a stirring of sorrow in her chest, for when had she ever experienced such an enthusiastic response from a man?

      She could think of only two, and she did not wish to think of either. Biting her lip, she meandered to a quiet alcove to sit on a brocaded chair. The corner partially obscured her from view, and she could lend her attention to the dilemma she faced.

      When she’d left her brother’s the other day, Lord Ashwhite had tried to hire a hackney for her, but she had decided to walk home. She’d hoped sunshine might soothe the storm inside, but even though she’d walked briskly, she hadn’t