To Marry A Matchmaker (Historical Romance) (7 page)

‘But a few weeks…the ball…people will forget about it!’ Henri’s body started to tremble. Suddenly the entire room tilted. She concentrated on the china ornaments and gradually the giddiness left her. It was a reaction to her predicament rather than to Robert Montemorcy’s nearness.

‘You do people a disservice.’ His smile became liquid honey. ‘Catch up on your reading. My library is well stocked, but someone can always be persuaded to go to the circulating library and get out the guide to better cattle, if you require.’

Henri smiled back at him. Relief flooded through her. Seemingly their quarrel was over. They could even laugh about it. With Sebastian, such things festered and lingered for days. ‘Being here will demonstrate to you that I have other passions in my life besides matchmaking. If I succeed, you will be dancing the polka.’

‘On that ankle?’

‘Did I say with me?’ Henri pressed her fingertips together. It had to be the laudanum. The thought of dancing with Robert sent another warm giddy thrill through
her. She frowned. She’d never been given to giddiness, not even with Edmund. ‘I will watch with approval whomever you decide to dance with.’

‘But first you have to win the wager.’ He leant forwards and a myriad of colours lit his eyes. A woman could spend a lifetime studying those eyes and never be able to name all the colours. ‘I fully expect you to give in to temptation.’

‘I shall delight in proving you wrong.’

His shoulders relaxed slightly, but there remained a guarded wariness about his eyes. ‘That is more like the Henrietta Thorndike I’m used to.’

If only life was that simple. He wanted something more, she was sure of it. The unspoken request hung in the air.

‘I owe you an apology,’ she said into the sudden silence.

‘An apology? What have I done to deserve that?’

‘I made a mistake, Robert. You were trying to do what is best for your ward.’ She held out her hand. ‘You were worried. Hopefully next time, you’ll trust me with the full truth before embarking on a madcap wager.’

He took her hand and raised it his lips. The briefest touch was enough to send her heart thumping.

‘There is no need for an apology—as long as we understand each other now.’

She lifted her chin and stared straight back at him. Gathering intelligence wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t actually doing anything with it. And she wouldn’t meddle until she knew the full story. ‘Yes, we do.’

He turned towards the door. His eyes lit with a sudden flare. ‘I will hold you to it.’

‘H
enrietta? May I call you Henrietta? I feel like I already know you.’ A blonde head with dishevelled curls and pale slightly protruding eyes peeked around the door, waking Henri from an uncomfortable sleep on the sofa. The young woman was clothed almost entirely in flounces and impractical Belgian lace. The dress appeared to be more suited to a London ballroom than a rainy afternoon in Northumberland. ‘You’re awake. Please say you’re awake. I’ve longed to meet you.’

Henri struggled to sit up straight on the damask-covered sofa as the torrent of words rushed over her. She glanced at the small clock that was now shrouded in gloom.

Two hours since Montemorcy left her to sleep. Two hours of sleep. She never slept during the day. Naps were for invalids.

Her ankle throbbed, reminding her that her activity would be curtailed for the next few weeks. She had to hope that no one took pity on her. She’d had enough
pity, concern and being treated like she was made of spun-glass after Edmund died to last several lifetimes. ‘I’m awake. And you are the Miss Ravel that everyone in the village is speaking about.’

The young woman gave a tiny curtsy. ‘In the flesh.’ Her cheeks flushed bright pink. ‘Is everyone speaking about me? Truly?’

‘The village was much intrigued by your canary and its pagoda-shaped cage.’

‘Robert gave it to me last birthday as I expressed a wish for it. He always gives the most splendid presents.’ Miss Ravel glanced over her shoulder to the right and then the left. ‘I wanted to see you before they forbade it.’

‘Why would they forbid it?’ Henri tilted her head to one side.

‘Everything new or interesting is forbidden these days.’ Sophie gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Even walking on my own or with a maid, which I used to love. My stepmama…feels that I am incapable of being sensible…, after the débâcle in the drawing room. Earlier this week I opened the canary’s cage because it must hate it, but it just looked at me and pecked a few more seeds. I don’t understand it. I’d be out of the cage in a flash if I were that bird.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ Henri frowned. It was wrong to keep someone caged like a bird. It encouraged rebellion. She could remember just before she had insisting on eloping and how her mother’s attitude had contributed to her need to escape. Edmund had understood and she’d never gone back to the house where she grew up after Edmund’s death.

Sophie clasped her hands together; the bright coral
bangles on her wrists crashed together. ‘I’ve longed to meet you ever since Sebastian first told me about you and your romantic life. It’s all so wonderfully tragic. I wept buckets.’

Henri clenched her jaw. Pity again, and from someone who never even knew Edmund. Sebastian had no right to tell her the story or to imply that Henri was some sort tragic heroine. ‘What did he say?’

‘How you had eloped and then your husband died tragically a few months later.’ Sophie adopted a soulful look. ‘I thought it all terribly romantic. To be that in love and then to have it dashed from your lips as it were at such a young age. You have never remarried?’

‘Edmund was ill for a long time before and after the marriage.’ Henri kept her eyes on the ormolu clock. Had she ever been that young? This Ravel person made it sound as if she was languishing for a lost love. She wasn’t. She had a fulfilled and busy life, useful. She helped other people and didn’t have time for maudlin thoughts. ‘I’ve never found the right person to replace him. Never wanted to.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Miss Ravel put her hands to her chest and gave a long drawn-out sigh. ‘I thought it the most romantic thing in the world to marry someone who was suffering and to seek to relieve their pain, and should I have the great misfortune to ever be in such position, I shall follow your lead. After all, once you give your heart, it is given.’

‘How well do you know Sebastian?’ Henri asked, determined to steer the conversation away from her private life and towards things of far greater interest—namely, how Sophie Ravel saw Sebastian. This might be
their only chance to speak privately if Miss Ravel was to be believed. ‘I understand there was a contretemps.’

‘We’ve only spoken in snatches. He was in the process of telling me about your tragic life when Mama happened in the room. He had just put his arm about my shoulders as I was weeping. And then quite suddenly and without warning, I was whisked up here. I’m forbidden all contact with Sebastian, which is a shame as his outrageous comments made me laugh. How can anyone take him seriously?’

‘Miss Ravel, do you know my cousin’s reputation?’ Henri asked gently.

‘He’s much older than me and far more experienced. But his face reminds me of an angel’s face. A true Exquisite, everyone says so.’ Sophie paused, fiddling with the tie on her black silk apron. ‘But he told me that he worshipped the ground I walked on. Mostly people ignore me, but Sebastian—I mean, Lord Cawburn—keeps saying how he’d like to make violent love to me in the most inappropriate places. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but it is flattering.’

‘He’s the sort of man who is not safe in carriages,’ Henri said, making a sudden decision. As much as she hated to admit it, she agreed with Robert. Any match between the pair would be a disaster. Sophie Ravel was not the sort of person who would hold Sebastian’s interest for the longer term or who could take a firm line when Sebastian started to commit his little misdemeanours.

If there was an alliance, it would be an unhappy one, but Sophie had to think that she had come to the conclusion on her own. Henri tapped her forefinger against her chin, considering. She wouldn’t directly meddle, more. suggest and allow the conclusion to come naturally.

‘Not safe at all. And he means precisely what he says,’ Henri said. ‘It’s part of his charm. He never lies. He simply says things in such a manner that people discount it.’

‘I know all about the value of a sharp elbow.’ Sophie gave a proud toss of her head. ‘A true gentleman like your cousin wouldn’t do anything that I didn’t want him to do. He said so. All I had to do was to say the word
cease
and he would. We were about to practise when Stepmama burst in.’

‘Sebastian can be remarkably hard of hearing,’ Henri said drily. She gathered Sophie Ravel’s hand between hers and was surprised how small and delicate it was. ‘I doubt an elbow would deter him. You might have to use a frying pan to get your point across, should he ever entice you into a carriage, and you might need to hit him more than once.’

Sophie’s blue eyes widened to the size of saucers. ‘A frying pan, truly?’

‘If you can find one to hand. Very useful things, frying pans—cook your breakfast on it as well as dispatch unwanted advances.’ Henri hit the side of her head. ‘Whack on the side of the head. It is the only method he’ll understand.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m sure you are funning me.’ Sophie Ravel’s bottom lip stuck out slightly. ‘Sebastian is simply the most thrilling thing to have happened to me. And I’m certain you are mistaken about him. He only says things to amuse.’

Mentally Henri sighed. ‘Edmund was the same age as I. Sebastian is rather older than you. He will be thirty next birthday.’

‘It isn’t the age that matters, but the feeling. In any
case, he isn’t as old as Robert, and dear Stepmama is hopeful.’ Miss Ravel put a hand over her mouth. ‘Here I go, telling tales again. Robert says I spend too much of my allowance and whoever gets me had better have enough money to keep me. Does Sebastian, as I won’t get my fortune until I am twenty-one or I marry?’

Henri hated the small curl of annoyance. Robert Montemorcy would be bored within moments if he married this chit. She sincerely hoped that Robert had more sense, but then she had discovered in the years since Edmund’s death that men seldom had sense where women were concerned. They had a tendency to overlook the perfect woman and develop a
tendre
for someone unsuitable. much as Sebastian had done with Miss Ravel. It was why matchmaking became so important for everyone’s peace of mind.

‘I suspect you will discover that the marrying bit must be someone your guardian approves of or there will be no money. It is how matters work.’

‘Always?’ Sophie Ravel’s eyes widened with shock. ‘But Robert would never…or would he?’

‘Always,’ Henri answered steadily. ‘And then it will be up to your husband to decide, but you will be able to guide him. But if you marry without your guardian’s permission, you will have to wait.’

‘Oh, bother! I hadn’t considered that. Robert hates it when his will is crossed,’ Miss Ravel cried, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sure Sebastian will wait for me if his heart is true. I quite like the idea of having a man such as your cousin wait for me. He’d said he’d do it as long I didn’t take too long. And until I’m twenty-one isn’t awfully long, is it? Not if his heart
is
true?’

‘It is best to discover his true intentions. You ought
to write to him and explain the situation. It is what I would do,’ Henri said as a wave of tiredness swept over her. Everything was going to be sorted out. Sensibly. All it needed was a firm hand and a steady nerve. Once Sebastian read the letter, he’d be off to find an heiress whose family approved of him. Problem satisfactorily concluded. Men like Robert overcomplicated things.

* * *

A single lamp shone in the drawing room and the only noise the scratch of a pen. Robert frowned. The room should have been filled with the sound of soft breathing.

Henri was sitting up, sucking the end of a pen while various pages of notes and lists surrounded her. Her black hair had come loose and a single curl touched her neck, emphasising its slenderness and pointing down towards where her breasts swelled. The whole tableau was intimate and private. It was all too easy to imagine Henri with her dark hair spread out over a pillow. What her skin would taste like and how her curves would feel against his. There were also reasons why becoming involved with Henrietta Thorndike was not going to happen.

Robert forced his gaze from her, steadied his breath and examined the chaos.

‘What are you up to now? I don’t think it is what the good doctor would call rest,’ he said softly.

She glanced up and he saw her right cheek was covered in a blue-black ink smudge. It gave her an endearing look. He wet his handkerchief in the jug of water that stood on the chest of drawers and held it out to her. ‘You’ve an ink blot on your right cheek.’

Her skin flushed rose and she scrubbed away with his
handkerchief. ‘It always happens when I get absorbed in things.’

‘Doctor Lumley said “rest”, not “direct the entire village from your bedside”.’

‘I haven’t moved my ankle.’ She gestured towards where her foot rested on several pillows. ‘How can I sleep when I worry? There is the ball, where loads remains to be done, and after that a concert. I was planning on writing to a variety of professors to see if we can get a lecture series organised for this autumn.’

‘The cemeteries are full of people who had little time to rest.’

‘Oh, please!’ She slapped her hand against the papers.

He leant over and twitched the paper away from her. It was covered in neat diagrams about how the flower arrangements should go, as well as a plan for the most expedient receiving line. Underlined and with exclamation points was the admonition that under all circumstances, the pugs must be restrained and not allowed on the dance floor.

Her lavender scent tickled his nostrils. He concentrated on breathing slowly, becoming more certain with each passing moment that he’d made a mistake earlier in giving in to temptation.

‘Henri, you should allow people to do things on their own. Is all this correspondence for the ball?’

She gestured towards another pile. ‘Those are for the ball. That lot over there is for the Ladies’ Aid Society as we were planning a whist drive and other entertainments to raise money for a fountain, and finally my instructions to my aunt on how to economise while I’m indisposed.
If Aunt Frances is allowed, she’ll burn seven candles a night.’

Robert gave a low whistle, impressed at the sheer energy Henri possessed. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘To take my mind off my ankle and the possibility of infection. I have found if I’m doing things for others, then I’ve no time to think about my own predicament. It is by far the most effective remedy.’

‘Physical pain doesn’t go away if you bury yourself in work.’

‘What would you know about it?’

‘I’ve had my share of broken bones.’ He gave her a dark look. ‘Engineering and chemistry are not exactly safe occupations. Experiments can go wrong.’

Henri put her pen down and stared at him expectantly. ‘Continue. You have never said.’

‘They happened a while ago when I was younger. What other instructions have you sent your aunt?’ Robert picked up a page from the ‘home’ pile. He stilled as he read the injunctions to keep Sebastian away from the cucumbers as cucumbers were far too dear and under no circumstance was her aunt to pay any of Sebastian’s tailoring bills. ‘Has your cousin returned to Corbridge? When the Season is in full swing? I had understood he never returned here.’

‘Yesterday.’ She challenged him with a steely-blue gaze. ‘The gossip will have it that he is let in the pockets or some such nonsense, but you and I know differently. Sophie Ravel came to see me earlier. You kept the full story from me.’

Robert cursed under his breath. Sophie had foiled Dorothy’s scheme to keep the pair apart until he had extracted a promise from Henri, a promise she was
sure to give as she wanted to win the blasted bet. To keep Sophie safe, he would dance and he would even sanction a picnic at the ruins. But now, it would be a fumble-fingered approach. ‘You should have told me about Cawburn’s arrival. It changes everything.’

‘And as you singularly failed to confide in me about Sophie and her predicament, why should I consider the need to tell you anything?’ she remarked, a smug smile playing on her lips. Henri was up to something. It bothered him that he hadn’t worked out what it was, but give him time and he would. ‘Sebastian is a cross I have to bear.’

‘You do remember our wager?’