The Matchmaker's Match (30 page)

“Indeed it did. In fact—” she drew a deep breath and stopped walking, halting him “—I have a solution for you.”

“A solution?”

“To your current dilemma.”

“Ah, my wife dilemma.”

“Yes, that.” There was pink in her cheeks again.

Perplexed, he sipped his punch and scanned the ballroom. Many danced, but he caught curious stares averted at the last moment. “I have a solution, too, but you go first.”

“During our time apart, it occurred to me that I have been going about things all wrong. Putting logic before emotion, ruling out the necessity of feelings. It has become clear they work best hand in hand.”

His attention centered on her face as what she was saying began to sink in. “That sounds pragmatic.”

“Yes, well, I do try. And my solution is...” She licked her lips, and he saw nerves in her movements, but in her eyes he saw something far different.

Did he dare hope?

“Your solution is?” he prompted her.

“It involves a bit of finagling, but I believe two levelheaded people can handle such a thing. Eventually, leastwise.”

“I am still waiting to hear this solution, my lady.” If she didn’t say it soon, he’d haul her up and kiss her in front of the entire room.

Her fan waved, and he stopped it in one movement. Her eyes widened.

“Confess it now, before I tell you my solution and ruin everything,” he warned.

“Considering our mutual compatibility, our friendship and your time constraint, I believe it your best interest to marry me.”

“And is there anything else you wish to say?” His arms ached. One more moment, one more sentence and then a kiss to seal the deal.

“How did you know?” Her eyes glittered, and this time he realized it was with unshed tears. “I love you dearly, you pushy, insufferable—”

He did not let her finish. He pulled her against him and planted his lips on hers. She was as sweet as he’d expected, as alive and beautiful as he didn’t deserve.

But God had given him more than he believed he could have, and hers was a love he’d not lose.

She returned the kiss, her arms encircling him. Her temerity might cause a scandal were it not for the imminent announcement of their engagement. She knew the rules well enough, he supposed. Well enough to break them, which he had to admit held an irresistible draw.

For now, there were only the two of them, their melding hearts and the God who’d brought them together.

Epilogue

A
melia smiled down at the infant cradled in her arms. Little Johnny turned three months today. His cousin, Roger, toddled over to Harriet, who sat at the desk balancing the books.

Johnny made the sweetest mewling noise Amelia had ever heard and she sighed.

“I never would have taken you for a sighing mama,” Harriet remarked, her head bent over the ledgers.

“I adore children.” Amelia grinned as Roger put his pudgy hands on Harriet’s skirts and yanked with all his might. Of course she did not move. He plopped on the floor, his face turning a deep shade of red as he primed his vocal chords.

“Oh, no, not again.” Harriet shoved up from her chair and plucked him from the floor, but it was too late. Her determined son had not reached his goal and he must let the entire world know so.

“Here, read him the post. He enjoys a good story.” Amelia handed Harriet the letters from the table beside her chair. Ev’s wife had not yet had a chance to sort the mail, as Roger kept her quite busy throughout the day.

Unlike little Johnny, who insisted on sleeping throughout the day and squalling throughout the night.

“I am so happy you decided to visit today,” Harriet said, settling into a chair opposite Amelia. The rustle of paper caught Roger’s attention and he stopped his dreadfully adorable cries.

“Mama?” he questioned as his fingers sought to rip the papers from his mother’s hands. Poor Harriet looked a sight as she wrestled the letters away from him.

“There is a letter for you...” Harriet’s brow lifted.

“Why ever would it come here?” How very odd. Amelia shifted in her seat. “Perhaps it is from Lydia? I do worry how she is faring so far away.”

“India, is it?”

“Yes, her husband is with the East India Company.” Footsteps sounded, followed by the entrance of Ev and Spencer. While her brother went to his wife and rescued her from their wiggling son, Spencer planted a soft kiss on her lips. He lingered.

Contentment spread through Amelia. How had she thought she could live without this?

“How is our dumpling this fine morning?” Spencer’s eyes glittered with amusement.

“You know very well that he is sleeping, as is his wont. Don’t forget—” she beamed him an innocent smile “—tonight is your turn to rock him to sleep.”

“Amelia?” Harriet’s voice interrupted them. She held up a letter. “It is from Rutherford Ladd on Bow Street.”

“Oh!” Amelia pressed her lips together. She hadn’t quite gotten around to discussing this little matter with Spencer. She avoided looking at him.

“Do read it aloud, Harriet. I’m awash in curiosity.” Spencer’s dry voice nudged a bit of a smile to Amelia’s face.

Surely he would understand, once she explained.

Harriet’s nose wrinkled. “It looks to be a report of some sort. Very tedious to read, indeed.”

“Indeed,” murmured Spencer.

Amelia felt his eyes on her, boring a neat hole right into the fabric of her conscience.

“Very well,” she said stiffly. “I happen to know of a young lady with a horrible limp. She’s a diamond of the first water, agreeable in every way, but she is unable to dance. Remember the young woman who plays the pianoforte as though she had been born to it? She is Lady Hazelthorn’s daughter. Her mother kindly asked me for advice, as this is the girl’s first Season.”

Harriet gasped. “You are not thinking... Surely not. Eversham, what do you have to say to her?”

He laughed and held his hands in the air. “My sister is Ash’s problem now, my dear.”

“I daresay I am no one’s problem, and well you know it.” Amelia smiled down at Johnny, who remained sleeping. “We’ve plenty of time to talk about this. Let us enjoy the rest of our afternoon in peace.”

“We certainly shall.” Spencer crouched down and ran one finger down their baby’s cheek. “Up to your old ways, are you?” His gaze slid up to hers, and she felt an enormous heat emblazon her cheeks.

“It is only to help someone, darling.” Her voice caught at the intensity in his eyes. How did he still manage to disarm her with only a look? Even after a year of marriage, she felt incapable of intentionally displeasing him. “I will not be involved, if you wish it.”

The words pained her to say, for she did truly believe she’d found the perfect match for Lady Hazelthorn’s daughter, but her family came first.

Ash smiled crookedly, his heart in his eyes. She could not but respond with a smile, which she knew must look quite mushy.

Behind Ashwhite, Harriet rolled her eyes.

He leaned forward and gave Amelia another heart-stirring kiss. Then he pressed his cheek against hers and said against her ear, “My sweet, indomitable Amelia...what say you to a bit of an investigation?”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
WOLF CREEK WIDOW
by Penny Richards.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for taking the time to read Amelia and Spencer’s story. I truly enjoyed writing this book and wish I had a bit of Amelia’s pluck and Spencer’s charm. They are characters who will stay long with me. Not only did they live in my imagination, but they accompanied me through one of the darkest times in my life. As I wrote their pain, their redemption and finally their healing, I also experienced my own.

Please forgive any factual errors I may have made. I adore Regency romances, but I am still learning my way around the many details of that era.

I really love connecting with readers and writers. Please feel free to contact me through email,
[email protected]
, or on my website,
www.jessicanelson.net
.

I can be found on
Facebook
and
Twitter
, talking books and plotting romances.

Happy reading!

Jessica Nelson

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

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Wolf Creek Widow

by Penny Richards

Chapter One

Wolf Creek, Arkansas, 1886

T
hunk!

Thunk!

Thunk!

The dull, rhythmic sound penetrated the light layer of sleep shrouding Meg Thomerson’s consciousness. She lay on her side, her knees pulled up to her chest as far as her injured ribs and healing arm would allow. Her hands, palms pressed together as if she were praying, were tucked beneath her cheek. Even now, dull pain pulsed in her side with every slow beat of her heart, a persistent reminder of the last time she’d been in this room.

Thunk!

Restless, she moved her head on the pillow, not ready to face the day just yet. Not ready to face what might be left of her life. The lonely night had been made worse without her children there to cheer her. She’d thought of going into their room, but knew it would only make their absence harder to bear. Besides, she was filled with the certainty that if she started sleeping in their room for comfort, she would never again find the courage to stay alone at night. Meg knew she might be many things, but she didn’t think she was a coward.