The Matchmaker's Match Read Free

sport. You’re sure you won’t come?”
    Spencer shook his head. “I’ll meet you at White’s tomorrow. I need your and Eversham’s help with something.”
    “That sounds alarming.”
    “Quite.” He felt a glower tugging at his brow. “I met with the family lawyer today. I’ll give you details tomorrow, but in the meantime, keep an ear open for eligible ladies in need of a husband.”
    “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to get leg shackled?” Poor Waverly sounded distressed.
    “Indeed,” Spencer answered grimly. “And I’ve less than three months to do it.”

Chapter Two
    “D o you suppose I shall ever have a waltz?” Cousin Lydia swirled around the morning room, her dress fluttering precariously close to the sideboard.
    “It is an impractical dance and frowned upon for a young miss fresh in her first Season.” Amelia plucked a piece of bacon for her plate and tried to dismiss the sudden memory of Lord Ashwhite’s hand upon her sleeve last night. She’d realized why his name prodded her conscious. He was an old friend of her brother’s but had just now come into his title, hence the change of names. She knew him as Mr. Broyhill.
    She eyed Lydia. “Why are you daydreaming about such a thing when we’ve other goals to pursue?”
    “Oh, I don’t know...” Lydia shrugged. “I suppose I feel like an ox on the market. Picked at and looked over. It is all decidedly unromantic.”
    “Which is why we will find you the perfect gentleman for your nature. He will bring you flowers in the morning and write verses devoted to your fair beauty every day.” Amelia smothered her smile as she sat at the small table to read The Morning Gazette . She took out the gossip column and set it to the side. Sunlight bathed the simple furniture in a lovely hue perfect for a painting. Perhaps today she would have time to take out her easel and paints.
    “You aren’t going to read this?” Lydia flipped up the gossip column. “Why, Lord Ca—”
    “Stop at once.” Amelia held up her hand. “I do not partake in gossip.”
    “Why, Amelia, are you serious? Never?”
    “Never,” she pronounced, careful to add stiffness to her tone. If there was one thing that rankled her more than anything, it was the idle chatter of busybodies. She’d much rather gather the hard facts, not emotional speculations.
    “But how do you find husbands? How will you know their worth?”
    “Certainly their worth won’t be determined by what others say about them. Would you please sit down? You’re making me quite dizzy.”
    Lydia flounced into the chair beside her, a pout upon her pretty features. “I am not sure I want to be married, Amelia.”
    “Then, why do you partake of my services?” She took a bite of her bacon. Perfectly crisp and delicious. She must find a way to give a bonus to Martha for being such a wonderful cook. Perhaps if she could sell a painting soon...
    “It seemed a promising idea. After my dreadful mistake, I thought perhaps I’d need help on the marriage mart. Father and Mother agreed.”
    “Your mistake was minor and quickly forgotten. Just do not take any more moonlit walks without a chaperone and mind your tongue.”
    “He deserved a dressing-down for taking liberties with my person.” Lydia’s eyes flashed with pique.
    “A good swat with your fan works wonders. A true lady does not lose her temper in public and call a suitor ungentlemanly names.”
    Lydia uttered an amazingly loud sigh.
    Ignoring the melodramatic response, Amelia continued, “In the meantime, we 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