“You were eavesdropping?” Percival’s eyes darkened.
“I did not mean to, but I am glad that I did!” Anna shot back. “Providence put me in the bushes last night and, yes, you might think that I used my gifts on someone who needs no assistance, but I disagree. She does not need me to find her a match, but shedoesneed someone to help her see that there is no sense in rushing her search, when she is still young and beautiful and of rich and charming character!”
Percival took a half step closer, until they were almost face-to-face—rather, face-to-chest.
“I would have treated her well,” he said. “Better than you could imagine.”
“Oh, please,” Anna tilted her head up, refusing to let his height diminish her anger, “you cannot even treat your best friend’s sister well.”
Percival turned his back on her and stalked to the window, daring to perch upon her window seat as he looked out. It was bad enough that he was in her bedchamber, and had decimated her privacy, without him also touching every surface he had not already tarnished with his presence. Still, she could breathe more easily now that he was not an inch away from her.
“Why?” he asked, a short while later.
“Why what?”
He glanced at her. “Why have you become this matchmaker?” He gestured at the writing desk, where several scandal sheets had been strewn around, plucked from the secret box where she kept them. “I cannot deny you seem to be good at what you do, but what has possessed you to be this thing?”
“That is none of your concern,” she replied, wishing she had not been so prideful. If she had burned those scandal sheets and used a seal that could not be linked back to her in any way, he would not have found her out.
Percival got up and started moving toward her again, stealing the air from her lungs with every step he took. He was gazing at her strangely. Intently.
“Very well. You do not have to tell me, but you will have to tell your brothers. I imagine they will be very keen to hear all about your secret activities,” he said, as he was about to pass her.
Terror ripped through her, panic shooting her hand out as if it did not belong to her. Her fingers curled tightly around Percival’s wrist, squeezing as hard as she could. Although, if he really wanted to leave the room with that threat hanging over her, there was not much she could do.
“Nobodycan know who The Matchmaker is,” she said in a desperate whisper. “If you have read those scandal sheets, if you can see how beneficial what I do is, then know that it only worksbecauseno one knows the identity of the one responsible. I overhear things that lead me to my next matches. I am able to do so because no one pays me any attention. If my identity is known, the very foundation of my work will be destroyed.”
Not even her friends knew that she was The Matchmaker, for the same reason that Beatrice had never informed anyone of her clandestine activities: once a secret was shared it was no longer a secret. And Anna certainly did not trust the vault of Percival’s loyalty; she could not let him leave without a solid promise of secrecy.
Percival’s eyebrows rose up slightly, and he took a half step back, as if he had not considered the effect his threat might have on others.
His gaze flitted to Anna’s hand, still gripped tightly around his wrist, but he made no attempt to wrench free or prize her fingers away. Perhaps, he thought it would make her more uncomfortable to make her keep her hand there, but all she noticed was how warm his skin was against the cold of hers, and how quickly the little thudding rhythm in his wrist was pulsing.
For an eternity, he said nothing.
“My successes are clear for all to see. I am good at this, in a way I have never been good at anything before,” she said softly. “But who would accept and trust the help of someone who has not been able to gainthemselvesa husband, if I were to be discovered?”
For another minute, he was quiet. But at last, with a deep sigh, he replied. “For the sake of those you have helped already, and those who might yet need your help, I will say nothing. I will keep your secret.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, as if it pained him to say that. “But there is a condition for my silence.”
“What sort of condition?” Anna finally released his wrist.
He rubbed the joint with his other hand, circling it as if the touch had brought him discomfort. “You are to make up for the time I have wasted on Lady Caroline.”
“All… twelve hours or so?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do not be obtuse, Catchweed.”
She had not been able to help herself, regardless of the risk of him revealing her secret. Indeed, she did not want him to think that she was happy in any way about his wretched actions.
“Well, you ought to be clearer,” she remarked. “What do you mean?”
That muscle in his jaw twitched with greater agitation. “You will use your strange talents to find me the right match, and then you will make sure to send a letter from The Matchmaker so that whoever this lady is, she can be certain she has found the best man for her. I cannot pretend to understand why your word on the matter of relationships is the be-all and end-all, but I might as well use it to my advantage, so you cannot thwart me again.”
“I will not lie,” Anna insisted, doing her best to stand tall and strong. “I will not threaten the integrity of what I do.”
He smiled stiffly. “But thatiswhat you do, is it not? You match people with their perfect partners. If you do your work properly, you will not have to lie, and the integrity of what you do will not come into question.” He headed for the door, turning on the threshold. “So, I suggest you do not try to trickme, lest you then have to trick the lady you have selected for me.”
“You are serious about this?” She did not know what surprised her more, that he was not going to reveal her secret, or that he was legitimately asking for her help.
