Anna stared over Dickie’s shoulder to the low lights of the Orangery, where she could just see two shapes who appeared to be in the midst of an animated discussion.
“He is not going to hit Percival, is he?” she whispered. “He did nothing wrong. He thought… I was meeting Lord Luminport in secret, but when I explained, he… offered comfort.Friendlycomfort, nothing more.”
The sort of comfort I have never known to be possible and would have again if I thought he could love me, but he cannot. It was shameful—he said as much.Percival’s kiss repeated in her mind, so soft and sweet and exhilarating that she had to wonder if she had dreamed it up. Itwasthe kind of thing her mind would do, playing cruel tricks upon her, blurring the lines between her beloved books and reality. It was not outlandish to believe that she had muddled the two.
Dickie pulled back, holding her by her shoulders. “It is not just this instance though, dearest Anna. You have been acting strangely with Percy ever since the ball at Westyork, where he danced with Lady Caroline. You are always whispering and glancing at one another, and if there is something between you, then you must tell me. This must be remedied before gossip can circulate that will ruin you. My darling sister, you know that gentlemen emerge relatively unscathed, while ladies do not. It is unjust, yes, but it is the truth.”
“There isnothingbetween us, and that is the trouble,” Anna replied, exasperated to the point of snapping. “There is nothing between me and anyone. I have devoted my life to love and the pursuit of it, and yet I am left on the shelf, a book that no one wants to read. And who would, for it has no happy ending!”
Dickie grimaced. “Anna, that is simply not true. There are… many gentlemen who admire you and would marry you.”
“Gentlemen twice my age or twice married or cruel or dismissive or unbothered by what sort of bride they end up with,” Anna shot back. “Simon was supposed to be my last chance, and guess what—he does not want me either! He wants Caro, because she is young and she is fearless and she is confident and if I were a gentleman, I would choose her over me, too!”
Dickie gripped her shoulders tighter. “Lord Luminport has cast you aside?”
“LordLuminportnever wanted me in the first place!” Anna retorted. “I was a means to get closer to Caro. Failing that, a distraction from the fact he could not have Caro.”
“Oh…” Dickie puffed out a strained breath. “Well, no matter. Look at all the ladies who have been in your position, whohavefound love over the past few years. Ladies who thought they had no hope, only to find it in the most unexpected places.” He paused, nodding his head. “We shall put a notice in the newspaper, asking for the assistance of The Matchmaker to find you a gentleman who will love you as you love them.”
Anna burst out laughing, a high, shrill, maniacal sort of laugh that would have startled the birds out of the trees if she had been standing close enough. It was everyone else’s solution to the problem of spinsterhood or life as a miserable bachelor, but not hers. Indeed, if she could not laugh at the ridiculousness of that, then she would explode with the infuriation of it.
“They are very successful,” Dickie said, looking at Anna as if he was wondering whether to restrain her or not. “I do not see what is funny about it. Do you think they would not respond to an open call for assistance?”
Anna’s laughter faded, tears falling as she looked her brother dead in the eyes. “It is funny,” she said, “because I cannot help myself. I will not manipulate my methods in order to benefit my own loneliness. Yes, I could write to a wealthy, handsome Earl or Duke, and tell them that Lady Anna is their true match, but it is the one thing I will not do—I will not be disingenuous or deceitful, for that would destroy the very foundations of what I believe in. I have thought about it, of course, but… I cannot do it. Love should not begin on a lie.”
“What do you mean?” Dickie furrowed his brow, tilting his head like a dog hearing an unusual sound. “I was not suggesting we forge The Matchmaker’s letters. I mean, we could ask them to help you.”
“And I am telling you that I cannot help myself.” Anna shook her head. “IamThe Matchmaker, Dickie. It has always been me. And what makes it all the more hilarious is that I am still dedicating my life to love, but never my own. In truth, I am starting to wonder if that is the price for the talent I have been given.”
Dickie released his hold on her, stepping back as if she were a stranger. “What?”
“You do not believe me?” She laughed coldly. “Who would? Who would believe that a hopeless spinster like me could be so gifted in the art of pairing others together? It is, perhaps, the greatest twist of irony I know.”
Shaking his head, Dickie paused to take a breath. “I need a moment.”
“Percival knows,” she continued regardless. “The reason we may have been acting ‘strangely’ is because he asked me to match him with someone. I said he ought to choose whom he prefers, and I would help, but he is proving to be very stubborn when it comes to making a decision.”
“Percyknows?”
“I interfered on Caro’s behalf. I do not make a habit of it when it comes to those who need no help with love and romance, but I knew Percival was not right for her,” she explained. “I might have encouraged you in your pursuit of her, but you said yourself that you are not right for her. Perhaps, you have a similar talent to me. Perhaps, it is in our blood, for we were born of a love so true and rare.”
Dickie swept a hand through his hair. “Does anyone else know what you are?”
“No one.”
“Not your friends?”
“No one,” she repeated, feeling as if a weight had been lifted.
Beatrice had always said that once a secret was shared, it was no longer a secret. She had never mentioned that a secret shared could feel like a burden halved, and at least Anna knew she could trust her brother not to relay it to anyone else. Max, perhaps, but no one beyond their family.
“So, The Matchmaker cannot help you?” Dickie mustered a faint smile, clearing still struggling to process all he had heard.
“She cannot.”
Dickie nodded. “And there is truly nothing of note between you and Percy?”
“Nothing,” she said quietly, hating the hollowness of that word.
