“Now you speak sense.”
“And he must earn back any warm feeling. From her. From you.”
“If he can.”
“But he might… just might… deserve the opportunity to do so. And I cannot determine that unless I speak with him first. No. Not me. You. You must speak with him and let me listen.”
“Me? You trust me not to put a knife through his gut?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mean that?” To be trusted to do something right… God, it felt miraculous.
“I do. Since I have known you, you’ve shown nothing but your love for your sisters. As well as a great capacity to grow. Love. And learning. I can imagine no two more admirable qualities.”
She admired him. His heart swelled, nearly breaking his ribs. If she trusted him, he’d damn well trust himself.
He leaned too far toward her to bump his shoulder against hers. “You’re good at this. How did you start?”
“It’s a tedious story. You do not wish to hear it.”
“I want to hear all your stories.” He should not have looked into her eyes to say that. He’d give away too much of himself. Funny, though, it felt like she already had so much of him, none remained for him to give. When had that happened? Why had he let it happen, so quietly, so completely? A man could survive a scandal, a giving of a kiss in broad daylight with witnesses whispering all about. But to discover a woman held your soul in the soft palm of her hand? To realize he might never get it back and didn’t want it? What need had he for a soul, anyway? Marriage needed it not unless… Foolish thoughts. Foolish man.
She shivered. He wanted to wrap an arm around her. He dug his fingertips into the grass.
“I was engaged to marry a man I was not fond of,” she said. “He was, in no way, a man I could see myself living with day in and day out. So I… I matched him with another woman. Slyly, of course. He hardly knew what I was doing. And then when hecame to tell me he must call off our engagement, I pretended to be quite sad but quite understanding.”
“Little actress.”
“Not quite. I may have fooled him, but I did not fool his future wife, and a few months after they were married, she approached me, asked me why and how. I told her they wanted the same things, valued the same things, so it had been rather obvious to me they would suit. And a few weeks after that, she returned, asking me to find her friend a suitable husband. So I did, and after that”—she shrugged—“my reputation only grew.”
“Your father approves, clearly.”
“Yes. I can say without a doubt he approves.”
“Thank you for leaving your home and your usual matchmaking prospects to help me.”
She hung her head, her entire body seeming to buzz, but whatever it was building inside her, she suppressed it and smiled. “I am happy to do it. Should I stay in Edinburgh, I should eventually make all the matches there are to make. Until more ladies come of age, that is.”
“You’re expanding your business, then.”
“Success with Felicity means success with others here in London.”
“Until you marry? Or will you continue after?”
“I will not marry. My father needs me, and my sisters need me. And oh, you know how it is. I know you do. It’s impossible to stop wanting something sometimes. Even when it’s not practical.”
Couldn’t say a damn thing to that. She’d hit the truth like a bullseye.
“I think,” she said, “I might stay in London. Lady Macintosh is eager to give my sisters Seasons when they are old enough.”
Stay. In London. God, what a complication, seeing her across the street every day after he married another woman. Heswallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Won’t you miss your home?”
“No.” Such a quick answer, such an absolute dismissal.
“Why?” None of his business, but he could not keep the question locked up. Would knowing help ease this fever he felt for her? Or heighten it to a deathly pitch?
“It is not so much my home as where I’ve always lived.”
