Jessica Nelson - The Matchmaker's Match

“Not at all.” Smoothly Amelia skirted Lord Ashwhite and went to her brother. She clasped his hands and drew him into the room. “And I do apologize for waking you, but this cannot wait. Is Lady Eversham asleep still?”

“Yes, and not to be disturbed.”

They sat on the couch while Lord Ashwhite continued his elegant stance against the wall shelves. Amelia acutely felt the heat of his gaze upon her but chose to ignore it. She hoped Ev would dismiss his friend, but when her brother called for morning tea, that hope withered.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. Very well. Lord Ashwhite would find out her circumstances soon enough should things not go the way she wished.

“Did Ash come with you, Amelia?” Ev steepled his fingers. She noted the clumsy knot of his cravat and felt a pang of guilt for showing up so early.

“Yes.”

His brows rose, waiting, but she wouldn’t say more. He’d already interfered in her life enough. And she’d let him know that, regardless of Lord Ashwhite’s presence.

“We had business to discuss.” The low rumble of his voice interrupted the tension between her and Eversham.

Amelia gave Lord Ashwhite a warning look before turning to her brother. “I received your note, brother, and am most disturbed. Could we discuss your plans in private?” Perhaps not the politest way of ridding the room of Lord Ashwhite, but she had to at least try. He was distracting in too many ways.

“Ash can hear whatever you have to say. It’s good for him to learn what happens when forced to choose between relatives and a wife.”

Amelia frowned. “But this is family business.”

“Yes, and business is what got you here in the first place. I meant what I said in my letter, Amelia.” He gave her an annoyingly stern glower. She hated that look.

“You’re being insufferable,” she said quietly. Anger was stirring in her belly, hot and viscous. “My life is not yours to dictate.”

A flicker of empathy crossed Ev’s face before being tamped down by an even worse emotion: resolve. “I know you don’t like it, but I have responsibilities now. Four years ago I wouldn’t have cared, but I’ve the properties to look out for as well as my wife. Your ridiculous rants against the prison system, not to mention this... business of finding husbands... It has to stop.”

“But one week—”

“Is more than enough to pack up your house,” he finished for her. “I’m going back to bed unless, Ash, you have something to add?”

“I’ve heard quite enough,” said Lord Ashwhite.

Amelia hardly dared look at him—at anything, really, lest the men see the burning anger that swept through her at the unfairness of it all. A week to move in with her brother and his wife. No choice at all. Even if she stopped all her activities, he would not give her a stipend large enough to rent her own home. What was she going to do?

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