A Lady's Perfect Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  "Yes. How was London?" She could imagine him now, spinning around dance floors with another beautiful woman on his arm every minute. She'd thought of it often while he was gone, and would have dwelt on the ideas more if she hadn't had the guilt of Montgomery's illness to distract her.

  "Diverting." He played with the hem of his coat and then shrugged and corrected himself. "Actually, not diverting at all. Not as I'd hoped."

  She forced herself to meet his steady gaze. "Why were you hoping to be diverted?"

  He looked out the window, breaking whatever momentary bond had been formed between them. "No special reason. A man needs to be distracted sometimes."

  "Women too." She looked back at her sewing, poking the needle carefully into the taut fabric and pulling it out, out, out until another fresh line of butter yellow thread was looped into place. There was a rare moment of silence between the two of them. Hannah had noticed that Brody almost never rested in silence. He always had a joke or a story to break the calm. Today, he seemed at ease with it. When she spoke at last, her voice sounded foreign in the serene room. "And your brother? How is he?"

  "I would think your sister had been giving you regular updates."

  Was that a note of jealousy in his voice? Hannah couldn't be sure, but her own infatuation with the dapper man sitting across from her read it as such. Brody must be hearkening after Emelia, and because of that he didn't like her attentions towards Montgomery.

  "She tells me some things," Hannah said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Still, I'd like to hear it from you, and I know that a brother always has the most information."

  "He's nearly recovered. No longer on bed rest, actually, although I can still see him growing weary after too much time spent in the sun or out on horseback. Yes, you may well look shocked. Mother thinks it's absolutely atrocious that Montgomery should choose to do anything as strenuous as horseback riding so soon after escaping the jaws of death, but if I'm being honest I would tell you that it seems to be doing him well. I think he misses some of his more active pursuits. I actually think it would do him well to go back to the clinic, but the doctor has joined forces with mother on that point and I think it will be a few days at least before he breaks through their two-fronted defense and gets back to doing what he loves best."

  Hannah could hardly believe Brody was talking to her. This was the kind of fluid conversation and open honesty that he had only heretofore shared with Emelia. She bit her lip. "Well, I'm glad to hear that he's recovered so well."

  "Yes, well, he always was strong as an ox." Brody laughed. "And how are you?"

  "Oh, you know us Wells. We've been doing fine, I suppose. Father has some new business along the coast that has been keeping him more than occupied, and you know that Emelia—"

  "I'm so sorry," Brody said, interrupting her with another light laugh. "But when I asked how you were doing, I meant it in the singular sense. How is Hannah Wells—not how is the Wells empire."

  Hannah felt a bit flustered by this unusual attention, and was mortified to feel a hot blush climbing into her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to the embroidery in her lap, desperately hoping this action would disguise her embarrassment. "I'm quite well."

  "What are you working on?" Brody stood up and moved to sit on the arm of the chair in which Hannah was ensconced. He was leaning over her; examining her embroidery. His nearness brought Hannah's heart into her throat again. "That looks like a very pretty scene."

  In truth, it was one of Hannah's more prized projects. She'd painted a scene of a wagon looping along the road to her favourite lookout, and had already finished an embroidery of the same scene with the wagon and the far-off horizon in thread on muslin. Now she was just putting the finishing touches on the daisies lining the road.

  "It's based on a painting I did once," she said, blushing still more furiously. "It isn't for anything—just frivolity. It will only hang on a wall."

  "Things that hang on walls still serve a purpose," Brody said thoughtfully. "I've always thought that this world needs beauty of all kinds, and even if you're sewing—a usually pragmatic task—it's an opportunity to bring more beauty into the world."

  It was a kind thing to say, and Hannah could feel Brody's gentility pulling her up and away from her embarrassment. She looked up tentatively at him, catching his downturned eyes. "Thank you," she said simply.

  "I like what you've done here." He leaned forward still more and carefully traced the outline of tree that spread low and wide along one end of the scene. His finger pressing against the embroidery met her hand beneath the cloth. She stood up quite suddenly, nearly toppling him from the edge of the chair, and retreated a few steps away to the window.

  "Yes, well, I've always had a knack for such things. My mother taught me." She laid the embroidery aside and folded her hands, trying to forget the feeling of his touch. "Emelia always struggled with it, but I know that's because she was good at so many other things."

  "Yes, I actually had hoped to speak with you about Emelia."

  Ah, there it was. Hannah hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. Of course that was the only reason Brody would ever seek her out especially—he had some greater purpose involving her sister.

  "Anything you need," she managed to say through stiff lips.

  "I know it will sound odd," Brody said, standing and walking to the fireplace to rest his hand on the mantle, "but I have a suspicion about her that I wish to ask you about."

  Hannah nodded for him to continue.

  "I have been watching your sister for some time, and it has come to my attention that she has developed… feelings… for someone close to both of us."

  Now this was promising. Though Hannah hadn't noticed any such feelings on Emelia's part, Brody's language clearly delineated a person outside of himself and Hannah, therefore intimating that he himself wasn't the object of Emelia's affections. "Really? I haven't noticed any such thing."

  "Really? After all the energy Emelia has been pouring into nursing, the time she's spent at our house even after Montgomery recovered, the way they danced together at my ball?" Brody shrugged and raised his eyebrows. Understanding washed over Hannah.

  "You think there's something between Emelia and Montgomery?"

  "I think there could be, although I don't know that either of them has the gumption to make it happen. They're both so careful of each other; I don't know if either would make the first move."

  Hannah watched Brody with a keen eye, but she couldn't tell if his confusion was out of a genuine concern for his brother or jealousy over Emelia's emotions.

  "What—" she ventured, "—what do you think we ought to do about it? You wouldn't have brought it up to me if you didn't think I could help."

  "That's it. You've got a bright way about you, Hannah." Brody smiled at her in a way that melted her heart. "I propose we find a way to encourage the two of them to court one another. Perhaps we arrange a meeting for them, or exhort each of them separately to consider the relationship. My brother will be reluctant, but I saw something when I returned from my travels in London; I think there's a real future there for them both."

  Hannah thought about it, and the more she did the more sure she became. "You might be onto something, Brody. Usually I think your schemes are far-fetched and ridiculous, but in this instance I can see the trail of affection growing between Emelia and Montgomery, and I think they might actually make a remarkable pair."

  "Setting aside your back-handed insult about my schemes," Brody said with a wink, "can I take it that you are in agreement?"

  "Absolutely."

  He walked forward a few steps and peered at her for a moment as though he'd never seen her before, the same way he'd looked at her on the dance floor. Hannah blushed under his scrutiny and turned to look out of the window again. "What's your motivation to get Emelia and Montgomery together, anyway?" she asked.

  "Their happiness," he said simply. There was something more in his voice, that much Hannah
could hear, but for some reason she didn't want to determine what. Brody was silent for a moment and then he gave one of those harsh little laughs that he always used to get out of uncomfortable situations. "It will be a boon indeed, because when Emelia's happily married my little marriage pact with your sister will finally end."

  Hannah felt her heart freeze inside of her. So it was true. After everything here was confirmation that Brody did, in fact, care for her sister. Hannah felt a rush of emotions—disappointment at the realisation of Brody's true feelings, pain at the betrayal of her sister keeping such a secret from her, anger at both these people whose secrecy had dragged her heart down with it—but she could see a certain searching look on Brody's face and new that, for whatever reason, he was searching her face to gauge her response.

  Why he would want to know her reaction was beyond her imaginings, but whatever followed she was certainly not going to give this well-dressed dandy the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Instead, she nodded as dismissively as possible and took a seat.

  Brody stood in silence, and Hannah could feel his confusion. It was palpable in the air all around her, but she wasn't going to give him the relief of stepping in and telling him it was alright; that she'd known about it all along, that she didn't care about the silly little pact. Because that would be a lie, and Emelia and Brody had lied enough for the whole of them.

  "You're quiet." Brody said at long last. He'd been searching all that long silence for words, and all he could come up with was, "you're quiet?" Hannah resisted the urge to scoff audibly.

  There had always been gossip, but facing the truth about Emelia and Brody Hannah was most hurt by a singular fact: she'd confessed to an infatuation with Brody to her older sister, and her older sister had listened to her without breathing a word of any marriage pact. Perhaps she would have blurted all this out to Brody; perhaps she would have told him exactly what hurt her and why, but she was saved from all of this by a voice in the doorway.

  "Brody!" It was Emelia, recently returned from her walk.

  ***

  "Of course you must stay for dinner," Emelia said quickly, looking back and forth from Hannah's face to Brody's. There was something the matter; something just a little bit off in this room that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Brody was smiling as widely as ever, and Hannah was quiet and reserved as ever, but something was still not quite right.

  "Yes, of course." Hannah looked up at Brody with a distant expression. Emelia noticed Hannah didn't make eye contact with her at all. "You should stay. We're having mutton stew, and I know it's your favourite."

  "It is my favourite," Brody said, smiling back at Hannah with his usual light ease. "Good memory."

  All fine and good, but something was still wrong.

  Emelia led the way to the dinner room, where their father was already waiting. He exchanged pleasantries with Brody while they took their seats, teased Emelia, and questioned Hannah about her day. Everyone went through the motions of laughing and responding, but all the while Emelia was looking at Hannah. She had that same cold, confused look on her face, and she had yet to look at her sister.

  "Hannah, would you pass the potatoes?" she asked. She didn't really want them, not yet at least, but they were the nearest food item to her sister and therefore the quickest way of getting her attention.

  "Of course," Hannah said through tight lips. She lifted them and held them for a brief moment. "I wouldn't want to keep anything from you."

  That's an odd way to phrase it, Emelia thought with another stab of misgiving. She wondered what had passed between Brody and Hannah, but couldn't think of what it could be. "Thank you," she said simply, taking the potatoes and ladling some onto her plate.

  They ate in this haze of pleasantries and sparse conversation, and all the while Emelia grew more confused and uncomfortable. Brody was at last the one to come to her rescue, leaping in with one of his characteristically grand ideas.

  "Now that my brother is quite recovered, I have determined that the best way to celebrate is to throw another grand party to celebrate his fortunes. The ball was magnificent, but we'll keep this a smaller group—six or so families from the county, with dinner and music and dancing afterwards. Doesn't that sound grand?"

  "It does?" The hint of a smile came onto Hannah's face. "You were always good for a party, Brody."

  "I think I'm good for a good deal more than that, don't you?" Brody smiled at Hannah and then turned to include Emelia in his little joke. She bit her lip and nodded. Brody sat between her and Hannah, but the two sisters were separated in more ways than that, and Emelia didn't know how to bridge that gap.

  Chapter 29

  The night of the dance seemed to Emelia to be years in the coming, although it was only a few days. She told herself that the seeming eons were owed only to the lack of activity she'd had as of late, but she knew in her heart that wasn't the case.

  There was a great war simmering in the Wells' household, and she had no idea what was at the root of it. Therefore, though her heart dearly missed her sister's companionship, nothing she did seemed to earn it back for her.

  She'd gone to Hannah every day with invitations to go riding, to walk in the garden, to travel to town, and always Hannah's answers were very calm; very cold refusals. She found new and creative ways to turn Emelia down.

  "I'm sorry, but I've already been horseback riding, and besides, I don't really like the country at this time of year."

  "I would go, but I fear I wouldn't be much for conversation."

  "It looks like rain."

  All the excuses were so painfully transparent that Emelia began to think Hannah wanted them to be. The silent treatment and evading of your grudge does no good if your grudge isn't aware that she's on your bad side, after all.

  This little speck of realisation crept into Emelia's heart and made a little welt of bitterness there. On the day of the party, she finally burst out against Hannah.

  "We need to talk." She walked into the room where Hannah was preparing. She'd dressed in white again, as she so often did, and was pinning her hair up. Emelia came over and held out her hands. "Let me help with that."

  "I can do it by myself." Hannah smiled patiently, as though speaking with a child, and peeked at Emelia's royal blue gown in the mirror. "Don't you think that color's a little harsh?"

  Emelia bit back the retort that hovered on her lips and tried to remember her purpose: to get to the bottom of whatever was afflicting Hannah. "Alright, you do it yourself. But we need to talk nonetheless. Something's bothering you, clearly, and I want to see if there's anything I can do to help you."

  "I don't need any help."

  "Okay, then I want to know if there's anything I can do to help us."

  Hannah's hands froze on her dark curls, hovering there with a pearl pin poised in her fingers. "What us?" she asked, her voice tight. "Do you mean our unbreakable bond of sisterhood? I'm sorry, Emelia, but it's a little late to be concerned with that."

  "What do you mean—?"

  "Please, for once, respect my privacy and leave me alone!" Hannah slammed her hand down on the table in an uncharacteristic show of rage. The hairpins she'd laid out so lovingly skittered and bounced across the lacquer top, and Emelia jumped. She felt the bitter taste of worry mixed with anger.

  "I'll leave then."

  "And I think it's best if you and I go to the party separately tonight. I'm nearly ready, so I'll walk over now. You come whenever you've done something with that hair of yours."

  Emelia turned, hurt, and hurried to her room. What could it be? She'd thought that getting the conversation going and thawing the cold front that had blown so inexplicably in, would give her answers and make her feel better. Alas, Hannah's fury was just as bad as her ice, and it had burned Emelia badly.

  She almost didn't even go to the dinner party, but the thought of Brody and, admittedly, Montgomery, persuaded her to go. She walked alone through the deepening dusk, wishing for the companionship of the sister who h
ad always before made the journey with her to events like these. She'd changed out of the royal gown because, as much as she hated to admit it, Hannah's slighting words had stung.