Always the Matchmaker (Never the Bride Book 8)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  “That is what I intend to do,” said Albemarle, looking into Teddy’s adoring eyes. “I have far more important things to do.”

  With much muttering and bad grace from one, and laughter from the other, the two gentlemen left the room.

  It did not feel empty as the door closed behind them. On the contrary, the room now felt like theirs. Their very own.

  Teddy smiled, still in his arms. “And what do we do now?”

  Albemarle released her from his arms and grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

  He had pulled her into the hallway before she asked, “But where are we going?”

  Albemarle stopped in his tracks. This did not seem real. Here she was, everything forgotten, all past wrongs erased.

  It did not seem right.

  “Why did you forgive me?”

  The question echoed in the hallway, and Teddy looked a little askance. “I…I realized you meant no harm. With your mother, I mean.”

  Regret pained his heart. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that—”

  “I know.” Teddy looked at him closely, and her hand squeezed his. “I lost the chance of happiness once. The fault was not mine, but that did not matter. I-I lost it. Now I have the chance for happiness again, and this time, true happiness.”

  Albemarle did not speak. He could see how difficult it was for her, saying these things.

  “One day, I will tell you all about it,” she said, breathing out heavily with a laugh. “But not today. Suffice it to say that in thinking back to my past, I realized what I wanted my future to be. And it was with you. Dowager countess be damned.” She ended with a wry smile.

  Albemarle kissed her hand. “You know I still intend to marry you in eight days, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Teddy said decisively.

  His smile faded. “What?”

  A natural smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. “I will need at least fifteen to plan this wedding, Albemarle. When I become Theodosia Howard, Countess of Lenskeyn, it is going to be the best wedding society has ever seen.”

  Cupping her face in his hands, Albemarle kissed her passionately, pouring out all his fears that he had lost her and the relief she had come back to him. He would never stop loving her—he would never stop showing her just how loved she was.

  When he finally released her, both of them were breathless. Albemarle took her hand in his again.

  “Come on.”

  “But—but where are we going?” she asked curiously as they started going upstairs.

  Albemarle grinned. “To show you just how much I love you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You are marrying a woman with great organizational skills!” protested Theodosia as she looked up from her lists. “What on earth did you think was going to happen?”

  She looked across the drawing room from the desk that Blenkins had set up for her, right in the window, and stifled a grin.

  There he was. Her Albemarle, lying on a sofa with his eyes closed and hand covering them to block out the autumnal light.

  “I just had no idea that weddings were so blasted complicated!” he said, not bothering to open his eyes.

  Theodosia really did laugh this time, and as she did so, her stomach swooped. Placing her hands on her stomach to settle it, she swallowed down the words she wanted to say. Today was not the time. They had far more important things to think about, after all.

  When the right time would be, she was not entirely sure. But one thing she did know, it would be obvious.

  And so, instead of speaking the words desperate to be poured out, she said briskly, “Albemarle Howard, a wedding—nay, a marriage is a complicated thing. One cannot simply throw up one’s hands and hope all the pieces come together! All things must be carefully considered, weighed, chosen, then acted on!”

  Albie did not reply unless one counted a harrumph a reply.

  Theodosia smiled and shook her head before turning back to the uppermost list on her desk. “So, the guest list. ’Tis almost finalized, with just a few individuals to consider. Lady Romeril, I suppose, must be invited.”

  A groan emanated from the sofa. “Yes, damn it. Irritating woman.”

  His bride-to-be frowned. “You cannot say that, Albie. True, she is a little outspoken, but perhaps the world would be a better place if more women spoke their mind.”

  “It is not Lady Romeril’s mind I have an issue with,” came the muffled reply. “It is her inability to keep that mind out of other people’s business!”

  “Nevertheless, she is a stalwart of society.”

  “A buttress, you mean.”

  “I will add Lady Romeril to the list, then,” Theodosia said, forcing down another laugh. Really, she would have to watch herself. Marriage to Albie was going to make her more cutting in her remarks if she was not careful. “Now, I have a ‘Lady Howard.’ One of your relations, I assume? Great-aunt?”

  “Sister-in-law. Widow of Elmore.”

  “Oh, that Lady Howard,” said Theodosia, a little crestfallen. Now she had found Albie—and had put their differences and misunderstandings behind them—it was devastating to think of losing him. And Elmore had been the younger Howard brother…

  She turned around to look at her future husband. “We must have her, then.”

  “Poor Elmore, he should have lived,” Albie said, lifting up his hand to look at her. “Yes, Lady Howard should be there. We have to have her, in fact, because there are rumors she may be with child.”

  Theodosia turned away quickly. “Really?”

  “I don’t know how much credence to give the gossip, but there is a chance.”

  Her heart was beating faster, but she was able to keep her voice calm as she said, “From what little I have seen of her, she was—what would you say, one and thirty?”

  “Something like that,” came the unconcerned voice of Albie. “Time will tell, I suppose. No, we must have her.”

  “One and thirty. No age at all to be a widow—at least, not for long,” mused Theodosia, reaching for her notebook. “I wonder whether she would appreciate a conversation with a matchmaker…”

  Opening up the notebook, she added a note to her list of potential ladies as Blenkins came into the room, white gloves on his hands, to check on the silver in the sideboard.

  Lady Elmore Howard—widow. One and thirty. With child?

  “Damn you, Teddy, no wife of mine is going to keep working!”

  As Theodosia turned around, she saw her protective fiancée had sat up and was glaring in a most attractive way.

  She gave him her most brilliant smile. Really, he was too marvelous for words. The way he wanted to protect her, give her the best the world had to offer.

  “I absolutely am,” she said, turning back to add Lady Elmore Howard to the growing guest list. “And no husband of mine is going to attempt to change my mind. It would be a foolish errand to be sure, and you have much better things to be getting on with.”

  She heard him shift on the sofa.

  “You know, I think I shall have to have a word with that young Braedon,” she said lightly. “Keeping you out at all hours. What time was it that you returned here last night?”

  There was no response—at least, no verbal response. A long, low groan echoed around the room.

  “And all those bottles,” Theodosia teased. “Blenkins told me this morning that all the wine he had accumulated for your cellar has mysteriously disappeared.”

  Blenkins glanced at her with a harried expression at the exact same moment that Albie sat up, looking outraged.

  “Mysteriously disappeared!” he protested. “All I did was take a few bottles to my friend’s, and why—”

  “Miss Ashbrooke, I had no cause for complaint!” Blenkins interrupted as he glanced nervously at his master. “I merely wished to discuss for the wedding—”

  Their voices were overrun with laughter. “Do not concern yourselves, either of you,” Theodosia said. “I merely wish to point out, Albie, t
hat perhaps one’s headache would not be quite so bad if you did not keep taking bottles over to Braedon’s for his card parties. A viscount should provide his own refreshments.”

  He smiled wryly. “Well, perhaps. Is that another one of your society rules?”

  Theodosia turned back to her guest list. There were still so many people to review. “Yes, I think so.”

  “I suppose I should not be surprised,” came the cheeky response as Blenkins left the room, evidently mortified. “You called me arrogant when we first met—”

  “And a great number of times subsequently,” Theodosia added absentmindedly.

  “But I think that quality is more alike to determinedness, and you have that in spades.”

  She could not help but smile. It was true. The more she had grown to know him, the more she had realized just how alike they were.

  She did not reply immediately. The guest list was too long—or was it? How numerous were the guests at an earl’s wedding? She had never planned one before. Not really.

  “I should have noticed we were each other’s perfect match within days,” she said with a smile as she crossed off Mr. Lister. There was no chance of him coming to her wedding. Not after his behavior toward Tabitha Chesworth—now the Duchess of Axwick.

  “Perhaps your skills are slipping?”

  Theodosia shook her head. “No, if anything, they are now more astute. All the more reason to continue with my matchmaking services—yes, Albie, continue! I have so many people still on my books, and it would be most discourteous to simply give up on them. At least for the next six months or so.”

  She could not help but see whether her words had been understood.

  Her hint, however, was utterly ignored. Albie still had his hand over his eyes, and as she watched, he sighed heavily.

  Theodosia shook her head. Albemarle Howard was very clever in some ways, remarkably intelligent even. But in some ways, he was as ignorant as a child.

  As though able to feel her gaze upon him, Albie removed his hand and grinned. “Are you finished? I want my bride back, and I have lost her to that damned organization. Surely there cannot be more to do?”

  Theodosia glanced at the lists spreading across the desk, the few that had slipped onto the floor, and the others left on an armchair as part of tomorrow’s work.

  “At the current rate we are going?” she said lightly. “I would say…three days.”

  Albie laughed and tried to speak at the same time, causing him to splutter. “Thr-Three days! Goodness, Teddy! Far be it from me to criticize, but aren’t we getting married in five?”

  “We are,” she said serenely.

  “I think my mother and a few other guests may get annoyed if we postpone,” mused Albie, “and I certainly would hate to be kept from your bedchamber any longer.”

  A curl of anticipation made Theodosia shiver. It had been incredibly difficult keeping Albie’s hands from her this last week. Now, more than ever, she wanted the comfort of his touch—but no. She had told him, repeatedly, that he would have to wait until he married her.

  She was going to stick to that one, no matter how tempted she was.

  Albie sighed into the silence. “I suppose we could postpone if we really had to.”

  “I would not recommend it,” Theodosia said. “The sooner, the better.”

  Should she say more? Was it fair to leave him in the dark? How could he be expected to make decisions for the next few months if he did not know?

  “I suppose you are right. So many of these blasted plans made already,” Albie said, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. “I can only imagine how complicated it would become, attempting to rearrange them all. Even you, mistress of all organization, would probably be hard-pressed to do it. No, I should probably leave you alone to get the damned lists finished.”

  His eyes closed, and he sighed heavily.

  It was all Theodosia could do not to laugh. Really, it was most provoking! Was this the right opportunity, then, to tell him? She had wanted to the last couple of days, but then it was difficult to know when the perfect moment was.

  Once the truth was out, there was no taking it back.

  Looking at him made her stomach swoop and her heartbeat quicken. She loved him so much. She wanted to give him everything, everything in the world. To be his bride was one of the greatest honors of her life.

  His bride, and then…

  With a sudden spurt of energy, Albie sat up. “You know—I am hungry. This damned hangover needs curing, and I do not think the hair of the dog would be advisable. Blenkins has had almost nothing to do these last few days. You eat so little. What would you like? They can make anything for you—if ingredients are not to be found here, one of the maids can go out.”

  Theodosia turned back to her lists. “No, thank you.”

  As she continued to scribble down a few notes for which of her guests should not be permitted more than two glasses of liquor, there was silence.

  Then Albie’s voice rose, concern in every tone. “Are…are you sure? You have not eaten anything all morning.”

  “I am not hungry, thank you,” she said, glad she had her back to him. It would not do for him to see the pink dots on her cheeks.

  “You should eat, you know,” he continued. “Your mind needs sustenance if it is going to untangle the damned seating chart. What has happened to your appetite, anyway? You never used to send back food or decline cake. Cake! You!”

  Theodosia’s pencil stopped. Trust Albie not to notice anything except she had ceased eating cake!

  It was now. Now was the moment. She was unlikely to have a better one, just the two of them together, and if she were not careful, even Albie’s ridiculous ability to ignore what was before him would cease.

  Surely, he could not be that stupid.

  Placing her pencil down on the desk and tidying her lists together, she turned to look at the man she loved.

  “Albie,” she said quietly. “I will probably not be eating most mornings. Not for a little while.”

  Theodosia had been sure that statement would be enough. He was older than her, after all. He had seen so much more of the world, met so many different people.

  Albie rolled his eyes. “Teddy, I cannot believe I am saying this, but you will fit into your wedding gown fine. Please do not worry, and please, for love of all things holy, do not miss meals.”

  “No, ’tis not that,” Theodosia began.

  “I have no desire for a slip of a wife anyway,” Albie continued, shaking his head seriously. “I want a real woman that I can grab hold of in the bedroom.”

  He smiled wickedly, and she almost laughed. Really, but there was no shifting his mind once he picked up an idea.

  Rising from her seat and fighting the nausea that immediately swelled as she walked across the room, she pushed his feet onto the floor to make room for herself on the sofa.

  “No, it is not that,” she repeated softly. “It is just that I do not wish to eat in the mornings—and some afternoons, too. I feel too unwell.”

  The teasing joy in his face immediately disappeared. “Unwell?” His eyes raked over her, taking in her pale complexion. “I will call the doctor. Doctor Sanders will—”

  “Albie,” she interrupted, almost laughing. His concern was so endearing.

  His expression filled her with such hope, it was challenging to think of the words to speak.

  “Please, Albie, there is no need,” she said placatingly, putting a hand on his arm. “I have already consulted Doctor Sanders, and everything will be fine. He is not concerned in the slightest, and neither should you be.”

  Albie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So…so you are sick, but he is going to make you better? Do you need any medicine? Christ alive, Teddy, I have left all the wedding planning to you, and here you are, telling me that you have been feeling so unwell you have consulted a doctor!”

  “No, please do not concern yourself with—”

  “I am the most selfish creature t
hat ever lived,” he said thoughtfully. “I always have been. But I will improve, Teddy, I promise.”

  He was the most endearing man.

  “I love you the way you are,” she said, attempting to reassure him. “Please—”

  “No more lists,” he interrupted most emphatically. “Death by lists, I knew it! Hand over all that damned paperwork, and I will see if I can make head or tail of it.”

  Theodosia was so full of happiness; it was almost impossible for her to speak. But she must.

  “The doctor said,” she began slowly, “I will start to feel better after three months, then it is three months of feeling quite normal, and then three months of staying at home and doing very little. And then…”

  Her voice trailed away. The words to describe what would happen next simply did not come.

  Color drained from his face. “Not…not consumption? Teddy, darling, you aren’t trying to tell me that—”

  “No, no, of course not!” she said hastily, taking his hand in her own. “No, after that…”

  Albie swallowed. His fear appeared to prevent him from speaking, but he finally managed to say, “Then you will be better?”

  Theodosia squeezed his hand. “Then I will have a baby.”

  There was a moment—and she had no idea how long it was, but it seemed to tip into eternity—when Albie just stared. His dark eyes met hers and did not let them go. His breathing seemed to stop, and his face became expressionless.

  Theodosia found that she was holding her breath, too. There. It was said. Now she would see whether he was interested in having a family, or…

  She was pulled quickly into his arms as he cried, “Teddy!”

  His passionate kiss prevented her from speaking as he gripped her tightly, and then he pushed her back, his hands on her arms, as his gaze searched her wildly as though looking for clues of the child.

  “You—you are sure? My God, a baby—a child! Are you sure? A family already?”

  Her laughter was part excitement, part relief. He was happy! He was happy, he loved her, and he was going to be the most incredible father.

  “As sure as I can be!” she laughed. “I missed my flux. I am tender. I have morning sickness… Doctor Sanders agrees with me that it is most likely I…I am with child.”