Free To Marry A Matchmaker (Historical Romance) by Michelle Styles

throwing his features into sharp relief. ‘My mother died from one when I was ten.’
    ‘My late husband…used to fear them.’ She hated the way her voice quavered and stopped. She should have more control after all this time. It had to be the laudanum. She tightened her grip on the blanket, concentrated on the flocked wallpaper rather than on Robert’s mouth and regained control. ‘He’d seen his father die from a splinter of wood, but Edmund died of…of other things.’
    ‘It is awful to lose someone you love.’
    Henri glanced up at him and saw the tenderness in his eyes. He understood without her having to explain about Edmund’s death and the agony he had experienced. Why did he have to be the one who did?
    ‘Did…did the doctor say anything? Does he think I might—?’
    ‘Right now, it is time. Everything that can be done is being done. But if you do not rest, I will not be held responsible.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘The village would never forgive me if I lost you.’
    Henri wrinkled her nose as relief flooded through her. Somehow it made it easier to think that Robert was there with her, even if it was just words. ‘Hardly that. I keep bullying people into things they don’t want to do.’
    ‘Like dancing lessons.’ A heart-melting smile crossed his face. ‘And it will be strict rest. Doctor Lumley insists. He said something about last winter…’
    Henri made a face. Doctor Lumley would have to remember how last winter, she had suffered a chill and had been far too busy to rest—the Ladies’ Aid Society had needed to make up the baskets for the poor. She could think of a dozen pressing problems and a half-dozen more minor crises that required her attention. And then there was the vexing problem of Sebastian and howhe had conned Aunt Frances out of the housekeeping money that last time he was up here. Could she direct the house even if she was lying on a sofa with her foot raised? ‘I can’t remain here that long. I have responsibilities. My aunt depends on me.’
    ‘You wish to get well. The entire village can exist without your interference for a few weeks. In next to no time, you will be arranging people’s lives again.’ He gave a crooked smile that lit up his face. Henri tightened her grip on the coverlet as her heart started doing crazy flips and she found herself watching his lips. ‘Think of it as a way to win our wager.’
    ‘But a few weeks…the ball…people will forget about it!’ Henri’s body started to tremble. Suddenly the entire room tilted. She concentrated on the china ornaments and gradually the giddiness left her. It was a reaction to her predicament rather than to Robert Montemorcy’s nearness.
    ‘You do people a disservice.’ His smile became liquid honey. ‘Catch up on your reading. My library is well stocked, but someone can always be persuaded to go to the circulating library and get out the guide to better cattle, if you require.’
    Henri smiled back at him. Relief flooded through her. Seemingly their quarrel was over. They could even laugh about it. With Sebastian, such things festered and lingered for days. ‘Being here will demonstrate to you that I have other passions in my life besides matchmaking. If I succeed, you will be dancing the polka.’
    ‘On that ankle?’
    ‘Did I say with me?’ Henri pressed her fingertips together. It had to be the laudanum. The thought of dancing with Robert sent another warm giddy thrill throughher. She frowned. She’d never been given to giddiness, not even with Edmund. ‘I will watch with approval whomever you decide to dance with.’
    ‘But first you have to win the wager.’ He leant forwards and a myriad of colours lit his eyes. A woman could spend a lifetime studying those eyes and never be able to name all the colours. ‘I fully expect you to give in to temptation.’
    ‘I shall delight in proving you wrong.’
    His shoulders relaxed slightly, but there remained a guarded wariness about his eyes.