Page 1 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

L ooking back, Miss Ella Chesterfield probably should have listened to her mother.

And stayed home. In bed, like everyone else in her family.

But she didn’t. And here she was, picking up her pace, ignoring her older sister’s violent glare.

“You still haven’t told me why we had to leave so early,” Lady Cordelia grumbled, rubbing at the corner of her eye. “What kind of a lady goes for a walk at nine in the morning?”

Ella scoffed as she carefully guided the tired and grumpy Cordelia across the street to the park entrance.

Though it was deemed too early by her sister, the road was already loud and bustling with hansom cabs, carriages, carts, and everyday laborers fighting for purchase as they made their way to their morning destinations.

“I suppose this lady does,” Ella replied evenly as her heartbeat quickened.

Hyde Park opened before them, large and wide, as did Ella’s fragile hope.

Most of fashionable London appeared to agree with Cordelia, and the lustrous park was empty save for the occasion gentleman who crossed their path, necktie unbound and askew, steps unbalanced and certainly not straight, smelling of a sickening mixture of alcohol and powdery perfume.

In those clumsy exchanges, everyone did their best to nod and look away as quickly as possible, which was hardly difficult for Ella. Her sights were already spoken for.

The man in question just needed to make his entrance.

If only her sister would stop ruining the moment with her complaining.

The previous night, Cordelia had acted excited at the prospect of a walk with her youngest sister.

Since she’d married the marquise six months before, Cordelia had spent most of her time at her husband’s estate in Ipswich, out of the familial loop.

Ella had been flattered by Cordelia’s open elation at the chance to spend the morning with her.

However, she should have reminded her dear sister that her mornings started earlier than most women’s—especially married ones.

“Stop muttering under your breath,” Ella admonished her sister with a playful smile. “We’re here now, so just enjoy it.”

“I am enjoying it!” Cordelia snapped. “I just don’t understand why Regent’s Park wasn’t good enough for you. Hyde Park is three miles away from home.”

Ella tilted up her nose, feeling the soft burn of guilt climb up her neck.

Since her family lived in one of the exclusive crescent rowhouses across from Regent’s Park, Cordelia’s assumption wasn’t unwarranted.

But what Ella was searching for couldn’t be found in Regent’s Park.

He only came to Hyde Park at nine on Monday mornings, because he didn’t wish to be disturbed.

Ella had no plans to disturb him; she only wanted to watch him… and hope that he might disturb her .

“Don’t people walk in Ipswich?” Ella teased, turning the tables on her irritable sister. She wound her arm around Cordelia’s, tugging her along. “Don’t tell me that married life has changed you so much. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

Cordelia laughed, and that light, beautiful sound pinched Ella’s heart, reminding her of how much she’d missed it these last months.

Lovely and confident, Cordelia was only a year older than Ella, and the fourth daughter of Lord and Lady Weston to make a brilliant match.

Ella had been elated for her sister, but this marriage had hit her the hardest. Alexandra, Constance, and Suzanne’s marriages had seemed predestined and inevitable.

Older and more mature, they always appeared to have one foot out of the house.

But Cordelia had been Ella’s true friend, her partner in crime.

Ella had childishly convinced herself that they would have more time together.

But then the marquis had come sniffing around last season, and Lady Weston made sure that Cordelia was everything he desired in a wife and could do no better.

For once, Ella agreed with her intrepid mother.

But the sting of loss still smarted. And to Ella’s disappointment, it wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

“Of course we walk,” Cordelia returned cheekily. Her voice dropped to a furtive whisper that had Ella instinctively lowering her head to hear more. “But there’s so many… other things to do as well, that are… equally stimulating.”

“Ugh.” Ella dropped her sister’s arm with a huff. “Did you really come all the way out here just to tell me about your husband’s… nighttime prowess ?” Her feet stalled as a nervous expression floated over her sister’s porcelain face. Now, it was all making more sense.

Ella’s torso slumped despite the best efforts of her cage-like corset. “Wait. Did Mother order you to come with me today to tell me all about your husband’s nighttime… prowess ?”

“Oh, Ella, really!” Cordelia rolled her eyes devilishly. “It’s not only during the night.”

“How lovely for you,” Ella answered drolly. “And don’t Ella me! I know she did, so you might as well come clean.”

Cordelia marched ahead, and Ella watched her sister’s delicate shoulders inch toward her ears.

Her elegant, gloved hands strangled her parasol as if it had threatened to steal her expensive reticule.

And after a few weighted seconds, Cordelia released a stream of bluster.

“Perhaps Mother didn’t say it in so many words… ”

“Ha! I knew it!” Ella cried. Cordelia’s cracking under pressure was inevitable. As was her habit of doing anything their mother ordered. It wasn’t that she was a pushover, rather someone who hated saying no to others. It just wasn’t in her sweet nature.

Ella caught up to Cordelia’s side, nudging her with her elbow, attempting to assuage her sister’s guilt.

“Let me guess how Mother said it.” At once, Ella straightened her spine and clasped her hands demurely in front of her, stretching the crown of her head toward the sky.

“Now, Cordelia,” she began in an exceedingly clipped accent, more than a little nasally, “be sure to tell Ella all about your husband’s beautiful form.

Impress upon her the many joys and secrets of wedded bliss.

Describe to her—in restrained detail—everything she is missing out on by being such a stubborn and obstinate girl. ”

Cordelia snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s like Mother is right here!”

Ella pulled a face. “Hardly. Mother doesn’t leave her room before noon. She says that’s why her skin is so youthful and tight.”

Cordelia cocked her head. “I thought it was the ammonia cream?”

“Not anymore. Father told her to stop using it because he couldn’t stand the smell. He always thought something was burning.”

“Ah.” Cordelia clicked her tongue, fighting back a sly grin. “Well, yes, Mother did say something similar to all that. Not quite as salacious, though. She may not be as demure as the other mothers, but she still has limits.”

Not as demure was a kind way of putting it.

Lady Weston was nothing like the other mothers who preferred to speak about potential husbands in innuendo and bland hints involving adorable forest creatures.

Lady Weston despised na?ve women and made sure her daughters knew what was ahead of them regarding the opposite sex, and more importantly, what was expected.

“Mother? Limits?” Ella hmphed . “If she has them, I haven’t spotted them yet.”

Her older sister went on, ignoring her comment. “She was very adamant about my mentioning Lord Lucas, though.”

“Oh, was she?”

“Yes,” Cordelia drawled, overlooking the acid in Ella’s tone. “She wanted me to ask why you don’t… encourage him a bit more. He’s a good man. A viscount. He can’t help that he… that he…”

Ella helped her sister finish her sentence. “That he can’t control one eye?” She shuddered. “Cordelia, my love, he’s nice enough, but do you understand how difficult it is to hold a conversation with a man who has one eye constantly veering off to the side?”

“He tries to keep it straight!”

“I know! That’s what makes it worse!” Ella lamented.

“The poor creature wrestles it back to center, and then slowly but surely it creeps over again as if my small talk makes it want to jump off a cliff. I never have any idea what he’s saying because I’m utterly entranced by the eye’s Sisyphean endeavor. It’s too much for me to endure.”

For a moment, Cordelia’s expression sparked with thunder, and Ella thought that she’d gone too far making fun of the poor viscount, but then a smile twisted her lips and she broke out in giggles.

“Oh, poor Lord Lucas!” she groaned, clutching her stomach through the hiccups.

“He really isn’t so bad. And Mother likes him.

You know that means she’s going to start meddling soon. ”

Ella sent her sister a swift side-eye. “Soon? Mother’s already meddling. And let’s not confuse things. Mother likes Lord Lucas’s title more than she likes the man.”

“That’s not true,” Cordelia replied unconvincingly. “She… she thinks he would make a good, proper companion for you. Someone to provide a nice, easy life.”

The lackluster word fell between them like a lump of coal in a child’s stocking.

Ella scowled. “Companion. Companion. You get a husband with the kind of bedroom prowess— that apparently isn’t limited to the nighttime —that even our mother boasts about, and I get a companion.

And she wonders why I’m shuffling my feet to the altar. ”

Cordelia patted Ella’s hand. “You know that’s not what I meant.

” Her voice took on a soft, almost pitiful tenor, making Ella feel even worse.

“I just don’t want you to be bored or feel left behind with Mother and Father…

Alex and Constance and Suzanne have talked to me about it.

The house must seem so quiet and lifeless. ”