Page 28 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

“I don’t think I should go,” Ella said cautiously. “With everything that’s happened here lately, I think it’s best if I stay.”

Side by side, Lady Evelyn and Sonia stood across from Ella, neither of them appreciating her decision.

Being on the receiving end of their displeasure, she could only appreciate how quickly things had changed.

Ever since their impromptu musicale last week, granddaughter and grandmother had become thick as thieves.

Sonia had morphed into the lady’s shadow, following her around the great house, interjecting and commenting on a whim.

Sonia was the only person the duchess allowed to question her. At present, Ella couldn’t help but be a little jealous of that fact.

Lady Evelyn flicked her hand in the air impatiently, her nails reminding Ella of claws just waiting to strike. “Nonsense. Your sister is hosting her first ball. Missing it would be unconscionable. If I were Lady Cordelia, I would never forgive you for the slight.”

Sonia nodded firmly.

Ella sighed. It was hardly a slight. Her sister would understand. Their relationship was made of stronger stuff than that. “But what about Lord Oliver?”

A flash of concern passed over the duchess’s face before she tucked it away, nice and tidy. “What about Oliver?” she asked, her voice a shade deeper. “He’s fine. He’s getting better every day.”

Part of that was true. Yes, the fever that had overtaken the duke so acutely had finally released its hold, but to say the man was on the mend was a gross overstatement.

He was still plagued with headaches and dizzy spells, and the doctors continued to shroud him in his bedroom to keep the light and other sensory irritants at bay.

Ella must have been labeled as one of those “irritants,” because she still hadn’t been asked to join him, even though she knew Jack, the duchess, and Lady Amelia routinely spent time in his quarters most days.

For some reason, Oliver was holding Ella at a distance.

She could only guess why, and none of those guesses boded well for her.

She couldn’t fight the overwhelming feeling that she was a lamb biding her time before slaughter.

She’d spoken to Lady Amelia twice since their initial discussion, pleading with the woman to let her spill the truth, but the lady wouldn’t budge.

She insisted Ella continue with the illusion, explaining that it would all work out in the end.

Work out for whom?

Ella couldn’t help but think that everything would be different if she didn’t love being at Sutton Park so much.

Gone were her days of boredom. Spending time with the sweet duchess and her direct mother, not to mention the indomitable Sonia, had been just the balm for her lonely soul.

Even the uncles provided sustenance with their quiet, puzzling ways.

Although not always willing to break out of their shells, the men were kind to Ella, and she’d enjoyed watching them get to know and appreciate their grand-niece.

Retreating back to London into the safety of her family didn’t hold the allure it once had.

Those muted halls, reticent dinners with her mother and father, endless hours waiting for letters from her sisters…

It only reminded Ella of how desperate she’d been.

So desperate she’d walked six miles every Monday to spy on a man racing his horses. A man who had no idea she existed.

He probably still didn’t know.

So, what would it hurt if Ella went to Cordelia’s ball? It wasn’t like Lord Oliver would miss her. He wasn’t the one Ella wanted to miss her, anyway.

The duchess must have spotted Ella wavering.

“Go on,” she said, poking Ella toward the stairs.

“It’s time you started getting ready. Your mother sent over a new, lovely gown, and you’ll be late if you stand here frowning any longer.

Remember, my dear, frowning is how all those old women have wrinkles.

” She glanced down at Sonia, placing a gentle hand on the side of her head. “You don’t want wrinkles, do you?”

“No, Grandmother. Never!”

“Exactly!” the duchess exclaimed, so pleased that she bopped the child’s nose with the tip of her finger.

Lady Evelyn returned to Ella, the smile stalling on her face. “What are you still doing here? Go upstairs!” she chided. Her expression became grave. “If you don’t go, people will talk. They’ll worry and gossip about my son. And we can’t have that, can we?”

On cue, Sonia chimed in, “No, we cannot.”

The duchess stepped closer to Ella. “They’ll see you and Jack, and they’ll know that Oliver will be on his feet soon. Your presence will be a message and a relief for them all.”

“Jack?” Ella startled. “Jack is going?”

“Of course,” the duchess replied, picking a stray piece of lint off the sleeve of her plum gown. “Although, naturally, he’s complaining about it just as much as you are.”

“You’re forcing him to go?” Ella asked.

Lady Evelyn snorted, and Sonia joined in with one of her own. They looked at one another and rolled their eyes. An odd fluttering tickled Ella’s chest. It was adorable how well the two were getting on, but she had the distinct feeling of being the third wheel.

“You know Jack better than that,” the duchess replied dryly.

“He only listens to me when he wants to. No, he said something about needing to talk to someone who was going to be there, something about gaining contacts. Or was it contracts?” She flicked her hand through the air once more.

“Business,” she added with a put-upon sigh. “Whatever that means.”

*

Ella wasn’t sure how to quantify if a ball was a success, but if not being able to move without elbowing someone in their throat was any indicator, her sister could sleep with ease that night.

It seemed like all of London had come out to witness the Marchioness of Tykesbury’s foray into hosting, and Cordelia had been nothing if not prepared.

Standing next to her sister and brother-in-law in their glorious ballroom, Ella could feel the nervous pride wafting off them.

Cordelia had said that it took her two whole months to decide on the flowers and food, and Ella could concur that, though that sounded excessive, it had been well worth it.

If something wasn’t shining and sparkling, then it was blooming.

Crystals and diamonds mixed with elegant roses and fat peonies created an environment that evoked good taste and high standards.

Though it was clear that Cordelia’s mission was to impress, she’d used a deft hand, indicating that she didn’t want to impress that much .

Because that would be gauche. That would not be fitting.

And Cordelia fit.

Ella, on the other hand, not so much.

“Why does he keep looking at me?” she asked, edging behind her sister, hoping to lose the miserable scowl directed at her.

“Who?” Cordelia asked.

“Lord Lucas,” Ella replied, sneaking furtive glances at the viscount over her sister’s puffed-silk-covered shoulder. “He’s been doing it all night. It’s… vexing.”

The Marquis of Tykesbury tapped his teeth together. “It’s… well… I think it’s my fault.”

Ella turned to her newest brother-in-law. “What did you do?”

Ordinarily, she wouldn’t accost one of her sister’s husbands in public, but the marquis was as close to a real brother as she would ever get.

Lord Daniel’s father had been great friends with Cordelia and Ella’s, and the children spent many summers together.

The parents would never admit it, but it had probably always been the plan for Daniel to marry one of the Weston daughters.

To Ella, it showed good judgment that he’d eventually come to his senses and settled on Cordelia.

Daniel squirmed under Ella’s condemning glare.

“I didn’t mean it…” he started uneasily.

“It’s just… The man was asking about you, and I felt terrible because he likes you so much, and he’s a good chap and he has that weird eye…

” The marquis shrugged his brawny shoulders.

“I thought he still had a chance, so I told him so.”

“A chance at what?” Ella asked icily, gaining a few odd looks from the crowd closest to them.

Daniel’s handsome face fell. “A chance at you . Last time I heard, you were practically engaged. I thought that was the plan.”

Ella’s astonishment could not be contained. “What plan?”

“The plan!” Daniel screeched. “Your mother’s plan. I thought he was the man your mother wanted for you. I thought the whole thing was as good as done.”

Cordelia groaned. She closed her eyes, hands on her temples, careful not to disturb the diamond diadem her husband had surprised her with before the ball. “But that was before, darling.”

“Before what?”

She gave her husband a pitying smile; it was the verbal equivalent of patting a dog’s head for trying. “Before the Lord Oliver situation.”

Daniel threw up his hands in exasperation. If people weren’t gawking before, they were definitely doing it now. “You ladies change everything so quickly! You told me that the situation with the duke wasn’t real. You told me Ella was in love with someone else, so I assumed it was Lord Lucas!”

“There is someone else!” Cordelia replied.

Daniel leaned toward his wife, completely eclipsing her tiny frame. The man was as tall as a tree and just as wide. “And that someone else is not Lord Lucas?”

Cordelia slapped her palms on her husband’s lapels. “No, of course not!”

The marquis had never been more confused in his life. “I still don’t understand,” he said lamely.

Ella cut in. “Will you two please stop talking about me like I’m not here? And also, be so kind as to inform me whom I’m in love with!”

Cordelia cocked her head, assessing her sister to such a degree that Ella couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Darling,” she started, “I think Lord Lucas might be so… intense tonight because you haven’t looked at him once, as you’ve been too busy staring at someone else.”

Ella blinked. “Who?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Lord John! You came with him! And I’ll tell you if you need me to—you’re in love with him.”

“Jack?” Ella laughed. “Sister, I don’t know what gave you that impression, but you are wrong. Besides, the duchess demanded we come together. It’s nothing to read into.”

Cordelia arched a brow. “And does she also demand that you write ‘Jack this’ and Jack that’ in all your letters to me?”

Ella didn’t like the way this line of questioning was going. She felt as uncomfortable as her brother-in-law looked, though he was doing much better now that his wife had moved her focus off him. “He’s interesting.” Ella shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Interesting, yes,” Cordelia agreed, twisting her lips into a smile. Coyly, she slid her eyes to the opposite side of the room. “But not very interested in this ball, is he? Whenever you manage to take your eyes off him, his are staring at you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ella scoffed. Jack had barely mumbled a complete sentence to her on the long journey here, making the carriage ride awkward and uncomfortable.

Not two minutes before she entered the ballroom, she’d considered ignoring the man for the rest of her life.

His vertiginous moods were giving her whiplash.

One second, he was peering into her soul, conveying feelings that made Ella’s toes curl inside her slippers, and the next he was pretending he could see right through her.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Cordelia countered. “He’s stood there all night with that scowl on his face, not talking to anyone. He’s as bad as Lord Lucas! And is that an earring? Mother won’t like that all.”

“I like his earring! And what about Mother? This has nothing to do with her!”

Cordelia didn’t bother responding to that rot. Everything always had something to do with their mother. Lady Weston made sure of it.

Cordelia dropped her head closer to Ella, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What is happening? What are you doing in that house?”

“I don’t know,” Ella replied. Which was the truth. She could lie to everyone—even herself—before she could lie to her sister.

“Oh dear,” Daniel announced, breaking through their moment. The women turned to find his face getting redder by the moment. “He’s coming over here.”

“Who?” Ella asked. She spotted Jack at once, but the wallflower hadn’t budged an inch from his corner. There was only one other option.

“Go hide,” Cordelia ordered her, shoving Ella farther behind her. “We’ll hold him off. It’s the least we can do,” she said, glaring at her husband.