Page 29 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

O ne foot in front of the other. That was all Jack had to do. It was such a simple thing, a thing he did every day without even thinking twice about it.

What was it about these claustrophobic ballrooms that made him shrivel up, forgetting everything he’d accomplished or become? He was Jack fucking Sutton. A self-made man who was on his way to owning one of the most lucrative shipping companies in the country.

Who just happened to be a duke’s son.

Why was the second part always the most significant at these kinds of events? Men nodded to him in deference; women coquettishly batted their eyelashes in his direction—all because of where he came from and what that represented.

Jack hated it.

And the more he ruminated on it, the harder it was for him to act.

But Sinclair was right. If Sutton Shipping was going to break ahead of the competition and plant themselves firmly at the top, it needed the Caddell Tinplate Works contract.

America was booming. A gold rush had just been declared in some far-off place called California.

The rapidly expanding country needed iron for its railroad and the multitudes of new cities springing up.

If ever there was a time to make money, this was it.

Jack was standing on the brink of having everything he’d ever wanted.

And he couldn’t find the nerve to take one step across a crowded ballroom.

It wasn’t like Michael Caddell was avoiding him. Whenever Jack glanced his way, he could see the tycoon stealing looks at him. Waiting for Jack to make his pitch.

Waiting for a duke’s son—a duke’s brother—to come to the bricklayer’s son.

Was Jack proud? He’d never thought so before. Over the past fifteen years at sea, he’d broken bread with natives and slept in hammocks next to all sorts. But he’d been Jack Sutton on those occasions. And now he was forced to be Lord John. And he wasn’t sure if he even liked Lord John.

Just as much as he hated that he couldn’t take his fucking eyes off Ella.

Looking absolutely fucking perfect and demure.

Standing at the right hand of her equally suitable and appropriate sister and gigantic brother-in-law, the Marquis of Tykesbury, who’d been fortunate enough to be told exactly who he would be when he grew up and didn’t have the ornery compunction to want anything different.

Good for him. It was true what people said. Ignorance is bliss.

“I was told on good authority that if you don’t stop scowling, you’ll get wrinkles. You wouldn’t want those, would you?”

It took a few seconds, but Jack smiled.

Ella rounded in front of him wearing a daring peach-colored gown and a mischievous smirk.

Jack’s head swiveled to Lady Cordelia and her husband, who were both watching him now, curiosity more than evident. “I thought you were over there,” he said, feeling dumb the instant he said it.

Ella bobbed her shoulders. The innocent action made Jack’s balls tighten. Her gown draped just off those well-formed shoulders, leaving them mostly bare and so inviting. Jack had spent many minutes in his spot tracing the beautiful lines of her clavicles.

“I’m here now,” she said. “I needed rescuing. It looks like I’m not the only one.”

Jack played with his earring, twisting it round and round in its hole. He smiled wryly. “Is it that obvious?”

Ella’s laughter gave him the answer. “Your mother said you didn’t come to dance. She said you had some business to handle. Why aren’t you handling it?”

With her brown eyes focused squarely on him, Jack was hit by a gust of selfishness.

This gentle lady shouldn’t be wasting her time on him.

This was a ball. Ladies like her lived for these moments.

With her new gown, and the hairstyle that had made him pace in the drawing room for thirty minutes as he waited for it to be completed, she should be showering other eligible, appropriate men with her attention.

During Jack’s darker moments (and the last week had been full of them), he’d told himself that she only dealt with him at the house because she had no one else. Oliver was indisposed half the time, and all the others were too young, too old, or merely repugnant. Jack had been the least of evils.

He only wished he could remind himself of that now. Remind Ella as well. Because the way she was fixed on him, with that innocent delight, that sparkle of teasing, that welling of desire, made him hope that all was not lost.

“Well?” she asked, prodding him out of his stupor.

Jack cleared his throat and took a deep exhale, attempting to clear his mind. But even with a room clouded with smoke and perfume and desperation, he was only filled with Ella.

“I am handling it,” he growled.

Her brow pinched together in response to his anger, but how could Jack explain that it wasn’t directed at her, but him ?

His feelings for her. He’d been so obvious about it that even Oliver, crazed with a fever dream, saw it.

She’s mine. Those words had echoed over and over again in his mind all week.

Jack had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

Maybe he’d wanted to be all along. Because Ella hadn’t been lying.

She hadn’t been keeping a deep secret regarding Oliver.

She’d been telling the truth. They were engaged!

Jack was better than this. He wasn’t the kind of man who would steal his brother’s fiancée from under the man’s convalescing nose.

And yet here she was, smelling that way, looking that way, speaking that way, and Jack was helpless. He couldn’t move from her because he didn’t want to. Plain and simple.

“How, exactly, are you handling it?” she asked, biting back laughter. Jack tried not to watch her teeth plunge into that pillowy lip, but once again, he was a selfish bastard.

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he retorted hotly.

He flicked his chin toward Caddell, who was standing across the room next to a woman Jack assumed to be his wife, holding court with other scions of industry.

Lines had been drawn in the ballroom—titles on one side, and everyone else on the other.

Only a brave few ventured into the other’s territory, and of those, all were men.

Ella followed his line of sight. “Oh,” she remarked casually, “Mrs. and Mr. Caddell? Is that whom you need to speak to?”

“Do you know them?”

She shook her head. “I know of them. They have a daughter my age—Louisa. I think I heard my mother say Mrs. Caddell is trying to elevate her, find a good match.”

“How does your mother know this?”

Ella clicked her tongue. “My mother knows everyone in the ton . She makes it her business to know their business. Maybe you should be talking to her right now instead of me.”

“I don’t ever want to talk to anyone other than you.”

The words flew out of Jack’s mouth before he could stop them. He ducked his head, but not before watching Ella’s face burn red. An insatiable desire to hold her beckoned him, a desire to press her head against his chest and protect her from his embarrassing ardor.

Ella’s giggle surprised him. “I think if you considered it a little more, you would disagree. One word from my mother and she’d have Mr. Caddell eating out of your palm.”

Jack smiled, tossing his humiliation to the side. “She’s that good?”

“She is. It’s undeniable.”

Jack narrowed his gaze, letting the moment stretch. “I bet you’re just as good.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Ella paused, and Jack could see that she was considering the silent invitation. Blowing out an exhale, she widened her shoulders, considering Mr. Caddell and his crowd with a new, shrewder gaze.

“All right, then,” she said boldly. “Let’s go introduce you to Mr. Caddell. I’ve always wanted to see if I could do it just as well as my mother.”

“Do what?” Jack held out the crook of his arm, his heart jumping when Ella placed her hand upon it. The small motion completed him in some odd way, like he had been a puzzle waiting for its last piece.

Ella stared down at their point of contact. He heard her breath quicken, could see her two top teeth peek out as she licked her lips. Her voice was wobbly as her eyes collided with his. “Bend a man to my will.”

Jack laughed, a loud, booming sound that trailed behind them as he guided Ella across the room. Such an innocent. If she only knew what she did to him. She’d never wonder something so ridiculous again.

*

Ella leaned back against the carriage seat, a superior quirk curving the side of her mouth.

Jack was waiting for her to crow. He was surprised she’d gone this long.

Perhaps he was the one in the wrong. The moment he’d helped her into the conveyance, he should have told her that she was a revelation.

Jack had spent five years working to make his company a success; she’d managed to do just as much in one night.

“So…” she began shyly, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Do you think you have a chance to win the contract?”

Jack chuckled. At the end of their conversation, Montogomery had been practically begging him to have Sutton Shipping send over a bid for the contract.

He couldn’t wait to get to the office tomorrow to tell Sinclair.

The account manager would still complain about too much work, but at least he’d have a sunnier tone about it.

“Thanks to you… maybe.”

Ella beamed, her cheeks rosy and high. “I didn’t do much,” she added demurely.

Jack sent her an exasperated scowl. “You were fantastic. Don’t fool yourself. The way you wrapped the Caddells around your little finger—it was masterful, and you know it.”

It was harder and harder for Ella to beat the pride away. “It was hardly masterful,” she tried. “I merely spoke to the couple and listened to what they had to say.”