Page 43 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

T hree weeks after Jack’s death, Ella walked out of her parents’ townhouse into Regent’s Park.

She couldn’t hide any longer. And Lady Everly had been right—Ella hated every minute of it.

She felt like Sonia on her first day at Sutton House: the sun was too warm, her clothes were too tight, the people walking past her smiled too much.

But she felt a smidgeon of accomplishment as she retired to bed that night—she didn’t force the pain away, though she did force it to share its space.

Then she woke up and did it again. And again. Venturing farther into the park and further into her old life again.

Determined to make amends with Myfanwy, Ella stopped dragging her feet and paid a call to the new mother—and spent a surprisingly happy afternoon watching how quickly and fully her cricket club captain had fallen in love with her baby daughter.

Though it couldn’t have been difficult. According to Myfanwy, Grace was the most beautiful, most wonderful, most intelligent baby that had ever been created.

Ella was enraptured enough to agree.

Of course, Myfanwy being Myfanwy, the blessed baby wasn’t the only thing she was proud of.

The Matrons had insisted that the annual match keep its date, despite Grace’s delivery, which would leave Myfanwy unable to attend, since she was expected to stay home for a few more weeks, recovering from childbirth.

But that would not do. Over a very stressful few days, she’d renegotiated with the club, delaying the match by another month.

Ella glanced at Myfanwy’s husband while his wife recounted the stress.

Eyes glassy from exhaustion, and with a face that hadn’t been shaved in days, Samuel appeared ready to topple over at any minute.

Ella wondered how much of that exhaustion was from the new baby, and how much was from Myfanwy’s drama with the Matrons.

“Can you believe them?” she asked Ella while gazing lovingly at the baby girl in the crux of her arm.

“They thought they would use my sweet, precious Grace against me. Ha! I would never allow that! They will simply have to wait.” Her confidence faltered.

“I still won’t be able to play, but at least I can be there… to provide moral support.”

Ella nodded. Myfanwy’s moral support usually included a lot of frustrated yelling, but Ella was glad for it. Cricket wouldn’t feel the same without Myfanwy there obsessing over it.

Later that night, Ella managed to get back to her room before the tears fell.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t ecstatic for her friend, but seeing her profound contentment with her husband hit a nerve inside, reminding Ella of everything she’d lost. It had been a difficult day, but again she accepted the small win.

She could have stayed inside, could have ignored Myfanwy and her new child, pretend the birth had never happened, but she hadn’t.

And just as Lady Evelyn had told her, she became stronger for it.

The following week, Ella started her morning as she did most others, crossing into Regent’s Park just as the sun was climbing into the pale-blue sky.

It had rained the day before and the grass appeared to be tipped with tiny, sparkling diamonds, and Ella had to watch her steps as she steered around all the puddles along the walking path.

She craved these mornings, when it felt like she had the entire park to herself. She didn’t have to worry about keeping a pleasant expression on her face or pretending to be happy when she wasn’t. She could just be . It was freeing.

But it never lasted. Slowly but surely, the park became littered with fellow wanderers, and after a solid hour of exercise, Ella directed her feet home. She had the exit in her sights when a figure gave her pause.

Lord Oliver paced near the gates, dressed in a fine black jacket and overcoat with a blue-and-green waistcoat peeking out underneath. He spotted her standing frozen on the path and tipped his top hat with a bashful grin.

Ella didn’t have to try for a smile. She gave it willingly to her friend as she strode toward him, taking in all of his changes.

The duke had put on much-needed pounds. His cheeks had more color, and his hair was filling in nicely from what she could see under his hat, even hinting at his previous curls.

His smile was as audacious as ever, though Ella could sense a caution inside his deep-green eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Your mother said you’d be here,” the duke said, his voice a little too high, betraying his nervousness.

Ella couldn’t account for it. She eyed him curiously, wondering if he was worried that he might run into someone he knew. “I like the quiet,” she answered.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said, pointing to his head. “I never knew it was such a luxury.”

“Are the headaches still bad?”

“No, no, nothing I can’t handle,” he replied. “I can even listen to Mother and Sonia bang away now without fearing I might get sick. They’re overjoyed to have a new admirer.”

Ella laughed as the duke did what the duke did best: he regaled her with stories of the family, humorous little snippets that he’d already written about in some of his recent letters.

She was grateful for the meeting, but wondered about his true intention.

It wasn’t abnormal for Lord Oliver to ramble on, though it was odd when he did it with no sense of where he was going.

As he was winding down an anecdote about Sonia’s new, fierce nanny, Ella couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “Did you need something from me, Your Grace? Is that why you came here?”

“Ugh.” He frowned. “Don’t call me that. Not you.”

“All right, then,” she said slowly. “What do you want me to call you?”

His broad shoulders shifted; he gazed down at his feet. “Oh, you know, what everyone else calls me… Oliver, Ollie…” He tilted his head to her, his smile adorably sheepish. “Husband. We are engaged, aren’t we?”

Ella’s knees shook so much that she had to lock them straight.

She could barely believe it. The Duke of Winchester was in front of her, staring at her with such blatant hope.

For a fleeting second, Ella let herself get caught up in it.

There was nothing stopping her from giving in to this temptation.

Because he was a good man. A kind man. Marrying him would keep Ella from being alone; she could help raise Sonia and laugh with the duchess and place blankets over Lady Amelia whenever she fell asleep in her chair by the fire.

And through it all, Ella would always be reminded of Jack. And she would die little by little each day.

“Oliver… Ollie,” she said. “I can’t marry you—”

“Oh, and why not?” He chuckled. “Because we were never engaged to begin with?”

Ella jerked back. “How did you…”

“I think I’ve known for a while,” he said, his tone unbothered, an attempt to reduce the sting. “Those damn doctors were right. I pay them enough for it. Everything did start to become clearer—everything except you. No matter how hard I tried.”

Ella stepped toward him, the shame tearing at her. “I am so, so sorry, Oliver. You have to believe I never meant for any of this to happen.”

He held up his hand, cutting off her pleas. “I don’t need an apology, not after everything you’ve done for my family.” He squinted. “But I wouldn’t mind an explanation. Start from the beginning.”

Ella gave him everything and more. She told him about hiding from him at her parents’ ball, and then all those early Mondays. She told him about the accident and her verbal blunder, and how Jack had brought her to the townhouse, suspicious the entire way.

And the more she explained, the less weighted down she felt. Her conscience had been overwhelmed for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be free of the nagging guilt.

When Ella finished, Oliver ruminated for longer minutes. His brows began to slant, and she worried that all of her talking might have encouraged one of his headaches.

The duke slid off his hat, twirling the brim round and round in his hands, instantly reminding Ella of Jack. The pain was instant and acute, and it consumed her… until it left.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Oliver’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Thank you for telling me that. It all makes sense now.”

Ella continued to watch him. Her legs continued to shake, and she feared she might teeter over.

Oliver’s expression was rueful as he raked his hands carefully through his short hair. He pointed his hat at her. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be married.”

Ella caught herself in mid-teeter.

The duke went on, gaining speed. “I’ve thought a lot about it, Ella, and I think we match up well— better than well.

I’m a new man with you, and I don’t want to go back to my old ways.

If there’s anyone that can handle me, it’s you.

You could be a duchess. I would take care of you, give you everything you’ve ever wanted. ”

Ella shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “But I don’t want anything, Oliver,” she said carefully. “And I don’t want to handle you.”

He ducked his head, scowling. “That’s not what I meant. You have to understand. I feel like my life is this puzzle and you are the missing piece. You can keep me on the straight and arrow. You can make me the man I need to be.”

Ella almost got sucked in again. To his promises, his eagerness, to his lovely green eyes.

But his comment ate at her conscience. She’d heard someone use it before with her…

being a piece to someone else’s puzzle. Ella didn’t want to be a piece in someone else’s story.

Not anymore. Lady Everly’s acuity struck her once more.

Two months—maybe even two weeks ago—Ella might not have had the strength to pass up this opportunity.

But she did now. It had been growing inside her, callousing over the jagged cuts of loss.

Marrying Lord Oliver would undoubtedly be an adventure.

But it wasn’t the adventure she wanted. Ella didn’t know what that looked like anymore. But she would use her newfound strength to recognize it when it came. And it would come.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?” he asked.

Ella grimaced, nodding.

Oliver nodded back, taking her reply with astonishing grace.

“You don’t love me, Oliver. And deep down, you know that,” she said. Ella walked to him, placing her hand over his heart. “And I don’t want to make you into a different man. You’re exactly the man you’re supposed to be, and…”

“And you love Jack.”

Ella pulled her hand away, but Oliver caught it, placing it back on his jacket.

His sad, knowing expression caused her lips to tremble. “I can’t stop loving him.” Her voice hitched. “Because I still feel him like he’s still here. I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

The duke tugged Ella into his arms, wrapping her in a bear hug. She sobbed against him, her shoulders quaking from the release of someone else she had kept inside too long. And she was grateful.

“I’d never ask you to,” Oliver whispered in her ear as he continued to hold her.

For as long as Ella needed.