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As Ellie closed out the till, she glanced at her aunt, who was browsing the day’s collection of papers.

When she first arrived in England, Ellie was a shy, bright, and completely confused child—and was horribly intimidated by Winnie.

As the years passed, though, Ellie realized that Winnie only appeared demanding and condescending due to cultural differences.

Winnie opened her home, and her heart, and Ellie was forever grateful.

She couldn’t imagine life without her spitfire of an aunt.

Closing up shop was not worth a fight with the woman who had saved her, loved her, and guided her into becoming her own person.

“I’m ready if you are.” Ellie joined her aunt and took out her keys. “I’m starving. Care for dinner? My treat.”

Winnie peered over her spectacles and looked her up and down with a frown. “Eleanor…”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you before, I quite like my wardrobe.”

“You’re a beautiful young woman,” Winnie began.

“‘And there’s no need to dress like an aged spinster.’” Ellie finished the statement for her, ending with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m just conservative.”

“You wear that like it’s body armor.”

She glanced down at her long-sleeved brown shirt and tweed, knee-length skirt. “It’s hardly chain mail, Winnie. I look like I own a bookshop.”

“All you’re missing are those hideous glasses.”

Ellie reached behind the counter and jammed the thick-framed tortoiseshell glasses onto her face. “You’re right. Now I’m ready.”

“Cheeky chit,” Winnie muttered, but with a smile. “Those are back in fashion, you know. All right. Let’s head to Spitalfields and try to get into that new restaurant, the one on television.”

“If you want to get into a famous restaurant, you should just tell them who you are,” Ellie pointed out, locking the door behind them. She took her aunt’s arm and they strolled up the street.

Winnie’s eyebrow went up. “I would love a quiet night, Eleanor. Shall we take a taxi? ”

Ellie grinned. Her aunt loved the attention she received from her articles in The British Tea Times , but she refused to admit to it.

Irish by birth and English by circumstance, Winnie loved her place in British society.

She was universally adored and loathed by celebrities, socialites, and peers.

She told it like it was; “a nod,” she claimed, “to my Irish heritage.” And though she pronounced her consonants as crisply as the next Londoner, Winnie was proud that her father was an Irishman.

“I have other news,” Winnie announced. “I need a favor, dear.”

“Of course,” Ellie said automatically. She’d do anything for her aunt.

“Excellent. I’m not sure if you caught that article I wrote last week about the American matchmaker?”

“Oh, yes. Celtic Connections.” Ellie nodded. “I agree with you on all your points. They sound horribly snobby.”

“You’re so sweet. Their publicist contacted the paper a couple of days ago, and they seem anxious to prove themselves over here.

They think the English need their services.

The Irish, too, but that just shows their ignorance.

” Winnie rolled her eyes. “The Irish, needing help to find love. Honestly . However, it seems that the Brits, at least, agree with my thoughts, and the company isn’t gaining any new members.

So they’ve asked me to retract my statements. ”

“What?” Ellie turned to her aunt, surprised.

“Do they not know who you are? You always ask for proof positive to the other side of your argument. And you argued a very solid case, Winnie. If you have income restrictions on a matchmaking service, it becomes less about love and more about class divisions. Money begets money and all that.”

“Right, right.” Winnie gazed out the window, her eyes drifting over the people hurrying to get to where they were going. The autumn winds were blowing through London, and the temperatures dropped further each day. “Which leads me to the favor.”

Ellie’s stomach twisted. Winnie was usually delicate about her questions, but at least once a week, in addition to offering a shopping spree, she wondered aloud if Ellie planned to remain single for all of her days. And since they already covered her wardrobe…

“You know how much I loved my Ernie,” Winnie began.

Ellie tensed. Talking about Winnie’s departed husband and a matchmaking business in the same conversation could only lead in one terrifying direction, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“He was the kindest, sweetest man I ever knew. It was a shame you never met him, but there you have it. He gave me everything he could, and gave me room to spread my wings when they needed to be spread. He stood up to me when I needed that, too. We had some passionate rows!” She speared Ellie with a look.

“But, to be honest, he was a bit dull in the bedroom. Even when we were making up.”

“Winnie!”

“Oh come now. We’re both grown women. I’m being honest for your benefit, dearest.” Winnie delicately pulled a handkerchief from her purse and slipped it into Ellie’s palm.

“Cover your mouth with this if your sensibilities are shocked again. No one enjoys looking into another’s throat.

So, my Ernie, while sweet as sugar, didn’t really ‘get my motor running,’ if you know what I mean.

It was a sacrifice, I agree, but I learned early on that no man is perfect.

In my younger days, before my marriage, I had just the opposite kind of man—he fanned my flames to the point that I wanted to combust, but he wasn’t good for me. He knew it and called it off.”

Ellie fanned herself with the handkerchief. She didn’t know how to respond; her aunt had never been so frank with her, and her feeling of doom intensified.

“Times are different now, dear. Women demand it all, and we should have it! Excitement in and out of the bedroom isn’t an either/or anymore. It’s an and .”

Eleanor wasn’t a prude. But she really, really didn’t have any wish to know about her aunt’s bedroom adventures (or lack thereof).

“Now, about this matchmaking service that claims Irish roots. Mrs. MacWilliam—an American who married an Irishman, smart woman—is their publicist, and she claims that the income restrictions are in place to protect those who have money from gold diggers. I’m not sure I agree.

But I did ask her to prove that she can match someone without monetary interest or gain.

Eleanor, it’s time to let go of the past. It really is, darling. ”

Swallowing the enormous lump of dread in her throat, Ellie shook her head. “Winnie, I told you. I’m perfectly happy being alone.”

Winnie continued as if she didn’t hear Ellie’s words.

“While I was speaking with Mrs. MacWilliam, I naturally thought of you. Isn’t it perfect?

If they fail to find you a suitable husband, then I’m proven right.

If they succeed, then you win. There’s no losing here, darling!

Please, give it a try. If for no other reason that my readers are so hoping for a case study.

And you would be perfect. Of course, I understand if you don’t wish to help.

Well…I wouldn’t understand, per se, but I’d try, dear, and that’s why you love me so, is it not? ”

Ellie pursed her lips. “I know what you’re doing.”

Winnie attempted to look affronted. “I’m trying to ensure you’re happy for the rest of your days.”

“I hate dating. You know I do.” Ellie closed her eyes.

“Not all men are like Andrew,” Winnie added softly.

No, Ellie silently agreed with her. But I’m still me.

Which was exactly why all of the dates she’d gone on in the last eight years had been unmitigated disasters.

Aside from the fact that she hadn’t felt even a spark of chemistry with anyone since Andrew, she had yet to meet a man who was as intelligent as he was good looking.

In her experience, you could have one but not the other…

and, if she was being honest with herself, dating was a lot of work.

Makeup, clothing choices, dinner selections, movie preferences.

It was all for naught, too, as when the evening was over, she still went home alone.

“He treated you horribly,” Winnie went on, and Ellie groaned.

“Must we rehash this?” she replied wearily.

“Yes,” Winnie declared, then softened her tone. “Eleanor, we both agree that he should have been there.”

“Instead of at some palace event with a blonde on his arm?” Ellie asked, though the malice she used to feel was long gone.

In its place sat a hollowness that she doubted would ever be filled.

Not for the man—he wasn’t worth more than a passing thought—but for the girlhood dreams she had built around him.

She’d come to terms with it years ago and now her perfectly crafted fairytale world included her, her aunt, a city content to ignore her, and her bookstore.

She was comfortable with that.

“Society can be harsh,” Winnie agreed. “But truly, my love, not all men treat women like that. Rationally, you know it to be true. And I want to see you happy. You are still young, only twenty-eight. You have so much to offer a man of quality, and we both know you’ll make a spectacular mother.”

Ellie’s gut clenched. Eight years her senior and son of the modern-day Earl of Dorset, Andrew Beaufort, Britain’s most eligible peer, had no reason to look twice at the niece of a gossip columnist. He was introduced to her by way of her aunt at a gala event in London’s West End, and Andrew danced attendance on Ellie for the entire night.

The next day, the papers were buzzing with speculation, and despite her aunt’s warnings, Ellie was caught up in the whirlwind.

When Andrew called her two days after the event, she floated on a cloud.

Their first date included a helicopter ride to Scotland, dinner at Edinburgh Castle, and dancing at Edinburgh’s hottest nightclub.

And almost every day for a month, Andrew took her on amazing, wild dates, jetting all over the continent—a bullfight in Spain, beer tasting in Germany, skiing in Switzerland.

But suddenly, the dates stopped. He became too busy for her calls; he’d answer, but a quick excuse later and he was off the phone.

Until the last phone call, when, before he had time to utter anything, Ellie blurted out her news, then burst into tears.

Andrew reacted to her pregnancy with disbelief, then disgust. He claimed she was trying to trap him into marriage, and, as na?ve as she’d been at eighteen, she believed they were headed in that direction.

He threatened a paternity test if she carried the baby to term, then informed her flat out that she would never be allowed to raise the baby.

She was, after all, a commoner…and a baby of his would not be brought up as such.

Her gut still twisted when she thought about it, and she knew— knew —the stress of his threat was what had led to her miscarriage.

She pulled herself back to the present and, seeing her aunt’s hopeful expression, sighed heavily. “Whatever your motivation for getting me on another date, you must admit to being a master at twisting words, Winnie. You’re more Irish than you let on.”

“Oh, pfft. I have never denied my Irish side. I embrace it whenever necessary to get what I want.” Winnie leaned close. “So you’ll do it?”

Ellie handed the handkerchief back to Winnie. “What if I say no?”

Winnie waved her hand around. “Would you believe I’d cut you out of my will?”

“No.”

“You’d be right. Of course you can say no, dearest.” Winnie turned on the taxi seat and clasped Ellie’s hands in her own.

“But there is nothing in this world I’d like more than to see you happy.

And before you start in on your I-don’t-need-a-man-to-be-happy speech, let me just say that I’ve had both kinds of men.

I tried the strong, passionate type who will move mountains to get to you, but not lift a finger to keep you.

He was fun for a while, but that flame was doused just as swiftly as it ignited.

Then, I had my steady love. There was comfort there.

Peace of mind, joy in the little things, and companionship.

We were not blessed with children, but it mattered not to me because I eventually was given you.

You deserve the best of both. A perfect-for-you man.

” Her eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “Eleanor, I’m not getting younger.

I want to see you with that same happiness I had with Ernie, and that same passion I had earlier in my life.

When I’m gone, you’ll have none but the customers who enter your shop.

I want more for you, love. More than what the dusty pages of a book can offer you. ”

Ellie’s mouth hung open. Though her aunt didn’t know it, she had been contemplating a change.

Maybe a quiet man, one she could be comfortable with.

Not fall in love with—she didn’t want to ever suffer a broken heart again—but one with whom she could pass the time, or read funny stories from the papers to over breakfast. Maybe snuggle on the couch while watching a movie.

She could admit to being a bit lonely in her flat every night.

With effort, she managed a nod.

“You’ll try? For me?”

She huffed out a bewildered, shaky, frightened laugh. “How can I say no now?”

Winnie clapped her hands. “Oh, Eleanor, how exciting. A word of advice, though.” She glanced at the taxi driver, who was absorbed in whatever music played in his earbuds. “Go for the perfect man. In for a penny, in for a pound, yes? ”

Ellie let out a surprised chuckle as the taxi slowed to a stop. “Indeed. We’re here, Winnie. I hope you’re hungry enough for the both of us, as I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Best find it,” Winnie advised with a delicate snort. “As I’m certain Celtic Connections will match you with wealthy men, you’re sure to be eating at the best restaurants in the city!”