He didn’t necessarily mind the gossip about himself. He was more worried about her reputation. Even if she was maddening, he didn’t want people speaking ill of her.
Oscar waved at several people, shouted something more, then stepped back inside. “After failing to match the senator’s daughter,” he said as he made his way toward his corner table where his leather journal sat, “Bellamy has no choice now but to form a match of his own. ’Tis the best way to be saving his reputation as the new matchmaker and showing himself to be responsible.”
Since the meeting between the Meiers and Whitcombs yesterday, Bellamy had talked about Zach Meier being interested in the senator’s daughter. He’d hoped the news would alleviate some of the censure that might come his way for failing to find someone for Deirdre in a week’s time. But most people were focused on his inability to close the deal and make something happen.
Whatever the case, Oscar was being too pushy. “There’s no need to be rushing—”
“Oh aye, there’s a need.” Oscar scraped out his chair and plopped down.
Zaira was inching her way toward the door. She was probably hoping to leave without any more notice. Her parents likely had no idea she’d come to the pub. If they discovered her presence here, they would be angry with her, even scandalized.
“No more putting off marriage, Bellamy.” Oscar opened his ledger. “You have to be proving to everyone that you know all about love and marriage and relationships.”
All the dormant frustration inside Bellamy swirled into a growing storm. Oscar had no right to preach about proving things he knew nothing about. He hadn’t loved his wife the way she’d needed, and his lack of sensitivity and hardheadedness had driven his wife to drink and eventually desert their family.
If Oscar couldn’t make a marriage work, why did he think Bellamy could? Especially when he was well aware the McKenna matchmakers were unlucky in finding true love?
“The match between Zach Meier and Deirdre will eventually work out. I felt thethin breezebetween them.” Bellamy tried to infuse his statement with a determination he wasn’t yet feeling inside.
A thin breeze was usually one close to the ground that most people missed but that signified a change in weather. The same was true in relationships. Other people might miss the thin breeze—the slight changes in a relationship—but not the matchmaker.
“Thin breeze or no, you still have to be seen as responsible.” Oscar leafed through his ledger, scanning each page as he did so. “And there’s no better way to be learning about love than to experience it for yourself.”
Zaira had reached the door and started to open it.
“Stop right there, young lady.” Oscar didn’t look up.
Bellamy hadn’t been sure if Oscar had even noticed her presence. But the old matchmaker was obviously still as keen as he’d always been—one of the traits Bellamy had inherited.
Zaira paused.
“I hear Bellamy’s in love with you.”
“That’s not true!” Bellamy’s denial came out too forcefully, and once spoken, he wished he could pull it back and say it again more casually.
As it was, Oscar paused in perusing his ledger and raised a brow at Bellamy.
“Oh aye, it’s the truth.” Georgie picked up one of the bowls of stew still sitting on Jenny’s platter. “We all saw the way he just kissed Zaira Shanahan.”
Zaira lifted her chin and met Oscar’s gaze bravely, as though she intended to take full responsibility for all that had happened between them.
“It wasn’t really a kiss,” Bellamy said, trying to figure out a way to save Zaira from being drawn into the situation. “And it didn’t mean anything.”
“Whoo-ee!” Georgie called out again almost gleefully. “If that wasn’t a kiss, I don’t know what is.”
Several of the other men chortled and made comments under their breath about how it was definitely a kiss.
Oscar already had the mistaken impression that Bellamy liked Zaira—or at least was attracted to her. No doubt, now after discovering they’d kissed, he would start planning a wedding right away.
Bellamy needed to set Oscar straight. “I’ll not be marrying Zaira. So don’t even say it.”
Her narrowed eyes shot to Bellamy. “Bellamy McKenna, you’re arrogant for thinking I would marry you. Because the fact is, I wouldn’t consider it, not even if you were the last man standing in St. Louis.”
Her voice was filled with a derision that took him off guard. He wasn’t used to women disliking him. Before he could think of a response, she flung open the door the rest of the way, stepped out, and then slammed it shut behind her.
With the echo reverberating in the silence, Georgie triedfor a whistle through his toothlessness. “You blew that, Bellamy.”
He shrugged. “I’m not getting married, especially not to her.”
