CHAPTER ONE
“Lucy Crampton! What in Heaven’s name do you think you are doing?”
Lucy knelt over the scattered letters she had picked up from her aunt’s writing desk, careful to keep the papers aligned as best she could. Her chest fluttered with nervousness. She had only meant to observe the notes, to try her hand at matchmaking in a small, private way… certainly nothing scandalous.
But she had not anticipated she’d be caught so soon.
“Aunt Selina, I can explain,” Lucy said. “I was only —”
“Explain what?” Selina’s eyes blazed, and her thin hands rested firmly on the desk, as if she could crush Lucy with a mere glance. She was a tall woman, dressed in a navy silk gown, her gray-streaked hair pinned tightly, and her posture perfect. “Only attempting to rearrange my client letters? Only pretending youmight manage a match without my guidance? Lucy, I told you to stay clear of my affairs!”
Lucy’s hands trembled slightly, but she lifted her chin. Her dark blonde curls tumbled over her shoulder. “I thought… I might learn better by doing, Aunt Selina. Only in a small way! I just wanted to respond to one letter.”
Selina’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Small way? Do you realize how many mistakes you could have made in a single glance?” she groaned and curled her hand into a ball. “I should —”
“Forgive your dear sweet niece and teach her how to do this properly?” Lucy interrupted, a nervous laugh escaping her.
Selina’s frown deepened, and her fingers twitched as she straightened a letter on the desk with precision. “You are insufferable, child. Insufferable and bold in equal measure. I do not know whether to be furious or to prepare for inevitable ruin.”
Lucy’s cheeks heated, but she dared a glance up. “I would rather be bold than timid, Aunt Selina.”
Selina pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. “Boldness is one thing. Recklessness, another entirely. Lucy, you have a knack for turning the smallest curiosity into… an enterprise of folly.”
Lucy’s lips twitched in spite of herself. “An enterprise of folly, Aunt Selina? You flatter me.”
“I merely state the obvious.” Selina’s voice was tight, almost trembling with the effort to maintain decorum. She stepped closer and picked up the half-sealed letter Lucy had been preparing.
“This is one of my clients’ letters! Do you realize what you were about to do? Send a reply without my knowledge?”
Lucy flushed but did not look away. “I only intended to test my skills, Aunt Selina. Just a trial. If you could just trust me with one, then I can prove to you how good I am at this.”
“A trial? Sending a letter without permission is hardly a trial, it is recklessness, and you chose the Risley family of all people!” Selina’s frown deepened.
Lucy had not written to the Risley family on a whim.
She had grown up in London, where information travelled faster than intention. One did not need an invitation to learn things; one merely needed to listen. Drawing rooms, modistes’ shops, carriage rides shared with acquaintances who talked too freely. Names surfaced again and again, attached to the same complaints, the same disappointments, the same unguarded truths.
The Risley son was one such name.
Lucy had never seen him, never been introduced, yet she knew what society whispered... that he had refused more than one suitable young woman, not out of arrogance but discomfort. He was said to dislike attention, to avoid women who treated marriage as an ambition rather than a partnership.
Lucy had also heard of a young woman, unconnected to the Risleys entirely, whose circumstances were discussed with similar frustration. She was said to be capable, plain-spoken, and content with a quieter life. Too practical for men who wanted admiration, too serious for those who wanted charm. The sort of woman society dismissed not because she lacked merit but because she did not compete.
Lucy’s plan had been simple, deliberate, and cautious.
She did not intend to arrange a meeting or to press either party. She meant only to redirect attention. Her letter had been designed to plant an idea where none had been allowed to take root. An idea that what the Risley family sought might already exist outside the usual circles, overlooked precisely because it did not clamor to be seen.
She had written nothing sensational. She had offered no assurances. She merely described temperament, inclination, and circumstance enough to suggest compatibility without presumption. If the family found the notion unsuitable, the matter would end there. No harm done. If, however, it intrigued them, then Lucy would know her instincts were not merely fanciful but useful.
That was the test she had set for herself. She had not thought of it as defiance. She had thought of it as proof.
“I thought it would be harmless!” Lucy protested, a little breathless from the thrill of being caught. “I only wanted to offer information. I believed they might wish to know. I simply wanted to see if I could suggest a match they might like —”
Selina pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. “Lucy, curiosity does not excuse folly. You cannot meddle in lives that are not your own.” She crossed the room and stood directly in front of Lucy. “Tell me, Lucy, when will you stop this ceaseless pursuit of dreams? When will you stop chasing after… flights of fancy and instead settle down as a young lady ought to do? You are only twenty and six years old. There’s marriage, home, propriety…”
Lucy’s fingers twitched at the edge of the desk. “Aunt Selina…” She paused, gathering her courage. “I do not mean to be defiant, but I think I could be very good at matchmaking. I’ve learned so much from you, watching how you speak with people, how you notice what makes people happy. Surely, if I were given the chance to put what I know into practice…”
Selina’s eyes narrowed. “Do you truly believe that any of this will bring you contentment, Lucy? You are far too young to concern yourself with the lives of others when you have yet to attend to your own. Your mama did not send you here to indulge your whims but because she refused to tolerate your impulses any longer. It was better you come to me than remain under her judgment.”
