Lady Sophia.
Edward went still. He watched her pull the hood back into place, watched her continue her conversation with the bespectacled man. Their voices drifted toward him on the night air, fragments of words he strained to catch.
“…the applications are increasing…” The man’s voice was thin and reedy.
“…raised the rates as we discussed…” Lady Sophia, unmistakable.
“…another success for Lady Fairhart…”
Edward’s blood turned to ice.
Lady Fairhart. The matchmaker. The woman who had brought Leonard and Jane together. The woman whose meddling hadset in motion the chain of events that led to his brother’s estrangement, his exile, his death.
And Lady Sophia stood at the center of it all.
He waited until she bid the man farewell. Waited until she turned down a narrow alley, her footsteps quick and confident. Then he followed.
“So you’re the notorious matchmaker, then.”
Sophia spun around. The Duke of Heatherwell stood at the mouth of the alley, his arms crossed, his face carved from stone.
Her stomach plummeted. She had just left Mr. Colborne’s office, had just pulled her hood back into place after the wind tugged it free. How long had he been watching?
“I do not know what you mean.”
“I heard you.” He stalked toward her. “Talking with that man. Discussing applications. Rates. Lady Fairhart.” His voice hardened on the name. “You are her. The matchmaker.”
“You followed me.” Sophia’s pulse hammered. “You had no right to follow me!”
“Do not take me for a fool.” He stopped, towering over her. “Lady Fairhart matched my brother with Jane. Was that your design from the beginning? To pair your friend with my brother?”
Outrage flared in her chest. “How dare you! Isuggestmatches. I do not manipulate people. Leonard and Jane chose each other. They fell in love of their own free will.”
“You meddled in my family’s affairs.” His voice rose. “You inserted yourself into my brother’s life, schemed behind the scenes?—”
“I gave them a chance at happiness!” Sophia’s composure cracked. “A chance your father would have denied them. A chance you failed to protect.”
He recoiled as if she had struck him.
The anger drained from Sophia, replaced by something sharper. Understanding. “This is not about me. This is about your guilt. You blame yourself for not standing up to your father. For not bringing Leonard home. And now you are taking it out on me because I am a convenient target.”
His jaw worked. His hands clenched at his sides.
“Oliver needs more than a nursemaid and an uncle who cannot look at him without seeing ghosts.” Sophia softened her voice.“He needs warmth. Patience. Love. Things you clearly have no idea how to provide.”
“I know.” The words emerged rough, broken. He turned away, his shoulders rigid. “I know I cannot… provide that for him. I need a wife. A mother for the boy.”
Sophia stared at his back. The silence stretched between them.
He turned to face her. “So you may continue to visit Oliver. Under supervision.”
Hope flickered in her chest. “Truly?”
“On one condition.” His gaze locked onto hers. “You will help me find a suitable bride. Someone with education. Pedigree. A nurturing temperament to care for Oliver. And eventually, to provide me with an heir.”
Sophia’s breath caught. He was asking her to find him a wife. To use Lady Fairhart’s skills for the man who had just threatened to expose her secret.
But if she refused, she would lose Oliver.
