Lady Henrietta Thorndike hides her lonely heart behind playing cupid – some might accuse her of interfering, but she prefers to think of it as improving other people’s lives!

But Robert Montemorcy knows it has to stop – his ward has just fled from a compromising situation in London, and the last thing she needs is to be embroiled in Henri’s compulsive matchmaking! He bets Henri that she won’t be able to resist meddling…only to lose his own heart into the bargain!

Coming July 2011 to Mills & Boon Historical

You can purchase it from the Mills and Boon website or Amazon.co.uk

Chapter One

May 1848 Corbridge, Northumberland

Precise planning produced perfection.

Lady Henrietta Thorndike knew the saying from her childhood and as she muttered the words for the two-hundred-and-forty-ninth time that morning, she was inclined to believe it. But straightening the peonies in the central floral arrangement for the third time, she wondered -- had she done enough to produce the ideal setting for the wedding breakfast.

True, the bride was an exquisite combination of demureness and supreme happiness in her white silk and organza dress. The groom also seemed far more dignified than in his burgundy frock-coat with its black velvet collar than the gossips in the village had considered possible, but something nagged at the back of Henri’s mind as wrong.

Henri took a step back from the table where the peonies now stood upright. On the surface all appeared perfection. Even the notoriously tricky Northumbrian weather proved to be no deterrent to the festivities. Despite dire predictions to the contrary-- most notably from Robert Montemorcy, and unremitting rainfall earlier in the week-- the sun shone in a blazing blue sky.

In the back of her mind she could hear her mother’s strident tones, demanding she look again as she would never be good enough, that in her haste to be finished she always overlooked a glaring error. Henri took another sweeping glance at the scene, trying to puzzle out what she’d overlooked.

When the bride blushed happily in response to a remark from Robert Montemorcy, Henri realised and silently swore. Her mother’s cameo brooch, the something blue and borrowed, lay on the chest of drawers in front parlour where she had helped Melanie to dress. Nowhere near the bride.

In that heartbeat, despite the triumphs of the day, Henri knew she’d always remember her failure to ensure the tradition about something old, new, borrowed and blue was followed through. If the marriage failed to thrive, she’d wonder if somehow it was because of the omission, an omission she had spotted and failed to rectify. She could well imagine Robert Montemorcy uttering pronouncements on the folly of putting credence in old wives’ tales but Henri knew she had to do something to make amends.

Plucking several of the blue forget-me-nots from the centrepiece, she strode over to the happy couple and tucked them into the bride’s bonnet.

‘Something blue, dear,’ she whispered. ‘No point in tempting fate.’

Melanie stammered her thanks and Henri withdrew, allowing the other well-wishers to offer their congratulations, safe in the knowledge that that particular crisis had been averted.

‘Absolute perfection achieved,’ she said in a low tone. ‘I did it. I really did all of it.’

‘Are you going to take credit for the bird song as well? How did you manage to get them to sing so sweetly?’ A deep voice laced with a hint of a Northumbrian burr asked.

‘I find scattering bird seed is useful in attracting them,’ Henri said in an absentminded voice as she concentrated again on the centrepiece. Was it her imagination or were peonies leaning over to other side now?

‘And what tips do you give for achieving the weather? How did you ensure sunshine? Even last night, the barometer was falling. It takes steely nerve to plan a wedding breakfast in the garden in May. Or are there omens that I overlooked? Which old wives tale gave you courage, Lady Thorndike?’

Henri spun around and saw Robert Montemorcy regarding her with an amused expression. His immaculate cut black frock coat and high-topped Hessian boots added a note of sartorial elegance to the affair and quite took her breath away. Not that she admit it to him. She’d sooner die than confess admiration for his form.

‘Come on, Lady Thorndike. What spell did you have to chant to guarantee perfect bridal weather?’

 Henri took a steadying breath and readied her nerves for the coming battle of wits. Victory was going to be an altogether sweeter prospect if she ensured Robert Montemorcy was properly humbled.

‘Weather is beyond anyone’s control, Mr Montemorcy.’ She made her voice like honey. ‘I just hoped for the best.’

‘I prefer to put my faith in science and observation. Cool logic.’

‘Had you done that, you’d have been wrong.’ She gestured towards the blue sky. ‘Not a single cloud to spoil the day. I’ll grant you that this spring has been wetter than most, but the past week proved no predictor for today. I knew that today would be wonderful. But I did have an alternative venue to hand if it came to it. Lady Winship offered Aydon Castle’s hall. However one must always consider the potential for pug escape. On balance, the garden was a less tricky option.’

 ‘Only you, Lady Thorndike, would consider planning a wedding breakfast in the garden during one of the wettest Springs Northumbria has known easier than worrying about a few dogs escaping.’ His dark brown eyes twinkled and the slight flutter at the base of her spine turned to a warm curl of heat. Henri lifted her chin and concentrated on breathing slowly. ‘The generals in the British army could take lessons from your nerves of steel.’

‘Lessons? No, no, I simply possess a happy talent for organising.’ She made her face assume a studied expression of incredulity. ‘In fact this marriage would not have happened if I had not taken matters in hand.’

He raised an imperious brow, transforming his face into one of elegant scorn. ‘You appear to entertain the notion that you had a hand in the marriage, rather than being the chief architect of its near collapse.’

‘Entertain, fiddlesticks. I know.’ Henri nodded towards where the happy couple stood, receiving the good wishes of the neighbourhood. Mr Montemorcy needed to be enlightened. No matter how intensely that rich voice of his affected her, it didn’t make his words true. ‘This wedding only happened because of careful and strategic planning on my part. It was a close run thing, particularly when Mr Crozier spoke of emigrating. To America. Thankfully he saw the sense in staying and in marrying the one woman who will give him lasting happiness.’

‘It was Crozier’s sense not yours.’

Henri clenched her fists and struggled to maintain her temper. She’d slaved over this match, working hard to ensure that the bride and groom realised how exactly right they were for each other. ‘Who else saw the potential in two lonely individuals? Who arranged the dinner party so they sat next to each other and discovered a mutual admiration of Handel? Who hung back on the walk out towards the excavations so that there was a chance of the happy couple reaching a convivial understanding?’

‘Who indeed?’ he murmured, his eyes becoming hooded.

She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Of course, with the actual wedding breakfast, I played a larger part. Dear Melanie can never organise anything. And left to Mr Crozier, they would have eloped to Gretna Green and deprived the village of the chance to bestow their good wishes. Matters had to be taken into hand. I, for one, am well satisfied with result. The entire village is here and Melanie has had the wedding she has always dreamt of. The memories of her perfect day will sustain her in years to come.’

‘A wedding does not a marriage make. The new Mrs Crozier should remember today because of her groom rather than because of the setting.’

‘But the setting helps. The perfect start to a marriage.’

‘And this is what you base the right to usurp proceedings from now on?’ Mr Montemorcy captured her arm and led her down the gravel path of her aunt’s garden towards the summer house. For a few heartbeats, intelligent thought fled and all Henri could think about was the pressure his fingers exerted on her elbow. ‘A few engineered meetings of two people who had been near neighbours for years. This marriage would have happened without your interference.’

Henri dragged her mind away from the breadth of his shoulders and his sandalwood scent and back to the matter at hand. ‘Years, Mr Montemorcy. Years without noticing the perfect person lived a short walk away. That state of affairs would have continued indefinitely. Since arriving in Northumberland, I have facilitated three marriages, two reconciliations between estranged parents and their children and one christening. It is altogether a brilliant achievement for sixteen months work.’ Henri crossed her arms. Mr Montemorcy had to realise how hard she worked for other people’s happiness. She done this out of the best possible motives, and now she was about to see her aunt’s eyes lit up, if Mr Montemorcy didn’t find some reason to wriggle out of their wager. ‘Who are you to say differently?’

‘I’m urging caution, Lady Thorndike. Not everyone wants to be paired off in a manner that you deem fit. Nor do they want their lives ordered to suit your mood. What can you hope to achieve?’

‘My aunt’s purpose in life restored.’ Henri clapped her hands together and rocked back and forth on her toes. ‘A satisfactory result all around.’

‘Meaning?’ He arched one maddening eyebrow. ‘You’ve lost me, Lady Thorndike. Your aunt is over fifty, surely you aren’t going to try and pair her off with some unsuspecting retired military type.’

Henri took a deep breath and counted to ten, savouring the moment. Of all the satisfactions she’d expected to experience today, this was the one she looked forward to the most.

‘We wagered, Mr Montemorcy, last New Year’s. You didn’t believe the groom could be brought up to snuff before Hell froze over. I have done it in under the six months you specified.’ Henri fluttered her lace gloved hand towards where the happy couple stood giving each other besotted looks. ‘Left to their devices they would have drifted along happily never realising the perfect person for them was living three doors down.’

 ‘Did you always enjoy arranging others’ lives, Lady Thorndike? Or did it grow on you?’

Henri caught her bottom lip between her teeth, considering the question. Ordering people about? She made suggestions, some stronger than others, but she allowed people to decide. She wasn’t like her mother, bitter and overly critical. She celebrated when people experienced joy. The challenge of improving people’s lives gave her life meaning. Was it her fault that she could see solutions where others saw insurmountable difficulties?

‘I’m not overly-domineering. My ideas are better than most. I simply possess the happy talent for organisation.’

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