It seemed only yesterday that Archer had stood in this same church, in front of family and friends, promising to love and honor his beloved Janey. But it had been more than fifty-four years since that day. Good years that had flown by in the blink of an eye. And today he sat alone, widowed, clutching the cherrywood cane that had been a gift from his dear wife and blinking back a mist of memories.
Beside him, his only son, James, sat still as a statue. Perhaps he, too, was pondering the marriage vows and examining his own experiences with them. Archer had only ever been married once. James had made and broken wedding promises many more times than that. It troubled a father’s heart to see his son still grasping for an elusive happily ever after. Especially now that James’s two oldest sons, Adam and Bryce, had found love and the perfect match for their proud hearts.
Standing on either side of Bryce and Lara, Adam and Katie, as best man and matron of honor, shared smiles and private glances, their eyes bright with happiness and the adventures they’d already shared in the three months they’d been married. No announcement had been made as yet, but Archer thought their excited whisperings and happy glow might mean he would be a great-grandfather before another summer rolled around.
Of course, Lara’s four-year-old nephew, Calvin, had already bestowed that title upon him—called him “Grrranbad,” which was Cal’s abbreviated version of “Great Grandad Braddock.” Already Archer loved his new nickname and the newest addition to the family. He loved the laughter and joy this one small boy had brought into Braddock Hall, and into these twilight years of his life. And in a few months, when Lara and Bryce completed their adoption of Cal, it would be official. Archer would, at long last, have a great-grandson. He wasn’t sure how James felt about suddenly becoming a grandfather, but for his part, Archer was tickled right down to his seventy-nine-year-old toes.
At this minute, in fact, he was getting almost as much enjoyment out of watching Cal restlessly toss the ringbearer’s pillow up and down, as he was in watching Bryce and Lara share their first kiss as man and wife. If only Janey could have been here with him, Archer would have deemed this the happiest day of his life. Of course, he’d thought the day Adam married Katie was the best. But now, to have a second grandson wed in the same year…well, life just kept getting better, that was all there was to it. So much good fortune in one lifetime. Archer was unspeakably grateful for all his blessings and more confident than ever that some things were simply meant to be.
Like he and Janey.
Like Adam and Katie.
Like Bryce and Lara.
Like Peter and the as yet unidentified young lady who was somewhere out in the world awaiting her knight in shining armor.
Archer feared this last Braddock match might be the most difficult of the three. Peter had come into the Braddock family circle late and, there was no doubt, he’d brought some heavy emotional baggage with him. Despite the whole family’s best efforts to make him feel wanted and included, Peter hadn’t seemed to feel he belonged, had never seemed to think he quite fit in the midst of the Braddock family. Even now, at twenty-seven, he acted at times as if he believed he still had something to prove, as if there were some test of honor he was required to pass before he could lay a legitimate claim to the history and honor of the Braddock name.
Archer only hoped Ilsa Fairchild could work one more miracle and find the right woman for Peter. Someone who could, perhaps, soften the rough edges of his prodigal heart and help him believe he was, indeed, a fine and worthy young man. It didn’t seem likely any of the lovely debutantes he usually preferred had that kind of patience, but if there was one out there, Archer knew Ilsa Fairchild would find her.
He knew now it had not been a mistake to engage a professional matchmaker of uncommon perception, high ideals and an amazing record of success stories. Having heard discreet whispers about her abilities, he’d approached Ilsa, calling himself all kinds of an old fool for believing she could help his grandsons find their own true loves. But she’d taken on the task with her usual ladylike flair and produced two surprising, but delightful, matches. Now only Peter remained.
And James.
Archer knew better than to mention his son to Ilsa as a potential client. She claimed all she did was study, observe and assist a truly seeking heart, but that it wasn’t in her power to work miracles. James, who was perpetually engaged to one unsuitable younger woman or another, didn’t require the services of a matchmaker, in Ilsa’s stated opinion, so much as he needed a good therapist.
But Archer loved his son and he knew, in his heart of hearts, that what James needed and wanted most, was the love and respect of a woman like Ilsa. And there were signs even an old man couldn’t miss. Ilsa’s interest in James, James’s interest in Ilsa, despite how hard each of them tried to disguise the attraction. Archer wasn’t blind to his son’s flaws, but he didn’t believe James was beyond redemption, either. Far from it. And as a father, Archer wasn’t above introducing a few matchmaking possibilities himself. Just because James was a fool about women didn’t mean he wouldn’t recognize the real thing when it was right in front of his nose, and Archer intended to make every effort to place Ilsa right in front of James’s nose as often as possible.
After all, he’d watched Ilsa work her discreet and delightful magic on both Adam and Bryce and he’d learned to recognize a good possibility when he saw one. Ilsa and James were a good match. All they needed was the opportunity to recognize that for themselves.
Music purled through the sanctuary as Bryce and Lara came down the aisle, all smiles, as husband and wife. “Ah, Janey…” Archer sent the thought winging heavenward, sharing this precious, long-awaited moment with his dearest wife and friend. “It’s a good day for the Braddocks. A very good day.”
ILSA FAIRCHILD kept her eye on Theadosia Berenson throughout the wedding reception at Braddock Hall. Not a particularly difficult task, since Thea had left the periphery of the outdoor party only twice so far this evening, both times to fetch a drink for her grandmother. What hold did old Davinia Carey have over her granddaughter? Ilsa wondered. And why did Thea continue to live on at Grace Place with her grandmother, when she was over twenty-one and possessed a sizeable fortune of her own? It was a strange relationship and it bothered Ilsa a great deal, mostly because of a persistent, niggling impulse to set up an introduction of possibilities between Thea and Peter Braddock.
Such a match would never work, would never even get past the initial setup. Not in a million years. But something drew her thoughts to Thea every time she set her mind to finding a love match for Peter. She was losing her touch, obviously. And Ilsa did not enjoy the feeling. Not that every match she set up worked out. Not that she believed every possibility would result in a fairy-tale ending. Life wasn’t that orderly and sometimes what might have been the perfect match under one set of circumstances, turned out to be entirely wrong under another set. But this time her instincts seemed to be leading her in a completely wrong direction right from the start, and that hadn’t happened before. Ever.
Certainly the Braddock men had been her biggest challenges in years. They were all handsome, all intelligent, all wonderful young men, heirs of a proud and prosperous New England family. They were gentlemen, born and reared, possessed of the same old-world manners and charm as their grandfather and their father. Adam had been a relatively easy match—almost anyone could have seen the sparks of attraction that flew between Katie and Adam the minute they met. It had taken only a little ingenuity and a bit of luck to set their hearts onto the same path. With Bryce, it had taken longer, required some serious study, but the tension that sizzled in the air between he and Lara was unmistakable. Once Ilsa recognized it and realized their hearts had already chosen each other, it was relatively easy to bring their possibilities into focus.
But Peter was different, tougher in ways Ilsa couldn’t quite divine. And her intuition, which rarely led her astray, kept turning her in the direction of Thea Berenson, the definitive ugly duckling.
Maybe it was time to take on an apprentice. Training someone in the intuitive arts might help Ilsa refocus her own abilities, sharpen her perspective, and—if nothing else—at