Page 102 of A Match Made in London

The girl appeared a different person. Gone was the pale, anxious look that had been constant when Rosalind had been in their employ. Now Miss Gladstow’s skin held the healthy blush of a true happiness of heart. To Rosalind’s everlasting surprise, the girl leaned forward and embraced her.

“I was so very sad that you left us with such haste so many weeks ago,” she said, releasing Rosalind and giving her mother a faintly censorious look. “When I learned of your new position as Lady Belham’s companion,” she continued, smiling gently at Rosalind once more, “I was so very relieved. But hearing you are the new Lady Crosby gave me great joy.”

“You knew of this before we came?” Mrs. Gladstow’s voice was shrill as she eyed her daughter in outrage.

“Of course, Mama.” Miss Gladstow replied. “Sir Tristan sent word of it himself. He knew we would want to know.”

As Rosalind watched Miss Gladstow and Tristan exchange small smiles, she knew exactly what this strange visit was about: Tristan was giving her the opportunity to close this still painful part of her past for good. He was bringing Mrs. Gladstow to her like a gift, to punish as she wished. And as she gazed into his blue eyes, patience and love clear in their depths, she knew he would be behind her whatever path she chose to take. She could rail at the woman, could ruin her, and he would support her.

The temptation was there, so strong she could taste it. How many times had she sat helpless as this woman reproached her? How many sleepless nights had she spent terrified that the next day would see her on the street without food or a roof over her head?

Rosalind turned to Mrs. Gladstow and took a deep breath, finding strength in Tristan at her side.

As he would be for the rest of her life.

Her breath caught in her throat. For it was in that moment that it truly hit her: Tristan would be there always. She never again had to walk through life alone and frightened.

Any animosity or bitterness she had toward this woman melted away in an instant. She smiled and sat forward, taking Mrs. Gladstow’s hand. The woman froze and blinked in shock.

“Mrs. Gladstow, I want to thank you,” Rosalind said. “If you had not freed me from your employ I would not now be married to the best, most loving, most wonderful husband. Because of your actions all those weeks ago, I was able to carve a new path for myself and find the greatest happiness imaginable in the process.” She squeezed the woman’s cold fingers before releasing them. “Thank you so very much.”

Mrs. Gladstow paled even further, all manner of emotions flooding her face from incredulity to fury to horror to guilt. There was a time Rosalind would have waited with bated breath for the woman’s reaction. No more. She turned with a smile to Miss Gladstow. “When do you wed?”

“In a month’s time. We are for home at the end of the week.”

Mr. Marlow took Miss Gladstow’s hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles before looking to Tristan. “It is our especial wish that you and your bride attend. You would be our guests of honor, you see, considering how instrumental you were in bringing us together in the first place.”

Tristan smiled sheepishly. “Ah, you know about that then, do you?”

“Sarah and I do not keep anything from each other,” Mr. Marlow said with a loving look for his fiancé. “Not any longer.”

Tristan looked to Rosalind, who nodded happily. “I do believe a short detour in our travel plans can be managed. We would love to attend,” he said with a grin, shaking the other man’s hand.

It seemed with the revelation of Tristan’s interference in her daughter’s engagement, however, Mrs. Gladstow was breaking free from her stupor. She sputtered, gaping at all parties involved.

Miss Gladstow and Mr. Marlow stood, bidding their farewells with hugs and handshakes before ushering Mrs. Gladstow from the house. After the sounds of their retreating footsteps and the closing of the front door faded, Tristan took Rosalind in his arms and gazed down at her. Rosalind couldn’t be sure, but she thought there was a new respect in his eyes.

“Why, Lady Crosby,” he murmured, “you surprise me more every day.”

“Do I?”

He nodded. “I thought you would jump at the chance to give that horrid woman her comeuppance. And yet youthankedher.” He shook his head, all amazement. “How did I ever deserve the love of such a woman?”

“You have always deserved everything your heart could ever desire, you silly man,” she murmured, twining her arms about his neck.

His eyes softened. “Then it is lucky I have you. For you are all I ever want,” he said before claiming her mouth with his own.

It was some time later—and with fewer clothes on than before—when Rosalind laid her head on her husband’s bare chest. With the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, she asked the question that had been on her mind for the past week.

“Except for that one last hiccup, you were quite a successful matchmaker. Do you see any more matchmaking in your future?”

His arms tightened about her. “What need have I for more matchmaking, when I have been so happily matched myself?”

Rosalind rose up on her elbow, staring down into Tristan’s beloved face. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tracing her finger over the hard planes of his chest. “There may come a time when your talents for matchmaking are needed. You would not want to deny the world of your talents, would you?”

He raised one golden eyebrow. “Why, Rosalind, never tell me you have got a taste for it yourself.”

She shrugged, trying to hide her smile and failing spectacularly. “You never know. It may come in handy one day.”

He growled, rolling her onto her back. “Woman, I dearly hope you never stop surprising me.”

She grinned. “I think it is safe to say I never shall,” she said before pulling him down for a kiss.