Читать книгу The Playboy's Office Romance - Karen Toller Whittenburg - Страница 11

Archer Braddock settled into a chair on the darkened terrace and folded his hands across the crooked handle of his cherrywood cane. Missing his wife of fifty-six years even more today than usual, he looked out at the gardens and the floral arbor under which his oldest grandson, Adam, had exchanged vows with Katie, his bride, only a few hours before. “Ah, Janey,” Archer murmured. “It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

The only answer was the sound of laughter from inside the house where a lingering assortment of family and friends had gathered after the reception. It had been an unconventional wedding—small, intimate and spontaneous. Not the long-planned and elaborately formal ceremony that might have been expected for a family as old and traditional as the Braddocks of Rhode Island. Certainly nothing like the party of one week before, which had marked both Archer’s seventy-ninth birthday and the brief engagement of Katie Canton to Adam Braddock. It had been a hectic eight days. There had barely been enough time to phone invitations and to secure the services of Pastor Dan from the First Methodist Church in Sea Change before Saturday and the wedding was upon them. But from beginning to end, Katie and Adam had made this the wedding of their dreams…the simple, sincere experience they wanted to mark the start of their life together.

It would be an unconventional marriage, too, that much was already clear. Not half an hour ago, the happy couple had left Braddock Hall heading for someplace neither of them had ever been—Omaha. From there, well, they’d said they would be in touch. Katie was a free spirit and Adam had committed to following her and his heart for a full year, making no plans beyond the immediate future, learning to live in the moment. It was a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for him, but one Archer was very happy to see his grandson make. If not for Katie, Adam might never have given his soul a chance to breathe.

“I wondered where you’d disappeared to, Archer.” Ilsa Fairchild strolled across the terrace to the table where he sat. “James said you’d most likely slipped up to bed when no one was looking, but I had a feeling you’d be out here.”

Archer still had the desire to be a gentleman when an attractive woman approached, but the stamina to get to his feet had long since deserted him, so he simply welcomed his guest with a smile. “I’m glad you found me,” he said. “I’ve just been having a little one-sided conversation with Jane, asking her if she enjoyed the wedding today.”

“I’m sure she had the best seat Heaven could afford.” Ilsa sank onto a chair and relaxed with a soft sigh. “It was a lovely wedding.”

“Just what I was saying to Janey. I believe she was about to remind me that you deserve the credit for putting this particular match together.”

“I simply introduced the possibility. Adam and Katie took it from there.”

“Nonetheless, Ilsa, you are a matchmaker of uncommon skill and discernment and therefore, must take your share of the credit. I’ll confess that in the beginning I had my doubts, but I’m a true believer now.”

“You were always a true believer, Archer. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to help you find a match for each of your three grandsons.”

“And the other reasons would be…?”

Her smile teased him in the twilight. “Well, it helps that you can afford my fees.”

“You’ve earned that and more already.” Archer tapped his fingertip lightly against the gnarled curl of his hand. “I rather hoped my son might have had something to do with your motivation to make matches for the Braddock men.”

“James is engaged,” Ilsa reminded him in a voice that declared her feelings on the subject weren’t open for discussion.

“For the moment,” Archer agreed, stating by his own tone that he wasn’t ready to give up the idea of a better match for his fifty-four-year-old son. “So tell me who you’ve picked out for Bryce.”

“That isn’t my choice to make, Archer,” she scolded gently. “All I do is pay attention to the opportunities he may have missed and introduce—”

“—the possibility of a match.” Archer finished the sentence for her with a gruff laugh. “I should have known you’re too much of a professional to reveal your matchmaking secrets. But you’re right, Ilsa, I don’t need to know. I trust your powers of perception and hope my middle grandson rises to the occasion. I’d love nothing more than to see him fall in love with the right woman for a change, and take some responsibility for doing something other than entertaining himself and his friends. He’s too much of a Prince Charming for his own good.”

“I believe Bryce may surprise you.”

Archer inhaled the soft, summer air and gathered his energy to get to his feet and return to the house. “I hope so,” he said. “Because I’m about to drop a bombshell into his cavalier lifestyle.”

“A bombshell?”

Archer moved his cane to gain leverage and pushed up out of the chair with difficulty. When he was on his feet and steady, Ilsa slipped her hand under his elbow, offering support and making him feel gentlemanly into the bargain. She was a fine woman, a woman of substance and uncommon grace. If he hadn’t been too old for romance and still deeply in love with his late wife, he’d have gone all out to win her for himself. But he wasn’t a fool. He knew there was some spark of attraction between Ilsa and his son, and he wasn’t yet too old to hope it might still catch flame. After all, Ilsa was a matchmaker of quite ingenious talent.

“A bombshell of atomic proportions,” he confirmed as they walked toward the doors leading into the house. “And I suppose this is as good a time as any to deliver it.”