Page 16 of Once upon a Summer Night

He bit his tongue so hard, Colin tasted blood. He stood stiffly. “I cannot say it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Emsworth.”

“What a shame. I thoroughly enjoyed meetingyou, Mr. O’Rourke. As I’m certain my niece will, as well. I believe this to have been a most productive meeting. Alan? Will you show our guest to the door?”

Alan appeared as if by magic, and Colin turned on his heel, steam coming out of his ears. He sincerely hoped the niece was nothing like the aunt. Otherwise, he was guaranteed to fail.

Colin had a sudden jolt of pity for her poor niece. Imagine growing up with that kind of manipulation…he promised himself he’d call his parents and thank them for being wonderful.

Alan reentered the room,a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He handed it to his employer, who smiled at him.

“Thank you, Alan,” Winnie said, taking a sip. “I think Mr. O’Rourke will do nicely for our sweet Eleanor, don’t you?”

“I’ve yet to meet a gentleman worthy of her,” Alan replied frankly. Some of his stuffiness disappeared as he sat on the chair vacated by their recent visitor. “He was awfully bluntwith you. More so than anyone else, save Mr. Emsworth, God rest his soul. Though it can’t be denied that when that man disagreed with you, he let you know it.”

“It didn’t happen often, but when it did…” Winnie trailed off, then collected herself. “Well, when it did, he certainly was a sight to behold, wasn’t he?”

“I know I made myself scarce, that’s for certain. But what makes you so sure this O’Rourke gent will find our Ellie her happiness?”

Winnie’s eyes drifted to the fountain, and a small smile crossed her lips. The way Mr. O’Rourke’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared when she backed him into a corner was encouraging.

“The man was issued a challenge, Alan. He’s the type of man who won’t back down—I knew it immediately when he agreed to meet me himself, instead of insisting one of his employees do so.”

Alan looked skeptical. “A challenge? Bah. If Ellie would simply open up a bit, she’d find herself a good man and settle down. Perhaps all she needs is time.”

“No, Alan dear. All she needs is Mr. O’Rourke.”

“You mean his matchmaking company?”

Winnie smiled. “That, too.”

Ellie steppedinto a large office building in the Canary Wharf district of London. Nervously smoothing her hands over her sensible black pencil skirt, she crossed the wide expanse of cream-colored marble flooring. The guard barely looked up as she approached the mahogany security desk.

“Name and business?”

“Eleanor Carberry,” she squeaked out. “I have an appointment with, ah, Celtic Connections.”

He flipped through the pages on a clipboard beforenodding once. “Lifts are ahead of you on the left. Ninth floor.”

She caught the slightly condescending smile on his face, and, embarrassed, nodded her thanks before she scurried towards the lift. How pathetic she must seem, using a dating service! “It’s not as though it was my idea,” she muttered.

“What was that, miss?” the guard called after her.

She spun around, her eyes wide. “Nothing! I was just, um, talking to myself. I do it when I’m nervous. I’m fine now. Thanks.”

He didn’t respond, merely watched her with bemusement, and, her face flaming, she punched the up button, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the stainless-steel doors in front of her.

The entire way to the ninth floor, Ellie reminded herself that she was doing this as a favor to her aunt, that she really had nothing to lose, that she was capable of a successful relationship. She didn’tneedto pay some company to help her find a date. The fact that she was single at the age of twenty-eight only reflected that she was establishing herself in her career. She was choosy. She didn’t want to settle.

Feeling slightly mollified, she stepped into the hallway, which was covered in a light gray industrial carpet. The walls were an uninspiring shade of beige, and Ellie felt more like she was heading to a doctor’s appointment. She glanced at the wall—Celtic Connections, Suite 905—and headed towards the unassuming brown door.

When she opened it, she paused, momentarily thrown. The reception area felt more like a friend’s living room. To her right, a large, black leather sofa sat between two large mirrors; it looked just worn enough to promise a long nap, were one to sit on it. The light-colored Oriental carpet beneath her feet rested upon oak flooring, and on top of that was a modern glass coffee table. To her left, a beautiful oak receptionist’s desk sat empty, though there was a monitor andkeyboard on the gleaming granite surface. The wall behind it looked as though it were part of an ancient castle; floor-to-ceiling stones rested unevenly against each other, and two torch-like sconces stood as though they’d been there for hundreds of years. Directly in front of her, an enormous window spanning most of the wall framed the Thames as it snaked across the city.

Ellie was stunned.

“Do you like it?” A woman appeared from a discreet door between the couch and the window. “We had it designed to be both new and antiquated.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emmaline MacWilliam, publicist for Celtic Connections. Please call me Emma.”

Ellie shook her hand, smiling at the Americanism. “Eleanor Carberry. I go by Ellie. And I do like it, very much. It’s so cozy.”

“I agree! It’s wonderful to meet you. Your aunt is already here, and our CEO has stepped out for just a moment. Would you care for something to drink?”

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