Failure to Match: Chapter 11

Why was it that every time I spent a night somewhere that didn’t have my name on the lease, my brain was adamant that the tiniest noise or movement was an immediate prequel to my violent murder? Was it an evolutionary thing? Were my ancestors really that⁠—

It happened again, the secretive shuffle outside my room.

My comb froze midway through my damp curls, my head twisting toward the door as I held my breath. Toebeans had heard it too. His ears were twitching, gaze pinned to the door.

After a few beats, someone knocked.

I frowned. It was only ten, but still. A little late to show up at someone’s door unannounced, no? Unless you were Ria.

“Yes?” I placed my comb down.

There was a hushed response from the other side, but I couldn’t quite make out the words.

“I’m sorry?” I called.

“It’s Molly,” she whispered again, a touch louder this time.

“Oh.” I got up, half-jogging to open the door for her as I stuffed my ringlets into a bun. I hated the feeling of wet hair sticking to my neck.

“Hello, dear.” She was holding a silver tray with two steaming cups of pale tea and a plate full of pastries.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

She tried to give me her most convincing smile, but it twitched before it could reach her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d like a nighttime snack.”

“Why are we whispering?”

She shook her head like she didn’t know what I was talking about but refused to confirm it with her words.

I eyed her before stepping aside. “Come on in.”

She shuffled in and nudged the door shut with her foot right away. Her voice was back to a normal pitch when she said, “Thank you. I’m sorry to—oh, hello little darling.” She stopped when she spotted Toebeans, her round cheeks expanding. “Bensen wasn’t exaggerating, was he? You are a very handsome boy.”

Toebeans whipped his tail, unimpressed. He knew he was pretty. This wasn’t news.

“Not too fond of strangers, though, is that right?” she asked me.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” She straightened, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. “Neither is Young Master Sinclair. We’re well used to that in our house. You can have all the space you need, Mr. Maguire, rest assured.”

She wiped her hands again.

Shifted on her feet.

Cleared her throat.

“Molly,” I said.

“Yes, dear?”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Well, sure. If you insist.”

I bit back a smile as she plopped down on the couch and reached for a porcelain cup, blowing on it delicately.

“So.” I took a seat beside her. “How was dinner?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” she answered, her tone trying a bit too hard to remain nonchalant. “More lively than usual, I suppose, but that’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”

I hummed as I picked up my own cup, cooling it before sipping. Chamomile with a touch of honey. Yum. “Do you all eat together often?”

“Every night. Unless one of us is indisposed. Jackson especially, what with all the business trips and client dinners…”

“And dates,” I supplied. Two nights a week for eight months added up.

She hesitated, looking away. “Well, we still set a place for him on those nights.”

My brows rose. “He eats two dinners?”

“No… not quite.” She suddenly seemed very interested in the subtle ribbons of steam curling out of her cup.

“You know,” I said, “any conversation you and I have over nighttime snacks doesn’t have to be on the record.”

That got her attention. “Really?”

“Really. Also, you should know, I’m great at keeping secrets. I mean, it’s partly because my memory is horrible, but still.”

She let out a warm chuckle, her shoulders relaxing. “Wait until you get to be my age. Some mornings I’ll be staring right at my feet, trying to recall if I’ve put on my shoes.”

I smiled into my cup. “Thank you for this, by the way. I’m a big fan of nighttime snacks.”

Ria had made it a thing for us. At least once a month, she’d sneak into my room with a bag full of goodies and a bottle of wine, and we’d go to town, chatting and gossiping about anything and everything.

I missed having her around so much that if I thought too hard about it, it made my throat thick.

Not that I wasn’t happy for her, because I was! It was just… we’d lived together for ten years. Maybe that was why I hadn’t complained at first when my hours at Charmed increased. The apartment was very quiet after she left. It took some getting used to.

Molly sighed. “I do apologize for showing up unannounced. Truth be told, I’m not supposed to be here. The staff has been given very specific instructions by Young Master Sinclair. We’re not supposed to speak about him with you, you see. At all.”

She wouldn’t be the first member of his staff to break that rule. Bensen had done it yesterday when he’d defended Jackson. So, either they weren’t necessarily afraid of the consequences, or whatever they were trying to achieve via these conversations was important enough to be worth the risk.

I picked up a pistachio éclair and bit into it, waiting.

“Mabel doesn’t know I’m here either,” she went on. “She’d never agree with me betraying the Young Master’s trust in this way. She’d have my head if she knew, believe you me.”

“And what about Jackson? Wouldn’t he be angry if he found out?”

“Yes, I suppose he would. But it’s different, isn’t it?”

“How so?”

She twisted on the couch to face me full-on, her hands curled tightly around her cup. “You’ve misjudged him.”

Her tone carried so much firm conviction that it left no room for argument. I could see it in her eyes. She believed it with every fiber of her soul.

“I can’t blame you for it. Truly, I can’t,” she went on. “I realize Jackson’s behavior has been more than a little damning, but there are so many things you don’t know. And how could you, really?”

“Is that why you’re here? To provide me with that information?”

She placed her barely touched tea back on the tray so she could fiddle with her apron. “In a sense. I’d also like to ask you for a favor. Well, two of them.”

I finished off the pastry, nodding for her to go on.

“Not for free, of course. I’m willing to pay you for your efforts and⁠—”

I quickly shook my head, waiting until I was done chewing to interrupt her. “Molly. I don’t want your money.”

She hesitated. “They’re not small, these favors.”

“Why don’t you tell me what they are first?”

But before she could map out a way to get the words out without overstepping whatever internal moral boundaries she’d set for herself, another set of knocks echoed through the room.

Molly blinked up at me, her brows drawing together. “Who could that be, at this hour?” she whispered.

My inkling was confirmed when, without prompt, the person on the other side of the door quietly declared, “Hello, Miss Paquin? It’s me, Mabel Harrison.”

Color me shocked.

“What is she doing here? She told me she was going to bed early!” Molly hissed, scandalized by her twin’s willingness to spin such reprehensible lies.

My guess was that both sisters were here for the same thing but, “Let’s see, shall we?”

I got up to open the door just as Molly scuttled into a corner, hiding from view.

“Hello, Mabel.”

“Hello, dear,” she greeted with a wide smile. “Care for a nighttime treat? Steamed milk and honey with raspberry biscuits.”

There were two cups on the circular tray she’d brought with her.

I smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Would you care to join me?”

Not that I’d needed to ask, seeing as how she was already pushing her way past me and into the room.

“Oh, well, if you insist.”

“Mabel Harrison!”

“Ah!” Foamy milk splashed across the silver tray as Mabel jolted. “Oh, for heaven’s—what are you doing here at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?”

“Meowrrr,” Toebeans complained, ears twitching. Ruckus wasn’t tolerated in his vicinity.

Mabel started again. “Good lord, any other living thing lurking in this room that I should know about?”

“Just us,” I assured her. “That’s Toebeans. He’s chill if you don’t invade his personal bubble.”

“He doesn’t like strangers,” Molly clarified.

“Does he not?”

Molly nodded. “He does not.”

“Oh, well, we’re used to that in this house, aren’t we?”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

I sank onto the couch, grabbed my still-steaming cup, and settled in for the ride.

“You said you were going to take the teas to the library,” Mabel accused her sister as she set down her ruined tray.

“And you said you were headed straight to bed!”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t very well tell you what I was really up to, could I? You’d have had my head if you knew,” Mabel said.

“And you’d have had mine.”

“Bloody right. What do you think you’re doing, going against Jackson’s orders?”

“Well, I couldn’t just sit back and let this opportunity pass by, could I?”

“And I could? It’d weigh on my conscience if I did, wouldn’t it? Drag me straight to an early grave.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? What would he do then?”

“We can’t just not do anything about it.”

“Exactly why I’m here. It’s well worth a shot.”

“And?” Mabel looked between me and her sister expectantly. “Have we come to an agreement?”

“Not yet,” Molly said, palms bracing on her knees as she sat down again.

“And why not? It’s all straightforward, isn’t it?”

“It is not. I was just about to tell her about Richard and how we initially came on when you barged in.”

“Why does she need to know all that for? Just ask her to do the damn thing. Time is of the essence, Molly. The girl only has thirty days.”

“Why don’t you do it, then? If you’re so bold.”

“Well, all right.” Mabel rubbed her hands together decidedly before placing them on her hips. “Miss Paquin, we need you to find Jackson a life partner.”

“That’s… sort of what I’m here for,” I said.

Molly shook her head. “No, dear. You’re here to try, but you’ve already given up on him. We saw your interaction earlier tonight, didn’t we?”

“We need you to want to help him. It’s the only way this will work.”

My brows knit together as I looked between them. “I’m so confused. Why does everyone want this man to be in a relationship when he clearly couldn’t be less interested?”

“Minerva has her own reasons,” Molly said briskly.

“We’re not very happy with the way she’s handling it, but that’s not what’s important right now.”

“We raised that boy, Mabel and I did.”

“Hired two weeks before the Young Master was born, and we were both at the hospital when Richard Sinclair was told he finally had an heir. Watched him walk straight out of the room and go back to work.”

“Our titles have changed over the years, but we’ve been looking after Jackson just the same, haven’t we?”

“We have. We’ve been there since he took that very first breath, and believe you me, Miss Paquin, we’ve seen and heard it all. Even the things that weren’t meant for our eyes or our ears.”

“And we can’t blame him for how it’s all turned out, can we?”

“Would have left a blister in my mouth too, had I been in the poor boy’s shoes.”

“I don’t think that’s the expression, Mabel.”

“Is it not?”

“No, love. It’s bitter taste. Blister sounds much more unpleasant,” Molly said.

“Well, then it’s just more accurate, isn’t it?”

“Either way, he’s mistaken, dear. Or maybe misled is the better word. Or maybe—oh, I don’t know. Mabel, you explain it.”

“He’s afraid is what it is,” Mabel said boldly. “That’s the root of it. Petrified of it happening to him. And who wouldn’t be?”

“But we can’t let it just go on like this, can we? He has us now, but what happens when we’re gone?”

“He needs companionship,” Mabel said to me. “Someone who understands him. Someone he can confide in.”

“How else would we be able to rest? There’s no other way.”

“We’d be tossing and turning in our graves with worry. We can pay you, of course⁠—”

“I already tried that,” Molly said. “She won’t take the money.”

“Well, why not? We’re asking you for a service.”

I slid forward on the couch, putting my cup down. “Okay, listen, I understand what you’re trying to do for Jackson. It’s obvious that you care about him, and while this is all very sweet, I gotta be honest—I can’t force someone into a relationship if it’s not what they want. And I absolutely can’t force them to fall in love.”

There was a short pause as Molly and Mabel glanced at each other, and I had a distinct feeling they were exchanging more than just looks.

“We’re not asking you to force him into anything, dear,” Mabel said.

“That wouldn’t work well at all, would it?” Molly agreed.

“No, it would not.”

“The boy is too stubborn to be pushed into doing anything he doesn’t want to.”

“And love isn’t something you can control, is it?”

“It is not. He can’t be forced into love, but he also can’t stop it from happening, can he?”

Mabel nodded. “No one can. That’s what we’re trying to say.”

“What we need from you is to set up the opportunity. Find him someone who speaks his language, who understands him. Someone he can’t resist.”

She said it like it was just that easy. Like she wasn’t asking for a miracle.

Molly shifted in her seat when I didn’t respond. “We know you’ve had a hard time getting the information you need from him. And I assure you, regardless of what program he’s forced into, it’s not going to get better.”

“He’s already made enough temporary adjustments to skew your data. And don’t get me started on the interviews you have planned.”

“You won’t be able to get any of the answers you really need. Not in thirty days.”

Following their back and forth was sort of like watching a tennis match. They didn’t even pause.

“Minerva did say that she required him to at least cooperate,” I said.

“Oh, that won’t matter,” Mabel insisted.

“You don’t know him very well yet, Miss Paquin, but believe you me, that boy is sharp.”

“We taught him better than to lie, but he’ll speak in partial truths is what it is.”

“Give you just enough to satisfy your requirements, but leave out the parts that actually matter.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back again. “Okay. And how do you propose I get the information I need if he’s not going to give it to me?”

Molly sat up a little straighter. “Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“We can’t give you the information outright, as that would be a breach of trust, but…”

“But we can guide you,” Molly finished. “Can’t we, Mabel?”

“I don’t see why not.”

I narrowed my eyes at their careful tone. “Guide me how, exactly?”

If the whole twin communication thing wasn’t just a myth, they were doing it right now with all the looks they were exchanging.

“Like, for example,” Mabel eventually said. “When Molly needed an excuse to visit you without raising any suspicion, she told me she was taking tea to the library. I believed her as that’s not an uncommon task at this hour. Or the next several.”

Ah.

I see.

“It’s where certain young masters go if they’ve had a particularly unpleasant day.”

“Or if they simply can’t sleep.”

“I got it, thank you,” I said when Molly opened her mouth, presumably to drop more hints.

“Good,” Molly said.

“Good,” Mabel agreed.

“Then our work here is done, isn’t it? We’re all in agreement.”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure if… I mean, it’s lovely that you’re both trying to help, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

They could give me all the correct information, and I could do my best to utilize it, but still. There was no guarantee it would work.

“Well, we won’t know unless we try, will we?” Molly said quietly.

“And either way, we appreciate you hearing us out, dear,” Mabel said as they both stood. “Enjoy the rest of the pastries. We’ll pick up the trays in the morning.”

“Wait.”

They both stopped, looking up at me with identically curious expressions.

“What was the other thing?” I asked Molly. “You said you needed two favors.”

According to the tick of Mabel’s brows, she didn’t know either.

Color bloomed across Molly’s cheeks, and she looked down, fixing her apron. “Yes, right, well. I was just going to say… I know you may not be too fond of him, and I can’t blame you for it, but…” Her words trailed off as she met my gaze. “He could really use a friend, you know. Someone closer to his own age. Someone not on his payroll.”

My heart kicked when Mabel reached for her sister, squeezing her hand. They really did love him, there was absolutely no doubt about it.

I cleared my throat lightly. “Well, the best romantic relationships are based on strong friendships so… if I’m able to do my job, we’ll be killing both birds with one stone.”

It wasn’t what she was asking of me, but I wasn’t a fan of making empty promises. And telling her that I’d try to be Jackson’s friend would be exactly that. I had no desire to befriend a man who’d looked me dead in the eyes and told me my occupation was useless.

Also, I was pretty confident that Jackson wouldn’t want to be friends with me, either.

Molly glanced down at her feet. “Not every child grows up with the privilege of—” She stopped short, squeezing her eyes shut once in an attempt to rein back her emotions. “He’s one person and he keeps a staff of thirty-one, dear. You do the math.”

“Come along, Molly,” Mabel said. “We’ve taken up enough of her time.”

She pulled her sister out of the room. But not before Molly could shoot me one last pleading look that tugged at a small, cobwebbed corner of my heart.