Page 13 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

B y the time the party broke up Flora was exhausted.

The Viscount displayed a barely concealed hostility towards Matt Talacre, although no one else seemed aware of it.

Quentin lost no opportunity to disparage his guest with subtle hints, to which Matt responded with an unshakeable good humour that only irritated his host even more.

Carriages were called and the business of leave-taking began.

‘You have had an uncomfortable evening, sir,’ murmured Flora, holding out her hand to Matt.

‘It was not all unpleasant.’ He smiled down at her and she read understanding in his dark eyes, before he bowed over her hand.

‘Until we meet again, Miss Warenne.’

The words, uttered in his deep, smooth voice, caused a little frisson of pleasure to run through Flora. A glance across the room showed her that the Viscount was glaring at them and she could not prevent a blush rising to her cheeks.

She mumbled something inarticulate and quickly withdrew her fingers, trying hard to look unconcerned. Was Quentin jealous? Perhaps he had cause, she thought, her eyes following Matt as he moved off to take his leave of her aunt. The man had a most disturbing effect upon her.

‘Oh, by the bye, Mr Farnleigh.’ The Viscount’s raised voice caught her attention. ‘I should like to call upon you in the morning, if I may?’

He walked across and took Flora’s hands. She kept her eyes lowered, wondering why his touch did not rouse the same excitement, the same delicious ache deep in her body, that Matt’s had done.

‘I think we should set a date for the wedding,’ said the Viscount. ‘Do you not think so, my dear?’

Flora’s head jerked up. Everyone had fallen silent, waiting for her answer. Quentin was smiling down at her and she adopted a teasing tone to cover her sudden awkwardness.

‘And not before time, Quentin. We have delayed everything for a full year now.’

‘I know it, my love, and beg your pardon.’ He lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘I mean to rectify that as soon as possible.’

Brittle as glass, Flora desperately wanted to snatch her hand away, but she dared not. Everyone was watching and the stillness around them was oppressive, menacing. Finally, her uncle’s voice finally broke the silence.

‘Aye, my lord, by all means call tomorrow. I am at home all day.’

The atmosphere changed. Everyone was chattering, Uncle Farnleigh was beaming and shaking the Viscount’s hand, declaring he was very ready to discuss the arrangements. Only Flora was silent and troubled.

Why did she not feel unalloyed happiness at Quentin’s announcement?

The betrothal had elevated her from being a mere spinster within Whilton society, but perhaps that was the problem.

Her position as the Viscount’s fiancée, prolonged an extra year by the demise of the Viscount’s godfather, had become too comfortable. Perhaps she was apprehensive of change.

Yes, that was it, she decided. Quentin had been absent from Whilton a great deal this past year and they needed to spend more time together.

She would ask Aunt Farnleigh to take her to London to buy her wedding clothes.

Since the Viscount had such a deal of business there it would provide an opportunity for her to become reacquainted with her fiancé—he might be busy during the day, but in the evenings they could attend balls and parties together, or visit the theatre.

‘Well, my love, our coach is at the door, are you ready to leave?’

Aunt Farnleigh’s touch on her arm brought Flora back to the present.

The Condicotes had already departed and Mrs Gask announced she would see them off before she retired.

Flora accompanied her aunt and uncle out of the room, but as she reached the door she glanced back, her eyes instinctively seeking Matt Talacre.

He had moved to the window and was standing with his back to the room, staring out into the darkness.

* * *

Matt heard the whisper of skirts as Flora left the room with the Farnleighs, the click of the door shutting behind them and then the Viscount’s voice.

‘So, it is only you and I now, Mr Talacre.’

Matt turned. ‘Yes. It is time that I, too, took my leave.’

‘Will you not take another glass of brandy with me first?’ The Viscount was all smiles, but they did not reach his eyes.

‘Thank you, but no. I intend to make an early start in the morning.’

‘But we have not yet had time to talk together.’

‘I think we understand one another well enough,’ replied Matt, tired of these games. ‘I shall instruct my lawyers to contact you.’

‘Now do not be too hasty,’ purred the Viscount. ‘Surely there is no need for lawyers to be involved just yet.’

‘There is every need, my lord. If we cannot come to an agreement, then I must take measures to recover Bellemonte’s property.’

‘A costly lawsuit.’ Whilton grimaced. ‘Allow me a little more time to think about the matter.’

‘You have had time, my lord. I first wrote to you some months ago.’

‘Your letters were received and read by my secretary. Now you have brought the matter to my attention and I would like to consider your arguments.’

‘They are very clear, my lord. It should not take you long.’

The Viscount looked pained. ‘My dear sir, you do not understand. I am in the middle of arranging my nuptials. Tomorrow I hold discussions with Mr Farnleigh and then I must go to London to arrange matters there. I am sure you will agree that my new bride deserves my full attention.’

Matt listened, outwardly impassive, but he thought that if he was engaged to Flora Warenne, he would not have left her languishing alone in Whilton for the past two years.

He could hardly say so, of course. It was none of his business. Restoring the Rysbrack to its rightful place was.

‘I do not think the matter can wait until after your wedding, Lord Whilton. Two weeks should be ample time for your lawyers to study the evidence and agree that I have a legal right to that statue. ’

‘A month,’ the Viscount suggested. ‘The end of June.’

It was a delay, but Matt could live with that.

He said, ‘Very well, my lord. I shall expect to hear from you by the last day of June.’

With that he took his leave and rode back to the inn in the moonlight.

* * *

‘What—am I to have no further part in the discussions for my marriage?’ cried Flora, incensed.

She was in the drawing room with Mr and Mrs Farnleigh and Lord Whilton, and her uncle had just invited the Viscount to join him in his study.

‘Flora, my dear child, we are already agreed on a date for the ceremony,’ said Mr Farnleigh, spreading his hands.

‘You and your aunt may now go ahead and make all your plans for the wedding itself. Lord Whilton and I are merely agreeing the financial settlements. It will be tedious stuff, nothing to interest you.’

Flora wished to say it was of great interest to her, but her aunt, who was beside her on the sofa, put her hand on her arm.

‘Yes, yes, sir,’ she said brightly. ‘Off you go with His Lordship. Flora and I have plenty to occupy us now, July will be upon us before we know it!’ Once the door had closed and they were alone, she went on, ‘Let the gentlemen have their way on this, Flora. Your uncle will make sure everything is done correctly and to your benefit, you need have no doubt of that. ’

‘I know that, Aunt, but I should still like to be privy to the discussions.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘It is not as if they will be discussing anything that I do not know already!’

‘No, no, my dear. Goodness, of course not!’ cried her aunt, looking flustered. ‘What a strange thing to say! Now, I really must go and speak to Cook, in case the Viscount can be persuaded to change his mind and stay for dinner.’

She hurried away, leaving Flora shaking her head and smiling.

Clearly, Aunt Farnleigh did not want anything to upset the Viscount at this late stage in the engagement.

Flora could understand that. She had been more surprised than anyone when Lord Whilton had proposed and the Farnleighs had been overjoyed when she finally accepted.

It was such an excellent match for their niece.

She knew that one of the reasons they were so keen that she should be chaperoned at all times was to avoid any risk of impropriety before the knot could be tied.

She remembered challenging them about it, shortly after the betrothal, and asking what harm could come to her in Whilton, where she had lived for the past sixteen years.

‘A lady can never be too careful of her reputation,’ Aunt Farnleigh had told her. ‘It only takes a little thing to stir up all sorts of malicious gossip.’

Flora had thought it an odd thing to say, but she had not let it upset her then and she dismissed it again now as prenuptial anxiety, wryly amused to think that her aunt should be so much more nervous about the coming wedding than the bride.

* * *

Flora was alone in the drawing room, engaged in arranging a vase of spring flowers, when the Viscount returned nearly an hour later.

‘Well, my lord, it is all settled to your satisfaction?’

He surprised her by pulling her into his arms. ‘And to yours, too, I hope,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the lips. ‘You have two months to buy your wedding clothes, is that enough for you?’

‘More than enough, sir. After all, it is not as if we are being married in an abbey.’

‘I hope you are not disappointed.’

‘What, that we are to be married here, where I will know practically everyone? I am very well pleased with the arrangement.’

‘So, too, am I.’

He released her and walked over to the mirror, where he studied his reflection before carefully pushing a stray lock of hair back into place. It was a conceit, but a very small one, thought Flora, and she turned away so that he should not see her smile.

‘Aunt would like you to take dinner with us,’ she told him, critically regarding her flower arrangement. ‘She asked me to persuade you. ’