Page 22 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

‘W ell, my dear, I have had a letter today from Lord Whilton,’ said Mr Farnleigh, beaming at Flora across the dinner table. ‘He will be with us again this week. Is that not capital news?’

Flora looked up quickly. ‘But the midsummer ball is not until next Wednesday!’

‘He has completed his business and will be back at Whilton Hall by Friday.’ He beamed at her. ‘That will put the roses back in your cheeks, eh, my dear?’

‘Just what I was thinking,’ said Aunt Farnleigh.

‘You have been looking decidedly peaky since you returned from Hotwell House. It was very good of you to go with Jenny Albright, my love, but really, for you to put up in the Hotwell House, filled with the sick and dying, cannot have been good for you.’

‘We were in no danger at all, Aunt,’ replied Flora, smiling. ‘Those taking the waters are in the main elderly and infirm, but not infectious. And Jenny was so glad to see her godmother. Mrs Boscombe was considerably cheered by her visit.’

Flora had felt very guilty for leaving her friend to visit her ailing godmother alone, as she had been at pains to tell Jenny when the carriage came to collect her from Bellemonte, early on the Friday morning.

Jenny had been equally quick to assure her there was nothing she could have done.

‘I spent every hour I could with Aunt Elvira and was fit for nothing but to fall into bed each night. You would have been obliged to amuse yourself for the whole time. I am sure you were much better off at Bellemonte.’

As to that, thought Flora, moving her food around her plate, her visit to Bellemonte had solved nothing. She realised now that it had been a foolish, fruitless outing, born of her desire to escape Whilton, just for a while.

She had gone to the gardens at Whilton Hall and seen the marks on the statue for herself and she was convinced it was indeed from Bellemonte.

But what good did it do? She could not explain that to Quentin without telling him of her visit to Gloucestershire and she dared not do that, because she had embroiled others in her deceit.

Not only was Jenny complicit in the secret, but her maid, Maria, as well as Betty and Edwin.

Flora had known all three servants for years.

They had accompanied Jenny and Flora on many of their childhood picnics and outings, mended their torn gowns, bathed grazed knees and mopped up their tears.

They had often covered up the childish misdeeds of their young charges, but Flora knew that this secret was quite another matter and she had charged them all that, if asked directly, they must not lie to their employers.

The decision to go to Bellemonte had been hers and hers alone.

She would take full responsibility, if word should get out, and do her best to defend them.

Flora could not believe that her aunt and uncle, or Mr and Mrs Albright, would turn off such old retainers who had had no choice but to obey orders, but still guilt weighed down her spirits.

She had heard nothing so far to suggest anyone in Whilton knew of her visit to Bellemonte and she could only hope that nothing occurred to change that.

Mr Farnleigh cleared his throat. ‘I believe, my dear Flora, that the Viscount’s decision to cut short his time in town is a sign of his affection for you.’

‘I should believe that more readily if he had informed me of the decision, sir!’ she said, finally giving up on her meal.

Aunt Farnleigh tutted. ‘Hush now, Flora. It is only proper that he should write to your guardian.’

‘It is positively medieval! ’

‘Ah, now we know the cause of Flora’s malaise,’ her uncle chuckled. ‘She is moping for her sweetheart.’

She blushed at that, but thought it best not to protest.

Lord Whilton was not the man who featured in her dreams each night, or who occupied her thoughts for most of her waking hours.

Since returning from Bellemonte she had not been able to get Matt Talacre out of her head.

She could not forget their final meeting, or the kiss they had shared.

She could not forget the feel of his lips on hers, his arms about her.

At night she was a prey to dreams where she was lying with him, their naked limbs tangling, and she would wake, trembling in the darkness, her body aching with desire so overpowering she wanted to weep.

* * *

Preparations for the wedding had been carrying on while Flora was away and there was plenty to keep her busy: fittings for her new gowns, invitations to be written, menus for celebratory dinners to be discussed.

The dreams of Matt Talacre were purely wedding nerves, she decided.

His kiss had awakened something, brought her body alive to the pleasures that awaited in the marriage bed.

She had heard whispered conversations and gossip between married women of her acquaintance, but had never known what it meant, until she had gone to Bellemonte.

Now she knew why parents were so careful with their daughters.

Her aunt and uncle had kept her well chaperoned.

Even those two early occasions when she thought she had lost her heart, she had never been allowed to be alone with her admirer.

She had engaged in only the mildest of flirtations with any gentleman, until she had met Matt Talacre.

It was no wonder that one kiss from him should liquefy her bones and send the hot blood coursing through her body.

How much better would it be when Quentin at last took her in his arms and kissed her that way?

* * *

She was still mulling over these thoughts on Friday, when Lord Whilton arrived at Birchwood House.

She watched him from the upper landing window as he rode up the drive on his long-tailed bay.

How could she have forgotten what a handsome man he was?

Straight-backed in the saddle, his slender frame looked very elegant in a blue riding jacket.

With his fair hair and blue eyes, he reminded her of a prince from a fairy tale.

She was so relieved that at last he was here. He would put all her doubts to rest.

Flora went back to her room to remove her apron and tidy her hair before going downstairs. Learning that Lord Whilton was with her aunt and uncle in the morning room, she almost ran across the hall and opened the door in time to hear her uncle speaking.

‘We should tell her—’

He broke off when he saw Flora and she said, smiling, ‘Tell me what, Uncle? ’

‘No, no, not you, my dear,’ he said hastily.

‘The new scullery maid,’ added Aunt Farnleigh. ‘A trifling matter.’

Flora gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Surely that is of little interest to His Lordship?’

‘Indeed, it is nothing of consequence!’ The Viscount crossed the room towards her. ‘My dear Flora, I hope you have missed me?’

She gave him her fingers and she waited for the tremor of excitement as he kissed her hand. It never came.

‘Welcome back, my lord.’

‘So formal.’ He shook his head at her and murmured, ‘I like to hear my name on your lips, my dear.’

‘Yes of course. Quentin. We did not expect you back so soon.’

‘I could not stay away,’ he said, sitting down with her on the sofa. ‘I was eager to return to my future bride. I want to dance the night away with her at the Condicotes’ Midsummer Ball. And, of course, I must make Whilton Hall ready to receive its new mistress.’

Flora was surprised. ‘When I called, I was informed everything had been arranged and there was nothing for me to do. In fact,’ she added, recalling the housekeeper’s frosty reception, ‘Mrs Goole appeared to resent my being there.’

‘I think you misunderstood the woman, my love. And you will recall my saying that you need not trouble yourself over these little things. Goole is perfectly capable of running Whilton.’

Flora paused to consider her words before replying. ‘I wonder—is she perhaps afraid I shall try to usurp her position?’

She saw him frown, his eyes suddenly wary, but it was gone in an instant and then he was laughing.

‘Usurp her? No, no, my dear. Goole knows that her position is secure. I do not expect you to involve yourself with the housekeeping. I should not wonder if she is a little in awe of my future Viscountess.’

Flora wanted to say she had found the woman’s manner almost hostile, but Quentin had already turned towards her uncle and engaged him in conversation. Well, no matter. She would deal with Mrs Goole herself, once she was mistress at Whilton.

* * *

The Viscount stayed for a full hour before declaring he must go.

‘Until Wednesday, Flora,’ he said, kissing her hand. ‘I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to dancing with you at the ball on Wednesday.’

‘Truly? You intend to stand up with me for more than one dance, this time?’ She could not help sounding a little sceptical.

He laughed. ‘I would partner you for every dance, if that were possible, but how can I deprive our friends and neighbours of that pleasure? And you dance so beautifully that I take great pleasure in watching you.’ He flicked her cheek with a careless finger.

‘I shall be there with you, my dear, never doubt it!’

He took his leave, but Aunt Farnleigh barely waited for the door to close behind their visitor than she turned to reprimand her niece.

‘I could not help but overhear you, Flora. You really should show a little more deference to the Viscount.’

‘Why? If we are to be married, we must be able to speak freely to one another.’

‘But it is not wise to antagonise him. He has done you a great honour in offering for you.’

Flora hesitated. ‘I would rather he showed me greater affection, Aunt.’

‘That is not the way of these great men, my love. Be assured, after you are wed you will find him a most thoughtful husband, intent upon making you happy. Why, in the two years since your engagement, we have never seen anything to concern us.’