Page 25 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

‘N o!’ Flora felt sick. ‘No, that is not true, Quentin. My mother would not do such a thing. She could not be a spy…my father was a government official!’

‘That is the point, my dear. Your mother was very well placed to mix with members of the government. They held regular dinners for His Majesty’s ministers, where she heard secrets and plans that she passed on to her French masters.’

She threw up her hands. ‘No, stop! I do not believe you. I would know, I would have been told, if this, this abomination was true!’

The Viscount’s smile was sympathetic, but it sent a chill running through her.

He said softly, ‘Alas, it is all too true, my dear. Your father hoped to reach France before the treason was discovered. He would have succeeded, too, if their carriage had not overturned. Once they were dead, your uncle persuaded the ministers involved not to make the matter public, which would have been highly humiliating for the government. He also managed to silence any rumours and protect the good name of Warenne.’

She put up her chin. ‘If everything was hushed up, how do you know of it?’

‘Your uncle told me, when I asked for permission to pay my addresses.’

‘My uncle ?’ Flora stared at him, trying to make sense of everything he had said. ‘But why? Why would he do that?’

‘He felt it his duty to tell me the truth.’

‘His duty to tell you , but not me?’ Flora’s confusion turned to anger. ‘How dare he keep something like this from me!’

‘My dear, he was trying to protect you.’

‘Protect me, by keeping me in ignorance?’ She laughed again, but this time it was a bitter sound. ‘And knowing this, you still considered me a suitable bride? I thought breeding and respectability were paramount with you.’

‘Breeding, certainly. Your father’s lineage is impeccable. The Warenne name goes back centuries. William de Warenne fought with the Conqueror and was made Earl of Surrey by his son, William Rufus. I have traced your history. Your father was a direct male descendent of the first Earl.’

She shook her head. ‘No, that makes no sense. My father was a gentleman, but he had no fortune, no pretentions to greatness! ’

‘But he should have done. His family’s descent is well documented.’

‘You have studied it all?’

‘But of course. I wanted a wife with a bloodline to match my own.’

She looked at him in amazement. ‘You are marrying me for my bloodline ?’

‘A little more than that, my dear. Your father had a right to arms and I have ascertained that right now applies to you. Your heraldic arms will be impaled with mine. I have already ordered several shields with the new design. Once we are married, they will be displayed prominently in every room. Our combined ancestry must command respect.’

That word, impaled, made her shiver. Flora stared at the man in front of her. She had always known that he was proud and arrogant, but she could not believe that he had chosen her purely for her bloodline, like some prize animal.

‘Quentin, does anyone care for that sort of thing now?’

His brows went up and he said coldly, ‘Of course they do. I would have preferred a bride with an unblemished line on the distaff, but it is the male line that is important. Your mother will be forgotten. She is an irrelevance.’ Flora winced at that.

He went on. ‘Do not worry, Flora, no one else knows of your mother’ s treachery.

And they never will, as long as you marry me. ’

‘Oh, this is absurd,’ she exclaimed. ‘I will not stay here another moment!’

She tugged the ring from her finger and held it out to him.

He said, ‘Think, before you do anything foolish, Flora. If you cry off, I shall make certain that your history is known. And not only in Whilton. It will be reported in the London papers and throughout the country. All your friends will know your parents were traitors, that they were fleeing to France to escape justice.’

He gave an eloquent shrug. ‘Perhaps that does not worry you, to have everyone know you are the daughter of a traitor—two, when you think that your father was going to help her to escape. But think of how it will rebound upon your aunt and uncle. They suppressed all the evidence against your mother. Of course it is still in the government papers, for anyone who wishes to look.’

‘Like yourself?’

‘Exactly. The Farnleighs took you in and gave you a home. Did you never wonder why they came to Whilton? They needed to start afresh, you see. Somewhere no one had heard of your parents. Rumours were already beginning to circulate in London, but after the tragic accident your uncle, together with your father’s friends, silenced the whispers.

Moving to a quiet town was an ideal solution. ’

She said defiantly, ‘After all this time no one would be interested in such an old story.’

‘Oh, but they would, my dear, if certain papers came to light. You see, after your uncle told me about your past, I made a few enquiries of my own. I have obtained a number of letters your mother wrote to her contact in Paris. They were sent via a go-between on the English coast.’ He waved to a large leather wallet resting on the sideboard.

‘Your behaviour recently made me think you might want to cry off so I brought the letters with me from London. I thought you might like to see them. Go on, my dear. Take a look.’

She walked across and picked up the wallet. Inside were a number of folded papers. She pulled one out and read it, then a second.

‘Where did you get these?’ she asked, sitting down on a chair next to the sideboard.

‘I sent an envoy to France to see what could be discovered. By a mixture of, er, persuasion and bribery he came back with these.’ He laughed. ‘They cost me a great deal of money, but I believe it was worth it.’

Flora’s blood turned to ice. If all this was true and it became known about her mother and Papa’s attempts to save her, she knew she would not be the only one tainted. Her aunt and uncle would be damaged by association. The Farnleighs’ comfortable, respectable existence would be destroyed.

And Matt. He had an implacable hatred of French spies. And with good reason, she thought, remembering what he had told her. He would want nothing more to do with her.

‘I do not believe any of this, my lord!’

‘Not even those letters, in your mother’s handwriting?’

‘They might be forgeries.’ She put the papers back in the wallet and placed the ring next to it on the sideboard. Then she rose, her legs not quite steady. ‘I shall go back to Birchwood House and ask my aunt and uncle.’

His smile only drove the ice further into her bones.

‘Yes, do that, Flora. And then you will put on your finest gown and come back to Whilton Hall. We shall dine together and say no more about this painful subject.’

‘No. Even if everything you have said is true, I shall never come back here.’

‘Oh, I think you will, my dear,’ he murmured. ‘You will do as I say. Or your shameful history will be public knowledge by the morning.’

Without a word she turned and walked towards the door.

‘Come alone tonight,’ he told her, as she grasped the handle. ‘My cousin is here; she will play chaperon for you.’

* * *

Flora hurried back to Birchwood House, by turns running and walking. Her thoughts were in turmoil. It could not be true; Quentin was playing some cruel joke upon her. But why would he do that, if it could be easily disproved?

She was quite out of breath by the time she reached the house, but on learning that her aunt and uncle were in the drawing room, she ran across the hall to join them.

‘Ah, Flora, there you are my love, what a time you have been!’ declared Aunt Farnleigh, as she went in. ‘You have just missed our visitor. Mr Talacre was here and—’

‘Mr Talacre?’

Her uncle nodded. ‘Why, yes. He called to pay his respects, after the ball last night. He asked after you particularly and stayed talking for a good half-hour. Perhaps it is for the best that you were not here. Dancing the waltz with him might not have been the kindest thing to do, Flora. The poor fellow may well have been beguiled, although we had made it quite plain to him that you were engaged.’

She waved an impatient hand, afraid to think of Matt until she had asked the question that was burning her mind.

‘Was Mama a French spy?’

She watched them both, expecting a puzzled frown or a shocked disclaimer. They looked at one another and her aunt burst into tears.

Flora forced her shaking limbs to move to the nearest sofa and sat down.

‘So it is true.’

Mr Farnleigh went over to his wife and put one arm about her shoulders.

‘What have you heard?’ he demanded.

Flora repeated everything the Viscount had told her. When she had finished, he sighed.

‘Charles—your father—fell in love with Mary in Ireland. He had no idea that her family supported the revolution in France. And Mary herself never said anything about it. He brought her back to England as his bride and we thought them well matched. She was always such a sweet, quiet girl.

‘It was only later that we learned of it. Charles came to me for help, when he discovered she was passing secrets to the French.’

‘But why, how?’ said Flora. ‘I don’t understand. Papa worked for the government; he would not betray his friends or his country.’

‘Not knowingly,’ said her uncle. ‘Apparently, Mary was very fond of one of her Irish cousins and it was he who persuaded her to spy for the French.

He moved to Deal, in Kent, in ninety-six and Mary wrote to him there regularly.

Charles thought nothing of it—after all she was a long way from her home and all her family, it was only natural that she would correspond with a cousin.

‘Your father had an active role in government at the time, forever holding dinners for his political friends and allies with Mary as his hostess. She was passing on everything she heard at the dinner table.’