Page 34 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

M att tried to sleep once Flora had left, but the events of the past few days disturbed his rest. As did Flora.

Her joyous laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy, the feel of her in his arms, her body against his.

The look on her face when she had left him for the last time would haunt him for ever.

* * *

After a night spent tossing and turning, Matt left the King’s Head, eager to return to Bellemonte. The journey was slow and painful, his injured arm was practically useless and his weak leg suffered from hours in the saddle, but he made the journey in three days.

He had a brief meeting with his manager and then returned to his apartment at Bellemonte House, where he allowed his valet to fuss over him, putting a fresh bandage on his arm, helping him to change into clean clothes and finally serving him an elegant dinner.

However, when he wanted to help his master to bed, Matt had other ideas.

He sent his man off on an errand to the pleasure gardens.

It was not long before there was a quiet knock on the door and Jepps looked in.

‘You sent for me, Mr Talacre?’

‘Yes, come in, man.’ Jepps walked across the room with his irregular, halting gait. He glanced at Matt’s own leg, resting on a low stool, but said nothing. Matt went on. ‘No trouble getting here, I hope?’

‘No, sir, I arrived yesterday. Gave your letter to Mr Cripps, as you ordered, and he set me on. I’m using my mother’s name now, though. Miller.’

‘Yes, Cripps told me. He says from what he’s seen of you so far you are a good worker.’

The man brightened a little at that. ‘I does me best, sir. Trying to put the past behind me, now.’

‘Aye, well, before you do that completely, I’d like to know everything you can tell me about the Viscount. Not the recent history, but what you know of Captain Gask. His regiment, the names of the troopers who served under him, any dates, places they mentioned—I want a note of all of it.’

Jepps looked anxious. ‘That’d take me a while, sir. I’m awful slow at writing.’

‘No matter, I will do that for you. Bring that small table over here, if you will, and the campaign box. I will write everything down for you and you can sign it when you are finished. Will you do that?’

‘Aye, I will, sir. After what you’ve done for me, I’ll do that gladly!’

* * *

It was near midnight and the candles were guttering when Jepps had finally finished his tale.

Matt thanked him and sent him away. He picked up the paper from the writing slope of his campaign box and waved it slowly, making sure the ink was dry before he folded it.

He did some calculations and concluded there was not a moment to lose.

He would spend the morning making his arrangements, but by tomorrow evening he must be on his way to Dallamire.

He hoped Conham would be at home, because he needed help to carry out his plan.

He had told Flora he didn’t believe in miracles, but he did believe in chance and good fortune. It was possible that all was not yet lost.

* * *

Flora’s return to Birchwood House went unnoticed, except for the three loyal family retainers who had seen her off.

Amos and John Coachman might guess she had been to the King’s Head, but they would say nothing, and Betty asked no questions.

With the prospect of being dresser to a viscountess ahead of her, the maid preferred not to know too much about her mistress’s actions these past few weeks .

Life settled down into its usual uneventful pattern for Flora, very much as it had been before Matt Talacre had come into her world.

But it was not quite the same: she was accompanied everywhere now by the large and taciturn footman sent over by Lord Whilton and she missed Matt so badly it was like a constant, physical ache.

There had been no word, but she heard no gossip about him either. There were rumours about Jepps, though. It was widely reported that he was Matt’s attacker and had run away to avoid arrest. Flora could only hope they were both now at Bellemonte, safe and well.

* * *

It took Matt two days to reach Dallamire and he limped into the house, his leg stiff from sitting hours in the post chaise and with his arm still supported in a sling.

‘What the devil!’ Conham took one look at him and hurried forward. ‘By heaven, man, what have you been doing to yourself? Let’s get you inside!’

Matt batted away the Earl’s attempts to help him. ‘I can walk well enough, thank you,’ he muttered as he accompanied his host into the house and through the marbled hall to the drawing room.

Lady Dallamire was waiting there and she gave a gasp of dismay at the sight of him .

‘Matt, you are as white as a sheet! Come and sit down—’

‘Oh, no, Rosina, not before you have greeted me properly!’ He put his good arm around her and pulled her close.

Laughing, she kissed his cheek, but then insisted on guiding him to a sofa.

‘You must sit, too,’ he said, pulling her down beside him. ‘It is only, what, four weeks since your lying in. By the bye, when will I meet my godson?’

‘You may see Little Matthew tomorrow. He is sleeping now and I will not have him disturbed.’

‘Of course not.’ He cast an admiring glance at her. ‘Motherhood suits you, Rosina. You look very well. Blooming, in fact.’

‘Flatterer!’ she scolded him, blushing at the same time and clearly mightily pleased with his compliment.

‘Now then,’ said Conham, watching this exchange with a mock frown. ‘When you have finished flirting with my wife perhaps you will tell me what has happened to you.’

‘A slight altercation with a rifleman,’ said Matt.

‘Not a very good one, if you are still alive,’ observed the Earl, handing him a glass of wine.

‘Conham, do not be so unfeeling!’ Rosina protested.

‘No, he’s right. The man hadn’t fired a gun in anger for ten years and was…er…out of practice.’

‘You mean he intended to kill you? ’

‘He was ordered to do so, certainly.’

A momentary silence met his statement.

‘And do you know who ordered him?’

‘Yes. Viscount Whilton. The man who currently possesses my—our—Rysbrack statue.’

‘I think you had best tell us the whole,’ said the Earl, refilling his own wineglass and sitting down.

Matt obliged, although he did not tell them everything. It was necessary to mention Flora, of course, but he tried to concentrate on his dispute with the Viscount over the ownership of the statue.

When he had finished, Rosina laughed.

‘And you have put your would-be assassin to work at Bellemonte? If that isn’t just like you, Matt Talacre!’

‘What else could I do with the fellow? He hadn’t wanted to kill me. He is an ex-soldier and has been working as a groundsman at Whilton Hall. I thought he might do well in the gardens.’

‘And what of the Viscount?’

‘Ah.’ Matt hesitated. ‘Well, that’s where I need your help, Conham.’

Once he had told them his plan, the Earl was only too eager to help him. It was Rosina who picked up on something Matt would rather have left unexplained.

‘It seems to me you are going to extraordinary lengths over a statue, Matt,’ she remarked.

‘It’s a matter of principle.’

‘But why the urgency, why must you challenge the man with all this evidence before his wedding?’ She waited, watching Matt as he struggled to find a satisfactory answer. Then she smiled knowingly. ‘Could it be that you have an interest in the bride?’

‘She deserves better.’

Matt felt his cheeks growing warm, for now Conham was watching him, too.

‘I want to save the lady from making an error,’ he went on. ‘I cannot think any woman would want to marry such a man.’

‘And do you think she would rather marry you?’ asked Conham. He laughed. ‘Oho, it’s a Case! Look at him, Rosina. I never thought I would see Matt Talacre lose his head over a woman, but I am pretty sure it has happened.’

Matt fought with himself. He considered trying to laugh it off, but the Earl was an old friend. And Rosina was too shrewd to be taken in by a fudge.

‘Aye, well, there is a little more to it than I have told you.’

‘Then tell us now,’ she invited him.

‘It involves the lady’s history. It is not really my secret to share,’ he demurred.

Rosina leaned forward in her seat. ‘Then keep your secrets, by all means, Matt, we will still do what we can to help. But heaven knows we have been through enough together for you to trust us.’

‘Rosina’s right.’ Conham pulled his chair closer. ‘If this lady means so much to you, old friend, then tell us everything. We won’t judge her, or you.’