Page 5 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

B y Friday morning Flora had heard nothing more of Matt Talacre and that did much to restore her equilibrium.

There was no denying she was at fault for speaking with a stranger, and even more so for accompanying him back through the wood, unchaperoned.

The man was even more to blame, of course: he should not have been in the gardens in the first place.

Still, no harm had been done, the man must have left Whilton by now and she could put him out of her mind.

* * *

It was a shock, therefore, when she entered the drawing room before dinner that evening, to find Mr Matt Talacre conversing with her aunt and uncle.

She stopped in the doorway, appalled to realise how pleased she was to see him again.

Her heart was beating so hard against her ribs she feared everyone could hear it.

This was not right. She had never felt like this at seeing Quentin, had she ?

Both gentlemen had risen from their seats, but it was Aunt Farnleigh who greeted her.

‘Ah, here is my niece now,’ she exclaimed, looking flustered but not displeased. ‘Come in, Flora. We have an unexpected guest for dinner tonight.’

‘Unexpected, but not unwelcome,’ declared Uncle Farnleigh, laughing. ‘Flora, my dear, allow me to present Mr Talacre.’

‘Good evening, Miss Warenne.’

Flora stared at Matt Talacre as he reached for her nerveless hand and bowed over it.

‘We met at Sir Roger Condicote’s fishing party today,’ explained her uncle. ‘And when I heard Talacre was at a loose end this evening I suggested he come and take pot luck with us.’

‘Indeed,’ she murmured. Was it mere coincidence that he was here? Perhaps the Fates were conspiring to test her loyalty to her fiancé. Or perhaps Matt Talacre was playing some deep game of his own. She would need to be on her guard.

‘And very pleased we are to have him join us,’ declared Aunt Farnleigh, who prided herself upon keeping a good table.

‘Although I have warned you, Mr Talacre, it will only be our usual fare. Just two courses, I’m afraid, but it includes a fricassee of wild rabbit and a haunch of mutton.

As well as the trout and barbel Mr Farnleigh caught today. ’

‘Madam, I can think of nothing finer. ’

Aunt Farnleigh’s reaction to these words showed quite clearly that she had succumbed to their guest’s undoubted charm. A blush warmed her faded cheek and there was an added spring in her step as she moved off to speak with her husband.

Flora rounded on their guest. ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed.

‘Your uncle was kind enough to invite me,’ he murmured. ‘And as it appeared you hadn’t mentioned our meeting, I thought it best to act as if it had not happened.’

This reasonable explanation robbed Flora of any excuse for her anger, but it did nothing for her temper.

‘I thought you had left Whilton.’

‘I had considered it, but then I bumped into Sir Roger Condicote and his invitation to spend a day fishing was…irresistible.’ His crooked smile appeared. ‘Are you not just a little pleased to see me?’

‘Not in the least!’

‘I did not plan this, Miss Warenne, I promise you. Pray, cry pax with me.’

Flora discovered she was no more impervious to the man’s charm than Aunt Farnleigh, but she was not quite ready to give him a smile just yet. She indicated by a look that he should move with her towards the window, where they would not be overheard.

‘What have you given as your reason for being in Whilton? ’

‘That I have business with the Viscount, nothing more.’ He leaned a little closer. ‘So you see, Miss Warenne, your secret is safe with me.’

‘ My secret! I was not the one trespassing.’

He laughed again at that, but as the butler came in at that moment to announce dinner there was no time to utter a rebuke. With an audacious wink he went off to give his arm to Aunt Farnleigh, leaving Flora to accompany her uncle into the dining room.

* * *

Flora could not fault Mr Talacre’s manners at dinner.

He was neither too flattering, praising every dish far beyond its merits, nor too reticent, sitting silently and leaving all the work of conversation to others.

He conversed easily and intelligently upon every subject that his hosts introduced and initiated several discussions himself.

She found it impossible to dislike the man and when the ladies went off to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy a glass of brandy together, she was not surprised to hear her aunt describe Mr Talacre as a very amiable gentleman.

‘Unmarried, too,’ she continued, ‘which will set a few hearts a-fluttering at Monday’s ball.’

‘Goodness, will he be here for that?’ asked Flora, startled.

‘Why, yes. He is staying until at least Tuesday, because he wants to attend the Antiquarians’ lecture that evening.’ Aunt Farnleigh’s brow furrowed in concentration. ‘It is something about Grecian sculptures, I think.’

‘Oh, of course,’ said Flora, thinking of the statue of Mars. ‘That makes sense.’

‘It does?’

Flora felt her cheeks grow warm under her aunt’s puzzled glance and hastened to say, ‘I believe these antiquities are of interest to many gentlemen. Only think of the British Museum, buying the Parthenon Sculptures from Lord Elgin.’

Aunt Farnleigh was unconvinced. ‘I must say I cannot see anything of interest in old blocks of carved stone. Very pretty in their way, I am sure, but I believe most of them to be broken beyond repair. Headless gods and goddesses with no arms—why on earth would anyone think that interesting, let alone valuable ?’

Flora found herself wishing that Mr Talacre was there to share her amusement at that.

‘Not that it would do to say as much in Lord Whilton’s presence,’ her aunt went on. ‘He would be quite shocked to hear me speak so disparagingly of the classical world.’

The mention of her fiancé put an abrupt end to Flora’s amusement. It was true, Quentin would disapprove of her aunt’s views. He had a serious regard for history and he had more than once praised her for her ancient lineage.

‘Yes,’ she said now, ‘we avoid talking of anything contentious with the Viscount, don’t we, Aunt?’

She was unable to keep a sigh from her voice and her aunt immediately roused herself to say, bracingly, ‘Lord Whilton is perhaps a little set in his ways for such a young man, but he is a viscount , my love, and you know how these great men are fêted and, shall we say, a little indulged.’ She stopped, lifting her head a little as voices sounded from the hall.

‘But hush now, the gentlemen are coming!’

Even as she spoke the door opened. Matt Talacre came in first, laughing at something Mr Farnleigh was saying, and Flora felt her own mood lighten when he smiled at her.

He could not be considered classically handsome; his face was too lean, his complexion tanned, a man who spent a great deal of time out of doors.

Yet there was something engaging in his smile, and in those dark brown eyes, and Flora could not resist smiling back at him.

That was a mistake, because he immediately came across to sit beside her.

‘Your uncle tells me you play the pianoforte, Miss Warenne.’

‘Yes, a little.’

‘Can I persuade you to play something this evening? ’

‘Yes, yes, Flora, do play,’ cried Mr Farnleigh, overhearing. ‘Talacre has been listening to me chatter on for the best part of an hour and I am sure he would like something more entertaining!’

Their guest immediately disclaimed, ‘You have entertained me most royally, sir, I have no complaints on that score. But I confess I should very much like to hear Miss Warenne play.’

‘You could try out that new piece you have been practising for Lord Whilton’s return,’ suggested Mrs Farnleigh. She smiled at their guest. ‘You might not have heard, Mr Talacre, that my niece is betrothed to the Viscount.’

‘Indeed, ma’am?’ replied the gentleman, giving Flora an amused glance.

It was a clumsy attempt to warn him off, thought Flora, and Mr Talacre was well aware of it.

‘Yes, I know she is our niece, so we are naturally biased, but His Lordship is very fortunate to find such a jewel,’ remarked Uncle Farnleigh, with a proud smile.

‘But then, we have had the upbringing of her since she was ten years old and, though I say it myself, I do not think there is a more accomplished young lady in the county.’

‘Enough, enough,’ cried Flora, getting up. ‘Such praise is putting me to blush, Uncle. Doubtless I shall confound you now by playing the new piece very badly! ’

Laughing, she walked over to the piano, trying to ignore her aunt, who was confiding to Mr Talacre that she expected a date to be set for the wedding as soon as Lord Whilton returned.

‘Everything was postponed, you see, sir, due to a bereavement in the Viscount’s family.’

Flora began sorting through the music, concentrating her attention on her forthcoming performance rather than the conversation in the room. She succeeded so well that she jumped when she heard Matt’s voice at her shoulder, just as she was placing the sheet music on the stand.

‘Allow me to turn the pages for you.’

‘Thank you, but there is no need.’

‘If you are not yet proficient, then I am sure there is.’

He was teasing her and she could not help responding.

‘My performance shouldn’t be that bad!’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I am more likely to be put off by you hovering over me.’

He pulled up a chair beside her. ‘Then I shall sit down.’

His audacity made her laugh and she shook her head at him. ‘You are an incorrigible rogue, Mr Talacre.’

‘Acquit me, madam, I am only trying to be of service to you.’

Flora resolutely turned her attention to the pianoforte.

She was alarmed at how easy it was to bandy words with the man and how much she enjoyed it.

She breathed slowly, took a moment to calm herself, then began to play.

After a cautious start she began to relax and soon she had forgotten everything except the music.

* * *