Page 8 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

And even on the rare occasions when he was in Whilton he could rarely be persuaded to dance, thought Flora as she moved across to take her place in the set. Quentin thought public assemblies beneath him and not all her coaxing could persuade him to dance with her more than once in an evening.

The musicians struck up a lively tune and Flora wondered if Matt’s wounded leg would cause him problems in the reel. However, he had no difficulty once the music began.

She was pleased for him, and also relieved that the lively music meant there could be no more conversation.

It was all too easy to let down her guard in this man’s company.

She must keep him at a proper distance. However, by the end of the dance she had enjoyed herself so much that she was happy to leave the floor with him and go in search of refreshments.

He procured for her a glass of lemonade and then escorted her to two empty chairs in a deep window embrasure at one end of the ballroom.

She sat down, trying to fan herself and hold her lemonade at the same time.

‘Goodness, it is a warm night!’

‘Here, let me.’ He took the fan from her, wafting the cool air from the open window in her direction. ‘Is that better?’

‘Blissful.’

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, before common sense rushed in and she opened them again quickly.

He had turned to face her, plying the fan with one hand while the other rested on the back of her chair.

A tiny voice inside warned her she should move away, but she ignored it—she was far too comfortable.

It was cooler here by the open window and they were still within view of the dance floor.

Well, most of it. There was no impropriety in sitting here, enjoying a glass of lemonade with a gentleman.

Is there not?

That little voice in her head would not be silenced, but she willed herself not to blush.

‘We thought you had left Whilton,’ she said.

‘Oh, why was that?’

‘You were not at the service yesterday.’

‘I never go near a church, if I can help it. Even being groomsman at my friend Conham’s wedding was a trial!’

Something in his voice caught her attention and she glanced up in time to see a shadow cross his face. It was gone in an instant and his eyes were teasing again.

‘Was I missed?’

‘Not at all. Everyone was engrossed in Mr Johnson’s sermon.’

‘But you noticed.’

This has gone far enough, Flora!

‘I will not flirt with you, Mr Talacre.’

‘I am not attempting to do so. We are conversing,’ he replied, equably. ‘Merely passing the time of day. I would not dream of trying to flirt with you. ’

He sounded so hurt at the idea that she was obliged to stifle a giggle.

‘That’s better,’ he murmured. ‘I like it when you laugh.’

She gave in then and chuckled. ‘Are you never serious, sir?’

‘Rarely. Life is too short. There is too much to do, too many places to see, ladies to—’ he caught her eye again and quickly changed what he was going to say ‘—to dance with.’

‘Then you should go and dance with one of them.’ She was finding it more and more difficult to keep the laughter from her voice.

‘Later, perhaps. For now, I want to know more about you. How is it you come to be living here, in this quiet backwater?’

‘There is nothing to tell. You already know I have lived here very happily since I was a child.’

‘No doubt you are looking forward to moving away, when you are married.’

‘I shall not be moving very far,’ she told him. ‘We shall be making our home at Whilton Hall.’

‘Is it not a little…small, for a principal residence?’

Flora had thought as much herself, although she would not admit it to anyone.

‘The Viscount has a passion for antiquities and Whilton Hall is a fine example of a medieval moated house.’ She glanced at him. ‘Do you disagree? ’

‘No, it is a splendid building, but it can hardly be the best of his properties. Is it your choice to live there?’

‘He has done a great deal to make it comfortable.’

‘Once again you are avoiding my question.’

‘You ask too many questions!’ Flora retorted, taking her fan back from him.

‘I beg your pardon.’

Flora held her tongue and allowed the silence to stretch between them. Until she could bear it no longer.

‘I might ask you why you have not returned to Gloucestershire.’

‘You know why. I am hopeful of seeing the Viscount.’

‘That statue must be very important to you.’

‘It is. It belongs at Bellemonte and I want it back.’

Flora remembered how pleased the Viscount had been when he had installed it in his garden. He would not want to part with it.

She said, ‘Surely it would be easier, and possibly less costly if it comes to a legal battle, to commission a replacement.’

‘Rysbrack has been dead these forty years and a copy would not be the same thing at all. Besides, it is not wholly my property,’ he explained. ‘I have shareholders to hold me to account, as well as the Earl of Dallamire. He owns the land.’

‘One sculpture.’ She waved a hand. ‘It is very pretty, but is it really worth so much to you? ’

‘The sculpture is one of a pair and therefore irreplaceable. What I have achieved at Bellemonte has been through honest toil and hard work. I abhor lies and deceit of any kind. It is a point of principle to try to recover my property.’

He sounded very serious and Flora felt a chill of anxiety. If Quentin decided to oppose the statue’s return, things could go ill for Matt Talacre.

‘Then I wish you good fortune, sir. I hope you will succeed.’ She rose. ‘The dance has ended. I should go and find my aunt.’

‘Yes, of course.’

He took her empty glass and put it with his own on a small side table before leading her away from the window. They had gone only a few steps when she realised how many people were looking at them.

She stopped. ‘It might be best if you did not come with me. You should find yourself another partner.’

‘Time for that once I have seen you safely restored to your aunt,’ was his cheerful response. ‘Where are we likely to find her?’

‘I would expect her to be with our friends—where I was sitting when Mr Makerfield brought you over. On the far side of the room, by those large windows.’

‘Come along, then.’

There was nothing she could do but accompany him as he negotiated a way through the crush of dancers milling around the dance floor.

It was so crowded she was not able to see her aunt until they had crossed the room and when she did have a clear view, she saw both her aunt and uncle were talking with the Albrights and Sir Roger and Lady Condicote.

And beside them, watching her approach on Matt Talacre’s arm, was Lord Whilton.