Page 9 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

F lora’s heart sank. With the Viscount’s eyes upon her, she wanted to pull free from her partner, but that would make her look guilty.

‘Oh, dear.’

She was hardly aware of speaking until Matt replied, ‘I take it that is the fiancé?’

‘Yes.’ She summoned up a smile and stepped away from her escort, holding out her hands to the Viscount. ‘Quentin. What a wonderful surprise!’

‘Is it, my dear?’ He bowed low over her hand.

‘Indeed, it is, My Lord. We had not thought to see you for a se’ennight yet.’

He kept hold of her fingers and pulled them into the crook of his arm, keeping his hand possessively over hers as he turned a haughty gaze upon Matt.

‘My servant informed me that someone had called, looking for me,’ he drawled. ‘Mr Farnleigh now tells me it is you, sir. ’

‘Yes, it is.’ Uncle Farnleigh stepped closer. ‘Allow me to present Mr Talacre to you, my lord.’

The Viscount inclined his head in the slightest of greetings. ‘You have been here for almost a week, sir. You must be mighty eager to meet with me.’

‘Since I have had no response to my letters, I thought I would try my luck at Whilton Hall.’

Flora could almost see the tension swirling around the two men, although they were both at pains to be polite. The Viscount was irritated. He looked at ease and sounded relaxed, but his grip on her hand, where it rested on his sleeve, was vice-like.

‘My secretary must have overlooked your correspondence,’ he said in a tone of studied indifference. ‘I am most sorry you have had to tarry here so long.’

‘Oh, it has been no hardship, my lord.’

Matt’s eyes flickered towards Flora and she held her breath. He was deliberately taunting the Viscount and that would not help any future meeting between them. She needed to stop this, now.

‘Quentin, the next dance is a waltz. Now I have you here, will you stand up with me?’ She turned towards him and placed her hand against his coat, smiling up at him and saying playfully, ‘If you refuse, I warn you Mr Makerfield will find me another partner. He can be quite a tyrant at these balls, you know.’

‘But of course I will dance with you, my dear,’ he murmured, his gaze never wavering from Matt Talacre. ‘Call at the Hall tomorrow, sir. At noon. I shall be waiting for you.’

Matt gave a small bow. ‘Thank you, my lord. I shall be there.’

With that the Viscount turned and Flora gave a sigh of relief as she accompanied him to the dance floor.

‘You were sitting out the dance with Mr Talacre.’

His tone was reproving, but Flora would not be cowed. She responded cheerfully, ‘Yes. We were resting after dancing a very lively Scotch reel.’

‘What did you talk of?’

‘Nothing very much, once I had told him I would not flirt with him.’

The Viscount glanced down at her. ‘He tried to flirt with you?’

She laughed. ‘Nearly every gentleman tries to flirt with his dance partner, Quentin, you know that. I gave him a set down immediately, there was no harm done.’

The Viscount was silent and she said sharply, ‘Whatever the business is between you and Mr Talacre, I will not allow either of you to involve me in your quarrel. Do you understand me, my lord?’

Flora met his gaze and held it, allowing him to see her annoyance, and after what felt like a very long moment he smiled.

‘Acquit me of any such intention, my dear. I think perhaps it is Mr Talacre who wishes to cause trouble between us. ’

They had taken their places for the waltz and Flora reached out for his hands, ready to begin. She put up her chin and smiled at him.

‘He won’t do that, Quentin. I promise you.’

* * *

The melodic waltz music filled the room. Matt moved back against the wall and watched the dancers as they slowly circled the dance floor. Flora was smiling up at her partner and although Matt was too far away to see her expression clearly, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

He hoped he had not caused any discord between Flora and her fiancé.

The Viscount had given Matt a very cool reception, possibly because he was jealous, or maybe he knew why Matt wanted to see him.

Flora had said she told no one of their encounter in the garden.

If that was so, then the only way Whilton could know of Matt’s errand was if he had read his letters.

Matt regretted now that he had baited the Viscount. It might make things more difficult for Flora, although if the man was that jealous, why on earth did he leave his fiancée alone in Whilton for long periods of time?

Ah, well, that was no business of his. Tomorrow he would have an opportunity to put his case to the Viscount about the Rysbrack statue.

If things went well and the Viscount agreed to return the statue for the price he had paid for it, then Matt would go back to Gloucestershire and not bother the happy couple again.

* * *

As the last strains of the waltz died away. The Viscount raised Flora from her curtsy and pulled her hand on to his sleeve.

‘You do not wish to remain for a second dance?’ she asked him as he led her away.

She already knew the answer. His fair hair was ruffled from the dancing and he would want to withdraw and restore its immaculate appearance before disappearing into the card room. In the past she had shrugged and let it pass, but tonight, inexplicably, it annoyed her.

He said, ‘I am afraid I do not have your insatiable appetite for the exercise, my dear.’

Flora managed to quell an impatient huff. ‘I wonder you should have bothered to attend, if you did not mean to dance with me.’

‘Alas, my dear, tonight you were not the main reason I came here. Goole wrote to tell me Talacre had called at Whilton Hall.’

His housekeeper wrote to him? she thought, with a flash of resentment. Quentin insisted that all her messages should be included in Uncle Farnleigh’s letters, yet a servant was allowed to write!

Flora knew she was being nonsensical and berated herself for her shrewish temper.

What was wrong with her tonight? Surely she was not jealous of his housekeeper, just because Mrs Goole was a handsome woman?

If so, then she really could not blame Quentin if he objected to her standing up with another gentleman.

‘Are you angry with me for dancing with Mr Talacre?’

‘Let us say I am…concerned to see you upon such good terms with the man.’

‘Good terms?’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘My uncle brought him to dinner and I danced once with him this evening, that is all.’

‘But you also sat out a whole dance with him, in a secluded corner.’

‘It was hardly secluded, Quentin. We were sitting in the window because it is cooler.’

‘And far more private.’

‘Nonsense. We were in plain sight of everyone.’ She sighed. ‘I am sorry if I have upset you, my lord, but I was trying to be hospitable to a stranger.’

‘I would prefer you not to become too friendly with Mr Talacre.’

‘Are you in dispute with him?’

His lip curled. ‘That would be beneath me. The man is merely an irritation. You are frowning, my dear. Do you disagree?’

‘No, but I do not like it when you dismiss people so lightly.’

‘But, my dear Flora, he is nothing. ’

‘And are my aunt and uncle nothing?’ she asked, bristling.

‘No, no, my love, I must always respect and value your relations. But this man Talacre—what do we know of him? He is an upstart, trying to impose upon my good nature.’ He patted her hand. ‘I beg you will not concern yourself with this, Flora. I shall deal with the fellow tomorrow.’

‘I pray you will be polite to him, Quentin. He was a soldier. He was wounded at Waterloo.’

‘Now, how do you know that?’

Under his questioning look Flora felt a blush rising and fought it down. She said airily, ‘Oh, I heard some gossip in the town.’

They reached the side of the room just as the musicians struck up for another country dance. Quentin guided her to a chair and took up a position at her side.

He said slowly, ‘Do you know, Flora, I believe you like Mr Talacre.’

She fixed her eyes on the figures leaping and skipping around the dance floor. She could not dissemble. The Viscount would see through that in an instant.

‘I do,’ she admitted. ‘Our acquaintance is slight, but I think him an honest man.’

‘Ah, but you are one who likes to think well of everyone, my love. You must be on your guard; you have lived a very sheltered life. There are many polite and charming men in this world who will befriend you for their own ends.’ He turned to look down at her.

‘As your future husband, it is my duty to protect you.’

Flora pressed her lips together to prevent the words that were on her tongue from spilling out. She wanted to tell him she did not need protecting, that she was more than capable of recognising and depressing pretension. But how could she rail at him for wanting to look after her?

As if reading her mind, Lord Whilton gave a gentle laugh. ‘Ah, you would like to tell me to mind my own business, would you not? But you are my business, Flora. That diamond on your finger confirms it.’

She sighed. ‘I know it and I am grateful for your concern, truly. But sometimes I feel…stifled! All my life I have been hedged about—cabined, cribbed, confined, as Macbeth would say—and it irks me, Quentin! I feel there is so much more I could be doing.’

‘And so you shall, my love, once we are married. As my Viscountess you will have a great deal to do, including looking after Whilton.’

‘And what of your other houses?’

‘Yes, those, too, but we are agreed that Whilton Hall will be your home.’ He flicked her cheek with a careless finger.

‘Now, my dear, I shall take myself off to the card room until the end of the concert, when I will escort you back to Birchwood House. Until then, I shall not stifle you, but give you leave to dance with anyone you wish! ’