Page 19 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
‘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 youfor 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 youaremy 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 notstifleyou, but give you leave to dance with anyone you wish!’
Lord Whilton sauntered off and soon Flora was on the dance floor again, but somehow the lustre had gone from the evening. She learned from Aunt Farnleigh that Mr Talacre had taken his leave while she was waltzing with the Viscount and for once Flora found herself wishing that she might go, too. However, that was not possible and she chided herself for her selfishness. Lord Whilton was making a rare appearance at the assembly and it would be churlish of her to drag him away early from the card room.
* * *
The sun was shining when Matt made his second visit to Whilton Hall. He followed the circuitous drive that led to the redbrick carriage house and stable block, where he stopped to look across at the moated manor house, its creamy stone walls and the painted timber and rendering all reflected in the still waters of the moat. Access to the Hall was via a stone bridge and an imposing medieval gatehouse, where this morning, the faded oak doors in the arched entrance were closed against intruders.
Matt left his horse with a groom and crossed the bridge. As he approached the gatehouse a small wicket in one of the doors opened and a footman invited him to step through. Across the courtyard at the entrance door, an elderly butler was waiting to escort him into Lord Whilton’s presence.
He was shown into an oak-panelled drawing roomwith large, glazed bays on two sides that filled the room with light, somewhat reduced by the colourful stained-glass panels of heraldic symbols at the top of each window. A huge stone chimney piece dominated the room and the painted plaster walls displayed a warlike selection of swords, shields and pikes, the spaces between filled with dark portraits. As for the furniture, everything was constructed of heavily carved dark wood.
Matt thought this must once have been the manor’s hall, a relic of an earlier age, and it did not surprise him to find the Viscount sitting in a high-backed oak armchair, like some medieval lord holding court. It was all a little theatrical—he half expected Whilton to put out his hand and insist that Matt kneel and kiss his ring.
The Viscount pushed himself slowly out of his chair and scooped up some sheets of paper from a table beside him.
‘Good day, to you, Mr…’ He glanced at the papers. ‘Mr Talacre.’
If Whilton’s intention was to intimidate his visitor, he had failed this time, thought Matt, amused. He inclined his head.
‘I see you found my letters.’
‘Yes.’ Whilton gestured to a chair. ‘Do sit down, Mr Talacre. You appear to believe I have a statue of yours here at Whilton Hall.’
‘It is not merely my belief, my lord. I havedocuments and letters to corroborate my claim.’ He slipped one hand into his coat and drew out a large packet, which he placed on the sideboard before sitting down. ‘Copies of everything are here, verified and signed by a London attorney.’
The Viscount steepled his fingers. ‘I purchased that particular statue in good faith. It is perfect in its setting.’
‘It is even more perfect in the setting it was commissioned to fill,’ replied Matt. ‘You bought a stolen item, my lord. It must be returned.’
‘You do not appear to understand, Mr Talacre. I am a collector of beautiful objects. But you know that, you have seen my fiancée.’
