Page 3 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
‘Scamp,’ muttered Flora, watching as her pet fawned and sniffed at the glossy top boots.
‘Scamp, is it? And a scamp you are, sir, not to take better care of your mistress!’
With a final pat on the dog’s head, the man straightened.
He gave a crooked grin which Flora found surprisingly beguiling and she was sorely tempted to smile back. There was no denying the man was attractive, with his dark hair curling out beneath a tall hat and chocolate-brown eyes that glinted with amusement. But he was a stranger and, despite his snowy neckcloth and well-fitting coat, very probably a trespasser, so instead she gave him a haughty look.
He took off his hat and swept her an elegant bow. ‘Matthew Talacre, at your service, ma’am. Matt to my friends.’
She ignored his last words, and the glinting smile that accompanied them.
‘May I ask again, sir, what you are doing here?’
‘I hoped to see Lord Whilton. Having written to him and not received a reply, I thought I would seek him out.’
‘But you know the family is not at home, so why are you in His Lordship’s garden?’
‘I might ask you the same thing.’
That disconcerting smile was still hovering around his mouth and she put up her chin.
‘I am Flora Warenne. Lord Whilton’s fiancée.’
‘His fiancée!’
Flora was not offended by the stranger’s obvious astonishment; she often wondered herself what it was that had persuaded Quentin Gask, Viscount Whilton, to propose to her, but she could not deny it rankled.
‘And what do you find so strange about that?’ she demanded.
* * *
Yes, why the devil should that surprise me?Matt asked himself.
The lady was a beauty. Her figure showed to advantage beneath a rust-coloured pelisse and flame-red hair peeped out from beneath a straw bonnet and framed delicate features with the translucent look of fine porcelain. Eyes the colour of hazel nuts, fringed with dark lashes, regarded him fearlessly while a sprinkling of freckles decorated her straight little nose. And as for that generous mouth…
‘Well, sir? Has the cat got your tongue?’
He dragged his thoughts away from wondering what it would be like to kiss those rosy lips.
‘Why, nothing strange about it at all, ma’am, save that you are unescorted.’ He added, before she could protest, ‘Although, of course, you do have your guard dog.’
He glanced down at the spaniel, who had lost interest in the humans and was sniffing around the base ofthe stone statue at the centre of the small lawn. Looking again at the lady, he saw her lips twitch. A smile was forming, but she quickly shut it down.
‘I must go.’ She turned away and called to her dog.
‘I will come with you.’
‘There is no need. Scamp, comehere!’
‘But I am staying at the Whilton Arms and thereforegoing that way. I left my horse at the end of the lane. Did you see her? A piebald mare.’
‘No, I did not see her.’ Flora was relieved when the spaniel came up and sat at her feet, his flanks heaving. He was unusually relaxed with this stranger and clearly sensed no danger. She added, less sharply, ‘I came in through the woods.’
‘Ah, yes. I passed a narrow track, about halfway along the path. Would that be it? Please do not be alarmed, ma’am. I am perfectly respectable.’
There it was again, that roguish smile. Flora quickly looked away.
‘You are trespassing,’ she reminded him.
