Page 67 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
‘Really, Quentin, there is no need for that!’
‘There is every need, my sweet. Your safety is paramount with me and I will take no chances.’
She heard the implacable note in his voice and knew there was no point in arguing. She would be a virtual prisoner until the wedding. And after that…
She shuddered, not wanting to think of the future.
Flora’s betrothal to Lord Whilton had given her a great deal more freedom over the past two years. Not because the Viscount was there to escort her—in truth, he had been absent for a most of the time—but her aunt and uncle, considering her to be a sensible young woman, had allowed her to do very much as she pleased. As long as she was accompanied by a servant, they rarely enquired closely into her movements.
That would change once Quentin’s man was installed at Birchwood, her every move would be reported back to him. It shattered the faint hope she had of seeing Matt once more before he went back to Gloucestershire.
The Viscount’s curricle was waiting in the stable yard and he stopped and took her hands. ‘You willexplain it all to your uncle and aunt for me, if you please. I am sure they will appreciate my concern. And when I return to Whilton,’ he said, carrying her hand to his lips, ‘I shall claim you, as my bride!’
Flora pinned on a smile as she watched him drive away, his tiger clinging on to the back. Her anger and unease were growing. She had no illusions about her forthcoming marriage. Quentin did not care for her, she was just another possession, to be guarded and kept safe at Whilton. And why should he think it necessary to provide her with an escort, unless it was to keep her away from Matt Talacre.
The memory of their parting reared up. There had been no words of love, but it had been warm, affectionate. So different from this chilly farewell. She was overwhelmed with a sudden, fierce longing, a need to see Matt just once more. She knew there could be no hope of lasting happiness with him, but the surge of desire was a physical ache, too strong to ignore.
Turning, she noticed the coachman standing in the doorway of the coach house and went over to him.
‘I trust there have been no repercussions from last night, John?’ she asked quietly.
‘No, miss. No one suspects that we did more than drive you home from Whilton Hall.’ He paused. ‘His Lordship’s tiger was asking a lot of questions, though. Asked if we’d heard something on the road, a gunshot or the like. But don’t you worry, Miss Warenne.Amos and me knows better than to be taken in by his sort and we wouldn’t have said anything, even if you hadn’t greased our palms so generously last night.’ He smiled down at her and tapped his nose. ‘We’ll stick to our story and no one will be any the wiser.’
‘Thank you, John, that is a comfort.’ She hesitated. ‘I wonder if you would now do something else for me.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Matt leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. The day was well advanced but the sun was still high, turning his room into a furnace. He had thrown back the covers and was naked, apart from the bandage on his arm, but there was little air coming in through the open window to cool his skin.
The groom had returned from Whilton some time ago with Matt’s portmanteau, but although he had pulled out the book he had been reading it was still on the table, unopened. Matt had other things to occupy his mind.
What he had discovered from Jepps about the Viscount was interesting and he wished he could have learned more details, but by the time the sawbones had finished with him, the afternoon stage had come and gone, taking the ex-soldier with it.
Since then, Matt had divided his time between lying on the bed and pottering around the room, testing his leg a little more each time, and finally concluding thatthe doctor was right; it was bruised, but he had done no lasting damage. His arm was also healing well. He had removed the sling and was very hopeful that by the morning he would be able to ride.
He was dozing when there was a soft knock and the door opened.
‘I hope I am not disturbing you?’
‘Flora!’ His eyes flew open and he quickly flicked the sheet over his body.
‘I came to see how you go on,’ she said, coming in and closing the door quietly behind her.
‘You should not be here.’
She was removing her hat and pointed to the lace draped over it. ‘I wore a veil, no one here knows who I am. You are looking better today.’
‘Thank you, I feel much better.’
‘And you have seen a doctor?’
‘Yes. He was fetched out last night and returned earlier today. I was fortunate, it was only a flesh wound. He rebandaged it again and thinks there is little risk of infection. As for the bruise on my head, that will heal by itself in a few days.’
‘And your leg?’
‘It will be painful for a while but nothing more serious.’
‘I am glad,’ said Flora, gazing at his naked torso and thinking that the real flesh was so much more impressive than a stone statue.
