Page 82 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
So, this was Matt’s friend and patron of Bellemonte, thought Flora, momentarily distracted from the immediate drama. Quentin’s next outburst brought her back to the present.
‘I don’t care who you are,’ he raged. ‘I gave orders that I was not to be interrupted tonight. You have no right to enter my house by force!’
‘Oh, we didn’t, we were invited,’ replied Matt, stripping off his gloves. ‘By your housekeeper.’
Flora was surprised to hear that and she glanced up at Quentin. He was looking stunned, but recovered quickly and said, coldly, ‘Very well, you had best tell me why you are here.’
‘A little matter has come to our attention that we wish to discuss with you,’ the Earl replied. ‘Concerning your military career.’
‘My what?’
‘The Light Dragoons, I believe,’ said Matt. ‘You were a captain.’
Flora blinked. She was at a loss to know where all this was leading, but she did notice how the Viscount’s manner changed. The bristling animosity had disappeared and he was at his most urbane when he responded.
‘Indeed? Very well, we can discuss this after my guests have left. I was about to send for their carriage.’
‘No, I think they should hear it.’ Matt stepped quickly between Quentin and the bell pull.
Tension crackled in the room as the two men faced each other. The Farnleighs had been silent thus far, Flora’s uncle standing behind his wife’s chair. Now he took a step forward, looking uncomfortable.
‘Yes, yes, we should be going, we would be very much in the way—’
‘No, sir, you should stay,’ Matt told him. ‘You will be interested in what we have to say. After all, tomorrow you will be related by marriage to Lord Whilton, will you not?’
‘They should go,’ snapped the Viscount. ‘Their presence is not necessary.’
Flora rose to her feet. Quentin was rattled and she was determined to know why.
‘Oh, but I should like to hear it,’ she declared.
The Viscount turned to frown at her. ‘Sit down, madam. This does not concern you.’
She ignored him and walked over to the side table, where the wines and decanters from earlier in the evening were still laid out. Strangely, she was no longer afraid of offending her fiancé.
She said, ‘Uncle, do sit down and I will bring you another glass of wine. And more ratafia, for you, Aunt?’
‘It is very foolish of you to disobey me, my dear,’ drawled the Viscount.
His icy tone had no effect on Flora. She merely smiled at him before addressing the Earl.
‘May I pour you a glass of wine, my lord? I believe the claret is very good.’
Lord Dallamire’s nod and smile was all the encouragement she needed to continue.
‘Flora!’
Quentin’s voice cracked like a whip and she turned to face him.
‘My dear Quentin, your cousin Almeria is quite overcome.’ She paused to glance at Mrs Gask. The widow was cowering in her chair with a handkerchief pressed to her lips. ‘As your fiancée, it behoves me to step in and play hostess.’
She smiled, completely unmoved by his scowl, or the way his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. He no longer had any power over her. She did not know quite what the outcome of this night would be, but it would not result in their marriage and for now, that was quite enough.
Mrs Gask rose to her feet.
‘I am feeling quite unwell,’ she said, dragging her handkerchief between her nervous fingers. ‘If you will excuse me, I think I shall retire.’
‘A very good idea,’ said Flora, accompanying her to the door. ‘Go and rest, I will look after our guests.’
