Carola Dunn (22 page)

She clung to him. “Do you mean it?”

“I’ve loved you, I think, since I caught you looking back at me your first day in North Parade.”

Her tears vanished as she read the teasing warmth in his gaze. “And I was so afraid you’d believe me a brazen hussy.”

“Oh, I did.”

It was not the moment to contradict him, so she kissed him to prove him right. He seemed to appreciate the confirmation.

Some time later, the horses shifted restlessly. Jessica emerged from the embrace, pink-cheeked and dishevelled, and rescued her hat, which was slipping down the back of her neck, in imminent danger of permanent damage from two strong arms. She set it carefully on the curricle’s floor so as not to discourage any further assaults upon her dignity. Matthew calmed his bays.

“You will marry me, won’t you? I know I haven’t asked you properly but it’s difficult to go down on one knee in an open vehicle.”

“You cannot suppose that I would pass up the chance to have a famous architect for a husband. We shall only be poor for a little while, until you have made your mark.”

“With your help, my beloved artist, I will,” he vowed, kissing her again but with one wary eye on the horses. “I think we had best go on down before they decide to drop us in the stream on the way to the stables. Where’s my comb got to?”

For the second time that day he tidied her hair and adjusted her hat. It took considerably longer this time, as he had created far more havoc than Lord Alsop, and besides, it was far more enjoyable putting it to rights in private than in a crowded courtroom. One of the horses neighed impatiently.

Pinker-cheeked than ever, and feeling strangely weak, Jessica adjusted the bow beneath her chin as Matthew drove down the hill.

“Are you going to introduce me to Lord Stone?” she asked uncertainly. “Or is he from home? I should like to meet your aunt.”

“I want to present you to both of them. Lord Ilfracombe suggested that my uncle might relent if I turned up with a rich bride. He has an excessive regard for money.”

“But I’m not rich.”

“That will not matter if Uncle Horace thinks you are.”

“Oh no, Matthew, no more pretending. I don’t mean to tell even the smallest taradiddle ever again.”

“You’re right, of course.” Smiling wryly, he reached out with one hand and touched her cheek. “I don’t believe I’m more of a liar than the next man, but after being caught up in this hoax for the last few months I’m going to need you to be my conscience for a while.”

“Oh dear!” Jessica laughed unsteadily. “Not a very good one, I fear.”

“An irresistible one.”

Crossing the stream by a narrow arch of stone, they joined the avenue leading from the park’s main entrance to the house and moments later pulled up before the front door. Hanson had beaten them to it and was waiting with a knowing look to take the curricle round to the stables.

The door stood welcomingly open on that warm afternoon, a good omen, Jessica hoped. She was too anxious to gain more than a vague impression of a large, airy hall, panelled in dark wood, with a gallery at one end. A butler was lurking—that was the only possible word for it—near the open door to a room on their right, from which came voices. He saw them and moved forward to meet them.

“Mr. Matthew! It’s good to see you, sir.”

“A fine afternoon, Bristow. This is Miss Franklin.”

Jessica nodded and smiled in answer to the butler’s bow, but she was more interested in the roar of fury now emanating from the inner room. She clutched Matthew’s arm.

“His lordship is in something of a testy mood, I fear,” said Bristow.

They all stood there straining their ears.

“If you think I’ll stand for a Dissenter inheriting Stone Gables, you’ve got even less sense in your cockloft than I gave you credit for.”

The irate bellow was answered by a high-pitched voice. (“Cousin Archibald,” murmured Matthew.) “I assure you. Uncle, the Anglican Church is following the Papists into the Great Pit...”

“I’d rather leave the place as a home for the widows of clergymen in reduced circumstances. If the Established Church ain’t good enough for you, out with you! Out! Out!”

The sound of footsteps made Bristow move hastily away and assume an air of unconcern, but Matthew watched with undisguised interest and Jessica couldn’t have torn her gaze from the opening door if she had tried.

A tall, narrow-shouldered figure appeared, clad all in black, scuttling backwards on two spindly shanks.

“Cousin Archibald,” Matthew murmured again.

Chasing Mr. Biggin came a small gentleman with white hair and a purple face. “Out! Out!” he repeated wrathfully. “Begone with you, sirrah! I’ll have no brimstone preachers here.”

Lord IIfracombe appeared next, accompanied by a pretty woman who must, Jessica thought, be Matthew’s Aunt Caroline. They stood at the doorway watching Lord Stone berate his alarmed nephew. Miss Stone looked worried. Lord IIfracombe amused.

At that moment the viscount caught sight of Matthew.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he spluttered.

Mr. Biggin seized his chance to hurry up the stairs. Miss Stone swung round and started towards Matthew and Jessica, but Lord Ilfracombe put a hand on her arm to stop her.

Matthew took Jessica’s hand and led her forward, quaking in her shoes.

“I thought it only proper, sir, to present my betrothed to the head of the family,” he said blandly. “Miss Franklin has done me the honour of consenting to become my wife.”

Jessica curtsied, taking heart as Lord Stone stared at her with more curiosity than displeasure. She was glad she had worn her new russet cambric, which became her admirably, and very glad that Matthew had tidied her hair.

The purple began to ebb from his cheeks. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Franklin,” he said with perfunctory courtesy, then turned back to Matthew. “So you’ve caught yourself an heiress, my boy?”

“Really, Horace!” Miss Stone intervened, breaking away from Lord Ilfracombe’s restraint. “That is no way to speak of Matthew’s intended. My dear Miss Franklin, I am so very delighted to meet you and to welcome you to Stone Gables.”

“Thank you. Aunt Caro,” said Matthew as Jessica curtsied again, warming at once to her kindly greeting.

“Thank you, ma’am. I am happy to meet Mr. Walsingham’s favourite aunt.” Gathering all her courage, she turned back to his lordship to answer the query he had addressed to Matthew. “I fear, my lord, I am no heiress.”

“That’s not to say. Uncle, that I was aware of Miss Franklin’s... er, reduced circumstances until very recently.” Matthew looked down at her with fond possessiveness.

The viscount let out a brief cackle.

Emboldened by the lack of a fearsome rebuke, Jessica went on, “I was in Bath seeking a wealthy husband, you see, and I thought I had found one. I was quite taken in.”

“Two fortune hunters in pursuit of each other!” Lord Stone positively chortled with glee. “Sounds like something out of a Restoration comedy, don’t it, Caroline? I suppose, miss, since you discovered my nephew has no expectations, you are ready to release him from his promise?”

“Oh no, sir!” Matthew put his arm around her waist as if he was afraid she might run away. “Jessica knew the worst before she accepted my hand, and as for me, I fear your effort to teach me the value of money has failed. I am quite determined upon marrying her, for richer, for poorer, as the church says.”

“Ha!” snorted his lordship, with a malevolent glare at the staircase up which his other nephew had recently vanished. “Bristow, send for my lawyer.”

“And tea, Bristow,” Miss Stone added hastily. “Miss Franklin, pray come up to my chamber and put off your hat.”

“Wait,” commanded her brother. He regarded Matthew and Jessica with bright eyes from which the tears of merriment had not yet quite vanished. “I don’t
want
to leave Stone Gables to impoverished widows, however deserving.” He gave a martyred sigh and went on in a grumbling tone, “I suppose you had best have the Bath house for the nonce, but I hope you will see fit to spend enough time here to learn to manage your inheritance, and to visit a lonely old man.”

He cast a malicious glance at Miss Stone but, astounded by his words, Jessica scarcely noticed. She curtsied and murmured a few words of gratitude, then impulsively stepped forward and kissed his lordship’s wrinkled cheek.

“Of course we shall visit you often, sir,” she promised.

Looking pleased, he winked at Matthew and clapped him on the back. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a rare handful there, my boy.”

“Jessica don’t lack for audacity,” Matthew agreed, laughing as he shook hands with his uncle. Lord Ilfracombe added amused congratulations, and Jessica was whisked away by Miss Stone before she could voice her indignation.

As they climbed the carved oak stair, darkened by centuries of use, Matthew’s voice followed her: “You see, Uncle Horace, a milk-and-water miss wouldn’t suit me at all.”

She glanced back. He was watching her, so she blew him a kiss, then blushed and hurried after Miss Stone as the other two gentlemen looked up.

“A captivating young lady,” said the viscount. “We’ll open a bottle of the best to drink her health.”

Miss Stone ushered Jessica into a large bedchamber comfortably furnished in ivory and blue. “You appear to have won my brother’s approval. Miss Franklin,” she said with a smile. “I hope you will come to like him. He is really the kindest of men, and only grows snappish when he is sorely tried.”

Judging by what she had heard, Jessica considered “snappish” to be something of an understatement. She wanted to ask what had tried Lord Stone’s temper so sorely today, but decided it would be impertinent to ask. Taking off her hat, she said, “I certainly cannot complain of his lordship’s conduct, ma’am. He has been all that is obliging when he might reasonably have forbidden Mr. Walsingham to marry me. I fear you must think my deception very shocking.”

“It is not for me to cavil at it, when I was aware in advance of Matthew’s plans. Besides, since Ilfracombe first spoke of you I have been hoping that you and Matthew might make a match of it.”

“Lord Ilfracombe told you about me?” she asked in surprise.

Miss Stone’s cheeks grew pink. “We knew each other many years ago, and... and his lordship and I are betrothed,” she confided.

“Oh, that is splendid news! He is an admirable gentleman. I wish you very happy, ma’am.”

“I fear Horace was not pleased at the news. He looked sadly dismayed and I felt quite guilty about leaving him. And then my nephew Archibald made the mistake of declaring that the Anglican marriage service is rife with Romish practices. When he revealed that he has left the English Church... well, you heard the resultant discord. Horace is a strong proponent of the Established Church, and the owner of Stone Gables has three livings in his gift.”

Jessica decided the viscount had had sufficient reason to disinherit Archibald Biggin. For the first time, she wondered why Matthew had been banished. “What mistake did Mr. Walsingham make?” she asked tentatively.

“Oh dear, I’m not sure.. .but if I do not tell you, you will only imagine the worst. He pushed a young female—not, I’m afraid, a respectable female—down Bond Street in a wheelbarrow.”

“A young female?” Jessica felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “You mean, his... his... ?”

“There, I knew I should not have told you.” Miss Stone took both her hands. “My dear, Matthew went through a very difficult time when he was sent home from the Peninsula. He was confined to his bed, in great pain, for many months, and when he recovered enough to go about, he indulged in all sorts of youthful pranks. You see, when other young gentlemen of his age were let loose on the Town, he was fighting for his country. He does not speak of it, but I know it was very dreadful.”

“He has talked to me about it, a little.”

“That confirms my opinion, and Lord Ilfracombe’s, that he is putting it behind him at last. Matthew has a great deal of common sense at bottom, and he was always a loving child. I do not think, my dear Miss Franklin, that you will regret becoming his wife.”

“I love him,” Jessica said, her shortlived doubts vanishing. “In the end, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“It is, and I wish I had known that a dozen years ago.” Miss Stone gave Jessica a quick hug and they went down to tea.

Lord Stone had completely recovered from his pique. When the ladies entered the drawing room, he rose with alacrity, made Jessica sit beside him, and fussed about her tea being exactly as she liked it. They discussed the amusements of Bath. Feeling more and more at home with him, she told him about the canal trip and he roared with laughter. They were fast friends by the time she and Matthew had to leave for the drive home.

“He asked me to call him uncle,” she said to Matthew, waving one last time as they set off down the avenue with the groom up behind. “I like him, and your aunt is a dear.”

“Yes, Aunt Caroline... Lord, I’d quite forgot your aunt—no, you said she is some sort of cousin. Must I ask Miss Tibbett’s permission to marry you? And Jess, hasn’t
she
got a fortune? Don’t tell me she’s disinherited you, to leave her money for the excavation of Roman ruins?”

“Tibby hasn’t any money. As a matter of fact, she’s not only not my aunt, she isn’t even my cousin. She used to be my governess.”

The moment of stunned silence was broken by a muffled guffaw from Hanson, then Matthew’s shout of laughter made his startled horses toss their heads.

“At least my aunt is the real thing,” he said, controlling the bays with practised ease, “and my uncle, too.”

“Do you think he really would have left Stone Gables to the widows of clergy? It’s hard to believe he was going to cut you off without a penny.”

“As to that, he admitted while you were above stairs that though he did indeed change his will to leave Stone Gables to Cousin Archibald, he had still left me enough to live on comfortably. And he means to give us the North Parade house, not just let us live in it.”

“How very kind, but I hope he will not change his mind yet again. Perhaps you had best not abandon architecture.”