"Answer me one question, Miss Stone," he said, swamped with feelings of hurt and anger. "Had the babe lived, would I ever have been told of Frederick's death?"
"Certainly, sir," she said, wondering at the bitterness shimmering in his eyes. "Even if Lady Louisa didn't write you, I would have sent you a notice with the annual report. You are a Kirkswood, and naturally you must be informed of such — "
"Yes, I am a Kirkswood," Joss said with a harsh laugh, unable to hold back the resentment that had eaten at him for more than a decade. "It's something my dearest family did their best to forget, almost from the moment of my birth. It is probably just as well my mother is no longer alive, else I would have to hear what a pity it is that it wasn't me who died, rather than Frederick. But then, I am sure that is what everyone is thinking anyway." And unable to bear any more, he turned and stormed out of the study, leaving Matty to stare after him in openmouthed astonishment.
Chapter Four
After leaving the study, Joss went out to the stables to demand a horse from the startled ostler. Learning that the fine hunters and blooded jumpers he remembered from his boyhood had dwindled to two overfed geldings did little to improve his temper, and he curtly ordered the more promising of the beasts saddled. Fifteen minutes later he was galloping across the barren fields, his one thought to put as much distance between the house and himself as possible.
When the large gray he was astride began wheezing at the unaccustomed exercise he eased off on the reins, pulling the horse to a halt beside a slow-moving stream. When he was a lad, this was one of his favorite places on the estate, and a cynical smile touched his lips at the memory of the countless hours he'd lain on its grassy banks, spinning dreams of fame and glory. In his childish visions he'd pictured himself returning to Kirkswood to save the estate from some deadly peril. Well, those boyhood dreams had finally come true, he acknowledged bitterly, but instead of the triumph he'd always expected to feel, he knew only the empty pain of disillusionment.
There had been a son — a child whose life had ended almost before it had begun. He grieved for his small nephew, resenting the fact that he'd never had the chance to know him. He should have been there, he thought, his eyes glittering with the force of his emotions. Perhaps if he had been, things might have turned out differently. Frederick might still have died, he conceded, but perhaps he might have been able to save the boy. If he'd been home and known of the wager, he'd never have allowed his brother to risk his wife and child on something so frivolous as a bet. . . .
"I hope I'm not disturbing you." The deep voice brought Joss's head snapping up, but he felt no surprise at the sight of Raj on the other horse.
"How did you find me?" he asked, his eyes returning to the sun-dappled stream.
"I saw your rather hasty departure from my chamber, and when I asked your butler where you might have gone he suggested this place," Raj answered, swinging down from his horse to stand beside Joss. "A favorite of yours, I gather?"
"It was my sanctuary," Joss replied quietly. "Neither my father or brother cared much for fishing, and so I knew they would never think to look for me here. It was one of the places I missed most when they first sent me to school."
"I remember a garden at my grandmother's house," Raj said, his features relaxing in a contemplative smile. "It was on the terrace outside the purdah, and I'd hide there whenever my ayah was angry with me — which was often. During those cold winter nights at Eton, I'd fall asleep longing for the smell of my grandmother's roses."
Joss said nothing, although he was moved by Raj's confession. In all the years they'd known each other, this was one of the few times he'd heard his friend speak of his childhood. Avoidance of the past was one of the many things they had in common, and it pleased him that Raj would choose to share the memory with him now. He dismounted and lowered himself to the damp grass, unmindful of the damage he was causing to his borrowed breeches.
"Frederick had a child, Raj," he said softly, his eyes staring straight ahead. "A son. He is dead as well."
"I am sorry, Joss." Raj also settled on the grass, leaning his broad shoulders against the trunk of a gnarled apple tree.
"Lady Louisa was with Frederick when the curricle overturned, and it caused the babe to come early. He lived five weeks."
"Ah, that explains it, then."
"Their delay in contacting me?" Joss gave a harsh laugh. "Yes, I said as much to Miss Stone, and she didn't bother denying it."
"I am sure she did not," Raj agreed, his blue eyes rueful. "But as it happens, I was referring to Lady Louisa. Only so great a tragedy as that could have given one so young and lovely such ancient eyes."
Joss raised a russet eyebrow at the odd sentiment. "More of your Eastern mysticism?" he asked, skeptically.
"If you like." Raj didn't appear offended by Joss's reaction.
"Well, you are taking the news far better than did I," Joss admitted, wincing in remorse as he recalled his bitter words. "Miss Stone's opinion of me is certain to be even lower after the fool I made of myself." He proceeded to describe the scene in her study.
"You had every right to be hurt," Raj said when he was done. "Frederick was your brother, you should have been notified at once of his death — not because of the succession, but because he was your brother and you loved him."
"That's the odd part, you know," Joss said, his tone reflective. "I did love Frederick, despite what he was, what he had become. Perhaps that is why I was so angry."
"Perhaps." Raj smiled. "And I wouldn't worry about Miss Stone if I were you. From what the servants have said, she is a most understanding lady. I am sure she knows it was your pain that was speaking, and not your temper."
"I wouldn't be too certain of that," Joss said, remembering the contempt in her eyes as she denounced Frederick. "She is rather rigid in her opinions, and she hasn't the slightest qualm about voicing them. She'll doubtlessly ring a peal over my head at the first opportunity."
"Then let her ring it." Raj hid his amusement at the vision of the strident Miss Stone tearing a strip off his friend. "It can cause you no harm. As for now, I would suggest we start back to the house. I encountered Lady Louisa in the kitchen, and she said something about having a neighbor over for tea."
The thought of encountering one of his countrified neighbors was not at all to Joss's liking, but he repressed the flash of irritation. He knew he'd have to face them sooner or later, and he supposed he might as well get it over with. "Very well," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a weary sigh. "But must we start back now? It is scarcely one o'clock."
"True, but given the deplorable shape of our mounts I daresay it will take us a couple of hours at least to make it back to the stables," Raj complained with a rich chuckle. "You must look to replenishing your stables, my lord, if you wish to maintain your standing in the neighborhood."
Joss gave his gray a thoughtful look, realizing for the first time that he was actually home. "I do believe you are right, Raj," he said at last, a cautious feeling of contentment stealing over him. "I shall see to it at once."
"Stone! What are you doing still up?" Lady Louisa's voice was gently admonishing as she glowered at her companion. "You promised me you would lie down!"
"My apologies, my lady." Matty tucked a stray curl back beneath her mob cap as she tallied another row of figures. "But I wish all to be ready for his lordship, should he wish to inspect the ledgers. It will take but a moment longer."
Lady Louisa tapped her foot impatiently, her dark blond brows gathering in a frown as she debated the best way of handling the situation. Suddenly her brows lifted, a cunning light stealing into her soft blue eyes. "It is probably just as well," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Lord Kirkswood was quizzing me about your exact position here, and I am sure he will be gratified to learn you are so diligent about earning your keep."
The pen fell from Matty's ink-stained fingers and she shot the marchioness an outraged look. "Oh, will he?" she snapped, her mouth firming with
anger. "Did he seem to imply otherwise?"
"Well," Lady Louisa answered truthfully, "he did ask several questions about your salary, and the exact nature of your duties, but I am sure he was only curious." Here she gave Matty a placating smile.
"Ha!" Matty dismissed these reassurances with a derisive snort. "And to think that but a few minutes later he was implying you were a cruel taskmaster threatening to work me until I dropped in the traces! The deceitful oaf!"
"Oh, I am sure Joss isn't in the least deceitful!" Lady Louisa protested, with genuine alarm. "He is a gentleman."
"As if that was any sort of recommendation," Matty grumbled, burning with fury at the thought that the marquess should believe she was taking advantage of the marchioness. Well, she'd be hanged if she would spend even another moment balancing the wretched accounts, she decided, pushing herself away from the desk and rising to her feet. But the sudden motion made the room swim before her eyes, and she grabbed onto the edge of the desk for support.
Lady Louisa was at her side in an instant, her arm firmly about Matty's waist. "That is it," she said firmly, guiding Matty from the room. "You are going to bed this very instant! I don't care what his lordship may say!"
"But what about the Duke of Dereham?" Matty asked, trying to work up enough energy to feel indignation. Now that she'd decided to lie down, the exhaustion she had been holding at bay overwhelmed her, and it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. "Mrs. Norton informed me you had invited him to tea."
"He invited himself, the meddling old goat." Lady Louisa signaled for her maid to help her as they started up the stairs. "He sent word over the moment he heard Joss and Mr. Fitzsimmons had arrived, and I could hardly refuse him. But I shall deal with him, never you mind."
Had she not been almost asleep on her feet, Matty would have smiled at the thought of her sweet-tempered employer dealing with their pompous, overbearing neighbor. She was not so tired, however, that the thought of the duke's equally overbearing daughter did not occur to her. "Will Lady Bettina be with His Grace?" she asked, not bothering to smother a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Only if we are lucky." The sarcasm in Lady Louisa's voice escaped Matty's notice. "Now, not another word, Stone, or I will make you pour tea while Lord Dereham tells us about his latest fox hunt."
The threat had the desired effect and Matty meekly submitted to the maid's assistance. In a trice she was stripped of her dress, stuffed into her night rail, and tucked into her bed. But just as sleep was claiming her she had a last coherent thought.
"My lady?"
"Yes, Stone?" Lady Louisa paused at the door.
"We should have written to his lordship about the baby," Matty said, her eyes drifting closed. "He was horribly hurt when I told him." And in another moment she was asleep.
Lady Louisa said nothing, her hand stealing to her flat belly for a brief moment. She lingered in the doorway until she was certain Stone was sleeping, and not shamming as she had done in the past. Once she was satisfied she left orders for a warm meal to be served when Stone awoke, and made her way to her own rooms, a thoughtful expression darkening her eyes.
"Please, my lord," Linton implored, wringing his hands in obvious agitation. "You mustn't flex your shoulders like that! This is the last jacket we have that doesn't reek of camphor."
"Blast it, man, can't you do something? I refuse to spend the rest of the evening slumped in my chair like a hunchback!" Joss snapped, glaring at his reflection. The purple satin jacket, which the little valet insisted was cut by Weston himself, fit him so tightly about the chest and shoulders that he looked like an overripe grape about to burst from its skin. The garish color also had the unfortunate effect of making his hair appear even redder than usual, and he indulged in a silent condemnation of his brother's lack of clothing sense.
"I have let out the shoulders as much as I dare, my lord," Linton sniffed, standing on tiptoe to smooth the fabric into place. "Were I to do any more, I would put the lapels at risk."
"No great loss," Joss muttered beneath his breath, relieved that the breeches, at least, had been a better fit. Had they been as tight as the jacket he would have refused to leave the room. There was no way he'd have ventured out dressed like a cicisbeo.
"Are you certain you don't wish to wear the waistcoat?" Linton ventured, holding the garment in his hand. " 'Twas designed to be worn with the jacket."
"I'd rather face a charging rogue elephant," came the response. Joss shuddered at the thought of donning the vivid scarlet, yellow, and violet silk the valet was pressing on him.
Linton bit his lip nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. "I know your lordship has eschewed the use of fobs or other adornments," he began, the reproach in his voice letting his employer know he was committing a social solecism, "but are you sure you won't even wear a single ring? The late marquess had several in his collection, and I daresay we could find something suitable."
Joss was about to curtly refuse, but he stopped. "Frederick had a jewel collection?"
"Oh, indeed, my lord," Linton said, preening with obvious pride. "A rather extensive one, in fact. Most of it is in the vault in London, but there are a few pieces here. Would you care to see them?"
"Please."
Linton was back a short while later, a square, velvet-covered box in his hands. "This is only a small sampling, mind," he warned, handing the box to Joss. "The rest, as I say, are in London, but I think you'll find these more than adequate."
Joss picked up a diamond stickpin, turning it so that the gem flashed with a rainbow of fiery colors. "I don't understand," he said, his voice tight with control as he replaced the stickpin and picked up a gold and emerald signet ring. "I was told the estate was left all but destitute by my brother's death."
The valet flushed, hesitating even now to speak ill of his former employer. "I believe there were some . . . difficulties," he allowed delicately. "Certain economies were necessary, but I — "
"Certain economies?" Joss repeated incredulously. "I was informed that Lady Louisa was reduced to selling her own inheritance to settle the accounts!"
"Well, yes, I had heard that whispered." Linton was wringing his hands again. "But it was only to be expected. His lordship's death was so sudden, and then there was the poor wee lord — "
"Why was Lady Louisa selling her jewels?" Joss demanded, pulling out a handful of fobs and shaking them at the valet. "Why weren't these sold to cover my brother's debts?"
"Because they were entailed," Linton answered, staring at Joss as if he'd gone mad. "Her ladyship couldn't so much as touch them without your permission."
"Curse the entailment, and curse that fool of a solicitor as well!" Joss snapped, tossing the jewels back into the case as if they were no more than trinkets. "What about common sense, for God's sake? Did they expect her ladyship to starve?"
"I am sure I do not know, my lord," Linton replied, his voice quavering as he clutched the jewel case to his chest. "What shall I do with these?"
Joss gave the case a bitter look. "Sell them," he ordered curtly, ignoring the valet's cry of horror as he turned and left the dressing room.
His plans to confront Miss Stone with this new information went awry when he was told she had retired to her rooms for the day. Even though the delay was annoying, he wasn't about to order her to be disturbed. He remembered how exhausted she had looked, and was grateful she'd decided to be sensible. Instead he went down to the parlor, hoping for a private word with his sister-in-law, but found Raj had arrived ahead of him. Hiding his disappointment he settled in one of the gilded chairs set in front of the fireplace and accepted the cup of tea the marchioness urged upon him.
"Lady Louisa was just telling me of your neighbor," Raj said, hiding a smile at the sight of Joss in the ill-fitting jacket. "Do you remember him?"
"Vaguely," Joss admitted, dredging up the memory of a red-faced, blustering man in a hunting jacket. "He is rather fond of hunting, isn't he?"
"Mad for it,"
Lady Louisa replied, with a pretty grimace. "He and Stone have almost come to blows over it a number of times."
"Indeed?" Joss wasn't in the least surprised to learn that his sister's companion would go head to head with the bullying duke. "I take it she objected to his hunting a poor defenseless fox?"
"More like she objected to his taking fifteen horses and a pack of vicious hounds through our sheep pasture," Lady Louisa said, bristling at the memory. "It was lambing season, and we lost five lambs and two ewes. Stone was furious, and I cannot say that I blame her."
"When was this?" Joss asked, his amusement vanishing.
"Last year." Lady Louisa smiled. "It is probably just as well she is indisposed, else I fear there would be no keeping them from each other's throats. The last time they tangled he threatened to horsewhip her."
Joss's cup rattled in his saucer. "He did what?"
"Well, she was holding a gun on him at the time, so I suppose he might be forgiven for losing his temper. He'd just taken his horse through a newly plowed field," she added, in a polite aside to Raj.
"I see I shall have to have a word with His Grace," Joss said through clenched teeth. "I must make it plain to him that I'll not tolerate such trespasses in the future."
Having accomplished that goal, Lady Louisa set out to achieve the next. "Thank you, my lord; I am sure you know what is best," she said, bestowing a sweet smile on Joss as she raised her cup to her lips. "You might also wish to have a word with the vicar. He has stopped calling on our tenants, and Stone is most vexed."
"Why?"
"Why has he stopped calling, or why is Stone vexed?"
Joss lifted his hand to rub his temple. "Both, I suppose," he said with a heavy sigh, wondering what the devil he was getting himself into. Things were more complicated than he had first anticipated, and he was beginning to feel trapped.
A Matchmaking Miss Page 5