A Matchmaking Miss

by Joan Overfield

"The Reverend Mr. Thorntyn feels that as there's no marquess of Kirkswood to instruct him, his obligation to the estate is at an end," Lady Louisa explained, mentally crossing her fingers as she embellished the excuse the vicar had offered when she quizzed him on the matter. "And Stone is angry because when he refused to officiate at the burial of one of our tenants, we had to send to Norwich for a vicar. It was most unfortunate."

  "I can imagine." Joss rubbed his head again. "Very well, I shall call on him tomorrow and be sure he better understands the situation. Is the living at Kirkswood still ours to give?"

  "Yes, my lord, it is," Lady Louisa took another sip of tea. "Did I tell you about our physician, Dr. Noble? A rather unpleasant man, I fear, whose name does not reflect his nature."

  By the time the visitors arrived, Joss had agreed to dismiss the doctor, dig a well, and look into the matter of acquiring a schoolmaster for the village children. He didn't know how this had come to pass, and he was still struggling to understand when the duke and his daughter were escorted into the parlor.

  His Grace, Henry, Duke of Dereham, was much as Joss remembered, if a little older and a great deal fatter. His daughter, Lady Bettina, was another matter, and Joss studied the stunning brunette with obvious admiration.

  "Where's that companion of yours?" the duke demanded, once the formalities had been dispensed with. "Finally given her the boot, what?"

  "Miss Stone is resting, your grace." Lady Louisa's voice was formal. "I shall tell her you enquired after her."

  "Upstart she-devil." The duke was impervious to the irony in the marchioness's voice. "Mean to have a word with you about the creature, Kirkswood. You'd not believe what has transpired in your absence."

  "So I have been informed." Joss tore his eyes from Lady Bettina's dazzling beauty long enough to give her father a cold smile. "And I, too, have been meaning to have a word with you."

  "Are you an Indian, Mr. Fitzsimmons?" Lady Bettina was not so immune to undercurrents as her father, and wanted to change the subject. "You will forgive me for saying so, sir, but you don't look English."

  "My father was the younger son of an Irish squire, and my mother was a half-caste," Raj answered, his blue eyes cool. "I am not sure, precisely, what that makes me."

  "A man too handsome to be trusted with the ladies, I am sure," Lady Louisa said with a teasing smile. "We had best warn all the local lovelies to guard their hearts, Lady Bettina, do you not agree?"

  "If you say so, Louisa." As the daughter of a duke, Bettina saw no reason why she should extend the daughter of an earl the courtesy of addressing her by her title. She had bigger fish to fry at the moment, and her rain-gray eyes settled on the marquess with cool calculation.

  "I am not certain if you remember me, my lord," she said, her full lips curving in an intimate smile. "I was still in the schoolroom when you set out on your grand adventure."

  So that was the way it would be, Joss thought, his eyes narrowing with cynicism. When he was just the second son it was known he'd been shipped off to India to avoid inconveniencing his family. Now that he was the marquess his exile was magically transformed into "an adventure."

  "I recall a dirty-faced brat with big gray eyes," he said, although in truth he recalled no such thing. "Never say that troublesome little hoyden was you, my lady?"

  Lady Bettina was torn between fury at hearing herself described as "a dirty-faced brat" and annoyance that the marquess didn't remember her. Deciding she'd rather be a brat than ignored, she dredged up an enticing pout. "I'd hardly refer to myself as a brat, my lord," she reproved, tapping him lightly on the arm. "But I suppose to a man in his twenties a girl scarce ten would rate as naught but a nuisance."

  "But such a charming nuisance," Joss drawled, electing to take pity on the vixen. "But I knew even then you would doubtlessly grow into a beauty. That is the way with dirty-faced brats, is it not, Raj?" He gave his friend a wide smile.

  Raj returned the smile. "I have often found it so, my lord," he intoned gravely, relieved that Joss hadn't been misled by the lady's charms. For all her beauty she reminded him of a hooded cobra, spectacular but deadly, and he distrusted her on sight.

  The next hour passed in a pleasant enough fashion, although Joss wasn't in the least bit sorry when the duke rose to take his leave. "You'll have to come and inspect my stables, sir," he informed Joss in his hearty manner. "Those hayburners of yours would be better shot than ridden, if you want my opinion of it. Pity your brother had to sell off his hunters, but that's the way of it. Debts of honor, and all that."

  "Of course." Miss Stone hadn't specifically mentioned gaming debts, but he wasn't surprised to hear Frederick had incurred them. Before Joss's banishment to India, he had often heard his brother and father quarreling over the matter.

  He managed to avoid committing himself to a specific social call, although he still intended speaking to the duke about his tendency to make free with Kirkswood land. He flirted enough with Lady Bettina to keep her happy, and ignored her heavy hints that she would be happy to reacquaint him with his neighbors. The moment the door closed behind their guests he relaxed his shoulders, causing the material of his jacket to split.

  "Blast!" He glared at the rip beneath his arm in annoyance. "Now I shall have to put on another jacket. Have my trunks arrived, Lady Louisa?"

  "What?" She blinked at him in confusion, and then said. "Oh, yes, my lord. Kingsley took me aside just as I was coming downstairs and told me they'd just been delivered. Yours too, Mr. Fitzsimmons." she gave Raj a distracted smile. "I'm sure they will have been unpacked by now."

  "Thank God for that," Joss grumbled, already starting for the door. "Raj, are you coming?"

  "In a moment." Raj had arisen, but was studying Lady Louisa with a worried frown. "My lady, is all well?"

  His sharpness took Lady Louisa by surprise, but she quickly hid her discomfiture behind another smile. "All is fine, Mr. Fitzsimmons, I thank you," she said, her voice firm. "Will you require the services of a valet now that your luggage is here?"

  "If it is no trouble," Raj replied gravely, his eyes still resting on her face. Something was troubling her, he could sense it, but he was uncertain what he should do. Perhaps he'd take Joss aside and seek his counsel, he decided, bowing as he took his leave. The pretty blonde was his sister-in-law, after all.

  The moment the door had closed behind the gentlemen Lady Louisa leapt to her feet, the skirts of her silk gown swirling about her ankles as she began pacing the room. Everything had been going so well, she fretted, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance. Joss actually seemed willing to take on the burden of the estate, which removed her fear that he meant to return to London rather than remaining. But this business of his flirting with that awful Bettina was a complication she hadn't anticipated, and its ramifications were indeed too horrible to contemplate.

  She stopped pacing to look at the Louis XIV clock on the mantel. Stone had been sleeping less than three hours, but much as she hated disturbing her, she did not see that she had any choice. The estate was in danger, and they would have to work quickly if they were to save it. With that thought firmly in mind she slipped from the parlor, her expression determined as she made her way to Stone's room.

  Matty had awakened after a restful sleep, and was lying against the pillows debating whether or not to ring for tea when Lady Louisa came bursting into her room. With one look at her employer's face she sat up with a sharp cry. "My lady, what is it? What has happened?" she demanded, envisioning any number of disasters that might have transpired while she was sleeping.

  "It is the marquess," Lady Louisa admitted, shooting Stone a worried look.

  "What about him?" Matty wanted to know, her brows already gathering in a frown. "Has that wretch snuck back to London?" she demanded furiously, already making plans to intercept him.

  "No," Lady Louisa reassured her. "In fact, he has agreed to speak to Thorntyn and dismiss that drunken excuse of a doctor."

  "Then what is it?" Matty asked, surprised
and relieved to hear that the marquess had disposed of her two more pressing problems.

  "He has fallen in love with Lady Bettina."

  "What?" Matty fell back against her pillows.

  "I wouldn't have credited it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Lady Louisa muttered, pacing once again. "You should have seen him, Stone, staring at that self-satisfied minx as if she was Venus incarnate! I vow, I could have boxed his ears. And Mr. Fitzsimmons was equally as bad, although it is hard to tell with him, he is such a dreadful flirt."

  Matty digested this information in silence, weighing the disadvantages against the gains. In the end she gave a disheartened sigh. "You must know I have no great love for either her ladyship or her father," she said heavily, "but it may not really be so bad if he does choose to marry her."

  "Stone! You can not possibly want to see that . . . that witch installed at Kirkswood!"

  "Indeed, I can think of nothing I should like less," Matty admitted truthfully, "but at least then he would stay. He is hardly likely to return to India if he is married, n'est-ce pas?"

  Louisa stopped pacing, her eyes growing wide. "Do you know, Stone, you are right," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I never thought of that, but he could return to India, couldn't he?"

  "Yes, and God knows where that would leave the estate," Matty said grimly, feeling as tired as if she hadn't slept.

  "But Lady Bettina . . . " Louisa shivered in distaste. "I think I'd prefer Joss to be gone than be usurped by her."

  Matty pleated the bedcovers between her fingers, forcing her mind to work. There had to be a way, she thought desperately; there was always a way. Then it came to her.

  "Would you say his lordship was truly in love with Lady Bettina, or perhaps merely fascinated by her? For all her faults, she is a diamond of the first order."

  "Pretty is as pretty does," Louisa sniffed. "But I suppose saying he was in love with her was something of an exaggeration."

  "Then all is not lost, we still have time."

  "Time to do what?" Louisa asked.

  Matty gave her a beatific smile as she folded her hands upon the bedcovers. "Why, choose his bride for him, of course," she said decisively, proud of the clever way she had worked things out. "What do you say, my lady? Do you think his lordship would prefer a blonde or a brunette?"

  Chapter Five

  Dinner that night was a festive occasion. The staff, delighted at having a master restored to them, prepared a feast worthy of a king, and the sideboard fairly groaned under the weight of all the food. The cook had taken care to prepare all Joss's favorites, and he was touched by such eagerness to please him. He said as much to his hostess, and earned a dimpled smile for his efforts.

  "Thank you, sir, but it is Stone to whom you ought to be addressing your remarks," Lady Louisa said, her eyes straying to the other woman, who was engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Fitzsimmons. "When she learned you'd be coming she sought out the older servants and quizzed them as to your tastes."

  "When she decided to kidnap me, you mean," Joss corrected, amused at the marchioness's choice of words. He'd long since recovered his temper over the brazen kidnapping, but that didn't mean he was about to forgive and forget. He'd lived in the East too long to ignore this affront to his pride, and he fully intended exacting his revenge. All that remained was to determine where and how that revenge would be taken.

  "I suppose one could say that." Lady Louisa granted him the point with a graceful inclination of her head. "But she was truly concerned that everything be perfect for your arrival. She said she wished you to feel at home."

  Joss picked up his wine glass, his face expressionless as he studied the rich claret shimmering in the candlelight. If Miss Stone really wanted him to feel at home, he thought sourly, she'd have arranged for him to be met with anger and indifference. Those were the only emotions that had ever greeted him in the past, and the memory still stung.

  Louisa saw the hard, closed look that stole across her brother-in-law's face and decided it was time to change the subject of conversation. "How are you settling in?" she asked, her tone determinedly bright. "Is everything satisfactory?"

  "Quite satisfactory, my lady, thank you," Joss replied, realizing he was being a poor guest and feeling faintly ashamed. "It looks much as I remember it!"

  "That's probably because it hasn't been touched in years," Louisa explained with a laugh. "Your father was still alive when Frederick and I were first married, and after his death it didn't seem proper to ask your mother to move out. She adored that room."

  "I'm sure she did," he said, remembering his mother's cold pride in being the Marchioness of Kirkswood. He wondered how she had reacted when Frederick's accession to the title demoted her to the position of dowager. Doubtlessly she had screeched like a scalded cat and then turned her tongue on the person nearest her, he decided, recalling only too well his mother's usual method for dealing with annoyances.

  "Well, all the rooms are yours now." Lady Louisa wisely ignored the bitterness in his voice. "And you may do with them as you please. If you decide to have them redone, you might wish to consult Stone. We'd once discussed having them done, but that was before, of course."

  "Before what?"

  "Why, before you arrived, sir."

  If he had any fears that his sister-in-law harbored any buried resentment about him, they were put to rest by the simplicity of her reply, and the genuine smile that accompanied it. Seeing that smile, Joss relaxed, a measure of warmth stealing into his green eyes. "I should be most honored if you would call me Joss, as Raj does," he said. "And I shall call you Louisa."

  Louisa gazed at Joss and thought of her husband — not as the feckless rake he had become, but as the man he might have been. A man not unlike the one sitting across the table from her. "I should like that, Joss," she replied softly, blinking back sudden tears. "I should like that very much."

  At the far end of the table, Matty was listening to Mr. Fitzsimmons's amusing account of his first visit to Almack's. As the daughter of a mere country vicar, that holiest of holies had always been above her, and she delighted in hearing it denigrated. "Truly, Mr. Fitzsimmons?" she asked, as he finished his tale. "The Patronesses serve no wine at all?"

  "Not so much as a drop," he assured her, the solemn tone in his voice at odds with the twinkle in his eyes. "They allow nothing more innocuous than a rather disgusting punch and some stale biscuits. I was quite cast down, I assure you."

  "Heavens, even our local assemblies offer better fare than that!" Matty exclaimed, shaking her head in amazement. "The good ladies of the neighborhood have even been known to offer chilled champagne punch," she added in a confiding whisper. "But only for very special occasions, mind."

  "Indeed?" He raised a dark eyebrow in mock outrage. "I'm not certain I hold with such wicked dissipation. Perhaps I should return to the city before I am thoroughly corrupted."

  Matty thought it was probably years too late for that, but she was far too polite to say so. Not that she really considered him dissipated, she mused, raising her glass to her lips; it was merely that despite his surface charm there was an air of world-weariness about him, an underlying hardness that was undeniable. In that, he was not unlike his friend, she added silently, her eyes straying to the marquess.

  Since their encounter in the study he'd changed into a dark blue evening jacket and a pair of buff breeches, and she had to admit he looked far better in his own clothes than in Lord Frederick's borrowed finery. In the flickering candlelight his hair gleamed like polished mahogany, and his green eyes were frosted with silver highlights.

  He was not precisely a handsome man, she decided, her eyes lingering on the harsh planes of his face, but he was attractive, if one was fond of the domineering, masculine sort. Then there was the title to be considered. That alone would make him as an Adonis to many ladies, and she didn't have the slightest doubt that she would have him married off by summer's end.

  As she dressed for dinner she had brooded
over what she'd said to the marchioness, and she concluded that, as usual, she was right. Kirkswood, both the estate and its master, was in sore need of a mistress, but not, she'd decided with a shudder, Lady Bettina. If that witch was an example of the type of female he favored, then she'd simply see to the matter herself. Admittedly, the prospect of finding him a suitable bride was more than a little daunting, but Matty didn't see that she had a choice. The future of Kirkswood was too important to leave to chance.

  What sort of bride would he require? she wondered, her brow knitting in thought. Someone beautiful, of course, and well-born, and given the condition of the estate it wouldn't hurt if she was also well-dowered. The first thing she'd do would be to consult Debrett's Peerage and begin making up a list of suitable candidates. It was a pity the season was only just starting, and most of the debs would be in London, but perhaps she —

  "Miss Stone?" Mr. Fitzsimmons's voice recalled her to the present, and she glanced up to find him studying her with obvious concern. "Are you ready to adjourn to the drawing room?"

  Realizing he must have been addressing her for some time, Matty hid her embarrassment behind a cool smile. "Certainly, Mr. Fitzsimmons," she said calmly, laying her napkin beside her plate and turning to the marchioness. "My lady?"

  Looking amused, Lady Louisa said nothing about her companion's rather odd behavior. "Gentlemen, we shall leave you to enjoy your brandy," she said, rising to her feet with a gracious smile. "Please feel free to join us when you are done."

  A few minutes later she settled behind the teapot in the drawing room, her expression speculative as she handed Matty a cup. "Well, Stone, and what do you mean sitting at the table staring off into space like a moonling? I was quite concerned."

  Matty blushed at her employer's accurate description. "I beg pardon, my lady," she said earnestly, "but I was . . . thinking."

  "That much I gathered," Louisa replied gently, "but what were you thinking of? The estate?"

  Matty took a sip of tea. "In a manner of speaking," she admitted cautiously, unwilling to discuss her half-formed plans. "Now that his lordship is home, I am hoping Mr. Hedgerton will release enough monies to settle our debts. Then perhaps we can begin planting the fields."