A Matchmaking Miss

by Joan Overfield

  Lady Louisa plucked at the ribbon on her sleeve. "Speaking of funds . . ."

  "Yes, my lady?"

  "It occurs to me that you have been doing far more than merely acting as my companion. I think it is time I increased your salary."

  That brought Matty's eyes up in surprise. "But you already pay me a more than adequate wage, ma'am," she protested, flushing as she recalled her similar conversation with the marquess. "Indeed, I lack for nothing, I assure you."

  "Perhaps, but nonetheless I believe I shall increase it," Lady Louisa said with a nod. "Twenty pounds ought to do it."

  "Twenty?" Matty almost squeaked at the thought of such largesse.

  "For now." Lady Louisa rose to her feet. "Now, if you will excuse me, Stone, I have some things I must attend to. Will you be joining us for tea? The vicar is coming."

  The mention of the self-righteous clergyman made Matty grimace with distaste. "I believe I'll cry off, your ladyship," she said, turning her attention back to her desk. "There is much to be done if we are to pull this thing off, and — "

  "Don't be such a coward, Stone," Lady Louisa scolded with a gentle smile. "Joss has already had a word with Mr. Thorntyn, and I think we may count upon him to be the very model of decorum. Besides, his assistant will be with him, and I must admit I am anxious to meet him. Do say you will come."

  Matty was tempted to point out that a man who did as little as the vicar was hardly in need of an assistant, but for once she held her tongue. "Very well, my lady, if that is your wish," she said, deciding she could always get started after dinner.

  "Good." Lady Louisa nodded her head in approval. "We will see you then." And she let herself quietly out of the room, a smug smile of triumph lighting up her face.

  Chapter Seven

  Among the things Joss had missed most during those first lonely months in India were the ordinary rituals of country life — things such as a quiet walk down a sunlit lane, or the simple pleasure of calling on one's neighbors. Fifteen minutes into afternoon tea, however, he found himself wondering how he could have been so maudlin. He'd never endured such torture in all his life, and he wondered glumly if he would survive the next hour without strangling his guest.

  The Reverend Hubert Thorntyn was a pompous, prosy bore, whose physiognomy made him resemble nothing more than a pig. He was perfectly round with the pink, polished look of a pampered sow, and his beady eyes and snub nose only added to the illusion. He was also given to quoting scripture, a common enough trait in a man of God, one would suppose, but he misquoted them to such painful degree that Joss was hard put not to correct him. Another annoying trait was his greed, and he seemed to look upon his invitation to the manor house as an occasion to try and line his pockets. He was making a bid for a new carriage when Joss finally decided he'd had enough.

  "And of course a new pair of horses will be required," thevicar said, taking a noisy slurp of tea. "I don't wish to complain, my lord, but the wretched creatures I inherited from my predecessor are on their last feet — or hooves, as the case may be. I fear there is nothing left to be done with them but to put them down. Mr. Barring in the village has a team he is willing to let go for all but a song. Not high-steppers, of course, but as a man of God my needs are simple."

  "Are they?" Joss gave him a frigid look. "Then perhaps a pony cart would be more to your liking. It wouldn't do for a vicar to be seen in a curricle. What would your parishioners think?"

  Mr. Thorntyn blinked in surprise. "It isn't for them to think anything of me, my lord," he said, visions of a fine coach and four horses dancing before his eyes. "And as to a curricle . . . well, I should never think to ask for anything that fast. Not at all the thing, you know. A plain coach is more than enough for me."

  Joss had opened his mouth to bluntly state his refusal to buy so much as a horseshoe for the tiresome man, when Raj spoke.

  "It is interesting to consider the differences between countries, is it not?" he said, addressing his remarks to the vicar's young assistant. "In India the holy men, fakirs they are called, go about everywhere on foot, and they are revered by the people."

  "India, sir, is a backward region sadly in want of civilizing," Mr.Thorntyn sniffed, his face pokering with disapproval. "I for one cannot imagine any of our Christian ministers comporting themselves in such an unseemly fashion."

  "Ah, but what of Christ himself?" the assistant, Mr. Richard Stallings, asked, his gray eyes twinkling as he smiled at Raj. "He and the disciples walked the length and breadth of the Holy Land in their ministry. The bishop was commenting about that the other day, as I recall. Did you read his sermon, sir?"

  Mr. Thorntyn's face grew even pinker as he recalled the sermon rebuking certain vicars for their worldliness. "I am sure the bishop was but making a point," he said stiffly, flashing the younger man a resentful look. "Naturally, he would not expect his clergy to go about in rags in these enlightened times."

  "But it is an interesting thought," Lady Louisa said, turning her attention to the assistant. "What else did the bishop have to say, Mr. Stallings?"

  The young man was quick to seize the opportunity to give a brief but witty recitation of the bishop's latest letter to his flock. Even Joss found himself listening with interest, and he was about to ask a question when the door opened and Miss Stone rushed in, an apologetic smile pinned to her lips.

  "I'm so sorry to be late," she said, hurrying to her customary chair beside Lady Louisa. "I was going over the accounts, and I fear I lost all track of — " She broke off, her eyes widening in delight as she spied Mr. Stallings. "Richard!"

  "Matty!" He leapt to his feet, his earnest face lit with pleasure as he held out his hand to her. "By all that is holy, I never thought to find you here!"

  "I have been at Kirkswood for five years now, since Papa's death," she replied, her brown eyes shining as she gazed up at the young curate who had once been her father's assistant. The two of them had been quite close, but despite her father's hopes their feelings for each other had never developed into anything deeper than friendship. "And you?"

  "Still working as an assistant," he confessed with an affable shrug. "I was at the rectory near Compton for almost two years, but the bishop recently assigned me to Mr. Thorntyn's parish. At the time I confess to being slightly put out, but now that I know you are here . . . " His boyish grin and sparkling eyes completed the sentence for him.

  "I had no idea you had a connection with Miss Stone." Mr. Thorntyn's remark sounded suspiciously like an accusation. "Odd you never mentioned it."

  "I didn't know she was here, Mr. Thorntyn," Richard answered easily, assisting Matty to her chair. "But she and I are old friends. I had the privilege of working with her good father when I was fresh out of the seminary. He was a very good rector, and one of the kindest men I have ever known."

  "Your father was a vicar, Miss Stone?" Mr. Thorntyn turned his jet-black eyes on hers. "One would never have guessed."

  Matty favored him with a honeyed smile. "Why, thank you, Mr. Thorntyn," she said, as if he'd just paid her a high compliment. "It is very kind of you to say so."

  The vicar clearly did not know how to take such sauce, but fortunately Joss did, and adroitly he steered the conversation in another direction. He successfully kept the peace for the remainder of the hour, until it was time for their visitors to take their leave. "It was most gracious of you to have us here, my lord, most gracious," Mr. Thorntyn said, bowing to Joss. "May I hope to see you in church this Sabbath?"

  "You may," Joss said, knowing it would be expected of him while he was in residence.

  "And you, sir?" He sliced a cool look at Raj.

  "I shouldn't think of being anywhere else," Raj assured him solemnly.

  "Hmph." Mr. Thorntyn settled his flat black hat on his head. "Come along, Stallings, we've much to do this day."

  "In one moment, sir." Richard turned to Matty. "I have been informed by our housekeeper that Lady Kirkswood's companion is responsible for a great deal of the charitable w
ork hereabouts. That must be you?"

  "I do make a point of calling on the tenants, yes," Matty admitted, feeling a stab of guilt at the realization that she'd been neglecting that particular duty over the past week.

  "Weil perhaps you will let me accompany you on your rounds," he suggested thoughtfully. "It will give me the opportunity to meet my new parishioners and acquaint myself with their needs."

  The suggestion brought a delighted smile to Matty's lips. "What an excellent idea, Richard! I've often tried interesting Mr. Thorntyn in helping me, but he never . . . that is," she corrected hastily, "I would appreciate the help, thank you."

  "When do you next go out?" Richard prudently ignored the first part of her statement.

  "I should go out as soon as possible," she replied, her brows meeting in thought. "Tomorrow, perhaps, or — "

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Stone," Joss interrupted, his voice cool. "Is tomorrow not the day you were going to take me about?"

  Matty gave him a confused look, knowing full well that such plans had never been made. She was about to ask for clarification when the ice in his green eyes stopped her. "Of course, your lordship, in the excitement over seeing Richard again the matter slipped my mind. Naturally, I shall place myself at your disposal." She turned back to Richard.

  "I will send you a note," she promised, holding her hand out to him. "It will be wonderful working with you again."

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I will look forward to it," he said, pressing a fleeting kiss on the back of her hand. "Until then, Matty, I shall bid you adieu."

  The moment the door closed behind them Louisa collapsed against her chair. "Well, thank heavens that is over with for the next few months!" she said, taking a restorative sip of tea. "I know it is unkind of me to say so, but I really can not abide that man."

  "He does have a rather . . . trying personality," Raj agreed with a wry grin. "The assistant seemed to be an all right fellow, though. Are you well acquainted with him, Miss Stone?" His blue eyes flashed in Matty's direction.

  "Very well acquainted," she replied, taking a sip of her own tea. "As I mentioned, he was my father's assistant for several months, and we were quite close."

  "And now he is here," Lady Louisa drawled, her eyes lit with a speculative light. "Hmmm, I find that most interesting."

  Matty didn't deign to comment on what her employer might mean by that. Instead, she occupied her thoughts puzzling over the marquess's odd behavior. One would almost think he disapproved of her going about with Richard, she brooded, the cup of tea in her hand quite forgotten. But that made no earthly sense. Unless he felt she was making a play for him, she thought, her lips tightening with indignation. Doubtlessly Lord Kirkswood considered her a dried-up spinster desperate to toss her bonnet at any man who looked at her twice.

  As soon as this notion appeared she dismissed it as untrue and unkind. Whatever his other faults, the marquess struck her as being a fair man. Perhaps he genuinely thought they had a previous engagement; they'd once talked about visiting some of the tenants. It wasn't unreasonable to assume he'd mixed the matter up in his mind. Her papa was always doing things like that, and Lord Frederick had never been able to keep a single detail straight in the four or so years she had known him. Yes, she decided with a satisfied sigh, that must be it.

  While Matty was congratulating herself on the brilliant way she had solved the puzzle, Joss was silently cursing himself for his behavior. What the devil had made him interfere in Miss Stone's meeting with her old friend? he wondered, his jaw clenching with annoyance. It wasn't any concern of his what the minx did on her own time. He only knew he hadn't cared for the thought of her rambling about the countryside with that grinning clergyman dogging her every step. She was his sister-in-law's companion, and that, indirectly, made her his responsibility.

  Perhaps that accounted for it, he decided, staring at the fire in the grate with unseeing eyes. He was only concerned for her welfare. Lord knew the chit didn't seem to give her own reputation any thought. He'd slip a discreet word in her ear about the inadvisability of a single lady racketing about with an eligible man, he decided with a flash of self-righteousness. She would probably rail at the very suggestion, but he didn't let that concern him. Over the past few days he had grown accustomed to dealing with shrews, and he was pleasantly surprised to find he had a talent for it.

  The next morning Matty was up early to raid the kitchen for supplies. Since the marquess's return, the account with the grocer had been settled to everyone's liking, and the larder fairly overflowed with bounty. Matty was filling the second food box when she suddenly sensed she was no longer alone. She whirled around to find the marquess standing just in the doorway, casually dressed in a riding jacket of green velvet, his muscular legs encased in a pair of deerskin breeches.

  "Good morning, sir," she greeted him with a wary smile. "I hadn't expected to find you up and abroad at such an early hour. It is scarce nine o'clock."

  "I am accustomed to rising early," Joss said, thinking she made a pretty picture despite her prim gray gown and the awful mob cap perched on her curls. "In India I was often hard at work by seven. It was the only way to avoid the appalling heat."

  "Well, in that case I am surprised to see you turning into such a slacker," she teased, recalling he'd said something about owning a fleet of ships. "You'll be sleeping in until noon next, and demanding the servants bring you your breakfast in bed."

  "You wound me, Miss Stone," he said, pushing himself away from the doorframe and advancing slowly toward her. "I've been up since eight and have already taken my morning ride. If anyone is the slugabed around here, it's most assuredly not me."

  She could see the justice in that and gave a merry laugh. "Hoisted by my own petard," she said, placing a tin of biscuits in the box and covering it with a napkin. "Well, that should teach me to be so annoyingly self-righteous."

  "Somehow I think it will take more than that to shake that self-confidence of yours," Joss said with a slow smile. "But enough of this. What are your plans for this morning?"

  "I thought we would start with the tenants most in need of assistance. Several of our families have suffered rather cruelly this past year, and it may be necessary to extend their leases even if they haven't paid their rents." She shot him an anxious look as if gauging his response.

  To her relief he merely shrugged. "Whatever you think best," he said, moving forward to take the boxes from the counter. "I'll have these placed in the carriage and then we'll be on our way."

  "Carriage?" Matty seemed startled.

  "Certainly a carriage." He gave her a puzzled look. "How do you usually make your visits?"

  "On foot," she admitted, "or on horseback if I have a great deal to carry."

  Given the conditions of the stables this came as no great shock to Joss, for the horses did not look capable of regular work. But he stiffened to think of a woman as slender as Miss Stone tromping about his vast estate weighed down with packages for the poor. "Well, we have a carriage now, and it will please me if you use it when you are on estate business," he informed her stiffly. "Or, if you prefer, a horse can be made available for your use. Would you like that?"

  "My own horse?" Matty's eyes grew wide with delight. "Oh, my lord, I should like it above all things!"

  Her enthusiasm pleased Joss, and he resolved to send for a new horse at once. Some gentle, placid beast, he decided as they made their way out to the stables. He wondered if Lady Louisa would also like a mount, and decided he'd ask her the moment they returned from their visits.

  The early morning sun was low in the gray-blue sky, but the air was sweet nonetheless with the smell of blossoming flowers and budding trees. Easily handling the carriage he'd rented until his own could be delivered, Joss allowed himself to enjoy the splendor of an English spring. He'd forgotten how very beautiful it could be — or perhaps he hadn't allowed himself to remember. The thought brought another jab of pain.

  Their first call was u
pon a family who had moved into an estate cottage less than six months ago. The farmer was wary, if capable, and after quizzing him on the matter of planting Joss told the startled young man not to worry about his rent.

  "This would be fallow land if it weren't for you," he said, nodding at the newly plowed field. "And I appreciate your efforts. We'll be ready to plant soon, but that should be well within your capabilities. May I hope you will share your expertise with the others?"

  "Be glad to, m'lord," the farmer said, both pleased and gratified by Joss's words. "Not to say they ain't done the best they know, but never hurts to learn sommit new."

  "Indeed, it does not." Joss was impressed by his response. "Your name is Baylor, is it not?"

  "Yes, m'lord. George Baylor."

  "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Baylor." Joss held his hand out to him. "I shall look forward to speaking with you again. You don't mind if I ride out occasionally to check on the progress of your crop, do you?"

  "Not at all, sir . . . Lord Kirkswood." Awkwardly, Mr. Baylor shook the marquess's hand, painfully aware of the dirt staining his own hands.

  As if sensing his thoughts Joss gave him a warm smile. "Don't be embarrassed, Mr. Baylor. It is Kirkswood soil, after all. Mrs. Baylor." He included the farmer's shy young wife in his bow. "I shall be calling upon you later."

  "Neatly done, my lord," Matty congratulated him as they made their way to their next stop. "I was terrified he would refuse our aid, but you charmed him right into accepting it!"

  "What do you mean?" Joss took his eyes off the rough road long enough to shoot her an angry scowl. "I meant every word of what I said. The man is an extraordinary farmer!"

  "I know, I couldn't believe it when he left Lord Dereham to come here. His Grace disapproved of his methods, you see, and they quarreled. You should have seen the expression on the duke's face when he learned I'd taken him on."