"You're welcome," he answered, gazing down into her upturned face. She was wearing one of the gowns he had ordered, a silvery-gray georgette ruffled at the throat and hemline, and he thought she looked as lovely as the roses blooming about them. Her arms were bare but she'd draped a shawl of pink challis about her, and the color echoed the delicate blush staining her cheeks. The blush made him realize he'd been staring, and he glanced away as he assumed a businesslike manner.
"Is that the list of brides you have been composing?" he asked, holding out his hand somewhat imperiously. "It doesn't look very long."
Matty handed him the list, bristling at his peremptory manner. "Perhaps," she replied, her chin coming up, "but as there are literally thousands of marriageable females in England, I thought it wisest to limit it to those most suitable for the position of marchioness of Kirkswood."
Joss glanced over the list, his lips curving at the names and comments she had set down in her meticulous hand. "And, pray, what traits do you consider 'suitable' in a marchioness?" he queried, mentally crossing off the first two names on her list.
His question took her by surprise. "Surely it is the traits you consider suitable that matter most," she said, the suspicion that he was twigging her beginning to nibble at her. "My opinions shouldn't count at all."
"Shouldn't they?" He shuddered at one particular entry, remembering the icy blonde from his brief weeks in London. "You must have had some criteria when you drew this up, and I am curious to know what they were. What, for example, ever made you think I would welcome an alliance with Lady Henrietta Mapesley?"
Matty frowned at the mention of one of her more choice candidates. "She is the daughter of a duke," she said in reply, itching to snatch the list back from him. "She is said to be a charming beauty, and possesses a considerable fortune. What more could one ask for?"
"A brain might be nice," Joss retorted bluntly, his lips thinning at the memory of the chit's empty-headed chatter. "Any children we had would be certain to be idiots."
"Oh." An image of Lady Sarah leapt into Matty's mind. "You would consider superior intellect to be a requirement, then?"
"It wouldn't go amiss," Joss returned, ruthlessly eliminating another name as he recalled seeing the lady slap a footman for no reason other than that he had accidently dropped her glove.
"And — and what of birth?" Matty pressed, still thinking of Lady Sarah. "I do not know if you require a title — "
"I do not."
"But I am sure you will agree that it would be best if your wife is a member of the ton," she continued doggedly. "You will doubtlessly wish to entertain, and it would be awkward if she didn't know how to go about arranging such things."
That made sense to Joss, and he conceded the point with a shrug. "What else?"
"Well . . . beauty, of course," she said, deciding that with her soft brown hair and amber-flecked eyes it was an attribute that could easily be applied to the earl of Kinghill's daughter. "The marchionesses of Kirkswood have all been diamonds of the first water, and I assumed you would wish to follow suit."
" 'Beauty is as beauty does,' " he quoted, dismissing the matter indifferently. "I'm a grown man, Matty, and not some callow youth to have my head turned by flashing blue eyes or an entrancing set of lips. I require more substance from the lady to whom I would give my name."
Even as she warmed at the maturity of his reply, Matty was aware of an odd ache somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. "There . . . there is someone," she began, knowing it was what her duty demanded of her. "You might have noticed her name on the list, although I assure you that has nothing to do with her presence here. She is a particular friend of Lady Louisa's and — "
"Who are you talking about?" Joss interrupted, glancing up with a frown.
Matty moistened her lips with a nervous tongue. "Lady Sarah Frampton," she said, drawing her shoulders back. "She is intelligent, well born, and quite lovely. I think she would make you a wonderful marchioness."
Joss was taken aback by the certainty in Matty's quiet voice. "Lady Sarah?" he repeated, lowering his eyes to study the list again. He found her name toward the bottom, along with a description of her fortune and other attributes.
"Yes." Matty gave a shaky smile. "As you can see, she will inherit a considerable sum when she marries, and in addition to that she is perfectly charming. I liked her at once."
"Did you?" Of all the things she had said so far, that was what most impressed him. He'd come to have a strong respect for Matty's intuition, and if she liked Lady Sarah, then the young lady was definitely worth a second look.
"Also, there is the fact that she and Lady Louisa are fast friends," Matty said, determined to be as logical as possible. "In the event that her ladyship elects to remain at Kirkswood, it would be best if she and the new marchioness weren't at daggers drawn."
Joss hadn't thought of that, although now that he did it made perfect sense. He'd come to be very fond of his brother's widow in the weeks since his arrival, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel unwelcome in her own home. He studied Lady Sarah's name more closely.
"I think we met once in London," he said, struggling to remember the exact circumstances. "I remember thinking she was rather a taking little thing . . ."
"She's rather shy." Matty swallowed a lump in her throat at his admission. "But I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing. You wouldn't wish some bold minx for your wife, would you?"
"Like you, do you mean?" He startled her by slanting her a rakish grin. "You're right; I would vastly prefer a bride who behaved with at least some modicum of decorum, rather than one who would ring a peal over my head whenever the fancy struck her."
Matty's heart gave an odd lurch, and she quickly hid the reaction behind a show of impatient anger. "Sometimes, sir, you require to have a peal rung over your head," she said, her expression stormy as she met his laughing gaze. "And as for Lady Sarah, I said she was shy, not a dunce. If you're looking for a milk-and-water miss you may be well advised to look elsewhere."
Her tart response made Joss chuckle. "No, thank you, ma'am," he said, propping one foot on the bench as he leaned over her. "You forget I've lived in the East for the past ten years, and have developed a taste for a dash of spice now and then. An insipid watering pot is no more to my liking than a fiery-tempered shrew, I assure you."
Knowing that she was the fiery-tempered shrew he referred to brought another stab of pain to Matty's heart. She liked and respected the marquess, and it hurt to know he thought so little of her. Some of her feelings must have shown on her face, for suddenly she felt his strong fingers curling about her chin, lifting her face so that she had no choice but to look up into eyes that were gazing steadily into hers.
"I was only twigging you, Matty," he said softly, his thumb moving in a small circle as he caressed her cheek. "You must know I have nothing but the deepest admiration for you."
The feel of his hand added to the confusion filling her, and she glanced away uncertainly. "I . . . I suppose I am a bit of a shrew at times," she admitted, horrified to find she was perilously close to tears. "I don't mean to be, it is just that I — "
"Know what is best for everyone, I know," he concluded softly, hating himself for bringing that wounded look to her spice-colored eyes. He'd been teasing her, enjoying their verbal thrust and parry, and the last thing he'd intended was to hurt her. That he had done so filled him with remorse, and he longed to ease her pain.
Matty gave a watery chuckle. "Actually, I was going to say I just wanted to help," she said, shooting him a rueful look. "But I take your point. Oh well, I suppose it could have been worse. You could have called me a managing shrew."
Joss's eyes dropped to the smile curving her full lips. "You are a managing shrew. It is part of your charm," he said huskily, aware of a sudden desire to see if those lips tasted as sweet as they looked. The unbidden thought so startled him that he dropped his hand and straightened. He was about to move away when his eyes suddenly wid
ened.
"You aren't wearing your mob cap!" he exclaimed in delight.
She flushed in consternation, one hand stealing up to touch her hair. "It wasn't any of my doing, I assure you," she muttered, feeling strangely vulnerable without her cap. "It was the oddest thing, but while I was dressing I went to put one on and they'd all vanished. I don't suppose you would know anything about that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion.
"Now it is you who have insulted me," Joss laughed, reaching out to wrap a chestnut-colored curl about his finger. "I promise you I had naught to do with the theft, although I cannot help but approve of the results. You have beautiful hair, Matty. Why do you keep it covered?"
His soft words of admiration thrilled Matty to the depths of her soul. In the next moment, however, she was batting his hand away with an angry scowl. "Because I am a companion, not a deb," she snapped, reminding herself as much as him. "I'm not supposed to have beautiful hair."
"Well, you have, and I don't want to see you wearing one of those wretched things again," he said decisively as he stepped back from the bench. "Do I make myself clear?"
Matty leapt to her feet, but before she could give vent to her fury she heard a peal of feminine laughter. Seconds later Juliana, accompanied by Mr. Smythe-Boothe and Lady Sarah, came walking around the hedge. The sight of Matty and Joss brought them up short, and for a moment no one spoke. Then Juliana gave another laugh, her brown eyes sharp as she moved toward them.
"Why, Cousin, what a surprise," she said with a cutting smile. "I was just remarking to Lady Sarah how odd it was that we haven't seen you this morning, and here you are."
How a person could infuse such an innocuous sentence with that much innuendo Joss knew not, but he did know he wasn't about to let the little witch use her claws on Matty. Hiding his distaste he stepped forward to block her path. "Ah, I fear you have found me out, Miss Mulroy," he drawled, holding her eyes as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I knew Miss Stone would be in the garden, and decided it was the perfect opportunity to quiz her about my guests. How embarrassing to be caught in flagrante delicto, as it were. May I hope you will keep our secret?"
Juliana reached the natural conclusion that he was digging for information on her, and it was all she could do not to preen with pride. "I am quite shocked to think you would resort to gossip, my lord," she simpered, lowering her lashes demurely. "But I suppose we must forgive you this time, mustn't we?" She included Lady Sarah and Mr. Smythe-Boothe in her blanket pardon.
"Of course, my lord," Lady Sarah said quietly, although she wondered what had really transpired between the marquess and Miss Stone. The fact that Lady Louisa's companion looked ready to give him a swift kick, relieved her worries that they had interrupted something of a more intimate nature.
"Nothing wrong with a bit of reconnoitering, what?" Mr. Smythe-Boothe said with a knowing laugh. "Wellington did it all the time."
"So he did," Joss agreed, his eyes stealing to the woman Matty had decreed the perfect bride for him. "Tell me, Lady Sarah, do you ride?"
Lady Sarah looked startled by his question. "As a matter of fact I do, my lord," she admitted, her usual shyness forgotten at the thought of her one love. "In fact, I have had my own mount, Juno, sent up from home. I — I hope you don't object?"
"Not at all." Joss was relieved to learn that she was so avid a rider she would bring her own horse to a house party. "I was just about to take my morning gallop, and wanted to know if you would care to come with me. And you also, Miss Mulroy, Mr. Smythe-Boothe. I've horses enough for you both."
Juliana didn't like being invited as an afterthought, but she was too clever to refuse. "I should be delighted, my lord! Only give me and Lady Sarah enough time to change. We shall be down in a trice." She turned to Matty with a set smile. "Stone, please fetch my maid for me. I shall need help in changing, and that wretched creature is never about when I need her."
"Certainly, Miss Mulroy," Matty replied coolly, although she burned at the subtle insult. By ordering her to find her maid, Juliana had relegated her to the ranks of the servants. Lest I get ideas above my station, she thought, swallowing her anger as she turned to go. But she hadn't taken a step before she felt Joss's fingers curling about her arm.
"Wait one moment, Miss Stone."
"Yes, my lord?" she queried, casting him a polite look over her shoulder.
"Would you care to join us on our ride?" he asked, his voice calm despite the fury burning inside him. He'd have liked nothing better than to tell Miss Mulroy precisely what he thought of her, but unfortunately he could not.
For a moment Matty was tempted to accept, if only to put Juliana's pretty nose out of joint, but in the end she decided to refuse. She had too much to do to waste her time engaging in petty revenge. "That is very kind of you, my lord," she said, enjoying the sour look that stole across Juliana's face, "but I am afraid I must refuse. Ladies, Mr. Smythe-Boothe." She acknowledged them with a nod. "I wish you all a good day." And she walked back to the house, her head held proudly in the air.
That incident set the tone for the following days, and by Thursday Matty was ready to commit murder. Juliana seemed to grow more obnoxious with each passing day, and it was all she could do to hold her tongue. It didn't help that her hateful cousin had struck up a fast friendship with Lady Bettina, and the two had united in an effort to make her life misery. After one particularly acrimonious incident she stalked off to the gardens to regain her temper, and had almost achieved this miracle when the sound of voices caught her ear.
As she was hardly in a mood to deal with anyone at that particular moment, she decided to hide until they had passed. She'd barely concealed herself behind a hedge when Joss and Lady Sarah came strolling into view.
". . . jumped into the river and swam for all I was worth," Joss concluded, his voice rich with laughter as he finished telling Lady Sarah a humorous anecdote of his early days in India. "I was quite terrified, as you may well imagine, but at least I was alive. Most men who have accidently stumbled across a tiger's path can scarcely make that same boast. It was only as I was drying myself off that my companions informed me that not only are tigers one of the few cats that swim, but there were at least three crocodiles sunning themselves on the riverbank, and I was lucky not to have been swallowed whole."
"But that's dreadful!" Lady Sarah exclaimed with a horrified laugh, her head tilted to one side as she smiled up at him. "And that is how you came to be called ’Tiger Dunstable'?"
"Not a particularly flattering reason, I grant you," Joss said with a smile, "but I console myself with the knowledge that it could have been worse."
"Yes, you might have been eaten!"
"Or I could have been become known as 'Crocodile Dunstable' — a far more ignominious fate, as I am sure you will agree!"
Matty felt an odd sense of betrayal as they strolled out of sight. She'd twice asked Joss how he'd come to bear the odd nickname, only to be told it was none of her concern. Evidently he considered it Lady Sarah's concern, she thought waspishly — and then she slowly clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. She stood like that for several seconds, trying desperately to deny the truth she'd been ignoring for the past several weeks. But it would not be denied. She had fallen in love with Joss.
Chapter Eleven
Her first instinct was to run, to hide — but where could one hide from oneself? Her next impulse was to close her mind to her own emotions and pray the madness would somehow pass. When that also failed, she knew there was nothing left to do but accept the painful reality of her own imprudence. Blinking back scalding tears, she turned and began making her way back toward the house.
Asking herself how she could have been so patently stupid as to fall for a man so far above her station was superfluous, and rather than wasting few precious seconds berating herself for her foolish behavior, she concentrated instead on what she was going to do about it. There was only one thing of which she was certain, and that was if Joss did mar
ry Lady Sarah, then she would leave Kirkswood.
The realization made her wince. She loved the beautiful old estate, and in the most secret recesses of her heart she acknowledged that she had begun to regard it as her home. Leaving it would tear her soul from her, but she didn't see that there was a choice. There was no way she could stay and witness Joss's happiness without becoming as bitter and hateful as Juliana.
Perhaps she could convince Lady Louisa to retire to one of the other properties, she thought hopefully as she entered the house. Or there was always London. Lady Louisa was young yet, and still very beautiful. Why shouldn't she want to reenter the social whirl? She'd long since come out of mourning for Lord Frederick, and —
"Lady Louisa!" The shocked exclamation burst from her lips at the sight of her mistress locked in a passionate embrace with Mr. Fitzsimmons.
At the sound of her voice the two lovers looked up, but they didn't seem in the least perturbed at having been caught in what could only be termed a compromising position. In fact, they were smiling. "You may be the first to offer us your congratulations, Miss Stone," Raj said calmly, his arms locked about Louisa's waist. "Lady Louisa has just done me the very great honor of accepting my proposal."
Matty took grim pride that she didn't succumb to the vapors as shock piled upon shock. "I see," she said calmly, forcing her bemused brain to function. "In that case, allow me to be the first to wish you all happiness."
Louisa's smile faded at the odd note in Matty's voice. "Are . . . are you certain you don't object?" she asked uncertainly. "I know this is rather sudden, but — "
"Of course I don't object!" Matty exclaimed, angry with herself for casting a pall on what was surely the happiest moment of Louisa's life. "I am just . . . surprised, that is all."
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