A Matchmaking Miss (11 page)

"I don't see what that tyrant has to do with anything," Matty grumbled, her mind working fast as she reviewed her conversation with the marquess. She looked at it from every angle, weighing each word carefully, and then a slow, crafty smile stole across her face. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, "he only said I wasn't to arrange his marriage for him. He didn't say a single word about not inviting any guests. In fact, when I first proposed the matter to him he seemed quite enthusiastic."

Lady Louisa lowered her handkerchief. "But would that be ethical?" she asked doubtfully. "You said he made you promise you wouldn't play matchmaker."

"He all but made me take a blood oath!" Matty bristled as she recalled the arrogant way he had extracted her promise from her.

"Well, there you are." Lady Louisa nodded
her head. "You can scarcely go back on your word, and I am almost certain Joss won't change his mind on the subject. He seems a rather determined man to me."

"A stubborn one, you mean," Matty corrected, rising to her feet. "Not that it signifies, I'm not matchmaking. I am only inviting some of your dear friends to call upon you. You're out of mourning now, and 'tis hardly surprising you'd desire company. I hardly see that his lordship has any cause to complain."

Lady Louisa was silent, as if considering Matty's words. "I would like to see my friends again," she admitted wistfully. "But I am afraid it would upset Joss."

Good
, Matty thought grumpily,
let him be upset
. She felt it was no less than he deserved for cruelly trying to deprive Lady Louisa of visitors. She began pacing, her practical mind making plans. "You mentioned that his lordship wants you to continue regarding Kirkswood as your home, did you not?" she asked, coming to a halt beside the other woman's chair.

"Oh yes." Lady Louisa fairly glowed at the memory of the kindness shown her. "He said this was my home and that I should always be welcome here."

"Then I don't see that we have a problem," Matty concluded, in what she felt was a most
logical fashion. "We will invite
your
friends to call upon you at
your
house. His lordship needn't even bestir himself to meet them, if that is his desire."

Lady Louisa looked doubtful. "He may suspect you of trying to trap him."

"Let him." Matty gave an indifferent shrug. "I don't really give a fig. Now, as to the matter of guests, whom would you like to invite first? You were always rather fond of Lady Elsington; perhaps we might ask her."

"Oh, but she is already married! That is . . . as a married lady she is certain to be spending the season in London. I was thinking we might ask Miss Gossmoore. She is a lively girl, don't you think?"

Matty remembered a pretty brunette who had spent part of last winter at a neighboring estate. "Most lively, indeed," she said, recalling the girl's incessant chatter. "But I thought you weren't overly taken with her. You never seemed to spend much time in her company."

"I was still mourning Frederick," Lady Louisa said with a reproving look. "But I did find her interesting. And she is so friendly we needn't worry about the conversation dragging."

"There is that," Matty agreed with a wry grin. "Very well, Miss Gossmoore it shall be. Anyone else?"

"Lord Frampton's oldest daughter, Sarah, is spending this season at home, so I thought we might ask her — oh, and your cousin, what is her name . . ."

"Juliana?" Matty answered in dismay.

"Yes. She is a beauty, if I recall rightly, and you said she was a fine rider."

"Among other things," Matty said, trying not to shudder at the memory of the beautiful girl who had been the bane of her childhood. She was the only daughter of her well-heeled uncle, and she had outshone Matty in every single thing. The prospect of having her under the same roof, even for a few days, was enough to send her spirits sinking. But she supposed she could endure it for Lady Louisa's sake.

"And to round out our numbers I was thinking we might invite Mr. Smythe-Boothe, and Sir Valen," Lady Louisa concluded, naming two of the most eligible bachelors in the area. "They're so amusing, and Frederick did once mention that Sir Valen went to school with Joss. I daresay he'd be delighted at seeing his old friend again."

Matty gave a nod, thinking that a house party of some half-dozen persons shouldn't be all that difficult to arrange. A few formal dinner parties, a ball or two, and, much as she detested the idea, a hunt, should be more than enough to keep their guests entertained. Think
ing of a hunt brought to mind the duke, and she gave a dispirited sigh. "What of our neighbors?" she asked bluntly. "We shall have to include them in at least some of our plans, otherwise it will cause no end of hard feelings."

"You are speaking of His Grace?"

"And Lady Bettina. You must know she'd never forgive us for excluding her."

"Hmph." Lady Louisa's sniff was eloquent. "Well, tempting as the thought of giving her a direct cut might be, I suppose you are right. And if we're going to include her, we'll have to invite her friend Miss Converse as well. You must know they are as close as two inkleweavers."

"An interesting analogy, I'd have likened them to a pair of hunting lionesses," Matty said, grimacing at the thought of Lady Bettina's malicious blond friend. The houseparty was beginning to look less and less appealing.

"When would you like to have the party, my lady?" she asked, deciding to concentrate on more practical considerations. "The beginning of June might be a good idea — close enough to the end of the season to ensure a good attendance, but not so far into the summer it will interfere with the estate."

"Actually, I was thinking of the middle of May," Lady Louisa said decisively.

"But that's in little more than a fortnight!"
Matty protested after some swift calculations.

"Three weeks," Lady Louisa supplied, looking downcast. "But naturally, if you can't do it I shall understand. I know how busy you are."

"Oh, I can do it!" Matty was loath to disappoint her mistress. "It will take a bit of doing, but it's far from impossible."

"If you're certain . . ."

"Oh, I am," Matty assured her, her spirits lifting as her usual confidence returned. She'd kept the estate afloat all these months, she reminded herself happily, organizing a house-party would be child's play. Eager to begin, she returned to her desk and sat down.

"We'll send out the invitations first," she said, dipping her pen in the inkwell. "And we'll have to see about taking on additional staff, although that won't be a problem, thank God. Lord Kirkswood has seen to it that the necessary funds have been made available to me, so we can begin hiring at once."

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 re
called 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
mis
quoted 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?"