A Matchmaking Miss (12 page)

"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 work 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 occu
pied 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 upon 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."

The feline satisfaction in her voice made Joss's irritation fade. "It must have upset you to have so distressed His Grace," he drawled, his eyes beginning to glow with amusement.

"Oh, I was quite cast down . . . for all of two seconds," Matty admitted with a laugh. "The duke was threatening to have me arrested for
stealing
his tenant, as he called it. My reminding him he'd already turned Mr. Baylor off didn't seem to cool
his fury, but there was little he could do about it."

Joss found it easy to envision the scene — Dereham blustering and shouting while Miss Stone stood quietly in front of him, that maddening, mocking smile curving her lips. Then he remembered what Louisa had said about the duke physically threatening her, and his smile dissolved. "You're not to confront His Grace again," he ordered in a stern voice. "If the duke has any complaints to make, he can make them to me."

"I'm not afraid of that bullying bore." Matty's chin came up with defiant pride. "If he dares raise his hand to me again I shall knock him on his pompous — "

"
Again?
Do you mean to say that bastard struck you?"

The deadly fury in his voice shocked Matty. "Certainly not," she assured him, "but he has threatened it any number of times."

"Well, he'd best not threaten it again," Joss muttered, his hands tightening on the reins. "If he should presume to bother you again you are to come directly to me. I shall deal with him."

That sounded rather ominous to Matty, and she decided it was time to change the subject. "Our next stop will be at the cottage of a Mrs. Mavey. Her husband passed away last summer, and so far I haven't had the heart to ask her to move on. I know I should, but — "

"Why?"

"I beg pardon?"

"Why should you ask her to move on?" Joss was frowning at the thought of a widow being forced out of her home.

"
I
have no desire to do so," Matty said, confused by his answer, "but I thought you would. She has three fine sons, but they are too young to help her work the land. It is prime soil, and I assumed you wouldn't wish to see it go to waste."

"Then you assumed incorrectly, and not, I might add, for the first time," Joss said sharply. "Good Lord, Miss Stone, what a poor opinion you must have of me to think I would turn out a widow and her children without so much as a by-your-leave."

Matty turned sideways in the seat to gauge his mood, realizing that she had inadvertently offended him. "I beg your pardon, my lord," she said, genuinely contrite. "I assure you I meant no insult. It is usually the way things are done."

"By others, perhaps, but not by me," he replied tautly, his eyes flashing with emotion. "In the future you will do me the courtesy of allowing me to think for myself, rather than acting on what you assume to be my opinion."

"Yes, my lord," Matty answered in a small voice. She turned to face forward, aware of the painful silence that had descended between them. So much for her fine plans to change the subject, she thought with a heavy sigh. Evidently she and the marquess were fated to be at daggers drawn every time they
met. The thought made her shoulders droop with dejection.

The rest of their visiting passed without incident, and Matty was impressed with the interest his lordship showed in his tenants' welfare. And it was genuine interest, she decided, sitting in silence as he listened gravely to a farmer discussing his worries for his son, who had recently returned from the wars and hadn't been able to secure employment. Rather than putting the man off with vague promises he told him to send the lad to him, saying he would either hire the boy on at the house or provide him with some other form of work. The tears of gratitude in the old man's eyes made her squirm, not with embarrassment, but with shame.