A Matchmaking Miss (6 page)

Her bitter words about Frederick's profligate ways made Joss's eyes narrow. "I will thank you, Miss Stone, not to speak of my brother in that tone of voice," he said, his voice arctic. "Whatever you may have thought of Frederick, he
was
the marquess of Kirkswood."

"Aye, and a more selfish and useless creature I have yet to meet!" Exhaustion overcame discretion as Matty confronted him. When she remembered how they had scraped and schemed to survive the late marquess's excesses she felt like screaming. Perhaps she hadn't expected undying gratitude for all she had done, she thought with mounting anger, but neither had she expected to be scolded for it.

"I am warning you, ma'am, — "

" 'Tis the truth!" Now that she had the bit between her teeth there was no stopping Matty. "He not only squandered his own fortune, but Lady Louisa's as well! Why do you think she was reduced to selling her own jewels to pay our bills? They were the only things he couldn't touch, else he would have sold them long ago to
cover his gaining debts!"

"Miss Stone — "

"And now you tell me I must respect him, merely because he was a marquess, and I but a mere companion. Well, let me tell you, sir, that there is no way I could feel anything but contempt for a man thoughtless enough to cause not only his own death, but the death of his own child as well!"

The blistering put-down Joss was about to utter withered on his lips, and he gazed at her in horror. "What the devil are you talking about?" he asked hoarsely.

The second the words were out of her mouth Matty was wishing desperately that she could withdraw them. She turned away, ashamed of her lack of control. "I . . . I apologize, sir," she said, her anger fading. "I should not have said that."

"There was a child?" Joss felt shocked and sickened at the stunning revelation. A child, he thought dazedly. He had been an uncle, and no one had ever thought to tell him.

Matty hesitated, unsure how much she should say. "Perhaps you should talk to Lady Louisa, my lord," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. "She would have told you eventually, but — "

"No," he interrupted, striding over to stand
beside her, his hands hard as they grabbed her and turned her to face him. "You tell me, now. What happened in the curricle race? How did Frederick cause his child's death?"

Matty gazed up at him, realizing she had no option but to tell him the truth. "The wager involved the length of time it would take a couple to race from London to Norfolk," she said, meeting his anguished green gaze evenly. "Because he would be racing against members of the
ton
and their wives, he decided to leave his mistress at home, and drove up to Kirkswood to get Lady Louisa. Even though she was increasing, he insisted she accompany him, telling her it was her duty as his wife. She was in the curricle when it overturned, and it was only by the mercy of God that she wasn't killed outright, as he was."

"But it caused her to lose the babe?" Joss asked, fighting back nausea as he envisioned the grim scene.

"Not at first," Matty said, blinking back tears as she recalled those terrible months after the accident, when they had done all they could to save both the mother and her child. "When she was thrown from the curricle she landed on her belly, and although it didn't cause her to miscarry, it did eventually cause her to go into premature labor. With the doctor's help we
delivered a child — a son — but he was so small, so weak. We did all we could, but it was to no avail. He lived less than five weeks."

"And that was when you sent me the death notice," Joss said grimly, understanding at last the reason behind the delay. "Until then there was an heir, and I was superfluous."

Matty glanced at him in surprise. "Actually, the thought of notifying you simply didn't occur to us at the time," she admitted. "Lady Louisa was far from well, and there was the child to think of. I am afraid you rather slipped our minds."

"Answer me one question, Miss Stone," he said, swamped with feelings of hurt and anger. "Had the babe lived, would I ever have been told of Frederick's death?"

"Certainly, sir," she said, wondering at the bitterness shimmering in his eyes. "Even if Lady Louisa didn't write you, I would have sent you a notice with the annual report. You are a Kirkswood, and naturally you must be informed of such — "

"Yes, I am a Kirkswood," Joss said with a harsh laugh, unable to hold back the resentment that had eaten at him for more than a decade. "It's something my dearest family did their best to forget, almost from the moment of my birth. It is probably just as well my mother
is no longer alive, else I would have to hear what a pity it is that it wasn't me who died, rather than Frederick. But then, I am sure that is what everyone is thinking anyway." And unable to bear any more, he turned and stormed out of the study, leaving Matty to stare after him in openmouthed astonishment.

Chapter Four

After leaving the study, Joss went out to the stables to demand a horse from the startled ostler. Learning that the fine hunters and blooded jumpers he remembered from his boyhood had dwindled to two overfed geldings did little to improve his temper, and he curtly ordered the more promising of the beasts saddled. Fifteen minutes later he was galloping across the barren fields, his one thought to put as much distance between the house and himself as possible.

When the large gray he was astride began wheezing at the unaccustomed exercise he eased off on the reins, pulling the horse to a halt beside a slow-moving stream. When he was a lad, this was one of his favorite places on the estate, and a cynical smile touched his lips at the memory of the countless hours he'd lain on its
grassy banks, spinning dreams of fame and glory. In his childish visions he'd pictured himself returning to Kirkswood to save the estate from some deadly peril. Well, those boyhood dreams had finally come true, he acknowledged bitterly, but instead of the triumph he'd always expected to feel, he knew only the empty pain of disillusionment.

There had been a son — a child whose life had ended almost before it had begun. He grieved for his small nephew, resenting the fact that he'd never had the chance to know him. He should have been there, he thought, his eyes glittering with the force of his emotions. Perhaps if he had been, things might have turned out differently. Frederick might still have died, he conceded, but perhaps he might have been able to save the boy. If he'd been home and known of the wager, he'd never have allowed his brother to risk his wife and child on something so frivolous as a bet. . . .

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." The deep voice brought Joss's head snapping up, but he felt no surprise at the sight of Raj on the other horse.

"How did you find me?" he asked, his eyes returning to the sun-dappled stream.

"I saw your rather hasty departure from my chamber, and when I asked your butler where you might have gone he suggested this place,"
Raj answered, swinging down from his horse to stand beside Joss. "A favorite of yours, I gather?"

"It was my sanctuary," Joss replied quietly. "Neither my father or brother cared much for fishing, and so I knew they would never think to look for me here. It was one of the places I missed most when they first sent me to school."

"I remember a garden at my grandmother's house," Raj said, his features relaxing in a contemplative smile. "It was on the terrace outside the
purdah
, and I'd hide there whenever my
ayah
was angry with me — which was often. During those cold winter nights at Eton, I'd fall asleep longing for the smell of my grandmother's roses."

Joss said nothing, although he was moved by Raj's confession. In all the years they'd known each other, this was one of the few times he'd heard his friend speak of his childhood. Avoidance of the past was one of the many things they had in common, and it pleased him that Raj would choose to share the memory with him now. He dismounted and lowered himself to the damp grass, unmindful of the damage he was causing to his borrowed breeches.

"Frederick had a child, Raj," he said softly, his eyes staring straight ahead. "A son. He is dead as well."

"I am sorry, Joss." Raj also settled on the
grass, leaning his broad shoulders against the trunk of a gnarled apple tree.

"Lady Louisa was with Frederick when the curricle overturned, and it caused the babe to come early. He lived five weeks."

"Ah, that explains it, then."

"Their delay in contacting me?" Joss gave a harsh laugh. "Yes, I said as much to Miss Stone, and she didn't bother denying it."

"I am sure she did not," Raj agreed, his blue eyes rueful. "But as it happens, I was referring to Lady Louisa. Only so great a tragedy as that could have given one so young and lovely such ancient eyes."

Joss raised a russet eyebrow at the odd sentiment. "More of your Eastern mysticism?" he asked, skeptically.

"If you like." Raj didn't appear offended by Joss's reaction.

"Well, you are taking the news far better than did I," Joss admitted, wincing in remorse as he recalled his bitter words. "Miss Stone's opinion of me is certain to be even lower after the fool I made of myself." He proceeded to describe the scene in her study.

"You had every right to be hurt," Raj said when he was done. "Frederick was your brother, you should have been notified at once of his death — not because of the succession, but because he was your brother and you loved him."

"That's the odd part, you know," Joss said, his tone reflective. "I
did
love Frederick, despite what he was, what he had become. Perhaps that is why I was so angry."

"Perhaps." Raj smiled. "And I wouldn't worry about Miss Stone if I were you. From what the servants have said, she is a most understanding lady. I am sure she knows it was your pain that was speaking, and not your temper."

"I wouldn't be too certain of that," Joss said, remembering the contempt in her eyes as she denounced Frederick. "She is rather rigid in her opinions, and she hasn't the slightest qualm about voicing them. She'll doubtlessly ring a peal over my head at the first opportunity."

"Then let her ring it." Raj hid his amusement at the vision of the strident Miss Stone tearing a strip off his friend. "It can cause you no harm. As for now, I would suggest we start back to the house. I encountered Lady Louisa in the kitchen, and she said something about having a neighbor over for tea."

The thought of encountering one of his countrified neighbors was not at all to Joss's liking, but he repressed the flash of irritation. He knew he'd have to face them sooner or later, and he supposed he might as well get it over with. "Very well," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a weary sigh. "But must we start back
now? It is scarcely one o'clock."

"True, but given the deplorable shape of our mounts I daresay it will take us a couple of hours at least to make it back to the stables," Raj complained with a rich chuckle. "You must look to replenishing your stables, my lord, if you wish to maintain your standing in the neighborhood."

Joss gave his gray a thoughtful look, realizing for the first time that he was actually home. "I do believe you are right, Raj," he said at last, a cautious feeling of contentment stealing over him. "I shall see to it at once."

"Stone! What are you doing still up?" Lady Louisa's voice was gently admonishing as she glowered at her companion. "You promised me you would lie down!"

"My apologies, my lady." Matty tucked a stray curl back beneath her mob cap as she tallied another row of figures. "But I wish all to be ready for his lordship, should he wish to inspect the ledgers. It will take but a moment longer."

Lady Louisa tapped her foot impatiently, her dark blond brows gathering in a frown as she debated the best way of handling the situation. Suddenly her brows lifted, a cunning light stealing into her soft blue eyes. "It is probably just as well," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Lord
Kirkswood was quizzing me about your exact position here, and I am sure he will be gratified to learn you are so diligent about earning your keep."

The pen fell from Matty's ink-stained fingers and she shot the marchioness an outraged look. "Oh, will he?" she snapped, her mouth firming with anger. "Did he seem to imply otherwise?"

"Well," Lady Louisa answered truthfully, "he
did
ask several questions about your salary, and the exact nature of your duties, but I am sure he was only curious." Here she gave Matty a placating smile.

"Ha!" Matty dismissed these reassurances with a derisive snort. "And to think that but a few minutes later he was implying
you
were a cruel taskmaster threatening to work me until I dropped in the traces! The deceitful oaf!"

"Oh, I am sure Joss isn't in the least deceitful!" Lady Louisa protested, with genuine alarm. "He is a gentleman."

"As if that was any sort of recommendation," Matty grumbled, burning with fury at the thought that the marquess should believe she was taking advantage of the marchioness. Well, she'd be hanged if she would spend even another moment balancing the wretched accounts, she decided, pushing herself away from the desk and rising to her feet. But the sudden motion made the room swim before her eyes,
and she grabbed onto the edge of the desk for support.

Lady Louisa was at her side in an instant, her arm firmly about Matty's waist. "That is it," she said firmly, guiding Matty from the room. "You are going to bed this very instant! I don't care what his lordship may say!"

"But what about the Duke of Dereham?" Matty asked, trying to work up enough energy to feel indignation. Now that she'd decided to lie down, the exhaustion she had been holding at bay overwhelmed her, and it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. "Mrs. Norton informed me you had invited him to tea."

"He invited himself, the meddling old goat." Lady Louisa signaled for her maid to help her as they started up the stairs. "He sent word over the moment he heard Joss and Mr. Fitzsimmons had arrived, and I could hardly refuse him. But I shall deal with him, never you mind."

Had she not been almost asleep on her feet, Matty would have smiled at the thought of her sweet-tempered employer dealing with their pompous, overbearing neighbor. She was not so tired, however, that the thought of the duke's equally overbearing daughter did not occur to her. "Will Lady Bettina be with His Grace?" she asked, not bothering to smother a jaw-cracking yawn.