Page 48 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
The admission gave her some satisfaction and she squeezed his arm.
‘Thank you, Quentin,’ she said, more warmly. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
They went into the supper room, where the Farnleighs were seated at one of the first tables they passed. Mr Farnleigh immediately jumped up.
‘It is quite a crush in here, my lord. I doubt you will find another table free now. Won’t you join us?’
‘Thank you, Aunt, we would be delighted!’ Flora replied before her companion could refuse and Lord Whilton acquiesced, but with only just enough grace to avoid comment. She had expected as much and, if he was quiet during the meal, she chattered quite enough for both of them.
She was desperate to avoid a tête-à-tête with Quentin until she had examined her own feelings. She had convinced herself that the kiss she had shared with Matt at Bellemonte meant nothing. It had been caused by the situation: the dancing, a balmy night and the attentions of a charming man.
Seeing Matt again tonight, laughing with him, dancing in his arms, had turned her ordered world upside down. She did not love Matt. How could she, on such a brief acquaintance? But the bigger question was, could she marry the Viscount?
She was not sure now that she wanted to do so,but the wedding was only weeks away. All the arrangements had been made, money spent, invitations sent out. To withdraw now would have serious consequences, for everyone. Even now she could hear her uncle’s response, if she told him of her doubts.
You would be a fool to throw away an excellent match and for what? A charming rogue you know nothing about. He has probably broken more hearts than you could count.
She could believe the last quite easily, but it made no difference to her wayward heart. She knew now she did not love Lord Whilton, so could she—should she—marry him?
* * *
Before supper was finished the effort of constantly chattering while her brain tried to wrestle with her problems had taken their toll. Flora fell silent, and when Mrs Farnleigh remarked that she was looking a little pale, she admitted that she had the headache.
‘Oh, my poor girl, that is not like you, I hope you are not sickening for something.’
‘No, no, it is merely the heat,’ muttered Flora.
‘Perhaps, my dear, you should go home,’ suggested the Viscount.
Flora was momentarily surprised at his concern, until she realised it was a convenient means of getting her out of the way. He would not have to spendthe rest of the evening dancing with her and could instead indulge his passion for cards.
The new fiery spirit in Flora wanted to declare that she was very well and would happily dance with him until dawn, only the dull throbbing pain in her skull told her that would not be sensible. So, instead, she gave him a wan smile.
‘Yes, my lord, I think that might be best.’
‘Then I am sure Mr and Mrs Farnleigh would oblige…?’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ exclaimed her uncle, looking anxiously at his niece. ‘We will take her home directly.’
The Viscount rose. ‘Very well. No need to delay, sir, I shall make your apologies, for all of you. I am sure our hostess will understand.’ He turned to Flora, all affectionate concern. ‘You must go home and rest, my dear.’
He kissed her hand and Mrs Farnleigh, watching this display of affection with approval, said quickly, ‘Pray do not be anxious, Lord Whilton. We shall take good care of her.’
With a final nod and a smile, the Viscount walked out of the supper room, leaving Flora and her aunt and uncle to make their way home.
* * *
No sooner had Matt returned to the ballroom than Lady Condicote appeared at his side. She presentedhim with a dance partner for the next set and he could not refuse. He politely stood up with a very shy young lady who barely opened her mouth during the whole time they were dancing. Perhaps he should have been more attentive, but all he could think of was Flora in his arms, laughing up at him, making his heart soar.
He had just escorted his young partner back to her party when he felt a touch on his arm. Matt looked around to find Lord Whilton at his side.
‘A few moments of your time, Talacre, if you please.’
With a shrug he followed the Viscount out to the terrace.
‘I cannot think you brought me out here to enjoy the night air, my lord,’ he said.
The Viscount strolled over to a low balustrade that separated the terrace from the gardens below and stared out into the darkness.
