Page 5 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
‘That will not be necessary, Jepps, thank you,’ she said, surprising him. ‘What I would like you to do is remove the weeds from the flower beds around the south lawn. They are looking very neglected.’
‘Very well, miss.’ He touched the brim of his soft hat to them and shuffled off with an ungainly, dragging step.
Matt turned to Flora, but the look she gave him made him change his mind about teasing her.
‘Shall we go, ma’am?’
He stepped back, inviting her to precede him through the arch in the hedge. She set off, calling sharply to the spaniel, who abandoned the promising scent he had discovered and bounded ahead. In the colonnade Matt fell into step beside her, but they had not gone far when she slowed and he knew immediately that she had noticed his own uneven stride.
He said quickly, ‘Do not change your pace for my benefit.’
‘But you are limping.’
‘I took a French musket ball in my thigh. It is almost completely healed now.’
She did not look convinced. ‘If you are sure…’
‘Aye, and I am much better if I don’t dawdle.’
Flora risked a slight smile, but turned her head away quickly, lest he think her too forward.
‘Were you in the army?’ she asked him.
‘Yes.’
‘That explains how you recognised Jepps as an army man. Lord Whilton told me he found the man begging on the streets and took pity on him. He sent him here to work in the gardens.’
‘That makes me think better of His Lordship. We see that a great deal more now, since the men came home from Waterloo.’
They walked on in silence, her companion dropping behind whenever the badly tended plants encroached on the path. They had almost reached the hornbeam hedge and the gate into the woods when Flora’s muslin skirts snagged on a stray bramble. She stopped quickly to avoid doing more damage.
‘Here, let me.’
Flora stood quite still as he bent and carefully unhooked the fine cloth from the thorns. She watched him, admiring the strong hands that could work so delicately. The thought of his fingers so close to her ankles made her breathe carefully, anticipating his touch on her skin. She told herself it was fear of tearingher skirts that stopped her from moving, but that did not explain the slight frisson of disappointment she experienced when he had freed her.
With a brisk word of thanks Flora set off again, but now she was painfully aware of the man at her side. His face and hands were tanned from working in the sun and his lean body strong and supple, despite that slightly uneven step. She had never been allowed to walk alone with any man save Uncle Farnleigh or her fiancé and she was slightly unnerved as they began to make their way along the shadowy lane through the wood.
‘What happened to your leg?’ she said, to break the silence. ‘How were you wounded?’
‘My luck ran out.’
She did not want to pry and waited patiently, hoping he would go on. He did.
‘Waterloo, and we had Boney on the run. Most of the Frenchies were in retreat, but some were still putting up a fight.’
She shuddered. ‘I cannot imagine what that must be like.’
‘Like being in hell. There is the deafening noise of cannon and rifle fire, thick acrid smoke blotting out the sky and the screams of the dying or wounded.’ He glanced at her. ‘I beg your pardon. You do not need to know that.’
‘No, I want to understand,’ she told him. ‘Was that when you were injured?’
‘Yes, a sudden flash of pain followed by blessed unconsciousness. I would have died there, if my commanding officer had not come back to look for me. I was taken to the field hospital, where the sawbones did their worst.’
‘But you survived,’ she said.
‘I was luckier than some.’
She saw his lips tighten and he rubbed his damaged thigh.
