Page 32 of To Follow her Heart

They were both glorious specimens of male beauty, and cast even Mr Burton’s good looks into the shade. Beside St Clair, his younger brother was made in a similar but not identical mould. St Clair’s hair was a touch more golden, his shoulders just a little broader, his features the perfection of a Greek god.

Jerome Cadogan’s countenance held a mischievous glint, everything about him suggesting he’d take off at any moment, probably to cause a riot. His features were not marred by a broken nose exactly, for though he could no longer match his brother’s classical beauty, it added a certain roguish charm which was very appealing. It was also a prime example of why he caused St Clair so many sleepless nights.

The story of the broken nose was well known and one of many. It was attributed to a fight over a Cyprian, for which St Clair was forced to fork out a staggering sum to the injured party in damages. Sadly, Jerome had begun the fight in his opponent’s home, which contained several very breakable artworks. Needless to say, they did not survive the encounter.

“Where is everyone?” Jerome demanded, his eagerness to be off palpable. “What slugabeds we have staying.”

“Jerry, please do not insult our guests,” St Clair murmured. “Or our mother, as she also seems to be absent.”

“Well, of course she is,” Jerome replied with a sigh. “Mama has never been on time for anything in her life.”

“Mr Burton,” St Clair said, gaining the man’s attention. “Norton over there has your mount, if you would care to avail yourself.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Mr Burton said, winking at Matilda in a shockingly familiar manner before striding off to take his horse from the groom.

“He’s making no bones about his interest in you, is he?” Harriet said in her ear, her tone suggesting she did not entirely approve his overconfident manner. Matilda experienced a surge of unease herself, though she supposed it was normal for a man to flirt openly with the woman he hoped to marry. Still, the sense of unease lingered.

She met Harriet’s eyes and returned a crooked grin. “It would appear not.”

“Oh, look, there’s Kitty.”

Matilda turned in the direction Harriet indicated and smiled as Kitty gave a jaunty wave. She was on horseback once more and looked perfectly at ease, her smile wide and confident. The girl had been incandescent with happiness last night. Her beloved Luke had been restored to her, and he loved her still. It was like a delightful fairy story, except that Matilda didn’t believe in fairy stories, and her nerves crackled with apprehension.

Mr Luke Baxter appeared a few moments later with his cousin, Miss Sybil Derby, riding beside him. She was a rather insipid young woman, with whom Matilda had struggled to converse. Not that she was unpleasant, more like she lived in terror of venturing an opinion on anything, even whether to accept a cup of tea. With a father like Mr Derby, it didn’t seem terribly surprising. Mr Derby was notable by his absence.

At last, the remaining guests appeared: Lady Frances and Mrs Drake, Prue and her husband, the Duke of Bedwin, and the Countess St Clair.

Lady St Clair had invited Matilda, Harriet, and Prue to travel with her in her new barouche, an elegant open carriage of which she was clearly very proud. The duke had elected to ride, which left Lady Frances and her companion to travel in their own carriage.

As far as Matilda was concerned, the journey to Bodiam was delightful. It was a warm day, bright with only a few delicate puffs of cloud to hinder the wide blue sky. The slightest breeze rustled the lace at the edges of her parasol and kept the heat from becoming uncomfortable and her cheeks too heated.

Mr Burton, rode beside her for much of the journey and made no secret of his admiration. Prue, who sat beside her, adopted an enquiring look on one of the brief occasions he rode ahead with the other men.

“Have you given him leave to court you, Matilda?” she asked in an undertone, though Lady St Clair and Harriet were deep in conversation.

“No,” Matilda said, smiling a little. “But he’s very insistent,” she added, frowning for a moment before pasting a smile to her face and adding. “Not to mention handsome, charming, kind, and wealthy, so I probably will.” She laughed and tried to sound happy about it, about marrying a man she wasn’t in love with.

“That seems like a shopping list of pros to convince yourself of something you know is a bad idea.”

Matilda frowned, surprised despite her own concerns about the match. “A bad idea?” she echoed. “How strange that you would say so, when everyone else is suggesting he’s perfect for me.”

Prue shook her head and reached to take her hand. “I did not say he wasn’t perfect for you,” she said, with a brief squeeze of her fingers. “I do not know him other than by reputation though I know Robert respects him. I do know you, though, Matilda, and I can see you lack anything approaching enthusiasm for the idea.”

Matilda could feel Prue’s gaze upon her face as she stared out over the countryside in bewilderment. She had believed she’d made every effort to appear vivacious and enthusiastic to Mr Burton’s suit. Had she appeared unenthusiastic?

“You forget that I’ve seen you flirt with men before, Tilda, dear,” Prue said, an unmistakable edge of laughter to her words. “You’re very good at it, even when it’s rather half-hearted and just done for fun, but I see none of that spark between you and Mr Burton. Strange, I admit, for he is everything you have said he is, but I cannot see that you find his presence in any way compelling, or discover any attraction on your side, or am I wrong?”

A surge of something close to impatience made Matilda feel at once prickly and defensive. “Just because I feel no immediate surge of desire for the man is no reason to suppose he would make a poor husband. Quite the opposite. How many women fall into bad marriages by following their baser instincts, I wonder?”

“No doubt,” Prue said with an easy smile. “I’m not suggesting that is a path you should follow either, only… don’t settle, darling. A good marriage… it’s worth waiting for.”

Matilda hesitated as panic rose in her chest, the idea of spending her life alone, childless, a spectre that only ever grew larger on the horizon. “And what if I wait too long and lose any chance I have?”

Prue nodded and patted her hand. “I know, love, just think carefully about it. There’s no going back if you get it wrong.”

Matilda laughed at that. “Good heavens, Prue, you actually believe I think of anything else?”

Prue gave a sympathetic sigh and changed the subject. “Tell me about Kitty and Mr Baxter.”