Chapter 10 #2
“Who would do such an evil thing . . .” she began, but on catching the malicious gleam in his eye, the rest of her question died on her tongue as the awful truth suddenly dawned on her.
“You.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “It was you who started the other rumors.”
“Yes, it was me,” answered Matherton.
“But why?”
“Because your injuries made it uncertain as to when a wedding could take place,” he answered.
“And then, I was introduced to the daughter of a nabob recently returned from India. Granted, there was no prestigious title attached to the family name, but the chit had a far bigger dowry than you did. I needed a reason to cry off from the engagement that didn’t cast me in a bad light. ”
His lips pursed. “But the damnable girl proved surprisingly stubborn. And then her Father hared off with the family to visit relatives in Scotland, which left me in a deucedly difficult position. You see, I am in dire need of funds. But then, as luck would have it, I heard from Lady Leverett that she had seen you at Kew Gardens, looking much like your old self.”
“And you call yourself a gentleman,” Kyra whispered.
He laughed, and the sound seemed to leach all the life from the colors of the gardens. “Only brainless fribbles feel bound by such antiquated notions as honor.”
A wave of revulsion shuddered through her. But however loathsome she found his proposal, did she have the heart to subject her father to more pain and disappointment? It wasn’t as if she could dream of a future filled with love and happiness.
“So let us not blather on about morality. I am offering you a bargain?—”
“No, you are offering me blackmail,” corrected Kyra.
“Call what you will,” snapped Matherton. “We both will benefit.” His patience seemed to be slipping away for he gave her a nasty little shake as he spoke. “What’s your answer?”
“I . . .” Her throat tightened. Yes or no?
A sudden growl sounded. Hero bounded through the pergola, dropped his stick and bared his teeth.
Matherton let go of her and backed up a step. Though the dog was still hardly more than a pup, he had put on enough bulk to appear formidable, especially with his ears laid back and his hackles raised.
The growl sounded again as Hero came closer. Kyra had never seen her sweet-tempered dog look so fierce.
“Get away, you flea-benighted cur.”
Matherton lashed out a kick, but Hero was too quick. Dodging the boot, the dog twisted and snapped his jaws, catching the cuff of his attacker’s trousers.
Rip.
An oath rent the air as Matherton shook free and stared down at the tear in the expensive fabric. “Bloody Hellhound,” he added, as Hero danced out of reach and snarled back at him.
“I’m warning you, Kyra. Don’t trifle with me. I need?—”
“Ah, are we having a bit of sporting play with the dog?”
Kyra felt a rush of relief as Jack walked out from the shadows of the ivy-twined pergola, followed by Rafael.
Jack paused to lean down and pick up the stick Hero had dropped. “Might we be allowed to join in?”
Some sort of game was afoot, noted Rafael as he moved with deliberate slowness across the lawn. But it was not a light-hearted one. Kyra’s face was ashen, and she nearly stumbled in her haste to turn away from the handsome stranger and rush to greet her childhood friend.
“Halloo, amigo,” he called out, as Hero bounded up, tail wagging, and licked his hand. After ruffling his fingers through the dog’s coarse, curling gray fur, Rafael added, “You are a very excellent companion to your mistress, and shall have a special beefsteak treat when next you visit the Hall.”
While he spoke, his gaze remained locked on Kyra. Whatever private conversation had been taking place between her and the stranger, it had left her shaken.
The gentleman’s identity was quickly revealed by Jack’s next words. After tossing the stick for Hero, his cousin shifted his stance and fixed the fellow with a coolly apprising stare. “What brings you out from London, Matherton? Country pursuits are not your usual pleasure, as I recall.”
Matherton. Rafael felt his jaw tighten. So, this was Kyra’s former fiancé. He, too, wondered what the devil the man was doing here.
“To begin with, I wished to be one of the first of your friends to welcome you back from the grave,” said Matherton smoothly. “I was absolutely elated to hear of your survival.”
Jack’s expression turned a touch sardonic.
“As for enjoying a sojourn to the country . . .” Matherton cast a sidelong glance at Kyra. “I find it has its own unique charm.”
She seemed to shrink from the ice-blue glitter of his gaze.
“And, of course, I had heard about the gala ball to be given in honor of your homecoming, and naturally I wished to be part of the festivities. Indeed, Kyra was just inviting me to attend, isn’t that so, my dear.”
“Yes.” There was barely any breath behind her response.
“So although I must return to Town to attend to some matters, I shall be returning here again quite soon,” finished Matherton.
“Be sure to bring a large trunk of clothing with you,” quipped Jack.
“Country life appears be a trifle rough on your usual sartorial splendor.” His brows waggled as he regarded the ripped trousers.
“Dear me, those look to be tailored by Weston. Does he still charge an exorbitant price for his handiwork?”
A small flicker of annoyance pulled at Matherton’s smile. “That dog is wild and a menace to polite company. It could do with a good beating to teach it some manners.”
“Whips and cudgels teach nothing but hate and resentment.” Rafael couldn’t keep from speaking up. “Earn a dog’s respect and it will gladly obey you.”
Anger flared in the other man’s eyes, though he kept his smile frozen in place. “I didn’t know you had hired a new kennel master here at Pierpont Manor, Kyra.”
Jack responded before she could muster a reply. “I don’t believe you have met my cousin, who prefers to go by his English name, Mr. Greeley, rather than his Spanish title of Count Olivito.” To Rafael, he said, “Allow me to introduce Lord Matherton, who is a baron—or is it baronet? ”
Jack’s subtle emphasis on his modest title turned Matherton’s expression even more hostile. “A count, eh?” he sneered. “How very impressive. However, from what I’ve heard, in Spain, unlike England, even base-born paupers can purchase a title.”
“I wouldn’t know about such things,” said Rafael. His august lineage wasn’t something he chose to wave around in public like a gold-threaded banner, but in this case, he made an exception. “My family is one of the oldest Grandees of Spain.”
“Which is the highest and most aristocratic of all the nobility,” said Jack.
Matherton merely glowered and then inclined a small bow to Kyra. “I can’t tell you what pleasure it gives me to find you looking so well. I must be taking my leave. However, I look forward to seeing you again very soon. We have so much to discuss, both about the past and the future.”