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MATTHEW BENNET
(WML & UY)
(Whitney, My Love)
Seven days
later, Matthew returned to the dukes country house in
France and was shown out onto a wide veranda where
Westmoreland was seated at an ornamental iron table,
working on some papers, his back to the panoramic view.
“Will you join me in a brandy, Matthew?” he said without
looking up.
“Yes, thank
you, your grace,” murmured Matthew, please and amazed by
the duke’s use of his given name and a friendly offer of a
brandy. The Duke of Claymore glanced over his shoulder at
the manservant hovering near the stone balustrade, and the
drinks were produced without a word being spoken. A few
minutes later, his grace shoved his papers aside and
regarded Matthew, who had taken the chair across form him
on the table.
Like the
servant, Matthew found himself responding to an unspoken
command, retrieving the documents from his case and
handing them over. “As you requested, I included the
provision that you will assume financial responsibility
for Miss Stone’s expenses. Did you wish to stipulate any
maximum figure?”
“No, I’ll
assume complete responsibility for her,” Clayton murmured
absently, his gaze moving down the pages. After several
minutes, he laid the documents aside and grinned at
Matthew. “Well,” he said, “what do you think?”
“What does
Miss Stone think?” Matthew countered, grinning back at the
duke.
“What Miss
Stone thinks won’t be known for a little while yet. She
knows nothing of this. For that matter, she knows nothing
of me.”
Matthew
concealed his shock by taking a fortifying swallow of the
excellent brandy. “In that case, I wish you luck with the
father and the young lady.”
The duke
waved the offer of the luck aside as if he didn’t need it,
and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be leaving for England
within the week to discuss this matter with Martin Stone.
Assuming he aggrees, I’ll need a place to stay nearby.
Notify your father in London office to locate a
comfortable one for me, will you? A modest place,” he
emphasized to Matthew’s further astonishment. “If
possible, no more than a half-hour's ride from the Stone
estate. I don’t want to spend any more time than necessary
settling matters with Miss Stone, and I haven’t any
intention of wasting it traveling between her father’s
place and mine.”
“A modest
place, no more than a half-hour’s ride from Stone’s,”
repeated Matthew dazedly.
The man’s
obvious bewilderment brought a glint of amusement to
Clayton’s eyes. “Correct. And negotiate the lease in the
name of Westland, not Westmoreland. Once my staff and I
are installed, we will keep to ourselves as much as
possible, and I will pass myself off as a new neighbor,
Clayton Westland.”
“Surely not
to Miss Stone?” Matthew said.
“Especially
to Miss Stone,” Clayton chuckled.
(UNTIL YOU)
Stephen: I
seem to have acquire a fiancée.
Matthew: My
heartiest felicitations.
Stephen:
She isn’t my fiancée, she’s Arthur Burleton
Matthew
(after a distinct pause): In that case, please convey my…ée,
she’s Arthur Burleton
Stephen: I
can’t. Burleton is dead.
Matthew:
That’s a pity.
Stephen: I
killed him
Matthew:
That’s much worse. **The solicitor’s mind already
searching for the best possible line of defense** Was it
swords or pistols?
Stephen: No
It was a carriage.
Matthew: I
beg your pardon?
Stephen: I
ran over him.
Matthew
(absently): that’s not as straightforward as swords or
pistols but it is much easier to defend. { Too worried to
notice the odd look the earl was aiming at him,} The
courts might be persuaded to take the point of view that
if you’d truly meant to kill him, you’d have chosen a
duel. After all, your skill with pistols is widely known,
we can call dozens of witnesses to attest to that fact.
Theodore Kittering would make an excellent witness in that
regard – he was a crack shot before you wounded him in the
shoulder. No, wed better leave him out of it, because he
isn’t fond of you, and the duel would bound to come out
during the trial. Even without Kittering’s testimony. We
should be able to convince the court that Burleton’s death
wasn’t what to convince the court that Burleton’s death
wasn’t what you actually intended – that it was incidental
to the event and, therefore, loosely speaking, an
accident!
Stephen: At
the risk of appearing hopelessly obtuse, may I inquire
what in the living hell are talking about?
Matthew: I
beg your pardon?
Stephen: Am
I to understand you think I ran him down deliberately?
Matthew: I
was under that impression, yes.
Stephen:
may I ask what possible reason I could have such a deed?
Matthew: I
assume your reason had something to do…er, was directly
related to…er...the presence of a certain young lady who is
not permitted to leave your…ah…bedchambers.
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