Free A Matchmaking Miss by Joan Overfield

flashing with annoyance. Joss actually seemed willing to take on the burden of the estate, which removed her fear that he meant to return to London rather than remaining. But this business of his flirting with that awful Bettina was a complication she hadn't anticipated, and its ramifications were indeed too horrible to contemplate.
    She stopped pacing to look at the Louis XIV clock on the mantel. Stone had been sleeping less than three hours, but much as she hated disturbing her, she did not see that she had any choice. The estate was in danger, and they would have to work quickly if they were to save it. With that thought firmly in mind she slipped from the parlor, her expression determined as she made her way to Stone's room.
    Matty had awakened after a restful sleep, and was lying against the pillows debating whether or not to ring for tea when Lady Louisa came bursting into her room. With one look at her employer's face she sat up with a sharp cry. "My lady, what is it? What has happened?" she demanded, envisioning any number of disasters that might have transpired while she was sleeping.
    "It is the marquess," Lady Louisa admitted, shooting Stone a worried look.
    "What about him?" Matty wanted to know, her brows already gathering in a frown. "Has that wretch snuck back to London?" she demanded furiously, already making plans to intercept him.
    "No," Lady Louisa reassured her. "In fact, he has agreed to speak to Thorntyn and dismiss that drunken excuse of a doctor."
    "Then what is it?" Matty asked, surprised and relieved to hear that the marquess had disposed of her two more pressing problems.
    "He has fallen in love with Lady Bettina."
    "
What?
" Matty fell back against her pillows.
    "I wouldn't have credited it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Lady Louisa muttered, pacing once again. "You should have seen him, Stone, staring at that self-satisfied minx as if she was Venus incarnate! I vow, I could have boxed his ears. And Mr. Fitzsimmons was equally as bad, although it is hard to tell with him, he is such a dreadful flirt."
    Matty digested this information in silence, weighing the disadvantages against the gains. In the end she gave a disheartened sigh. "You must know I have no great love for either her ladyship or her father," she said heavily, "but it may not really be so bad if he does choose to marry her."
    "Stone! You can not possibly want to see that . . . that
witch
installed at Kirkswood!"
    "Indeed, I can think of nothing I should like less," Matty admitted truthfully, "but at least then he would stay. He is hardly likely to return to India if he is married,
n'est-ce pas?
"
    Louisa stopped pacing, her eyes growing wide. "Do you know, Stone, you are right," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I never thought of that, but he could return to India, couldn't he?"
    "Yes, and God knows where that would leave the estate," Matty said grimly, feeling as tired as if she hadn't slept.
    "But Lady Bettina . . . " Louisa shivered in distaste. "I think I'd prefer Joss to be gone than be usurped by her."
    Matty pleated the bedcovers between her fingers, forcing her mind to work. There had to be a way, she thought desperately; there was always a way. Then it came to her.
    "Would you say his lordship was truly in love with Lady Bettina, or perhaps merely fascinated by her? For all her faults, she is a diamond of the first order."
    "Pretty is as pretty does," Louisa sniffed. "But I suppose saying he was in love with her was something of an exaggeration."
    "Then all is not lost, we still have time."
    "Time to do what?" Louisa asked.
    Matty gave her a beatific smile as she folded her hands upon the bedcovers. "Why, choose his bride for him, of course," she said decisively, proud of the clever way she had worked things out. "What do you say, my lady? Do you think his lordship would prefer a blonde or a brunette?"

Chapter Five
    Dinner that night was a festive occasion. The staff, delighted at having a master restored to them,