Free A Matchmaking Miss by Joan Overfield Page A

prepared a feast worthy of a king, and the sideboard fairly groaned under the weight of all the food. The cook had taken care to prepare all Joss's favorites, and he was touched by such eagerness to please him. He said as much to his hostess, and earned a dimpled smile for his efforts.
    "Thank you, sir, but it is Stone to whom you ought to be addressing your remarks," Lady Louisa said, her eyes straying to the other woman, who was engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Fitzsimmons. "When she learned you'd be coming she sought out the older servants and quizzed them as to your tastes."
    "When she decided to kidnap me, youmean," Joss corrected, amused at the marchioness's choice of words. He'd long since recovered his temper over the brazen kidnapping, but that didn't mean he was about to forgive and forget. He'd lived in the East too long to ignore this affront to his pride, and he fully intended exacting his revenge. All that remained was to determine where and how that revenge would be taken.
    "I suppose one could say that." Lady Louisa granted him the point with a graceful inclination of her head. "But she was truly concerned that everything be perfect for your arrival. She said she wished you to feel at home."
    Joss picked up his wine glass, his face expressionless as he studied the rich claret shimmering in the candlelight. If Miss Stone really wanted him to feel at home, he thought sourly, she'd have arranged for him to be met with anger and indifference. Those were the only emotions that had ever greeted him in the past, and the memory still stung.
    Louisa saw the hard, closed look that stole across her brother-in-law's face and decided it was time to change the subject of conversation. "How are you settling in?" she asked, her tone determinedly bright. "Is everything satisfactory?"
    "Quite satisfactory, my lady, thank you,"Joss replied, realizing he was being a poor guest and feeling faintly ashamed. "It looks much as I remember it!"
    "That's probably because it hasn't been touched in years," Louisa explained with a laugh. "Your father was still alive when Frederick and I were first married, and after his death it didn't seem proper to ask your mother to move out. She adored that room."
    "I'm sure she did," he said, remembering his mother's cold pride in being the Marchioness of Kirkswood. He wondered how she had reacted when Frederick's accession to the title demoted her to the position of dowager. Doubtlessly she had screeched like a scalded cat and then turned her tongue on the person nearest her, he decided, recalling only too well his mother's usual method for dealing with annoyances.
    "Well, all the rooms are yours now." Lady Louisa wisely ignored the bitterness in his voice. "And you may do with them as you please. If you decide to have them redone, you might wish to consult Stone. We'd once discussed having them done, but that was before, of course."
    "Before what?"
    "Why, before you arrived, sir."
    If he had any fears that his sister-in-law harbored any buried resentment about him,they were put to rest by the simplicity of her reply, and the genuine smile that accompanied it. Seeing that smile, Joss relaxed, a measure of warmth stealing into his green eyes. "I should be most honored if you would call me Joss, as Raj does," he said. "And I shall call you Louisa."
    Louisa gazed at Joss and thought of her husband — not as the feckless rake he had become, but as the man he might have been. A man not unlike the one sitting across the table from her. "I should like that, Joss," she replied softly, blinking back sudden tears. "I should like that very much."
    At the far end of the table, Matty was listening to Mr. Fitzsimmons's amusing account of his first visit to Almack's. As the daughter of a mere country vicar, that holiest of holies had always been above her, and she delighted in hearing it denigrated. "Truly, Mr. Fitzsimmons?" she asked, as he finished his tale. "The Patronesses serve no wine at all?"
    "Not