A Matchmaking Miss Read Online Free PDF

would be preparing lemon biscuits in honor of your arrival. They are a favorite of yours, I believe?"
    Joss closed his eyes and for a moment he was back in his lonely schoolroom, savoring the tart cookies smuggled in by a maid who didn't hold with keeping disobedient boys on a diet of bread and water. "Yes," he said softly, a bittersweet pain shooting through him, "they are."
    There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Joss gave a weary sigh. "Tell me about my brother's death," he instructed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a tired gesture. "Hedgerton would only say it was a carriage accident, but I suspect there was more to it than that. Was he foxed?"
    The blunt demand took Matty unawares, and for a moment she considered dissembling. But a quick glance at his hard expression dissuaded her, and she met his icy green gaze with unwavering honesty. "He was, my lord," she said, and proceeded to acquaint him with the tragic details of the ill-fated race from London to Norfolk that had resulted in the young marquess's death. When she finished, Lord Kirkswood gave a bitter laugh.
    "I recall my father lecturing Frederick on the evils of drink," he said, his lips twisting in a parody of a smile. "He always said it would be the death of him."
    Another silence ensued as Joss turned to gaze out the window. It was almost light now, and he could discern, barely, the shapes of the houses and cottages they were passing. "How long before we reach Kirkswood?" he asked, not bothering to turn his head.
    "About two hours," she said, wondering what was going on behind his inscrutable eyes.
    "We've made good time. You must have planned well."
    Matty wasn't sure how to take that. "I took precautions," she admitted, annoyed to find her hands were trembling. It wasn't that she feared what would become of her, she thought, nervously threading her fingers together. Rather it was fear of what would become of Kirkswood, if he ordered the coachman to turn around. So much rested upon his decision, and what galled her most was the realization that there was nothing she could do about it. Helplessness was not a condition she cared for, and some of that displeasure showed in the challenging look shegave him.
    "All that remains to be seen is whether or not my efforts are worth the pain," she said, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. "Will you be staying, my lord, or is it your intention to return to London?"
    Joss turned from the window, meeting her mutinous glare with amusement. "Oh, I'll return to London . . . eventually," he drawled, watching her through half-lowered lashes. "In the meanwhile, I want to hear more about Kirkswood. Besides lack of funds, are there any other problems I need to know about?"
    Matty continued glaring at him, wishing she dared press for a more precise answer. "There are several problems," she said at last, deciding that for the moment, at least, she had no choice but to accept his apparent capitulation. "The most immediate is the planting. It must be undertaken at once if we wish to have a harvest in the fall."
    "You haven't started the planting?" He sat forward, his brows meeting in annoyance. "My God, woman, it is the middle of April!"
    "I am well-versed in the use of a calendar, my lord!" she shot back, outraged at his criticism. "But it is rather difficult to undertake a planting when one has neither the funds nor the help! Or perhaps you thought crops planted themselves?" she added, with a sneering laugh.
    Before Joss could respond a shot rang out, and she heard the footman riding atop give a startled cry. "Highwaymen!"
    Automatically, she leaned toward the window, only to find Lord Kirkswood blocking her way. "Get down!" he ordered tersely, shoving her roughly to the floor of the coach.
    A second bullet whizzed past the window, followed by a deep voice calling out, "Halt the carriage or I'll shoot the lead horse!"
    "He
can't
shoot the horse," Matty protested from her undignified position, "it's rented!"
    Joss threw