The Spinster's Secret by Emily Larkin Page B

Kane said.
    “One day I hope to visit Gunter’s,” Mattie said. “Toby always said that Gunter’s made the best ices he’d ever tasted.”
    Mr. Kane paused in mid-bite, his surprise clear to see. “You’ve never been to London?”
    “My parents died just before I was to make my debut.”
    “But surely…once you were out of mourning?”
    “Uncle Arthur felt that a debut was an unnecessary expense.” Mattie smiled brightly at him. “He was quite correct. It’s extremely unlikely that I should have taken.”
    Mr. Kane frowned. “Yes, but . . .”
    “I have no dowry to speak of,” Mattie said matter-of-factly. “And I’m far too tall. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Mr. Kane, it’s that men prefer not to dance with females who tower over them!”
    It was far better to stay at home than to be a wallflower, sitting out almost every dance. She’d learned that from the few assemblies Toby had taken her to in Gripton.
    Mr. Kane’s frown deepened. “I would dance with you.”
    “Yes,” Mattie said. “But you’re uncommonly large.” Like me . “We are both of us giants!”
    Mr. Kane smiled at this sally, but it was a mechanical movement. His eyes were unamused.
    “London is a mere seventy miles from here, Miss Chapple. A day’s journey. Surely your uncle would allow you to visit . . .”
    “For what reason, Mr. Kane? Merely to taste the ices at Gunter’s? My uncle would consider that a great waste of money—and he would be correct!”
    Mattie changed the subject. “Tell me about your property in Cornwall. Have you visited it before?”
    They both turned their heads at the clop of hooves. Edward’s mouth fell open as a man mounted on a bay, a valise strapped behind the saddle cantle, rode into the stable yard.
    “Gary! What the devil . . .!” He recollected Miss Chapple’s presence. “What on earth are you doing here?”
    He strode forward, heedless of the puddles.
    “Bringing your clothes, as requested,” Sir Gareth Locke said, sliding down from the saddle.
    He managed it creditably, despite the lack of his left arm.
    “I didn’t expect you to bring them!” Edward gripped his friend’s hand, hard. “You didn’t ride all the way?”
    Gareth shook his head. “Came by carriage. I rode up from the village because the bridge is out.”
    His gaze went past Edward’s shoulder. “I have the…er, papers you wanted.”
    Edward remembered Miss Chapple. He made the introductions.
    Miss Chapple held out her hand. She seemed not at all disconcerted by Gareth’s missing arm.
    “Sir Gareth, I’m so pleased to meet you!” Her smile was welcoming and friendly. “Toby spoke often of you.”
    Miss Chapple was an inch taller than Gareth and looked as if she outweighed him by quite a few pounds. Gareth’s frame was lean, his face thin and lined with pain, but he smiled as he shook Miss Chapple’s hand.
    Seeing Gareth like this—with only one arm—was jarring. For a moment, Edward felt a dizzying sense of dissonance, of wrongness. Gareth should have two arms, not one.
    Edward shook his head to get rid of the feeling.
    “Do come inside, Sir Gareth. My uncle will be delighted to meet you.”
    Miss Chapple turned to the elderly groom, now hurrying from the stables. “Hoby, see to Sir Gareth’s horse, please, and have the valise sent up to Mr. Kane’s room.”
    Miss Chapple led them indoors through a side door. In the gloomy corridor they encountered a maidservant. Edward leaned close to Gareth.
    “If Strickland invites you to stay, make your excuses,” he whispered, while Miss Chapple issued instructions to the maid. “The inn will be a thousand times more comfortable and the food immeasurably better!”
    Amusement flickered across Gareth’s face. “It can’t be that bad here.”
    Edward grimaced. “You’d better believe it.”
    The maid hastily lit the fire and half a dozen candles in the chilly library. A few minutes later, a tea tray was brought in. The thump of Strickland’s