Читать книгу Lord Hawkridge's Secret - Anne Ashley - Страница 11

The following day, as she was crossing the hall, Emily noticed the letters collected from the receiving office that morning lying on the table. There was one for herself from a friend whom she had made while attending that seminary for a year, and with whom she corresponded on a regular basis, and there were two for her grandfather.

Slipping her own missive into the pocket of her gown to read later, she carried her grandfather’s letters into the library, where she discovered him, as expected, seated behind his desk, metal-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of his thin nose, avidly studying a musty old tome. As he made no attempt to raise his head to discover who had invaded the privacy of his sanctum, Emily availed herself of the opportunity to study him for a moment, unobserved.

Silver-grey hair swept back from a high forehead that clearly betrayed the intelligence of a man who throughout his life had made many sound investments which had enabled him to live very comfortably indeed, and pursue his many and varied hobbies. His vagueness, as she well knew, was merely a ruse, a means by which he could acquire the solitude he valued so highly. He was essentially a very private gentleman who preferred his own company, but he also enjoyed the companionship of his particular friends from time to time, and was not averse, on the odd occasion, to attending some large social event.

Which was perhaps just as well, Emily reflected, as she moved further into the room, because he was going to be obliged to mix with a large crowd this evening, if what Sarah had divulged was true. ‘Finn called at the receiving office after he had taken Sarah over to the Hall in the carriage, Grandfather, and there are two letters here for you,’ she informed him, placing the missives on the edge of a desk littered with papers, and numerous objects of no practical use whatsoever.

Lined with musty-smelling books, and various stuffed birds glaring down from the glass cases positioned on the various shelves, the whole room, not just the desk, was an absolute shambles. It was only ever dusted two or three times a year, and then only in the Honourable John Stapleton’s presence, so that he could be certain nothing was moved. It had to be said, however, that in general he knew precisely where to lay his hands on any particular book or document. It was acknowledged too that he was a fount of wisdom, knowing a great deal about numerous subjects.

As he didn’t attempt to speak, Emily cast her eyes along one row of thick, leather-bound books, before her gaze strayed to a particularly fearsome-looking specimen in one of the glass cases on the shelf above. ‘Grandfather, you know a deal about birds.’ This succeeded in winning her a brief glance. ‘Are there any ravens in Kempton Wood?’

‘Never seen any myself. Plenty of rooks there. Why do you ask?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh, no reason really. I just recall someone mentioning that he’d seen a raven there, that was all.’

‘Might have done.’ Surprisingly she had succeeded in winning his full attention. ‘Seem to remember that at one time it was known as Ravens Wood. Here, pass me that map in the box over there—the longest one, this end.’

Thus adjured, Emily collected the map, and then handed it to her grandfather to unroll and spread out on top of the papers on his desk. ‘There, what did I tell you,’ he announced, prodding a spot on the map with one bony finger. ‘Now, let me see…Ah, yes! This map was printed in 1715. So it was known as Ravens Wood less than a century ago.’

‘I wonder what made them change the name?’ Emily asked, perching herself on the edge of the desk, the better to check the detail for herself.

‘Names of places sometimes change, child. And Kempton itself has grown considerably in size during the past one hundred years. Perhaps the inhabitants thought the wood ought to be called after their town.’

‘Yes, possibly,’ she agreed, before her eyes strayed once again to the fearsome creature peering down at her from its glass cage. ‘Do you happen to know anything about kestrels, grandfather? Is that one up there?’

He followed the direction of her gaze. ‘No, that’s a sparrow hawk. That’s a kestrel, up there in the cabinet on the end. They’re both birds of prey. Why do you ask? And why all this interest in birds all of a sudden?’

‘Oh, no reason really.’

‘In that case, if there’s no purpose to your incessant questions, you can go away and leave me to continue with my studying. And get off my desk, child! You’ll make a mess of my papers!’

‘Ha!’ was all the response he attained from his undutiful granddaughter, though she did as bidden and went over to the door. ‘By the by, you haven’t forgotten that it’s the party tonight? I’ve instructed Budd to lay out your evening attire.’

‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten!’ he responded testily. ‘Now go away, child, and talk to that pretty friend of yours, and leave me in peace.’

‘I would willingly do so if she had returned from the Hall. All the same, Grandfather, consider me gone.’

As Sarah was kept busy at Deverel Hall for much of the day, Emily was not destined to see her again until that evening, shortly before they were due to set off for the party, when Sarah, having managed to get herself ready remarkably swiftly, and appearing as if she had spent hours over the task, entered Emily’s bedchamber.

For a few moments Emily studied her through the dressing-table mirror, where she sat adding the finishing touches to her own toilette. She had never seen her friend so charmingly attired. The pink silk enhanced her fair prettiness, and the few fashionable touches added by Sarah herself were so skilfully incorporated into the ensemble that anyone might be forgiven for supposing that the gown had come directly from some famous Bond Street modiste.

‘You look lovely, Sarah,’ she announced, wondering what Charles himself would think when he saw his staunch supporter so fashionably dressed. ‘Where did you acquire the silk shawl?’

‘Lady Deverel presented it to me just before I left the house, and this new pair of evening gloves. She said they were a little something for all the hard work I’d done. I felt so guilty taking them. After all, she did very kindly purchase the material for my new dress.’

It would have afforded Emily the utmost pleasure to voice her opinion of that lady’s so-called benevolence. However, given the fact that if Sarah attained her heart’s desire, Lady Deverel would become her mother-in-law, she refrained, and merely remarked that Drusilla’s attire undoubtedly cost a great deal more.

After donning the pearl necklace and matching earrings that had once belonged to her mother, Emily rose from the chair, revealing that her own appearance left nothing to be desired. From the arrangement of her dusky locks, which young Amy, although by no stretch of the imagination a competent lady’s maid, had managed to arrange in a simple yet pleasing style, to her satin slippers, she looked every inch the fashionable young lady.

‘That blue silk certainly emphasises the colour of your eyes,’ Sarah remarked. ‘You look stunning.’

Emily flashed her a rather mischievous smile. ‘Well, we must do our poor best to offer Drusilla a little competition, mustn’t we? We cannot have her monopolising all the beaux.’ She took a moment to study her overall appearance in the full-length mirror. ‘I amaze myself sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Six years ago, I didn’t give a hoot how I looked, but now I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house less than perfectly groomed. I doubt any of my old Hampshire neighbours would recognise me now.’

‘I think perhaps one of them would,’ was the soft rejoinder.

Emily was not slow to detect the change in her friend’s demeanour. ‘Why, you’re looking very serious all of a sudden! Whatever’s the matter?’

For a second or two Sarah appeared to find the toes of her soft pink slippers of immense interest, then she said quietly, ‘When I was over at the Hall today, I discovered that Charles had returned the previous afternoon with a friend of his from London…Lord Hawkridge.’

Only for an instant did Emily check before sliding her fingers into her long evening gloves. ‘I have been acquainted with the Deverels for almost five years, and yet I never realised that Charles knew Hawk. Dear me. Life is full of surprises! Grandfather, I do not doubt, will be delighted to see him.’

‘And you?’ Sarah prompted gently.

Emily’s shrug of indifference was not wholly convincing. ‘I suppose our paths were bound to cross again sooner or later. The aunt I visit in Brighton each summer is planning to take her eldest daughter to London next spring, and was hoping I would join them. I felt that, if I did go, I would be certain to bump into Sebastian at some point. The meeting has come a little earlier than expected, that is all. Come, let us repair downstairs. We don’t want to leave Grandfather waiting.’

Throughout the short journey to the Hall, Emily was acutely aware of Sarah’s keen regard. And how clever of her not to be fooled! she mused, desperately striving to maintain at least the appearance of the self-possession that she was far from experiencing.

She could quite easily, she supposed, have feigned a sore head and declined to attend the party at the last moment. But that was a coward’s way out, and it simply wasn’t in her nature to behave like a frightened child and run away from unpleasant situations. Added to which it stood to reason that, as he was in the area, Sebastian would pay a visit to the house sooner or later, if not to see her then at least to pay his respects to her grandfather. Surely it was better to come face to face with him this first time, after so many years, in a crowded room, where she would be obliged to exchange a few brief words, and could easily escape by mixing with the other guests, than go through the agony of seeing him alone, where the strain of attempting to hide her continuing regard for him might prove just too much even for her? She wasn’t so foolish as to suppose that it would be easy to keep those more tender feelings well hidden, especially from someone who had never evinced the least difficulty in reading her moods, but she knew she must endeavour to make the attempt.

Their arrival at the Hall coincided with that of several other neighbours, and they had perforce to await their turn before alighting at the impressive front entrance. The Restoration mansion looked as fine as it had on those occasions years before when Sir Augustus and Lady Deverel had entertained lavishly. Emily could fully appreciate now why her friend had been absent for much of the day, for there seemed to be a vase of flowers, beautifully arranged, and exuding the most delightful fragrance, on every available table in the spacious hall; and many, many more, she swiftly discovered, were decorating the large salon where the party was being held.

For a few brief moments she was able to set aside her own concerns as she stood in line to greet the host and hostess, and noticed Charles’s eyes widen a fraction when they fell upon Sarah. The Dowager Lady Deverel, standing beside her handsome son, greeted each member of the party graciously, and even Drusilla, looking positively radiant in a dazzling creation of white gauze over satin, was prompted to remark upon the elegance of both Sarah’s and Emily’s gowns.

‘Would I be correct in supposing that Drusilla has been warned to be on her best behaviour this evening?’ Emily remarked in an undertone, as they quickly moved away from the entrance in order to allow the next party of guests to greet their host and hostess, and her grandfather had made directly for the masculine company to be found in the room set out for cards.

Sarah couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I could not say with certainty. But I do know that Charles was not best pleased to discover that the affair was to be far grander than first planned. Furthermore, you must give Drusilla her due. She might be terribly spoilt, but she’s definitely no fool. It is her ambition to make a truly splendid match, and showing a sulky face to the polite world isn’t likely to attract many contenders for her hand. I believe she has set her sights quite high—a countess, no less, although Godmama mentioned earlier, when I was here, that her daughter is rather taken with your Lord Hawkridge.’

‘He isn’t my Lord Hawkridge,’ Emily countered, hoping that she hadn’t sounded waspish, but fearing from her friend’s suddenly guilt-ridden expression that she had. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. As you might have guessed already I am a trifle on edge this evening.’

The fingers of her left hand received a brief, reassuring squeeze as Emily raised her eyes and looked about the room for that tall, well-remembered figure. She didn’t immediately perceive him standing amidst a group of gentlemen in the far corner of the room. It was only when he turned his head and she received the full impact of an unwavering gaze from all too perceptive grey eyes that she realised that the gentleman immaculately attired in a long-tailed black coat, which emphasised the breadth of superb masculine shoulders, and tight-fitting trousers, which did little to hide the muscular shapeliness of long legs, was none other than the being who continued to plague her dreams all too frequently even after all these years.

‘Oh, dear God! He’s coming over,’ she muttered, striving to control the sudden pounding of that erratic organ beneath her ribcage. ‘Why couldn’t the wretched creature have allowed me at least a few minutes in order to compose myself?’

Although Emily had finally revealed her true state of mind, Sarah wouldn’t have supposed for a moment that the young woman beside her was suffering the least distress, for on the surface she appeared remarkably composed, extending a steady hand, which was immediately captured and retained in shapely fingers, and greeting the man whom she had never ceased to love without so much as a tremor in her pleasantly mellow voice.

‘Hello, Em,’ he responded in a deep, throaty tone that was no less appealing than the smile he bestowed upon her, before glancing briefly in Sarah’s direction.

Emily, quite beautifully maintaining her control, was not slow to perform the introductions. ‘I do not believe you are acquainted with my friend Miss Nichols, Lord Hawkridge.’

‘No, I have not had the pleasure,’ he admitted, releasing Emily’s fingers in order to clasp Sarah’s small hand briefly in his own.

‘You were out when I arrived at the house, sir,’ she hurriedly remarked in an attempt to hold his attention and allow Emily time to take a few steadying breaths. ‘You had driven over to see Sir George Maynard, I believe.’

‘I didn’t realise that you were acquainted with our local magistrate, Hawk,’ Emily commented, easily regaining his full attention.

‘Oh, we’ve bumped into each other on a few occasions at our club, don’t you know.’

Sarah detected her friend’s slight frown at the drawled response, but was unable to remain to offer further support, for Lady Deverel was attempting to catch her eye, and she was obliged to slip away.

‘Pretty girl,’ his lordship remarked, taking out his snuffbox, and receiving a second frowning glance. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’ he asked as deep blue eyes looked him over from the carefully dishevelled arrangement of his mid-brown locks down to his fashionably clad feet. ‘Don’t I pass muster?’

To her amazement Emily found herself experiencing an acute stab of disappointment at the needless affectations he appeared to have acquired during their long separation. ‘I strongly suspect that those tales I’ve been reading about you in the newspapers in recent years are all too true. Be careful, Hawk, that you do not turn yourself into a complete man-milliner.’

Only for a second did his eyes narrow fractionally, before he returned the small silver box, its contents untouched, to his pocket. ‘You too have changed, m’dear.’ His gaze lingered for a moment on the square-cut neckline of her dress and what it temptingly revealed. ‘You have blossomed into a woman.’

Emily was powerless to prevent the tell-tale colour rising in her cheeks. She did not like this Sebastian Hawkridge. No, not a whit! The man she well remembered had been no tailor’s dummy, nor had he possessed the knowing gaze of the hardened rake. She had always felt so safe, so secure whenever he had been with her. She felt anything but safe now in the company of a man who might easily have been a complete stranger.

‘Yes, Lord Hawkridge, I fear we have both changed.’

‘In your case, m’dear, the changes are most definitely for the better. You have become a most elegant young lady.’

‘And you, sir, have become an accomplished flirt,’ she parried lightly in an attempt to conceal her rapidly mounting disappointment. ‘You’ll be telling me next that I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.’

The crooked half-smile which she remembered so well was suddenly tugging at one corner of his shapely mouth. ‘Oh, no, my dear. You may have altered during our years apart, but not, I strongly suspect, to the extent that you are susceptible to insincere flattery. Miss Drusilla Deverel has the edge in the looks department, as you well know,’ he returned, with that admirable candour which she had always admired.

‘That’s better,’ he announced, with a further easy smile, when she found it impossible to suppress a chuckle. ‘Now, before that young man who is purposefully heading in our direction whisks you away, would you grant me the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow? I’ve been hearing some wonderful tales about you startling the populace by tooling yourself about the countryside in a curricle. Perhaps you might even be gracious enough to take me up beside you?’

‘Of course,’ she responded without considering the wisdom of her answer. But it was already too late to change her mind. The son of a near neighbour was standing before her requesting her as a partner in the next set of country dances, and Lord Hawkridge, after executing a graceful bow, chose not to linger.

Although far more successful in concealing the fact, Sebastian had been equally disturbed by this their first meeting in a very long time. The years he had spent in London perfecting the role of a wealthy, pleasure-seeking care-for-nobody had certainly stood him in good stead for just such an occasion as this. But it had not been easy to maintain the impersonation where Emily was concerned, even for those few short minutes.

When last he had seen her she had been scarcely more than a girl, coltish and slightly awkward, but the intervening years had wrought many changes. ‘Blossomed’ was the word which best described it, he decided, relieving a footman of a glass of champagne, and positioning himself beside the wall, where a huge vase of flowers partially concealed him from those taking part in the dance. Yes, Mother Nature had certainly performed her task well where Miss Emily Stapleton was concerned, bestowing upon her delightful feminine curves, and finely honing the delicate features into perfect symmetry.

But had all the changes been purely superficial? he could not help wondering, as he keenly followed her graceful progress down the set. Or had she matured mentally too? First impressions would suggest strongly that she had. Was the time now right for him to honour the pledge that he had made to the late Laura Stapleton? Should he attempt to woo her daughter in earnest? More importantly, could he afford to wait any longer? It would be madness to assume that, just because Emily had betrayed no interest in any gentleman during their years apart, she would continue to remain content with her single state. Another Season in Brighton with her late mother’s sister was looming large on the horizon. Then afterwards perhaps London might beckon, where numerous gentlemen bent on making the leap into matrimony would look very favourably upon such a sweetly packaged piece of merchandise. Time, clearly, was no longer on his side. She was the only female to whom he had ever proposed marriage, and against all the odds she had rescinded. Was he really prepared to risk the possibility of experiencing the humiliation and pain of rejection a second time? His mind might advocate the use of caution, and yet…

Smiling to himself, Sebastian carried his wine across to the room set out for cards. For tonight his head would continue to rule his heart. But for how much longer acumen could persist in winning the battle over desires if he remained in this locale was anybody’s guess!