Читать книгу The Scandalous Lord Lanchester - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 7

Mariah, widow and spoiled darling of the late Lord Winston Fanshawe, stood at the window of her bedchamber and surveyed the scene before her. The lakes were undoubtedly beautiful. On this cloudless day of warm sunshine the water lay glistening, sparkling like blue diamonds, and the surrounding countryside was glorious. She thought she actually preferred the lakes to the other parts of Italy they had visited these past few months. Mariah and her travelling companions, Lord and Lady Hubert, were staying in a villa overlooking Lake Como. Only a short distance from Milan, it was more secluded than some of the other lakes and the woods were delightful. Her friends had spoiled her throughout the trip, deferring to her needs and preferences, going out of their way to make her happy.

Why, then, did her throat catch and her eyes fill too easily with tears? Why did she feel so alone, even when in the midst of friends? Surely it was not because of her recent unpleasant experiences at the hands of Captain Blake? He had kidnapped her and kept her drugged when she refused to give him what he wanted, which was her hand in marriage and her fortune. Such an ordeal might have broken another woman, but Mariah had recovered swiftly. No, it was not that painful episode that had brought on this feeling of loneliness, but something more personal.

She sighed, feeling restless, already considering where she would go next. Nowhere was home to her, despite the fact that she had several properties left to her by her late husband. Since his death she had wandered from place to place, never feeling settled for more than a few days. Even when staying with her longtime friend, Justin, Duke of Avonlea, and his lovely wife Lucinda, she had felt alone—empty inside.

Just what was she searching for?

‘Mariah, dearest. We have a visitor—will you come down?’

Turning, she looked at Sylvia, Lady Hubert, the friend who had done so much to help her forget her troubles these past months. She had needed to get away from England after her abduction and Sylvia had suggested she join them on this trip.

Mariah did not recall much of her ordeal. The men who had kidnapped her had subdued her with some kind of a foul drug. She thought a cloth soaked in a strong-smelling solution had been placed over her nose and mouth in the carriage as she tried to assist Jane. Her brave, impetuous friend Jane, who had pretended to be her in the hope that they would let Mariah go. She was so fond of the girl she’d known for most of her life—and of Jane’s brother, Andrew.

Thoughts of Andrew Lanchester made Mariah’s hands clench at her sides. She refused to break her heart for the foolish man! He was probably still mooning over Lucinda Avonlea. Surely he must know that Justin’s wife was deeply in love with her husband? Mariah tossed her head. If she allowed herself to think of him, she would be a fool indeed.

‘You ought to come down, dearest.’ Sylvia’s words broke into her thoughts. ‘It will seem odd if you do not.’

‘Must I?’ she asked in answer to Sylvia’s question. They had so many visitors that it sometimes seemed she could never be quiet. ‘Who is it this morning?’

‘Someone you will be pleased to see, I think. He brings you letters from home—and claims to be a friend.’

Mariah’s breath caught in her throat and her heart started to thump madly. ‘Is it … Lord Lanchester?’ she asked, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. ‘He did say he might visit …’

‘Do you know the gentleman?’

‘Yes. He is Justin’s neighbour and perfectly respectable.’

‘I did not doubt it.’ Lady Hubert smiled. ‘Well, shall you come?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Mariah smiled. ‘Give me a moment to tidy my hair. I shall not be long.’

As her friend departed, she glanced at herself in the mirror, patting her heavy dark blonde hair, which she wore caught up in a knot at the nape of her neck, and tweaking a few tendrils about her face. Despite walking in the sunshine most days, her skin still had that perfect English-rose colouring that was so much admired.

Her pulses raced as she left her room and walked down the wide marble staircase. The villa, set in amongst trees, which clung to the hillsides surrounding the lake, was a rather magnificent one and belonged to Count Paolo. He was a particular friend of Lord Hubert and had lent it to them for two months, while he was away in Venice on business.

Mariah’s feeling of ennui had fled, her nerves tingling with excitement. What would Andrew have to say to her? A few months ago she had thought he was on the verge of making her an offer, then he had seemed to draw back. What had she done to make him change his mind? Could she have mistaken the signs? So many men went out of their way to flatter and court her, but Andrew Lanchester was different. She had hoped for a time that he had come to admire and appreciate her for what she was—a woman of spirit with a mind of her own.

Entering the salon where the company was gathered, she saw Sylvia and Lord Hubert laughing at something their visitor had just said and her heart caught. When Andrew Lanchester was smiling he was such a handsome man, his dark hair and his expressive eyes giving him an air of distinction. He was a man of integrity, a little stern at times, but good company. As Andrew turned to look at her she drew a deep breath, feeling slightly shaky.

‘Lady Fanshawe—Mariah,’ he said, coming towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘How are you? I trust your tour of Italy has improved your health?’

Mariah laughed. ‘I was not ill, Andrew,’ she said, giving him a challenging look. He had not been so formal when she stayed at his home the previous year. ‘I am not such a goose that a little thing like abduction would cause me to go into a decline. No, no, I needed a change, that is all—and my good friends look after me very well.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Andrew said, but a frown creased his brow. ‘Jane and Lucinda send their love. I have some letters for you—one from Justin concerning some business, I believe. He did not wish to entrust it to the post and so gave it to me.’

‘Thank you for giving up your time to bring it to me.’ Mariah said, keeping her emotions under strict control. ‘I believe Jane is to be congratulated? Her letter reached us after much delay. I should have liked to see her married, but had no idea of her intention before we left. I shall visit her when we return to England—and I must buy her a gift.’

‘I am sure she will be pleased to see you,’ Andrew said. ‘How are you enjoying your visit? I know this is not the first time you have visited Italy—but have you been to the lakes before?’

‘Winston brought me here on our honeymoon,’ Mariah said, her throat catching. ‘We spent most of our time visiting the lakes and then Venice. It was after we left Venice to return to Milan that Winston’s illness worsened. That was the first time I realised that my husband would not live long.’

Mariah’s voice was husky with remembered grief. The knowledge that her kind and loving husband would soon die had almost broken her. It was only then that she understood how much she truly loved her husband. She had wed him out of pique—after Justin Avonlea had proposed to her from a sense of duty—and the desire to be spoiled, to be rich and indulged, admired and envied wherever she went. However, his care of her and his generous spirit had made her love him and she had been devastated by the thought of losing him.

‘My husband did not wish to return to England to die. He loved the sunshine and it made him happy to spend his last days here.’

‘I did not realise that,’ Andrew said, his gaze narrowed.

‘I do not normally speak of that time because it upsets me.’

Mariah turned away, blinking back the foolish tears that had unaccountably come to her eyes. Surely she was over her husband’s death by now, so what had brought this mood on? Was it seeing Andrew again after having given up all hope of him?

Her silence had caused a moment of awkwardness, swiftly covered by Sylvia. ‘It is so pleasant to see acquaintances from home,’ she said. ‘I do hope you will dine with us this evening, Lord Lanchester. I am giving a little dinner party for friends and would be delighted if you could join us.’

‘I should be honoured to make one of your party,’ Andrew said. ‘Mariah, I have some messages from Lucinda. She was quite close to her confinement when I left England. Would you give me a few minutes of your time—perhaps a walk in the gardens?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Mariah took the arm he offered, smiling as she bid her heart to behave. ‘I should like to hear how she goes on. Had she not been in a delicate situation when we left, I think she would have liked to accompany us to Italy.’

‘I am perfectly certain she would,’ Andrew replied, drawing her out into the garden. ‘She spoke of visiting you if you were still here next spring. The babe will be old enough to travel with her nurse by then.’

‘Poor Andrew,’ Mariah said softly. ‘I think you like Lucinda very well, do you not?’

‘I am fond of them both. Justin is a good friend,’ Andrew said and hesitated, then, ‘But tell me, Mariah, are you truly over that unpleasant business of last year?’

‘It does not keep me awake at night,’ she replied. ‘I must accept that my fortune attracts the wrong sort of suitor, Andrew. I had hoped that I might receive an offer from a gentleman I could trust, but unfortunately I have not met anyone I think would make me a comfortable husband.’

‘You will not want a gambler, of course,’ Andrew said and looked thoughtful. ‘What are your requirements?’

‘Oh, someone with good manners, a man I can respect and rely on to care for me and any children we may have.’

‘That is a very modest list.’ Andrew arched his right brow. ‘I would have expected more—a sense of humour at the very least, good looks and a fortune to match your own.’

‘I think it would be foolish to set my standards too high. I might have sought love once, but now I think I would settle for liking and respect. What I do not want is a man who thinks only of my fortune.’

‘I see …’ He was silent, thoughtful, then, ‘Would you like me to investigate some of your suitors—discover whether or not they are desperate for money or perhaps more respectable than you might imagine?’

‘Would you?’ Mariah avoided his eyes. If she revealed too much, she might give herself away and that might lead to humiliation. ‘If you were to escort me while you stay here, Andrew, it might scare the fortune hunters away.’ She braced herself, turning to smile at him. ‘Now tell me what Lucinda had to say that she did not write in her letters …’

After the visitors had gone, Mariah draped a stole over her arms and went for a walk to the top of the hill. Sylvia had chattered on about the visitors until she was driven by the need to be alone for a short time.

Her emotions were at breaking point, and she was torn by a mixture of despair and anger.

How could Andrew be so blind? To offer to vet her suitors for her was so frustrating that it had taken all Mariah’s strength of will not to scream at him.

As a young girl living at Avonlea, Mariah had had a crush on their handsome neighbour, but Andrew hadn’t noticed her. His manner had been that of a brother and he had treated her either with indifference or with a lofty scorn that had often driven her to tears in those years of growing into a young woman. He’d gone to London on a visit and come back a different man; then, all of a sudden, she’d learned that he’d joined the army. His leaving had broken her heart, but Mariah had forgotten him as the years passed and she grew into a beautiful young woman with a string of admirers and friends—but somehow she hadn’t fallen in love with anyone.

‘Oh, damn it,’ Mariah said aloud. ‘Winston, why did you have to leave me?’ She was so alone and at times felt desperate. Must she live like this for the rest of her life, relying on friends for company, never having someone special of her own?

She turned away from the edge of the cliff and began to walk blindly through the woods, holding back her tears. She was angry with life and with herself for not having more sense and saw nothing until she heard an exclamation of alarm and then a pair of strong hands reached out and grabbed her arm.

‘Forgive me,’ an English voice said. ‘If you continue to walk in that direction, you may fall over the edge. There is a steep trail just beyond those trees and at one place there has been a recent fall of rock. It ought to be fenced off to save the unwary from accident.’

‘Oh … thank you,’ Mariah said and looked into the face of a man she could only describe as handsome in a dark, rather forbidding way. ‘Forgive me. I almost walked into you. My mind was wandering.’

‘I am glad to have been of service,’ he said and inclined his head to her. ‘My name is Peter Grainger—Lieutenant Grainger—and I have recently arrived in the district. My aunt and uncle have rented a villa at the other side of the lake and I was out on a walk when I discovered the fall. Are you staying near by, ma’am? Forgive me, I do not know your name.’

‘Mariah Fanshawe,’ she replied, a faint blush in her cheeks as she saw how intently he was staring at her. ‘I am staying with Lord and Lady Hubert—we are farther down the hill, nearer the lake. I walked up here to enjoy the view, but I am a little out of my way. Your warning was timely, sir.’

The man tipped his hat to her. ‘It was nothing really. So, do you stay long, Miss Fanshawe?’

‘I am Lady Fanshawe and a widow,’ Mariah replied. Something in his manner made her slightly uncomfortable, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him that aroused her suspicions. ‘We have not yet decided how long we shall stay.’

‘Forgive me, I did not realise.’ His eyes went over her, seeming to note that she was wearing a gown of white muslin trimmed with pink, her shoes white leather and her gloves white cotton, edged at the wrists with the same pink that trimmed her gown and was repeated in her stole. Regrettably she wore no hat, having ignored Sylvia’s advice to put one on before she left. ‘Perhaps we shall meet again, Lady Fanshawe.’ He tipped his hat and turned away.

Mariah stared after him for a moment, biting her lip. She was so foolish. He had been perfectly respectable and she had offended him by her brusque tone. He could not have known she was entitled to the use of a title. Besides, she did not normally remind people of it. What was the matter with her? Did she think of herself as so worthless that every man must be a fortune hunter if they showed an interest?

Turning in the direction of the Huberts’ villa, she walked quickly, blinking away the stupid tears. Was it too much to want to be loved for herself? What must a man do to convince her that he was uninterested in her late husband’s fortune?

She had become suspicious of everyone and that was wrong. Wrong and foolish! Mariah must learn to trust again. If she wished to find happiness in marriage, she must give gentlemen the chance to win her trust rather than treating them all with the same level of suspicion.

If only Andrew Lanchester had shown some interest in her. Mariah was almost sure she was in love with him. He was the kind of strong, silent man that appealed to her nature—the kind of man who might succeed in keeping her interest above a few weeks. With a little encouragement she could have given him her heart, her person and her fortune—but after seeming to approve of her, he had withdrawn again and she did not know why. He was a friend, but it seemed he had no warmer feelings for her.

Shaking her head, she walked quickly towards the villa. There was no point on dwelling on the past. She had come to the conclusion that she needed a husband. If it was not to be Andrew Lanchester, then it must be someone else.

Next time she met an attractive man she would smile and keep an open mind. If she continued to refuse all offers, she would end a lonely old maid.

‘Lanchester …’ Andrew heard himself hailed as he left the inn at which he had chosen to stay for a few days while visiting the lakes. He stopped and frowned as he sought for recognition, then smiled at the younger man. ‘What do you here, sir?’

‘I am visiting a friend,’ Andrew replied. ‘I had some business in Naples, which came to naught, and took a detour to visit a place of outstanding beauty. Are you here alone?’

‘No, with my aunt and uncle. I heard you had resigned your commission. I hope there is nothing amiss?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Andrew frowned, then recollected his manners. Lieutenant Grainger was not his enemy. They had been friends of a sort, though the younger man was his junior. ‘Yes, I decided that the time had come to settle down and look after my estate. I heard you might be up for promotion?’

‘It was on the cards, but I may also be leaving the service soon. My uncle suffered a severe illness some months ago and needs to spend more time in the sun. My aunt asked me to help them get settled out here—and, as they have no other heir, her husband wishes me to take up residence at their estate in England and assume the running of the place.’

‘Shall you oblige them?’

‘Yes, I think so. Where are you staying?’

‘Here at the inn.’

‘That won’t do, Lanchester. We have plenty of room at the villa. I know I speak for my aunt when I say we should be happy for you to join us. Come and have dinner with us this evening. If you should care for it, you could stay with us for a few days. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind your advice about a few things …’

‘I am unable to dine this evening,’ Andrew said. ‘But if I can be of any help I shall be delighted to give whatever advice or practical assistance I may.’

‘I am glad I ran into you, Lanchester. My aunt will be delighted to meet you. She is feeling a little lost, anxious about finding the right place. They have rented a villa, but may also need something in Milan. My understanding of the language is not as good as I would like.’

‘Then I may be able to help,’ Andrew said. ‘I shall come back with you now and we may talk …’

Andrew was thoughtful as he matched his steps with the lieutenant’s. His meeting with Mariah that morning had been less promising than he’d hoped. It had been in his mind to tell her about his problem, because he was aware that at one time she might have been justified in believing he was considering making her an offer. If he told her that he could not think of marriage until he had cleared his name of this shadow of doubt, she might understand why he had let her down.

Mariah was beautiful, intelligent and wealthy. How could he expect that a woman like that would be prepared to sit around twiddling her thumbs while he floundered about trying to discover an enemy—an enemy who might or might not be Lieutenant William Gordon? The answer was that of course he could not expect it. Mariah had made it clear that she wanted to marry soon.

Even if he were free of the stain on his character, was she the woman he wanted above all others? At times he was so certain that his inability to speak almost choked him with frustration, but at others … at others he was not quite as sure. Mariah needed a husband—but would any man do? She’d married once for money and her husband had spoiled her. Would she expect to be indulged and given her own way again? Was that quite what Andrew wanted from a wife?

Dismissing his confused thoughts, Andrew turned his attention to his companion. Peter Grainger was a fellow officer. It was just possible that he might know where William Gordon was to be found, though he must be careful how he put it. Until he was certain who was behind this business, he must make no accusations.