Читать книгу A Regency Earl's Pleasure: The Earl Plays With Fire / Society's Most Scandalous Rake - Isabelle Goddard - Страница 11

Christabel came down to breakfast the next morning still looking pale, but unruffled. She’d spent a difficult night, unable to sleep with any ease. Her mind had for hours refused to stop its constant churning of the past week’s events, but finally she had found some repose. Her decision was made. She had allowed herself to be manipulated, to be too easily swayed by feelings she should never entertain. From now on she must ignore Richard’s behaviour and concentrate on her own. With great severity she reminded herself that she was the only person responsible for her actions. If she could hold to that determination, she would cope with what lay ahead. Sophia’s chatter had alerted her to Sir Julian’s return to town and she knew that it would not be long before he renewed his proposal. She must be ready.

She saw that her mother had taken note of her pallor and was looking at her with gentle concern. ‘Bel, are you well enough to pay that morning call on Lady Blythe?’

‘I feel a good deal better, thank you, Mama, and I will be happy to go.’

It was a lie, for Domino was likely to be present and the thought of meeting the girl so soon after the disasters of the picnic troubled her. But she needed to appear unconcerned and calm in the face of any suspicions her mother might harbour.

Lady Harriet looked relieved. Her daughter seemed not to have been so badly affected by yesterday’s events as she had feared. And she had a mountainous collection of letters awaiting her attention. Christabel’s offer to attend on Loretta Blythe was most welcome.

‘Perhaps Sophia would care to accompany you?’ her mother suggested tentatively.

But Sophia instantly forestalled that notion; she was far too busy this morning organising her steadily increasing wardrobe. Christabel was more than happy to go attended only by her maid, and a walk to Curzon Street would be a pleasant escape from the house. The rain clouds, which yesterday had appeared out of nowhere, had vanished entirely and in their place was the deepest blue covering and a spring sun already climbing the sky and warming the world it shone on.

She sauntered slowly along the tree-lined pavements with Rosa by her side. The slightest of breezes washed over her, catching at the primrose ribbons in her hair and twisting them in and out of the soft tendrils of auburn that framed her face. With each step on this glorious day she felt herself walking away from discord and entering a place of deep calm. The night had brought counsel. Whatever the truth of Richard’s relationship with Domino, it was their affair, not hers. It was immaterial, too, whether the passion he’d poured on her was genuine or simply feigned as part of his plan to punish. Certainly those moments by the lakeside, moments scorched into her consciousness, had not appeared feigned. He had seemed as fevered, as impassioned, as she.

‘Curzon Street is the third turning on the right, Miss Christabel,’ her maid reminded her. ‘What number is Lady Blythe’s?’

‘Number Twelve, I believe,’ she answered absently.

No, it wasn’t important whether or not he’d meant the caresses he’d lavished on her—what was important was how she reacted to them. And so far her reactions had been far from laudable. Twice in the last few days she’d been overcome by desire for a man who should mean nothing to her. The old Christabel, rebellious and passionate, had risen again and exploded into the ardour of yesterday’s embrace. But she was no longer the girl she’d been and instead must be true to her new life. How could she have allowed herself to behave in that fashion when she was as good as promised to another man? And such an upright man who would never give her cause for concern. He would never find himself locked in a fervent embrace with a lover from his past! The unlikely image made her smile.

‘This day is meant for smiling, is it not?’

A male voice cleaved through her thoughts. Richard was there, in front of her, doffing his curly-brimmed beaver, grey eyes smiling and flecked by the sun’s rays. As always his Hessians were polished to a blinding finish, complementing a pair of immaculate, close-fitting cream pantaloons clearly designed to display his legs to advantage. She forced herself to remember the vows of just a few minutes ago.

‘It is a most beautiful morning,’ she agreed, trying to keep her voice steady and her gaze neutral. Trying very hard not to think of their last encounter, their last few minutes together.

A difficult silence began to develop.

‘At least we can be certain that today we won’t receive a soaking,’ he said mildly in an attempt to break it. ‘I trust you suffered no ill effects from yesterday’s downpour.’

‘Indeed, no,’ she responded quickly, relieved at this unexceptional topic of conversation, ‘though I felt very sorry for the Wivenhoes. They had taken so much trouble over the arrangements only to see their plans ruined.’

‘Forces of nature can’t be gainsaid.’

His remark had been lightly meant, but it was not the most felicitous, he thought. A force of nature had destroyed the icy reserve which for years had defended Christabel, and he was responsible. He was not proud of that. In the night watches he’d argued himself into never-ending circles. It was essential that he prove her base, yet she was the woman who warmed him, excited him, entranced him. His plan was a clever strategy, he told himself, yet he felt shame in its tawdriness.

The image of Christabel’s abject unhappiness haunted him, knowing that he was its architect. It turned out that her unhappiness was his also. Yesterday by the lakeside he’d wanted to take her into his arms and kiss the tears away one by one. And he had taken her in his arms. More than that, he’d felt every beautiful curve of her and his heart had sung. When he’d caressed her, she’d responded as ardently as he could ever wish. He could have taken her there and then, he was sure—hotly, urgently, beneath the sheeting rain. What was that but inconstancy! He had surely proved what he’d set out to, proved that she was incapable of being true. By rights he should feel free, released from her spell, so why did he not?

In truth, in the deepest recesses of his heart, he could not believe her a false woman. She had been disloyal once, in a lifetime of loyalty. So why had she behaved so much out of character and to such devastating result? During the endless night, watching the shadows darken into unrelieved blackness, watching the dewy light of dawn creep gradually into the four corners of his room, he too had come to a decision.

He had to know why she’d betrayed him. He had to hear it from her lips. If he could understand that, then he was certain that he would finally be able to lay the past to rest.

Silence stretched between them once more and again he was the one to break it.

‘Are you on your way anywhere in particular? May I escort you?’

‘Thank you, but I’m very close to my destination. I am to pay a morning call on Lady Blythe.’

‘Then let me offer you my arm,’ he said briskly, nodding dismissal to Rosa. ‘You may return home, your mistress will not need you.’

Before Christabel could protest, her maid had begun retracing her steps to Mount Street.

She did not take his arm, but stood facing him on the narrow pavement.

‘That was high-handed, Lord Veryan. It is my prerogative to dismiss my maid.’

‘I’m sorry if you disapprove. I have no wish to quarrel with you.’

‘That would certainly be a change,’ she returned acidly. His arrogance had helped her regain her poise.

‘I hoped that I might speak with you alone.’ His tone was level, giving no hint of what he might be feeling. And for a moment he appeared unwilling to go on, unable to find the words he needed to broach the topic burning so brightly in his mind.

‘Shall we walk on?’ The movement seemed to act as a release. ‘After yesterday, you see, I’ve done some thinking,’ he continued quietly. ‘In fact, a good deal of thinking.’

He paused again and Christabel waited, her composure once more in danger of slipping away. What was he about to say? That he loved her after all? That after their impassioned lovemaking, he still cared deeply for her and could no longer consider marrying Domino de Silva? What traitorous thoughts, what stupid thoughts, she chastised herself.

‘I wanted to apologise,’ he began again. ‘I wanted to tell you how deeply sorry I am for any upset I’ve caused since my return to London.’

‘Any upset? You must know that you deliberately set out to distress me.’

‘I won’t deny it, but I am still sorry.’

He was looking contrite, unusually so, and she felt emboldened to question him.

‘I cannot understand why you have been so intent on hurting me. Why?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer with any truth. I don’t know myself. When I disembarked at Southampton, I thought the past was dead and buried for me.’

‘But it wasn’t,’ she said flatly.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ He paused and then said with deliberation, ‘I’ve behaved foolishly, I’m willing to admit, but if I could understand the past, then I think it would finally die for me.’

She wore a puzzled expression and he turned towards her, looking at her directly, his gaze searching and serious. ‘If I knew, if I could understand, why you did what you did.’

She gave a small, uncertain laugh. ‘I could echo your own words. I can’t answer with any truth, I don’t know myself.’

They rounded the corner of Curzon Street and, with an effort, she tried again. He deserved that at least.

‘Put it down to naïvety, youthful stupidity, if you will. When you are young and untried, it’s easy to be dazzled by surfaces. I was living in a world I’d never known before, a world heady with excitement.’

‘But to be taken in by a creature such as Joshua,’ he protested.

‘You were equally taken in,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘He was your friend.’

‘And that surely makes it worse. It makes me more stupid and you more venal.’

She flinched at the word. ‘He made me feel special,’ she said defensively.

‘And I didn’t?’

‘I was just part …’ and she strove to find the phrase which would adequately convey her sense of his indifference’ … I was just part of the furniture of your world.’

‘Never!’ He felt stunned. He had been drowning in love for her and she hadn’t noticed! ‘How could you not know—?’ He broke off, biting back the words of passion he’d been about to utter.

But Christabel, deep in that distant past, had hardly noticed. ‘Joshua made me feel that I mattered to him, really mattered. I know now that I was a fool.’ Her voice was barely more than a murmur and she glanced down at the delicate kid sandals she wore, as though hoping she might be absorbed into the pavement. ‘In fact, I knew that almost immediately.’

‘You parted very soon? I never knew.’

‘Why would you? I can’t imagine you wanted to hear any news from home.’

He grimaced at the truth of the observation.

‘It was never going to work.’ She sighed. ‘Joshua was charm itself, but he was an opportunist.’

‘A here and thereian?’ It was doing Richard good to hear how miserably the affair had ended.

‘If you like.’

‘But someone who wreaked destruction wherever he went,’ he pursued, his tone now one of quiet sympathy.

‘I won’t make him an excuse,’ she said robustly. ‘I caused damage to everyone who cared for me. I recognise that. But as you were happy to remind me just yesterday, I can’t undo it. Any of it.’

‘But you don’t need to compound it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t make another bad choice.’

She bridled. ‘And how might I do that?’

‘I’m hardly the right person to give advice, but you must know that the future you’re proposing is wrong—for you, for everyone. You’ve earned your freedom, so live free.’

‘You’re quite correct,’ she responded tartly, ‘you are hardly the right person.’

They had reached the door of Number Twelve and with this parting shot, she climbed the front steps. His face, as he raised his hat in farewell, was blank of all expression. He turned around and walked away down the road and Christabel was left bewildered. He’d shown himself sorry for his conduct, sorry for the distress he’d caused. He’d conversed seriously, dared to talk about the past with her, and amid the barbs of resentment there had been sympathy. It seemed that he’d had a change of heart. But why? And what did he mean, that she should live free? How dared he presume to tell her how to shape her life? It was well enough for a man to say ‘live free’. He had the luxury of choice but, as a woman, she did not.

The door opened and she was ushered into Loretta Blythe’s drawing room. She knew most of the faces gathered there and it was an easy matter to smile sweetly and murmur the necessary vacuous compliments. But while she observed the social niceties, her mind was roving through every detail of the recent encounter. Was it just luck that she’d met Richard where and when she had? She thought not. It was clear to her that he’d been visiting at Curzon Street. And he would have come, not to sit drinking tea with Lady Blythe and her intimates, but to see Domino. He’d been visiting Domino, the girl he intended to marry. Naturally they would have wedding plans to discuss for when his period of mourning was at an end, even now perhaps arrangements to make for the girl to visit Madron. Christabel quailed at the thought, but that was something she must grow accustomed to. It was possible that his forthcoming marriage had contributed to a new generosity of spirit, his willingness finally to forgive and forget the past. She should feel grateful for that, she supposed.

That night she slept better than she had for days. Whether it was sheer exhaustion or the fact that she and Richard were no longer enemies, she didn’t know. But his interference in her life appeared to be at an end. So did his interest, another voice whispered unkindly. But that voice was swiftly squashed. She must bury the past as Richard was doing, bury it and move on to a new and different existence. That evening she’d had plenty of time for reflection, the family for once spending it by their own fireside, and by the time she’d crawled into bed, she was ready to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. Not even Benedict’s noisy return with the dawn had the power to waken her.

Benedict’s mission to enjoy himself to the full had been so successful that when the next day, bleary eyed and slumped over the breakfast table, his mother reminded him that he’d agreed to escort his sisters to St James’s Park, his only answer was a heartrending groan.

‘We really don’t need him, Mama,’ Sophia chirped. She was in fine form, still bubbling from the two long dances she’d managed to extract from Sir Julian at the Seftons’ party. To add to her pleasure, Christabel appeared of late to have lost her usual bloom.

‘Stebbings will be with us and that will be sufficient. In fact, Bel can stay home too. She still doesn’t look at all the thing,’ she added solicitously.

‘What nonsense. You cannot possibly go driving with just a groom for company.’ Lady Harriet looked anxiously across the table at her elder daughter, ‘You will go with Sophia this morning, I trust?’

‘Yes, of course, Mama, it’s arranged that we meet the Misses Banham at eleven.’

She couldn’t remember exactly why she’d agreed to drive with two sisters she privately considered bird-witted in the extreme, but managed to finish brightly, ‘It’s another beautiful day for a drive in St James’s.’

She went quickly upstairs after breakfast to complete her toilette. Sophia was already arrayed in midnight blue and she had no wish to challenge her sister’s colourful palette. Instead she donned a robe of figured cream lace over an underdress of soft amber silk. Her hair was brushed into shining auburn curls and threaded through with a simple cream ribbon. She felt instinctively that this was an important day and she wanted to look her best in meeting it head on. A newly discovered sense of purpose had brought back colour to her face and the porcelain cheeks now sported a delicate glow. She looked as fresh and as young as the spring morning into which the sisters now ventured.

Sophia glared at her in annoyance. A resurgent Christabel was not what she wanted. Sir Julian had mentioned at the rout that though he must give immediate attention to business brought back from Rosings, he would be riding in the park this morning and hoped to see both herself and her sister there. Sophia was under no illusions as to whose company he really sought and had hoped to intercept him before Christabel once more entered his orbit. She was anxious to exploit their friendship of two nights ago in any way she could and her sister’s radiant presence would hardly further her plan.

Once out of the house Benedict suddenly remembered a prior engagement and swiftly excused himself. He had made a casual promise to Domino to ride with her this morning and this was likely to be more entertaining than plodding dutifully after his sisters’ carriage. He was also feeling a little guilty at having abandoned the girl so cavalierly at the Seftons’.

Sophia was pleased to see him go. If she could only think of a pretext to lose Christabel too, she would be free to seek out Sir Julian and fascinate him as she knew she could. But Christabel was going to be difficult to evade; her sister had opted to take the reins, the groom by her side, and further frustration swiftly followed when they encountered the Misses Banham waiting for them at the north gate of the park. Annoyingly they had remembered the arrangement to meet and while Christabel held the horses steady, they were soon clambering noisily into the carriage. They were arrayed in matching dresses of sprig muslin and each carried a frilled parasol in a contrasting colour. They positioned themselves on either side of Sophia, like two chattering bookends. Laughing and giggling their way into the park, they exclaimed at Christabel’s skill at driving the carriage through such busy thoroughfares and asserted with loud squeals their complete confidence that she could be trusted to tool them around the park without mishap. Most of what passed for conversation between them—the latest scurrilous on dits circulating in town—went unanswered, but since they needed no audience but each other, they were not disconcerted by their hosts’ silence.

When they’d finally exhausted current gossip, they turned their attention to their companions. They complimented the Tallis sisters on their looks, their dresses, their carriage. Everything that could be praised, was praised. Unusually for Sophia she seemed not to notice their flattering remarks even when they were particularly lavish in their admiration of her blue satin. Christabel thought she seemed disturbed, almost excited, looking nervously from right to left and then behind, sometimes even hanging over the side of the carriage to gain a better view. It hardly seemed likely, but was it possible that Sophia had made an assignation with someone?

‘There’s Lucy,’ the elder Miss Banham suddenly shrieked. ‘And with Petronella!’

‘Our cousins,’ the younger sister explained to the startled Tallises. ‘Miss Tallis, Miss Sophia, would you mind awfully if we were to get down? It’s an age since we’ve seen our cousins and there’s so much to tell!’

The Tallis sisters readily assented. They were both heartily weary of the clamour that had accompanied their drive around the park. Sophia’s face became intent. She had now only to free herself from her sister’s company and she could at last seek Sir Julian alone. But nothing happened to aid her plan and just a few minutes later they saw him riding towards them.

He hailed them with pleasure, reining in his horse by the carriage to greet Christabel for the first time in nearly a week. For a while he sat silently gazing at her. He had forgotten just how beautiful she was and was suffused with eagerness to make his declaration and possess her as his wife. Belatedly he remembered her sister’s presence.

‘Good morning, Miss Sophia. I trust you suffered no ill from your exertions at the rout?’

Sophia smiled a little sourly. Sir Julian seemed not to notice and immediately turned his attention back to Christabel.

‘I was most sorry to hear of your indisposition, Miss Tallis, but I see from your looks that you are now fully recovered. I had hoped to see you at the rout but in your absence your little sister kept me on my toes.’

‘So I understand, Sir Julian.’ Christabel smiled, her green eyes warm and welcoming. ‘And how did your business at Rosings prosper?’

‘It went well, plenty to do, you know, as always, but also plenty of time to plan.’ He looked suddenly serious. ‘I am most pleased to find you here this morning. There is something particular I wish to discuss with you. I wonder if you would do me the honour of walking a short way with me?’

She knew that this was the moment that had threatened for so long. Now that it had finally come, she felt calm and resigned. This was something she must do for herself and her family. It was no good thinking that a dashing white knight was going to ride to her rescue. Those were the foolish daydreams of an immature girl. This was the reality—a comfortable life with a comfortable husband. She allowed Sir Julian to hand her down from the carriage and stood waiting for him. He was about to join her when Sophia indicated that she also wished to alight. Sir Julian was surprised by this lack of tact, but, polite as always, he carefully handed the younger girl down and they began walking together over the luxuriant carpet of grass from which the dew had only just disappeared.

At that moment Benedict and Domino were manoeuvring their horses through the busy West End traffic. Pedlars, carts, every kind of carriage thronged the roads leading to St James’s and all their attention was taken up with gaining a safe passage through the maelstrom of noise and bustle. Twenty long minutes later they finally reached the safety of the park and trotted smartly through its eastern entrance. Benedict glanced briefly at his companion. He was not the most acute observer, but she seemed unusually subdued. At first he had put it down to the late nights and this morning’s early rising, but as they rode, he became increasingly aware of tension within the slight figure alongside him. After a few abortive attempts at conversation he gave up talking and they rode in silence.

The air was still and cool and shafts of sunlight filtered through the newly leafing trees overhead. As they pushed their way further into this small island of nature, Domino decided to make her confession. Her frustration at Richard’s continued blindness had been replaced at the rout party by a new fascination. In that hot, enclosed little room she had been captivated by the ebb and flow of changing fortunes, the excitement of placing her stake, the rush of adrenaline as the cards sped from the faro box and the thrill of delight when the pile of rouleaus in front of her began to grow.

Not so delighted, though, when they began to disappear. But then Lord Moncaster had come to her rescue, had advanced her some of his own rouleaus for no more payment than her handkerchief. In the thrill of the game it had seemed perfectly normal for her to hand over this small personal possession. But the sly looks the other players exchanged alerted her to the fact that his lordship’s offer was hardly usual. He’d behaved impeccably, though, even advancing more tokens without demanding anything further from her. At least for the moment. He’d said that he would think of some way she could repay him, but that she wasn’t to worry her pretty head. He was a rich man, a few losses meant nothing to him. At these last comments Domino’s immediate neighbour, apparently so correct and punctilious, had smirked knowingly. She caught both his grimace and Leo Moncaster’s answering smile and a vague discomfort became a pressing anxiety to leave.

‘What do you know of Lord Moncaster?’ she asked suddenly.

Benedict looked at her cautiously, trying to gauge how much he should say. ‘Not a lot,’ was his unhelpful reply.

He saw her biting her lip and relented a little, ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Only that I’m interested in the people I met at the Seftons’. I understand it was Lord Moncaster who held the faro bank.’

‘He often does. He’s a very rich man.’

‘Is he married?’

Where was this leading? thought Benedict. ‘No, not married.’

‘Yet he’s quite old.’

‘He’s not that old and he doesn’t exactly lead the kind of life that goes with being married,’ he added bravely.

‘What kind of life?’ came the inevitable question.

‘Pretty rackety.’ Better to be brutal to be kind if the girl had any idea of snaring Moncaster.

‘Benedict, I lost money to him,’ she disclosed in a sudden rush of words.

‘We all lost money to him.’

‘I mean, I lost more—after you left.’

‘You couldn’t have lost much more. You only had enough rouleaus left for one more stake.’

‘I borrowed more.’

‘Borrowed? From him?’ He whistled under his breath.

‘It was not a good idea?’

‘Definitely not. What did you pledge?’

‘Pledge?’

‘What did he ask for?’ Benedict was getting seriously alarmed.

‘My handkerchief, first, but then he gave me rouleaus for free.’

‘He never gives anything for free.’

‘That’s what I’m thinking now,’ she said miserably. ‘What will he do, do you think?’

Benedict hardly liked to put his thoughts into words. The vague feelings of guilt that had previously visited him found vent in scolding.

‘Whatever made you do such an idiotic thing?’

‘I didn’t realise it was wrong until later. You were not there to advise me,’ she accused him.

‘It shouldn’t be me advising you. It should be your aunt. You must tell her what you’ve done and she must repay Lord Moncaster his debt.’

‘I can’t do that. She will be so angry with me and despatch me immediately to Spain.’

‘I wouldn’t blame her. You’re too much of a responsibility. Anyway, you’re leaving for Spain at the end of the Season, so why not now?’

‘I have my reasons,’ she said gravely, the image of Richard hovering close. Then, following her train of thought, she asked in a falsely bright voice, ‘Is Miss Tallis riding here today?’

‘She’s out driving with my sister. I’m supposed to be with them, but Sophia’s screeching sends me insane. I thought you were the better bet!’ He grinned.

She ignored the witticism. ‘Is she here right now? Perhaps we should go and find her.’

‘We won’t have to look too far.’ He raised his arm to point ahead. ‘She’s there, just to the right of that clump of trees.’

They reined in their horses. A carriage had been drawn up beneath the trees and to one side they saw Sir Julian Edgerton talking animatedly to Christabel. He had her hand raised to his lips and then, as they watched, slipped what looked like a ring on her finger.

‘Perhaps not the right time to interrupt,’ Benedict commented drily.

Domino felt considerable surprise, but also a warm pleasure. If Christabel were pledged to another man, it might mean Richard would look more kindly on her. ‘They are to be married?’

‘My mother’s been waiting an age for this—Bel must have finally decided to put the man out of his misery.’

‘It’s a very happy day, then. Let’s go and congratulate them.’

‘I don’t think I will right now,’ he prevaricated. ‘Just look at Sophia! ‘

They looked across from the betrothed couple and saw a figure in bright blue satin some distance from the carriage, standing rigidly with averted head.

‘Like I said, perhaps not the best time to interrupt.’ He gave a mischievous smile. ‘Come on, let’s have a gallop. No one’s around to tell tales.’

‘I must not, Benedict. I’m already in trouble for that.’

He set himself to persuade his companion that a gallop was just the thing to blow away her megrims when a large black stallion cut across their path and Richard Veryan was hailing them with a smile.

‘Good morning to you both. I’m very glad to see you, Domino, though I must admit I didn’t expect to meet you so early in the morning.’

‘It’s such a beautiful day that I couldn’t lie abed. Did you particularly want to see me, Richard?’ Her tone was eager, almost breathless.

‘I was worried that I might miss you, knowing what a crowded social calendar you have,’ he teased. ‘I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for Cornwall very shortly.’

‘Cornwall? But why now?’ Her dismay rang out clearly.

‘Why not now?’ he said bracingly. ‘I’ve tarried too long in London—my mother deserves better. I should be at her side, don’t you think?’

‘Yes’, she stuttered, ‘of course, but it seems a sudden decision.’

‘Hardly sudden. It’s taken time to organise my affairs, but everything is now in a fair way to being settled. There’s no need for me to remain in London any longer.’

Benedict saw her face and knew instantly that his supposition over Moncaster was false. But this relationship didn’t look much more promising. There was an awkward silence and he felt it incumbent to oil the social wheels.

‘I’ll be returning to Cornwall myself pretty soon, Rick. We must make sure to ride out together—if you can spare the time.’

The other man smiled his assent. ‘There’s always time for a decent gallop.’

Domino had been following her own thoughts and blurted out abruptly, ‘But won’t you stay for the Vauxhall spectacle, Richard? It’s only a few days away.’

‘I think not, but you’re sure to enjoy yourself. I remember seeing the fireworks for the first time when I was about your age and they were truly spectacular.’

Domino dug her nails into her hands and screamed inwardly. Wanting to hit out, she said as casually as she could, ‘If you’re leaving so soon, you’d better make haste to congratulate Miss Tallis. She is close by, I believe.’

Benedict looked at her with surprise, wondering what her game was. Not for the first time he felt completely out of his depth in trying to fathom females.

‘Congratulate Miss Tallis?’ Richard was questioning.

‘We’ve just seen her with Sir Julian Edgerton in a most romantic situation, haven’t we, Benedict?’ Her companion looked suitably revolted. ‘Benedict tells me that the betrothal between Sir Julian and his sister is something the whole family has been expecting, and it looks as though today it’s finally happened,’ she added helpfully.

Richard was far too self-controlled to betray his feelings, but his face grew austere and the light went out of the smiling grey eyes.

‘I had better do as you suggest, then, and seek Miss Tallis out.’

He wheeled his horse sharply around and rode away. His face might be an impassive mask, but inside he was incandescent. She was going to marry the man! How could she even consider it? Just a few days ago she had kissed him, caressed him, laid herself open to his lovemaking. The thought almost tore the breath from his body. Only yesterday in Curzon Street he’d felt certain that he could leave behind the old history at last. He’d been shocked to discover that Christabel had never known the depths of his youthful love and begun to understand just how easy it had been for Joshua to mislead her. The familiar, nagging hurt hadn’t disappeared completely, but he’d felt better able to contemplate the past with some serenity. Now, though, the wound had opened again and laceratingly. Yet another man was to smile into those startling emerald eyes, to run his hands over that beautiful, lithe body, to laugh and tease and fun with her. No, that he wouldn’t do. Sir Julian Edgerton was not a man made for fun. Nor was he a man made for love, not the kind that she needed at least. If he were still in love with her … But he wasn’t, was he? Her betrayal might have been an act of youthful folly, but she had damaged him too badly for him to trust her again. And now she was to marry this dull do-gooder and be lost to him for ever. How could she? The question thrummed blindly through every particle of his flesh.

Behind a veil of tears, Domino watched his figure as it grew slowly smaller in the distance. Riding alongside, Benedict maintained a discreet silence. He trusted that he would not be called upon to become a confidant and waited for her to recover herself. With a great effort, she turned to him with a show of enthusiasm.

‘That was exciting, wasn’t it, but can we return to my problem? I need to win back the money that I lost to Lord Moncaster. Will you help me do that?’

‘You want me to win it?’

‘Of course not, I want to win it. It’s my debt. But I need you to introduce me to a place where I can do that.’

‘You’re asking me to take you to a gambling den?’

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t,’ he said flatly.

‘Why not? If you’re scared we might be recognised, I could go in disguise.’

‘It gets worse.’

‘No, it doesn’t, I can disguise myself very well as a boy and go as your friend.’

He looked at her slim figure appraisingly. ‘I’m sure you can, but I’m not taking you to any gaming hell.’

‘I don’t want to go to a hell, just a place where I can win back the money.’

‘That’s a gaming hell.’

‘Please, Benedict.’

‘No, no and definitely no.’

‘Then you won’t help me.’

‘I’ve told you what to do. Go to your aunt and confess. The worst she can do is to pack you off to Spain. Would that matter so much now?’

She flushed at the implication, but knew that he was right. She supposed that she must find the right opportunity to tell Lady Blythe what had happened. But then her aunt would be sure to tell her Spanish relatives of her disgrace and from the moment she arrived in Madrid, they would be watching her every movement. She wished she’d never left Argentina.

In the distance Richard had ridden up to the small group standing beneath the trees. Sophia had joined her sister and Sir Julian near the carriage, as anxious now to leave as she had been earlier to find him. She scowled even more ferociously as she recognised the man seated astride the glossy black horse picking its way towards them.

Richard Veryan slid from the saddle as Christabel turned. He came forward and bowed just a little too deeply.

‘I understand from your brother that felicitations are in order.’ His voice was harsh, slightly disdainful. ‘May I take the opportunity, Miss Tallis, to congratulate you and Sir Julian, on your forthcoming marriage,’ and here he bowed extravagantly towards the other man. ‘I wish you both all the happiness you are capable of.’

Christabel flushed, knowing the double edge of those words, but executed a dignified bow in response. Her fiancé smiled happily and without guile.

‘Thank you, Lord Veryan. Your good wishes are most welcome. I consider myself to be blessed indeed to have won this remarkable lady for my future wife, a gift beyond anything I deserve.’

Richard’s expression was sardonic. ‘You must not sell yourself short, Sir Julian. I’m sure Miss Tallis would be the first to agree that your honesty and loyalty are qualities to aspire to.’

Sir Julian blinked at this sentiment, but his smile broadened even further. He felt supremely happy and nothing was going to spoil this wonderful day for him. Sophia stood close by, an interested observer. Richard’s comments appeared to be coming from between gritted teeth and offered a small hope. She might yet salvage something from the plans that had gone so badly awry.

Pinning on her most enticing smile, she turned to the happy lover. ‘I believe, Sir Julian, that you were involved in plans for the canal which has been constructed to feed the lake. I would love to see it and understand exactly how it works. Would you be good enough to take me?’

If Sir Julian felt this was a strange request coming at the very moment of his betrothal and from a girl who had hitherto not shown the slightest interest in engineering, he was far too polite to show it. Willing to do anything for anybody on this glorious morning, particularly a close relative of his beloved, he immediately agreed.

‘It appears we must leave you, sir,’ and he bowed his farewell. ‘Thank you again for your good wishes.’

He began to walk towards the Chinese bridge with Sophia in tow, already beginning a complicated discourse on his understanding of the water-management system. Equally bewildered by her sister’s request, Christabel turned to follow them, but was stopped in her tracks by Richard roughly grabbing her arm. He hardly waited for the others to be out of earshot before grinding out, ‘You can’t really mean to marry that man!’

‘I beg your pardon!’ She was genuinely shocked.

‘I think you understand me, but, just in case, I was questioning your sanity in agreeing to marry Julian Edgerton.’

‘How dare you presume to question whom I marry!’

‘I dare to presume because I seem to know you better than you know yourself. But even you must be aware of how unsuited you are to each other.’

The red cascade of curls trembled with anger. ‘You are insulting, sir!’

‘I would call it honest rather than insulting, but it’s better to be insulting than concur in this charade.’

‘You are misinformed, my lord. There is no charade. Sir Julian and I have known each other for many months and have agreed that we will suit admirably.’

She wondered why she was defending her choice of husband to Richard of all men but she felt compelled to continue and found herself declaring, ‘Sir Julian is a man of the highest honour and integrity.’

‘I’m sure he is. He’s also a gudgeon if he thinks he can control you.’

‘No man controls me and Sir Julian is far too wise to wish to do so.’

‘But not wise enough to refrain from marrying you,’ he retaliated.

She glared furiously at the tall, elegant figure in front of her and responded in a voice crackling with ice, ‘This is mere ranting and I will listen no more. I bid you good day, sir.’

Her cream skirts swished to one side as she made to walk away. But Richard would not concede. Ignoring her cold fury and the summary nature of his dismissal, he called out, ‘If you value his happiness as much as your own, don’t do it.’

She retraced her steps and stood looking directly up into his eyes, now dark and glittering.

‘If we are to give each other marital advice, I would suggest that wedding a child fresh from the nursery is unlikely to guarantee success. I, at least, intend to marry a man of my own age and one I have known for many months.’

Brushing aside his supposed alliance with Domino, he coldly countered her logic. ‘But how much of a guarantee is that? You once agreed to marry another man of your own age and one you had known a very long time, but that alliance wasn’t too permanent, was it?’

He smiled derisively at her. ‘At the moment Sir Julian is living in his own little paradise, but how long do you give him? He would be well advised to grow steel armour in the very near future, say three weeks from his wedding day.’

‘You have been as offensive as it is possible to be, Lord Veryan, but nothing you say can touch our happiness.’

He grimaced. ‘How charming! And how strange that there was a day when I felt that too. I looked deep into your green eyes, touched your luminous skin, tangled my hands in that wild red hair—and what a premonition that was—and believed that I was as happy as it was possible to be, that nothing could ever touch that happiness. How wrongly can a man judge!’

Christabel swallowed hard. ‘Yesterday you assured me that you considered the past dead. Can you not accept that we made a mistake and forget?’

‘You made a mistake, Miss Tallis. For myself, the past is nothing. But I find it difficult to forget those others for whom the pain still lives. But then you never cared too much about them—friends, parents, all could be sacrificed. All that mattered was that you had your desire, a desire, it seems, which died almost as soon as it flickered into life.’