Читать книгу The Convenient Felstone Marriage - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 12

Chapter Four

‘You want me to stay?’

Robert studied her face, trying to understand what she was really asking him. Her expression had just run the gamut of emotions from dismissive to panicked to imploring in less than thirty seconds. He’d been about to quit the field, certain that she’d been about to reject him—again—but now she was actually pleading with him to stay.

Why?

‘There’s no need to leave on Sir Charles’s account.’ Her voice quavered slightly. ‘You haven’t had tea yet.’

He knit his brows suspiciously. She was trying to smile and failing, her strained features barely concealing an undercurrent of fear. Clearly she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she didn’t want to marry Sir Charles, but fear? Aversion was one thing, but this...this was something else entirely. Was she afraid of him, then?

‘Please.’ She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder when he still didn’t answer. ‘Just for a few minutes.’

‘You don’t want to be alone with him?’ He felt vaguely disturbed by the idea. ‘Your aunt and brother are here.’

‘It’s not that...’

‘You want to make him jealous?’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘Yes. If he sees us alone together...’

‘He might not like the competition?’

She held his gaze in guilty silence for a few moments before shaking her head. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m flattered.’

‘Then you don’t object?’

He gave a small shrug, surprised to find that he didn’t object at all.

‘Not if you think it might help, though it might not be the wisest course of action. Some men like a challenge.’

‘I don’t know what he likes!’ Brown eyes flashed tempestuously. ‘But I’ve tried everything else!’

Robert cocked an eyebrow, surprised as much by her vehemence as by the words themselves. What did that mean? That she’d tried ‘everything else’? What else?

His gaze dropped to her extravagant pink dress, so wildly different to her sensible grey outfit from the day before. She seemed to have gone from one extreme to the other. There was nothing remotely sensible about her appearance now. When she’d entered the room he’d thought he’d made a mistake and had the wrong woman. She looked like a younger version of her flamboyant aunt, the ridiculous lace cap on her head framing her face like the petals of a huge flower. Not that there weren’t still points to admire. The tight bodice accentuated curves that had been largely hidden the day before, revealing a surprisingly statuesque figure, shapely waist and ample, round breasts...

He forced his attention back to her words. I’ve tried everything else. Was her outlandish appearance all a façade then, some kind of bizarre attempt to repel Sir Charles? That would explain why she’d looked so embarrassed to see him instead. After charging into the parlour so defiantly, her cheeks had turned almost the same colour as her dress, though he had to admit the effect had been unexpectedly alluring.

‘I’m more than happy to play the rival suitor, Miss Holt.’ He made an ironic bow. ‘Shall I stand here or languish at your feet?’

She shot him a cutting look, opening her mouth to retort before clamping it firmly shut again as the tall, suavely dressed figure of Sir Charles Lester appeared in the doorway.

‘Ianthe.’ The Baronet strode forward at once, grasping her hands and raising them both to his lips, seemingly oblivious to anything unusual in her appearance. ‘You look just as lovely as ever.’

Robert regarded the other man critically. In his mid-fifties, the Baronet had an air of casual, confident authority, with a strong athletic figure and abundance of silver-blond hair. There was nothing obviously untoward or overtly threatening about his appearance, but the hard edge to his features gave him away. It was the same edge he recognised from his father’s face, the same look of a man accustomed to wanting—and getting—his own way.

And in this particular case what the Baronet wanted was obvious. The way he was clutching Ianthe’s wrists put him in mind of a falcon digging its talons into a small bird. As for her... She was standing completely immobile, her whole body stiff and rigid, as if simply awaiting an opportunity to get away.

He tensed, seized by an instantaneous rush of dislike, barely resisting a compulsion to grab the other man by the collar and throw him out on to the street.

‘Felstone.’ Sir Charles addressed him without turning his head. ‘I didn’t think you were the type to make calls on ladies.’

Robert held his temper with an effort. The Baronet’s tone was dismissive, though if he thought he could be chased away so easily, he could think again.

‘I make the occasional exception. When the company’s so pleasant, that is.’

‘Indeed?’ Sir Charles dragged his gaze away from Ianthe’s face at last. ‘Percy told me you met on the train yesterday.’

‘That was my good fortune, yes.’

‘And here you are again today.’ Green eyes narrowed unpleasantly. ‘Isn’t there any work to be done for the gala?’

‘Plenty, I should imagine.’

Robert flung himself back down on the sofa, throwing one leg casually over the other with the air of a man determined to stay put. Antagonising a man with the Baronet’s influence didn’t make particularly good business sense, but then his behaviour seemed to have become increasingly reckless since meeting Miss Holt. Good business or not, he wasn’t going to abandon her now, not when she’d just begged him to stay. As for the man’s ill manners, he’d be more than happy to take issue with those...

‘And we’re quite delighted that you called, Mr Felstone.’

Sophoria Gibbs pushed past the Baronet so roughly that Robert almost laughed out loud. He’d always suspected that the old woman’s eccentricities belied a sharp mind, but he’d never been so certain of it until that moment. It seemed he wouldn’t have much work to do to get her on side. If he asked, she’d probably help him haul Sir Charles out on to the street.

‘Let me do the tea, Aunt.’ Miss Holt extricated herself from the Baronet’s clutches at last, rubbing her wrists together as she moved towards the table.

Robert’s eyes narrowed. Even from where he was sitting, he could see faint red marks, indentations left by Sir Charles’s fingers. How hard had he been holding her? His gaze shifted towards the Baronet, but the other man looked completely absorbed, his eyes following her every movement around the room with a look of alarming intensity.

‘Mr Felstone, how d’ye do?’ The brother strode into the room finally, throwing himself into a chair without waiting for a reply. ‘I hope you’re in a better mood today, sis.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood, Percy,’ she answered stiffly, pointedly handing Robert the first cup of tea.

‘No? You were in a fearsome temper yesterday.’

‘Well, I’m not now.’

‘In that case, I hope you’ll permit me to escort you to the ball tonight?’ Sir Charles threw Robert a sharp look. ‘Percy told me about your offer, Felstone, but I’d already arranged invitations for both himself and Miss Holt.’

‘And their aunt, no doubt?’

Robert smiled benignly as the Baronet’s smug expression faltered. ‘I’m afraid not. I thought the evening might be too much for Miss Gibbs.’

‘I can still out-dance you, Charles.’ The old woman made a cackling sound. ‘It’s just a good thing Mr Felstone thought of me.’

‘In any case—’ Sir Charles ignored her ‘—I’ve also taken the liberty of arranging a gown for you, Ianthe. White Parisian silk. Your mother had one just like it. I think it should look very fetching on you.’

Robert watched as she came to a sudden stop in the centre of the room. Moving around the small space distributing tea, she’d put him in mind of a tennis ball, being batted about between players. Now she seemed to be hovering over the net, trying to decide which way to fall or whether to abandon the court altogether.

For a tense moment she didn’t answer, smoothing her hands over the front of her pink taffeta as if trying to make up her mind about something. Then she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head all of a sudden, meeting the Baronet’s gaze squarely.

‘Thank you for the offer, but I already have a gown.’

‘Since when?’ Percy sounded indignant.

‘Since Mr Felstone was good enough to bring me one.’

Robert smiled innocently, leaning back in his chair as four sets of eyes swivelled towards him.

‘Well, how kind of you!’ The aunt was the first to speak.

‘Very.’ Sir Charles sounded less than pleased.

‘It was my pleasure, though the credit really belongs to Kitty Loveday. She offered the loan. I’m simply the delivery boy.’

‘Her husband works for the railway, doesn’t he?’ The Baronet’s tone was scathing.

‘He’s an engineer, yes. As well as a good friend and one of the cleverest men I know.’

‘Why, Katherine Loveday!’ Aunt Sophoria’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘You used to play with her when you were children, Ianthe. She never stopped talking even then, but she was always a kind girl.’

‘She still is.’ Robert gave an approving smile. ‘I’d be glad to reintroduce you tonight, Miss Holt.’

‘Isn’t a ball a bit frivolous for you, Felstone?’ Sir Charles’s expression was now openly antagonistic. ‘I thought you lived to work. Or are you trying to distance yourself from business at last?’

‘I’ve no intention of doing anything of the kind. I’m fortunate enough to enjoy what I do. But I can have an evening off occasionally.’

‘Will Louisa Allendon be attending, then?’ Sir Charles gave a look of feigned innocence. ‘I thought you were spending all your spare time with her.’

Robert clenched his jaw, tipping his head slightly to acknowledge the hit. ‘I’ve no idea where Miss Allendon intends to spend her evening.’

‘No? What a shame. Though I did hear she didn’t like the smell of the shipyard. Too close to the fish market, perhaps. You must be feeling quite let down there.’

‘Would you care for something to eat, Mr Felstone?’

Ianthe’s voice prevented him from answering. He looked up to find her standing beside him, holding out a plate of miniature cakes with a distinctly apologetic expression, as if she were worried about the impact of the Baronet’s words. He raised an eyebrow, strangely touched by her intervention, though on the other hand, perhaps she was right to be worried. If he stayed another minute, he might make even more of a scene than he had yesterday.

Besides, he decided, he’d already done what she’d asked him. He’d definitely succeeded in making Sir Charles jealous. What she did next was up to her...

‘No, thank you.’ He swallowed the rest of his tea and stood up. ‘I’m afraid Sir Charles is right and I have work to do. The gala will be starting shortly.’

‘Of course, we mustn’t keep you any longer.’ She gave what looked like a genuine smile. ‘Thank you for calling.’

‘Miss Holt.’ He held out his hand and she took it, willingly this time, placing her smooth hand in his rough one with a smile that faded the instant their fingers touched.

He felt a jolt, as if someone had just shoved him hard in the chest, accompanied by a strange scorching sensation that seemed to pass through her fingers and up his arm, rendering him speechless. He saw her eyes widen in response, heard her sudden intake of breath, though somehow he couldn’t release her. He didn’t want to release her. He wanted to pull her closer. As close as he could...

‘Mr Felstone.’ She found her voice first, averting her gaze as she slowly tugged her hand away.

He cleared his throat, hardly trusting himself to speak as he made a formal bow to her aunt and then strode determinedly out of the parlour, barely pausing to scoop up his hat before charging out on to the street and almost slamming the door behind him.

What the hell had just happened?

He stopped on the doorstep to take a deep breath. One moment he’d been thinking about dragging the Baronet outside by the scruff of his expensive collar, the next he’d felt an almost visceral shock as his fingers had touched Ianthe’s. How could simply touching her hand have had such a powerful effect? She wasn’t unattractive, despite her unusual fashion sense, but he wasn’t attracted to her...was he? He frowned, alarmed by the possibility. That wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t part of the business arrangement that he’d proposed. He wanted sensible and respectable. He had a business to build, not to mention a shipyard to run. The last thing he needed was a woman to distract him. Louisa had taken up enough of his time already.

But then he’d been angry, after all. He’d been tense, his blood fired up by Sir Charles’s comments about Louisa. Whatever he’d felt had probably just been temper, nothing to do with her at all...

He clamped his hat on his head and turned his steps in the direction of the station, walking so fast that he almost bumped into a couple walking arm in arm in the other direction.

‘Why, Robert!’ A pair of inquisitive blue eyes framed with dark curls peeped up at him from beneath an elaborate spoon bonnet. ‘Fancy meeting you here!’

‘Kitty.’ He forced a smile, still wrestling with his bad temper. In truth, he should have expected this, should have known he couldn’t enlist Kitty’s help with the gown and then expect her to keep away. Clearly his edited account of meeting Miss Holt on the train wasn’t enough to satiate her curiosity. ‘And Giles, too. What a coincidence. I thought you’d be on your way to the gala by now.’

‘So did I.’ Giles rolled his eyes.

‘Bit of an odd route you’re taking, then. You do remember that the station’s at the bottom of the hill, not the top?’

‘Quite.’

‘We’re taking a stroll to calm Giles’s nerves.’ Kitty fluttered her eyelashes innocently. ‘Though we’re heading back down now if you’d care to join us?’

‘With pleasure. If you’re sure that Giles has walked enough, that is?’ he couldn’t resist teasing, extending an arm to let Kitty hook her spare hand around it. After two years, he’d learned that there was no point trying to keep secrets from his friend’s wife—all but a few important ones, anyway—though he still had no intention of making her interrogation easy.

‘So?’ They’d only gone a couple of steps before she started. ‘Did Miss Holt like the dress?’

‘I think so.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Was your visit a success?’

‘In what way?’

‘Was she pleased to see you?’

His lips twitched. ‘That remains to be seen.’

‘She wasn’t too tired from her journey?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Giles burst out impatiently. ‘Just tell her what happened and have done with it. You know we’ll never have any peace until you do.’

‘Giles!’ Kitty looked aggrieved. ‘You know I don’t want to pry.’

‘And you know perfectly well that you do. Just ask him.’

‘I’ll do no such thing.’ Kitty lifted her button nose in the air. ‘Since you both think so ill of me.’

‘I assure you that we think nothing of the kind.’ Robert shared a conspiratorial look with his friend. ‘But as I told you, it only was a brief visit to deliver the dress.’

And to ask her to marry me, he added silently. Not that he was about to tell Kitty that. He might as well take out an advert in the local paper. As to how it had gone... Honestly, he had no idea. Miss Holt might prefer him to Sir Charles, but that wasn’t saying much. That moment when their fingers had touched had seemed to affect her, too, but then she’d been the one to pull away. She hadn’t even looked at him when he’d left, had seemed no closer to accepting his proposal, though after the way his own body had reacted, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to any more. That had definitely not been part of his proposal. On the other hand, the thought of leaving her at the mercy of Sir Charles made his fists curl instinctively. No matter how unnerved he’d been by their exchange, he couldn’t do that...