Читать книгу Regency Beauty: Beneath the Major's Scars / Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - Sarah Mallory - Страница 11

Zelah closed her eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. After a few deep breaths she opened her eyes, but could not bring herself to look up into the major’s face. Instead she fixed her gaze on the rather poor landscape painting on the wall.

‘A p-proposal, sir?’ Her voice was little more than a croak.

‘Yes.’

She jumped up and went to the window, her hands on her burning cheeks. What was she to say? Could this really be happening? She kept her back to him as he began to speak again.

‘You have honoured me with your confidence and informed me that you are seeking employment as a governess. I want to ask—that is, would you consider a rather … different form of employment?’

The heat and colour fled from her cheeks as swiftly as it had come. She wheeled around, this time firmly fixing her eyes upon his face. Her heart was still hammering but there was such a confusion of thoughts in her head that she felt sick. She swallowed, hard.

‘Just what are you offering me, Major?’

He looked uncomfortable. She found herself praying.

Please do not let him say it. I cannot bear to think he would even ask …

‘Miss Pentewan, you will know I am alone at Rooks Tower.’ Her heart sank even lower. She clenched her hands together, closed her eyes and prepared her answer even as he continued. ‘I have been struggling for some weeks now but—madam, would you consider working as my archivist?’

‘Sir, thank you, but I could not possibly—what?’

He shrugged. ‘Archivist, librarian, I am not sure what title you would use, but I need someone to put my books in order. Rooks Tower has a large library and I intend to make use of it. I have had the room decorated, but have done nothing about unpacking the books I brought with me from Markham. I have collected a great number of volumes over the years and transported them all here, but they are in no particular order. It is the devil of a job and with the summer coming on I need to be supervising the work outside as much as possible. I just haven’t the time …’

She blinked at him.

‘You … you want me to, to arrange your books?’

‘Yes. Oh, I know it is not the type of work you were looking for, but from our discussions I received the impression that you were intent upon becoming a governess because that is the only respectable occupation available to a young woman.’

‘Respectable, yes, and … I know nothing about organising a library!’

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

‘You told me you knew nothing about children, but that has not stopped you advertising yourself as a governess. I need someone to sort out all those damn—dashed volumes.’

‘But surely you should employ a scholar to do this, someone who understands the value of your collection—’

Again that grimace distorted his features.

‘I am not interested in its value, only that the books are recorded in some sort of order and that they are on the shelves and to hand when I want them. They are, in the main, useful books that I have collected.’ He took a turn about the room. ‘Besides, I do not wish to have a stranger in my house. No, madam, I want the library organised and all the books catalogued during the next few months. I see no reason why you could not walk over there every day and continue to live with your brother and sister.’

‘I—I am not sure …’

He waved an impatient hand.

‘You need fear no impropriety. Mrs Graddon and the housemaids will be present and I spend most of my time out of doors. I am willing to pay you a total of fifty guineas for the work: twenty-five when you begin, and the rest once the library is complete. It should not take too long, two months, perhaps three at the most.’

‘Then the remuneration you offer is far too generous.’

He shrugged. ‘I want it to be done, and soon. The cost is not important.’

Zelah shook her head, trying to think clearly. In the space of a few minutes her spirits had experienced ecstatic heights, deep despair and a fury of indignation, and all for nothing. He was offering her nothing more or less than a job of work.

The major picked up his hat.

‘Perhaps you would like to consider it. Talk it over with your sister.’

‘No,’ she answered him quickly. ‘No, I have made my decision.’

If she discussed this with Maria or Reginald they might well try to dissuade her, but here was an opportunity to earn her keep, albeit for a short time, and remain with her family. She squared her shoulders, raised her head and met his gaze.

‘I accept your offer, Major Coale.’

For a long, breath-stopping moment his eyes searched her face, then he smiled and she found herself responding, until he looked away from her.

‘Thank you, that is excellent news,’ he said crisply. ‘I see no reason for delay. Report to Rooks Tower on Monday morning!’

‘My dear sister, have you lost your wits?’

Zelah gazed up at her brother-in-law, a laugh hovering on her lips. ‘Why should you think that? I have merely accepted a very lucrative engagement.’

She had kept the news of the major’s proposal until they were sitting together in the drawing room after dinner. She had hoped that a good meal would put Reginald in a more mellow mood, but her announcement was still met with a mixture of indignation and amazement.

‘You cannot accept,’ declared Maria. ‘It would be most improper.’

‘But I have accepted and there will be nothing improper about the arrangement. Major Coale has already informed me that he spends his days out of doors.’

‘For an unmarried lady to be alone in his house—’

‘I shall not be alone, Reginald, I shall be surrounded by servants. Besides, who will know of it?’

‘The whole of Lesserton by the end of the week,’ replied Reginald drily.

‘But it is a job of work. I shall continue to advertise for a position as a governess, but until then it will give me a measure of independence, and if the task takes only three months then I should be able to save a good proportion of my money against hard times.’ Zelah looked at her sister, begging her to understand. ‘I have been here long enough, Maria. I told you when I came I would not be your pensioner. Major Coale has promised to give me half my fee in advance. I intend to give some of it to you, to pay Nicky’s school fees.’

‘But there is no need of that, Reginald and I have already agreed—’

‘To sell the seven-acre field, I know.’ Zelah interrupted her. ‘I would much rather you took my money.’

‘Never,’ cried Maria, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘I would not dream of taking your wages—’

Reginald held up his hand.

‘I think Zelah has a point,’ he said slowly. ‘To sell off the field would mean less return at harvest. If we keep it, we may well be able to repay your sister by the end of the year.’

Maria did not look convinced. She reached across and took Zelah’s hands.

‘Oh, my dear, for any young lady to take such a position, in the house of a man like Major Coale, would be to risk her reputation, but in your case—’

‘In my case I have no reputation to risk.’

An uncomfortable silence followed Zelah’s bald statement. She withdrew her hands from her sister’s grasp and rose.

‘I made up my mind when I left Cardinham that I would support myself. I have caused my family enough sorrow and will not compound my guilt by allowing you to keep me.’

‘But you might marry—’

‘You know I have set my mind against marriage.’

‘Oh, sister, pray do not say that—’

Reginald put up his hand to silence his wife’s protest.

‘My dear, Zelah is right,’ he said heavily. ‘Any man who formed an attachment would have to be told of her … unfortunate past.’

Zelah winced.

‘But if a man truly loved her—’ cried Maria, looking beseechingly at her husband.

Zelah shook her head.

‘Of all the requirements a man may have when looking for a wife three things are paramount: good birth, good fortune and a spotless character. I am afraid I have only the first of those requirements. So you see, it is much better that I should learn to make my own way in the world.’ She smiled at them, knowing tears were not far away. ‘If you will only allow me to continue living here while I work at Rooks Tower, then I shall consider myself truly blessed.’

‘Of course you may.’ Reginald came forwards to kiss her cheek. ‘We could not countenance you living anywhere else.’

‘Good day to you, Miss Pentewan. The master said you was coming. I am to show you to the library.’

Despite having told herself that she did not expect the major to be at Rooks Tower to greet her, Zelah was disappointed. She followed the housekeeper through the hall, heading away from the main staircase and towards a pair of ornate double doors. Zelah expected to pass through into a grand reception chamber, but she was surprised to find herself enveloped in shadows. When her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she could see that it was indeed a large room with a magnificent marble fireplace and intricate linenfold panelling on the walls, but each of the long windows was shuttered to within a few inches of the top, allowing in only enough light to see one’s way between the furniture.

‘The master instructed that these shutters should remain closed,’ explained the housekeeper. ‘This is the yellow salon and everything here is just as it was when Major Coale bought it, but he never uses it. One soon gets used to walking through the gloom.’ There was a tiny note of regret in the older woman’s voice. She had reached the far end of the room and threw open the doors. ‘This is where you will be working.’

The library was identical in size to the yellow salon, but here the morning light shone in through a series of long windows that filled one wall. The other three walls were lined with open bookcases in rich mahogany, their ranks broken only by the doors and the ornate chimney breast. A large desk and chair stood at one end of the room and a wing chair had been placed near the hearth, but the remaining floor space was taken up with a multitude of crates and boxes.

‘Goodness,’ murmured Zelah, her eyes widening. She felt a little tremor of excitement as she thought of all the books packed in the boxes. Who knew what treasures lay in store!

‘It is indeed a sorry mess,’ said Mrs Graddon, misinterpreting her reaction. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon begin to set it all in order. The master has left you new ledgers in the desk drawer and there’s pens, paper and ink, too. Graddon will send someone to help you with the boxes.’

She went away and Zelah stood for a few moments, wondering just where to start.

She began by exploring the room, running her fingers along the smooth polished wood of the empty shelves and then over the cold marble of the fireplace. She moved across the room. The long windows with their low sills looked out on to a wide terrace where little tufts of grass sprouted between the paving. Beyond the stone balustrade the grounds sloped down to the river before the land rose again, the park giving way to woodland that stretched away as far as the distant hills.

An idyllic setting, she thought, drinking in the peaceful tranquillity of the scene. Then setting her shoulders, she turned again to face the task ahead of her.

When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed four o’clock Zelah looked up, surprised. She had no idea where the day had gone. Books were piled haphazardly on the shelves and several opened crates littered the floor. The volumes had been packed in no particular order, novels and religious tracts jostling with books on wild flowers and a furniture directory. She would have to go through them all before she could begin to catalogue them. The room looked even more chaotic now than when she had started, but it could not be helped.

She tidied her desk and glanced around the room, mentally deciding just where she would begin tomorrow. Her eyes fell upon the small door in the far corner. The housekeeper had told her it led to the tower. Zelah stood for a moment, indecisive. Perhaps, while no one was about, she would take a quick peep at the tower.

The door opened on to a small lobby where a steep, wooden stairway wound its way upwards. There was an air of neglect about the plain painted walls and worn treads, but the banister was firm enough and Zelah began to climb the stairs. A door on the first landing opened on to a storage room which was filled with old furniture. Zelah gave it only a cursory glance before moving on to the second floor. She found herself at last on a small landing. The wooden stairs gave way to a narrow stone spiral staircase at the side of which was a single door. Grasping the door handle, Zelah turned it, half-expecting it to be locked. It opened easily and she stepped into a room filled with sunlight. At first glance it seemed there were no walls, only windows from breast-height to ceiling, the leaded lights divided by thin stone mullions and giving an extensive view of the country in all directions.

The only solid wall was behind her, surrounding the door through which she had entered and housing a small fireplace. There were just three pieces of furniture in the room: a mahogany pedestal desk and chair and a much older court cupboard pushed under one window, its well-worn top level with the sill. Zelah knew that such pieces had been designed to display the owner’s plate, a visible indication of wealth and status, but this cupboard was as empty as the desktop. There was nothing in the room to detract from the magnificent views. Zelah moved to the windows. From the first she could see right over the forest and vales towards Devon, from the next the road curled off towards Lesserton and the densely packed trees of Prickett Wood, while from a third she looked out across the park and woods of Rooks Tower to the uplands of Exmoor. She put her hands on the window ledge, drinking in the views.

‘There are no books up here, Miss Pentewan.’

Zelah jumped. Major Coale was standing in the doorway, his hat and riding crop in one hand.

‘Oh, I did not hear you come upstairs.’ She noted idly that his broad shoulders almost brushed the door frame on each side and was glad when he moved into the room and his size did not appear so daunting. She waved towards the window. ‘I was entranced by the view.’

‘Obviously.’

‘I hope you do not mind,’ she hurried on, her eyes searching his face for some softening of his expression. ‘I have done all I can in the library today and wanted to look at the tower and did not wish to disturb the servants …’

He placed his hat and crop on the cupboard.

‘And is this what you expected?’ he asked, drawing off his gloves.

Her smile was spontaneous, any nervousness forgotten.

‘Not at all. I had not imagined the views would be so extensive. You can see all the way into the next county! It is such a lovely room. Imagine how wonderful to sit at this desk—why, in the summer you could work all day and never need to light a candle.’ She looked up at him. ‘Is this your desk, sir? Do you use this room?’

He shook his head.

‘This room is as it was when I bought Rooks Tower and so far this year I have been too busy putting the estate in order to worry overmuch about the interior.’

‘I would like to use it.’ Zelah clasped her hands together, hoping her eagerness did not sound foolish. ‘I could bring the books up here to catalogue them. That way, once the library is tidy, you would be able to use it for your guests—’

‘There are no guests,’ he said shortly.

‘But one day—’

‘It is not my intention to invite anyone here. Ever.’

She felt the last word was added for her benefit. It was uttered with such finality that it gave her pause, but not for long.

‘Is … Would that be because of …?’ She touched her own cheek and saw him flinch. He turned slightly, presenting his undamaged side to her, his profile reminding her of how dangerously attractive he must once have been.

‘I did not move to Rooks Tower to be sociable,’ he said curtly. ‘My years as a soldier have left me impatient of society. Its values and petty tyrannies disgust me.’

‘But you have family and friends, sir. Surely you will not cut yourself off from them so completely?’

‘Damn you, madam, we are not here to discuss how I choose to run my life!’

Zelah recoiled from his angry retort. She bit her lip against further argument, but was not daunted enough to forget her original idea.

‘I beg your pardon, Major. Of course it is no business of mine. But I would like to make use of this room, if you will allow me.’ She waited for a moment, then added coaxingly, ‘I promise I will not let the view distract me from my work.’

His brow cleared.

‘The view is even better from the roof, especially on a fine day like this.’

She waited expectantly. His hard eyes glinted and she knew he had read her mind.

‘Would you like to see it?’

* * *

Zelah followed him out to the landing and on to the spiral stair. It was only just wide enough for one person and she was obliged to hold up her skirts as she climbed the steep steps. A series of tiny windows sent shafts of dazzling sunlight across her path, making it difficult to see the next step.

When they reached the top he threw open the door and the light flooded in.

‘Do you not keep it locked?’

‘No need. My servants never come up here.’ He turned and reached down for her. ‘Give me your hand. There is no handrail and these last few stairs are uneven.’

His fingers curled around her hand, warm and secure as he guided her up the final steps to the roof. She found herself on a flat roof, paved over with stone slabs and surrounded by a crenellated parapet.

‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I feel I am on top of the world.’

She became aware that the major was still holding her hand and looked up at him warily. Immediately he released her. She gazed out across the hills, her hands clutched against her breastbone.

‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ He stood beside her, the rough wool of his jacket rubbing against her bare arm. ‘Do not go too near the edge and do not lean against the battlements,’ he warned her. ‘The stonework is in poor condition.’

‘But you will repair it, won’t you, Major? I cannot bear to think that this view would be lost.’ She swung round and peeped up at him, trying and failing to suppress a smile. ‘Even though you are adamant you will not be having any guests here.’

The answering gleam in his eyes made her own smile grow and she gazed up at him quite unselfconsciously, thinking how much better he looked when he was not scowling at everyone and everything. In fact, she did not even notice his scarred face when he looked at her in just that way.

The playful breeze tugged a lock of hair free from her sensible topknot and whipped it across her face. She was going to sweep it away, but Dominic’s hand came up first and his fingers caught the errant curl.

Zelah held her breath. Their eyes were still locked, and instead of removing his hand after tucking the curl behind her ear, he allowed it to slip to her neck while he ran his thumb lightly along her jaw. Her heart began to pound against her ribs and she kept her hands clenched across her breast as if to prevent it breaking free. Her mouth dried. There was an almost forgotten ache curling inside her. Anxiety? Excitement?

With his hand on her neck he held her as surely as if she was in chains. She could not move. Indeed, she did not want to move, she wanted him to lower his head and kiss her. She wanted to feel his hands undressing her, exploring her body.

Oh dear heaven, where had such wanton ideas come from?

Something of her thoughts flickered in her eyes and immediately he released her. Zelah switched her gaze to the view, trying to recall what they were saying. Ah, yes. She had been teasing him. Well, that was clearly a very dangerous thing to do.

The major cleared his throat. ‘If you have seen enough, perhaps we should go back downstairs.’

‘Yes.’ She was anxious to get away from his disturbing presence. ‘Yes, of course.’

She went carefully down the steep spiral, one hand on the wall. Her legs were shaking and she was very conscious of Major Coale following her down. When they reached the landing she hurried on to the wooden stairs, halting only when she heard the major’s voice behind her.

‘I have to collect my hat and whip. Feel free to make use of the room if you wish, Miss Pentewan. I have no objection.’

‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out and glanced back at him. He was standing once again in the doorway, blocking the light and enveloping her in his shadow. Binding her to him by some force beyond her comprehension.

Zelah gave herself a mental shake. Fanciful nonsense. She must not give in to it. She nodded, trying to sound businesslike. ‘If there is nothing else, sir, I shall go home now.’

‘No, nothing.’

Dominic watched her hasten away. Her hand looked unsteady on the banister, but she descended the stairs without mishap and disappeared from sight.

He exhaled, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He had not meant to frighten her, but when they were up on the roof and she stood before him, her eyes shining with excitement, he had felt the desire slam through him. He should have known better. He could have moved away, turned his back on her, but the craving to touch her was so strong that he had given in to it. Even now he could feel her skin beneath his thumb, soft as a flower petal. And she had not moved away. Petrified, he thought sourly, for an instant later he had seen the horror in her face.

What if he had frightened her so much that she did not return tomorrow? Perhaps that would be for the best. She unsettled him, with her teasing and her challenging questions. He squared his shoulders. He was a soldier. He would not be beaten by this slip of a girl! They had an agreement and he would not be the one to break it. Let her come to Rooks Tower and organise his library. But perhaps it would be wise if he kept out of her way.

The walk back to West Barton did much to calm Zelah’s disordered nerves. She had allowed herself to relax in Major Coale’s company. After all, one did not tease a gentleman, unless he was a relative, or a very close friend. Certainly one did not tease an employer. She must be more careful. No one knew better than she the consequences of becoming too familiar with a gentleman!

Each evening at dinner Maria and Reginald asked Zelah about her day at Rooks Tower. They were naturally interested in her progress, but even more concerned about the behaviour of her employer. Each time Zelah was able to reply with complete sincerity that she had not seen Major Coale. For the first few days after the incident on the tower roof she was relieved that they did not meet, but gradually his elusiveness began to frustrate her. She had many questions to ask him and was obliged to leave notes, asking where he wanted certain books and how he would like them arranged. His answer, via the butler or Mrs Graddon, was always the same, ‘The master says to do as you think best and he will discuss it with you later.’

It was nearly two weeks before she saw Major Coale again. By that time she had removed all the books from their crates and was working on making a record of every title, bringing small piles of books to the large mahogany desk to list in one of the ledgers provided.

It was a particularly sunny day and the room was uncomfortably warm, so Zelah had removed the fine muslin scarf from her shoulders and tossed it aside while she worked. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up, expecting to see Graddon or one of the footmen bringing refreshments, and she was taken by surprise when Major Coale strode in. He looked as if he had come direct from the stables; his hat was tucked under his arm and in one hand he carried his gloves and riding crop. His riding jacket hung open, displaying an embroidered waistcoat that fitted across his broad chest as snugly as the tight buckskins that covered his thighs. There was only the slightest drag on his right leg and his step was firm, brisk. He exuded energy.

Nonplussed, Zelah reached for her scarf and quickly knotted it across her shoulders as she rose and came around the desk to greet him.

His brows twitched together, the slight movement accentuating the ragged scar and deepening the unsmiling look into something resembling a scowl as they approached each other. Zelah tried not to feel intimidated.

‘Have you come to see how I progress?’ She summoned up a smile. ‘The rooms looks much better without all the boxes, I think.’ She waved her hand towards the bookshelves. ‘Of course, they are not yet in any great order, but this way it is easier to see just what books we have.’ She became more natural as she warmed to her theme. ‘I need you to tell me how you want them arranged. Are you happy to have sermons and music ranked alongside books on ratcatching, shoeing horses and draining bogs?’

She observed a definite glint of humour in his eyes, albeit reluctant.

‘I doubt if that is how you would place them. I think the last three should be grouped with estate management.’

‘And your novels, Major? I thought to put them on these shelves, near your chair by the fire. They would be at hand then when you wish to sit in here and read.’

‘That seems a good idea. You are not using the tower room?’

‘No, not at present.’

The room held unsettling memories of the feelings he had roused in her. He tapped the riding crop against the palm of his hand as he glanced around the room, his expression unreadable.

‘I came to tell you that you will soon have more books arriving. A few months back I purchased the contents of Lydcombe Park Library. The books have been in storage with my man of business since the sale. They are in a number of large crates, too big for the pack ponies, but now the road is finished they can be brought here by wagon, as soon as I can spare the men to fetch them.’

‘Oh. Well then, it is a good thing I have not yet put everything in order.’ She bent an enquiring gaze upon him. ‘Are these useful books, sir, or might we find more classical texts in this consignment?’

‘I have no idea. I have never seen them.’

‘So we may well have more than one copy of some titles, sir.’

‘If that is the case then I shall leave it to you to decide which one to keep.’ His tone was cold, indifferent, and Zelah wondered if he was perhaps displeased with her way of working. She was framing the question in her mind when he reached out and flicked the edge of the muslin scarf. ‘If you covered up your charms for my benefit then you were wasting your time, Miss Pentewan. I have no interest in hired staff.’

His words hit Zelah with the shock of cold water. She was rendered speechless, but thankfully she was not expected to respond. The major turned on his heel and marched out.

Zelah retreated to the desk and sank down on the chair, shaking. He had seen her put the scarf about her, was that the reason for his brusque manner? Had he taken her action as an insult? She shook her head. It had been a defensive gesture to cover her bare neck and shoulders, because she did not want him to think she was flaunting herself. He had taken it as a personal slight, as if she thought he had designs upon her virtue. She could have laughed, if she had not been so angry. Slowly, with trembling hands, she began to pack up. She would do no more today.