They turned off the main highway and proceeded along the chalk road that led towards the caves. Clarinda had ridden that way in the past. Through the window she had a sudden glimpse of Dene’s Farm and she knew as she saw it why Nicholas had wanted the new tenant to have it.
The man was a Priest, Clarinda was sure that she had been right in her supposition. It was he who would marry them, if indeed she was, as Nicholas had threatened, to become his wife when the ceremonies were over.
Why, why if she was to bear his name did he threaten to subject her to what she guessed would be a degradation and an outrage beyond words? Then she realised that Nicholas would never forgive her for stealing, as he thought, his inheritance from him.
He did not care for his home, he had never shown the least interest in the estate.
But it meant money, money for his depravity in London, money he would spend on his vices and gambling, money of which he never had enough, to be thrown away in a spendthrift fashion.
Impulsively Clarinda turned towards him.
“Nicholas,” she said, “believe me, everything that your father has willed to me ‒ will be yours. I give you my word, I will sign any papers you like. I will not take one penny of your money. Please don’t do this to me. Let me free ‒ I beg of you.”
“Why should I?” Nicholas retorted. “Besides, even if I listened to your pleadings, which I have no intention of doing, I would not wish to disappoint my friends. How upsetting for everyone concerned for you not to play your part in the mysteries and not to participate in the ecstasy that Satan gives to all those who worship Him.”
Could he really believe such nonsense? Clarinda wondered and then she remembered that she had once been told that Satanists were as fervent as Puritans.
The horses were slowing down as they approached the entrance to the caves.
“Do you really – credit,” she whispered, “that you can evoke – the Devil Himself?”
“He will come to us tonight, I am sure of it,” Nicholas replied and there was a note of madness in his voice that she had never heard before.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lord Melburne made no attempt to push his horses on the drive to his home. He wanted time to think and to be ready with an answer to the question that Lady Romayne was bound to ask him.
He felt a sudden surge of irritation to find himself in the position of having to give an explanation of what he believed until now was entirely his own business. At the same time he had to admit that, while it was interfering of Romayne to come posting down from London, she did have a certain amount of justification.
After all, whether he liked it or not, their names had been linked together and he knew the betting in St. James’s was that Romayne would propel him up the aisle before the end of the year.
‘Blast it, I want to remain a bachelor,’ he told himself and then he found himself thinking of Clarinda and how soft her lips had been beneath his.
He was almost prepared to bet that it was the first time she had been kissed. There was an inexperience about her that was unmistakable. It was the first time, he thought, he had ever kissed anyone so young and so unsophisticated.
His love affairs had nearly always been with married women, mostly because they made it easy for him to accept their favours and also because, like many of his contemporaries, he found that women who were ‘up to snuff’ were far less dangerous than those who expected a Wedding ring in compensation for the surrender of their virtue.
Few married women in Society would dare risk the ostracism which must arise from being involved in a scandal. Few of them wished to incur their husband’s wrath, which might even result in a duel, by being indiscreet where a lover was concerned.
But Romayne was different. Lord Melburne remembered uncomfortably that she was a widow. And although she undoubtedly came into the class of sophisticated females, there was no doubt at all that she would welcome another husband. And himself in particular.
How soft, how incredibly soft Clarinda’s lips had been and yet she had not responded to his kisses, although he had tried most persuasively to make her yield.
He recognised how quickly most women would kiss him back with a wild abandon even before he himself was aroused, but the anger in Clarinda’s eyes and the fury in her voice had told him all too clearly what emotion he had incited in her.
‘I must be getting old,’ he said to himself with a twist of his lips or was it that Clarinda was the type of female he had never met before, a cold and frigid woman?
That he could not believe, not with the colour of her hair.
He recalled the changing expressions on her face and the emotions that were so clearly expressed in her large eyes and the way her voice would sound quite passionate when she felt deeply about something. No, Clarinda was not cold. Except where he was concerned!
As he turned his horses into the great gates of Melburne with their heraldic stone lions standing Guardian on either side, he had the sobering thought that she had broken the legend of his irresistibility, which he had almost begun to believe in himself.
He had for the very first time in his life met a woman who did not find him irresistible, a woman who could keep a rigid control over herself that she had remained stiff and unyielding in his arms while her lips refused the invitation of his.
Anyway, why worry about her? As soon as Sir Roderick died, his involvement would end automatically, she would be rid of him and he of her. He had no wish, he told himself, to interfere where he was not wanted.
No, he would go back to London, amuse himself as he had always done and forget this tiresome country girl with her absurd dislike of him, which she would not substantiate.
Yet it was infuriating that his curiosity in the matter would remain unassuaged. He knew that this would be a constant irritation for him however much he tried to forget Clarinda.
Melburne looked very lovely in the late afternoon sunshine. The shadows were growing longer and clouds were drifting over the blue of the sky. The lake was molten silver, the wind was blowing among the purple and white lilac bushes and scattering the pink blossom from the almond trees.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, but for once Lord Melburne hardly noticed his home as he drove towards it for his thoughts were occupied elsewhere.
“Lady Romayne is in the Blue Salon, my Lord,” the Major Domo told him as he entered the hall.
“I am dining out,” Lord Melburne said, “and I wish to leave here in about an hour and a half. Order my closed carriage and two horses.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
Lord Melburne crossed the hall and entered the Blue Salon. Romayne was lying on the sofa with her head resting against a soft satin cushion as if she was tired. She had taken off her bonnet and her pelisse and she looked very beautiful with the transparency of her gauze dress revealing her sinuous figure, her red lips pouting a little, and her eyes hinting at unshed tears.
One white hand fluttered out towards him.
“Buck, my dear, how sweet of you to return so swiftly.”
He bowed over her hand, but did not touch it with his lips. Then he stood, his arm on the mantelpiece, looking down at her.
“I know what you are going to ask me,” he began, “and quite frankly, Romayne, I have no explanation to give you at the moment. In a day or two perhaps, but now I have nothing to say.”
She clasped her hands together.
“You are being cruel to me,” she complained. “You are telling me that I should not have come to see you, that I should have stayed in London beset by anxiety, worried and distressed because you had not confided in me. Oh, my dear cousin, why do you not trust me?”
“It is not a question of trust,” Lord Melburne replied.
“You are prevaricating,” Lady Romayne said accusingly. “You know as well as I do that something untoward has occurred. But I will not badger you, I am far too sensible for that. All I want to know, and please be truthful, is everything ‒ finished between – us?”
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There was a little sob in her voice.
She turned her head aside as though she must hide her tears from him.
“Surely that is presuming many things that I am not prepared to admit,” Lord Melburne said. “There has never been anything between us, Romayne, except what I believe to be a warm friendship.”
“It may have been only friendship on your part, Buck,” she replied, “but on mine it was very – different.”
“If that is true,” he said, “this is not the time or the place, Romayne, to discuss it. Please do as I ask of you. Don’t try to force me into giving you an explanation that I cannot proffer at this particular moment, but which will quite easily be yours within a week.”
“Why, why are you entangled?” Romayne asked, her voice rising. “Who is this country wench, this badly dressed and badly-behaved young woman who, if she has not captured your fancy, has at least involved you in a situation that must puzzle, if not perturb, your friends like myself?”
“My friends like yourself were not supposed to hear about it,” Lord Melburne said. “This is entirely a local problem, Romayne, which should not have gone beyond the gates of The Priory and the gates of Melburne. It is something that involves the wishes of a dying man and that is all I can tell you at the moment.”
“If you had told me that personally in private,” Lady Romayne answered, “I would, of course, have accepted your confidence gladly and helped you if you needed my help. But for Mr. Nicholas Vernon, whom I hardly know, to announce your betrothal in my own drawing room when I was entertaining friends is hardly something that you would expect me to accept calmly and without question.”
“You could have questioned me when I return to London,” Lord Melburne said a little coldly.
“And when is that likely to be?” Lady Romayne asked. “I called at Melburne House and they told me they expected you yesterday. When I sent round again this morning and found you had not returned, I felt the only thing was to come to Melburne and find out for myself what was so momentous as to keep you in the country.”
Lord Melburne said nothing and after a moment Lady Romayne continued softly,
“To set my mind at rest, Buck, tell me something that will make me happy. Tell me our relationship is the same as it has ever been and that at least you care for me – a little.”
“I don’t know quite what you mean?” Lord Melburne replied evasively. “As I have already told you, our relationship, as far as I am concerned, is one of friendship. On many occasions we have enjoyed each other’s company. I hope that will continue.”
Lady Romayne rose from the sofa and moved towards him. When she reached his side she held out her hand.
“You know,” she said softly, “that I want more than that.”
He did not touch her, he only looked down at her dark beauty, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks and her red lips raised invitingly towards his.
“I think, Romayne,” he said quietly, “it is time for you to return to London. I am dining out and I have an appointment before dinner. There is not time to discuss anything now.”
She moved a little nearer to him and put out one hand to touch him.
“And suppose,” she said in a very soft voice, “I feel too exhausted to return to London tonight? Suppose I stay with you here at Melburne. Would that be very – compromising?”
His Lordship’s eyes were hard and the lines round his mouth seemed more cynical than usual as he answered,
“Not in the least, my dear Romayne. If you want to stay here, it can be arranged. My Agent, Major Foster, who you may remember, has a charming wife who will, I am sure, act as your chaperone if I ask her to do so. The Fosters could entertain you at dinner and if, as I suspicion, I will not be too late, we might have a game of cards when I return.”
Lady Romayne turned away from Lord Melburne with a decided flounce. And there was a petulant note in her voice as she responded,
“I would not put you to such inconvenience. I will return to London and I hope that this explanation you have promised me will not be too long in coming. But Heaven knows your friends who will have learnt of your betrothal will be filled with considerable curiosity as to the appearance and behaviour of the young woman who has captured the heart of the Beau Ton’s most perennial bachelor.”
“How many people has Nicholas Vernon told?” Lord Melburne asked in a sharp voice.
Lady Romayne shrugged her shoulders.
“I have not the slightest idea,” she replied. “Why should I?”
“How did it happen that he told you?” Lord Melburne said. “I had no conception that you knew him.”
Before Lady Romayne could answer, the door opened and the butler and two footmen appeared with a silver tray, tea and coffee, a number of cakes and sweetmeats, which they arranged on a table beside the sofa with dignity and what was to Lord Melburne an irritating slowness.
“I hope you don’t mind. Buck, my having asked for some refreshment?” Lady Romayne smiled. “I left London after an early and light luncheon.”
“My apologies that I had not thought of it myself,” Lord Melburne replied.
The butler and footmen, having arranged everything with a pernickety precision, left the room and Lady Romayne opened the Queen Anne silver canister that contained tea.
“Can I offer you anything, Buck?” she asked him, conscious that she looked very lovely busying herself with what was essentially a feminine task.
“No thank you,” Lord Melburne answered.
“You know, Buck, if I am frank with you,” Lady Romayne said in her sweetest voice, “I have always thought that you need a chatelaine at Melburne. It is a very beautiful house, but it requires a woman’s touch. What is more, when you do marry, if you are to have peace of mind, you will need as a wife someone who you are certain is marrying you for yourself and not for your money or your title.”
“These things have crossed my mind,” Lord Melburne replied.
Lady Romayne spooned the tea into the teapot and poured the boiling water into it from a silver water jug.
“I am really quite hungry,” she said, reaching out her hand for a tiny sponge cake that looked so light that a puff of wind might have blown it away.
“Do you realise, Buck,” she continued, “if you do not return tomorrow, you will miss Prinny’s party at Carlton House and that will annoy him because he is exceeding fond of you, as you well know.”
“Is he giving another of those overheated crushes?” Lord Melburne asked in his most uncompromising voice.
“Yes indeed. And he has some new pictures to show us. He will be most piqued if you are not there.”
Lord Melburne walked to the window looking out towards the lake. The sun had gone in, clouds had overcast the sky and there was a sudden shower of rain beating down on the lawns and the lake.
The storm held a beauty all of its own and, as he watched it, he thought how infinitely he preferred to be at Melburne than to be fighting his way through the overcrowded throng that would fill Carlton House to stupefaction the following evening.
He could see the Prince of Wales’s guests all too clearly, the over-jewelled women with their transparent gowns, the men cluttered with decorations, the chatter of high voices and the tinkle of laughter which was so often malicious and unkind.
He would know them all, each and every one of them, by name and yet were they really his friends? What did they really mean to him? He felt a sudden boredom creep over him, the boredom he had experienced so often and, as he was aware of it, he knew too that he was bored with Romayne.
Just for a very short period he had contemplated that he might marry her. It had been so obviously the right thing to do. He had even imagined the Prince of Wales at their Wedding, perhaps taking it upon himself with one of his gracious gestures to give away the bride.
It would have been a popular marriage, a marriage that everyone would approve of and now he knew it would never happen. Romayne bored him as so many other wome
n had bored him in the past. She was beautiful, but he felt that there was nothing behind her beauty. Yet what did he expect from a woman?
What was he looking for?
Why was he continually disappointed?
He looked out on the rain, saw the wind blowing ripples across the lake and had a sudden desire to go out of doors to feel the roughness of the elements.
He wanted to get away from the softness of white hands and yielding bodies, away from voices that spoke to him caressingly and eyes that looked at him yearningly.
He wanted to battle against something, he wanted to meet some challenge that demanded his whole strength although how and why he did not know.
He was suddenly aware that Romayne had left the tea table and was standing beside him.
“We could be so very happy, Buck dear,” she said almost beneath her breath. “If only you would stop being elusive and running away from the inevitable.”
It was the last word that made Lord Melburne stiffen and say almost sharply,
“You have not yet answered my question, Romayne. How did you learn from Nicholas Vernon that I was betrothed to his father’s niece?”
“He came to my house yesterday evening,” she replied automatically, as if she realised that the moment for sentiment had passed and she could not force it upon Lord Melburne.
“I had no conception you knew him,” Lord Melburne said again.
“Oh, I have met him on various occasions,” Lady Romayne answered. “He was never a young man I had much partiality for, despite the fact that he is quite attractive in a dark and daredevil manner.”
She glanced at Lord Melburne under her eyelashes as she spoke as if she hoped to make him jealous.
“Go on,” Lord Melburne prompted.
“I was entertaining some friends,” Lady Romayne said “There was Lady Snellsborough, Olivia Knightly, both friends of yours, and John Davies, Lord Down and Sir Gerald Kegan,”
“That outsider!” Lord Melburne expostulated. “Why did you invite him?”
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