Ravish Me with Rubies
Page 28
She handed the paper back. “Nothing can be done?”
He shook his head. “Of course, you might be able to come to some amicable negotiated agreement with Colonel Lacey . . . a division of the various properties, or perhaps the sale of some of them and a division of the proceeds. I would be more than happy to facilitate such negotiations and draw up the necessary agreements. In any way I can be of service, my dear. I have served the Sommerville family for over twenty years.”
Diana stood up and moved toward the door. Her voice was a monotone as she said, “Thank you. I need to think. I’ll come back to you when I’ve decided what to do.”
The solicitor followed her down the narrow staircase and opened the front door, standing aside as she stepped past him into the warm sunlight. The hackney stood waiting for her at the curb. Mr. Muldoon hurried to open the door for her, and with a distracted nod, Diana stepped up into the gloomy interior.
The cabbie leaned down. “Back to Cavendish Square, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you.” She held out her hand to Muldoon. “I’ll be in touch when I’ve had time to consider my options.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgment, closed the door and stepped back as the cabbie shook the reins and the horses moved forward.
Diana sat back against the cracked leather squabs, vaguely aware that her hands were shaking. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see it was only ten o’clock. It felt as if she’d lived through a whole week in the few short hours since she’d woken at dawn in Brown’s Hotel on Dover Street. She peered through the grimy window, looking out at the busy streets, so different from the peaceful, lush landscape of the veldt, the long, shimmering reach of the Orange River, so different from the noisy, crowded, gray expanse of the Thames, snaking its way through the city.
The unconnected thought pierced her dim trance that fashions had changed since she was last in London. She wondered if it was possible for life at some point to assume a sense of normality again so that she could contemplate a shopping trip with her friends. She hadn’t seen Petra and Fenella since their debutante season had ended two years ago and she’d sailed to her family in South Africa, secretly engaged to Colonel Rupert Lacey. They were to be married in Cape Town, while he and her brother, Jem, served with the army, protecting the English gold and diamond mines against the Boers. When the war was finally won they would return to England and take up married life.
Diana sat bolt upright on the narrow seat. How could she ever have felt such passionate love for a man who was now anathema to her? It was a question that had haunted her since she had discovered his deceit. She had challenged him to deny it, and he hadn’t done so. And again she felt that sharp, cold stab of betrayal. For a moment, she thought she could smell the scent of the veldt on the breeze coming off the Orange River, feel the heat of the sun on the back of her neck that afternoon, when she had tossed him the question, her tone lighthearted, her belief in his love and loyalty absolute. And he had simply looked at her, unsmiling, something strange lurking in his clear green eyes, which were as penetrating as ever, and after a long moment he had shrugged, as if it were a matter of supreme unimportance and turned away, leaving her standing on the riverbank, as if she too were a matter of supreme unimportance.
The cab turned onto Cavendish Square and drew up once more outside the Sommerville house. Except that it wasn’t just the Sommerville house anymore. Half of it belonged to Rupert Lacey. But they could not both be under the same roof. Rupert must see that. Society would be scandalized. Not that she gave tuppence for that, but she couldn’t possibly endure such proximity and surely neither could he?
She opened the door and sprang lightly to the ground, feeling in her reticule for the fare. Once she was properly installed, she would need at least two footmen, who would monitor the front door and deal with paying cabbies and taking in parcels and greeting visitors.
She could buy Rupert out. She could afford to. And the house didn’t have the same meaning and significance for him as it did for her. Of course, that was the answer. The absolute rationality of the solution brought a surge of positive energy.
She looked up at the house, thinking it looked blind, motionless, as if in waiting. The elderly Trimballs, caretakers responsible for ensuring the roof didn’t leak, the chimneys were swept and rats didn’t run rampant over the kitchen and scullery, had been its only occupants among the dust sheets since her last visit.
Jem had been there on that visit too. The house without her brother was going to feel so strange, and some of her hopeful energy faded. She remembered it as it was when she was a debutante, when Jem was a young dragoon filling it with his fellow soldiers. An army of servants moved with discreet efficiency, seeing to every need of their employers, expressed or not. But since Jem’s death at Mafeking, everything she did, everywhere she went, accentuated the rawness of his absence.
She climbed the steps to the front door, lifting the bronze lion’s head door knocker and letting it fall with a clang. Barlow opened it instantly, the dogs at his heels, greeting her with ecstatic tails. She glanced around the hall. There was no sign of Rupert and she breathed a sigh of relief. Short-lived, however.
“Ah, you’re back.” He stood in the doorway of the breakfast room. “How did it go with Muldoon?”
She regarded him coldly. He was dressed in uniform, the scarlet jacket accentuating his broad shoulders, the tight britches his slim hips. Why did she have to notice his physique? She didn’t want to notice him at all, let alone with the little quiver of remembered lust she could not deny.
“How do you think it went?” Her eyes were purple ice chips, her voice frigid.
It was not a question that expected an answer. Rupert shook his head slightly. “You’ll have to forgive me, Diana. Your sudden arrival has me at something of a loss. Unfortunately, it is neither unexpected nor pleasant, but it does leave me rather short of stimulating conversation.”
“Really?” The delicate curve of her dark eyebrows lifted in mockery.
“If you wish for breakfast, I’ll leave you in possession of the table.” He gestured to the room behind him. “I can recommend the kippers.”
“Oddly, I find I have no appetite. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned on her heel toward the stairs, the hounds falling in on either side of her.
Rupert moved forward swiftly, standing at the foot of the stairs, not blocking her way but presenting an obstacle. “Diana, there is no way out of this. Let us please try to make a civilized arrangement. I am willing to compromise to a certain extent, and if you do the same, then we might brush through this without spilling blood.”
Diana laughed, a delicate peal that contained nothing but scorn. “You were always too sure of yourself, Rupert. As it happens, Mr. Muldoon pointed out several solutions. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” She gathered up her skirt and moved past him up the stairs, leaving the faint scent of orange blossom on the air.
Rupert watched her mount the stairs, a slight frown drawing his straight brows together. If she wanted a fight, he would give her one. But what solution did she have in mind? Oh, well, he decided, he’d find out soon enough. He returned to his kippers.
JANE FEATHER
© Steven Knight
Jane Feather is the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty historical romances, including Tempt Me with Diamonds, Trapped by Scandal, and Trapped at the Altar. There are now more than 11 million copies of her books in print. Jane was born in Cairo, Egypt, and grew up in the south of England. She currently lives in Washington, DC, with her family. Visit her on the Web at janefeatherauthor.com.
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