Dizzy nodded, her smile fading once her friend had left, her attention once again drawn to that window that faced east.
Just over that small tree-covered hill lay the lake where Zachariah Bennett had bathed naked. And, if Christi was right about the ‘bird-watching’, he did the same thing every afternoon…
CHAPTER THREE
WHY hadn’t she told Christi about seeing her uncle bathing nude?
The two of them had been together for a couple of hours before they parted to change for dinner, and yet she had remained silent about what she had seen at the lake. And she knew that knowing something like that would certainly help to relax Christi. How could Zachariah Bennett preach to Christi about irresponsibility when only hours ago he had been bathing in a spot where anyone could come along and witness it? She had since learnt that the lake area was part of the castle estate, but, even so, the act hardly fitted in with the professor’s ‘fusty, dusty’ image.
And that was partly what kept her silent.
Christi was right when she claimed Dizzy had deliberately cultivated her life-style of having no tangible ties, where, quite literally, she carried all that she owned on her back. And that also meant, quite contrary to what Zachariah Bennett had been led to believe, that there had been no men in her life. Somehow, admitting to Christi what she had seen that afternoon wouldn’t make that true any more. Christi would want to know all the intimate details, and most prominent in her memory of that afternoon was her own response and attraction to a man she had labelled a ‘Greek god’—Christi’s uncle, a man who believed she went to bed with a man for no better reason than he looked lonely and had soulful brown eyes!
She had spent years evading emotional entanglement, having a small circle of friends that she knew she could rely on completely, and who could rely on her, too. But, like Christi, most of those friends would have liked to see her happily in love, with perhaps a family of her own. Only her lightly dismissive attitude towards men had kept them from anyserious matchmaking on her behalf. And she felt far from lightly dismissive where Zachariah Bennett was concerned!
And so she hugged the memory of that afternoon to herself, wondering how long it would be before she gave in to the temptation to return to that lake one afternoon during her stay…
‘Knollsley Hall in Cornwall,’ remarked an abrupt voice from behind her.
Dizzy spun around as if she had been caught in the act of stealing the family silver, rather than merely gazing up at one of the paintings that adorned the stone walls in the room that had been made into quite a comfortable lounge.
Having showered shortly after she arrived, she had merely had a quick wash and changed her clothes when she had returned from the tour of the castle. Consequently Christi was still relaxing in the bath when she was ready to go down to dinner, and so she had come down without her, indulging in a more leisurely look around. Christi’s whistle-stop—and obviously uninterested—tour had merely brushed the surface of it.
The first things to capture her attention in the lounge were the magnificent paintings on the walls, in particular, the one she now stood in front of, and which Zachariah Bennett had just supplied information about.
She had changed into one of the only two dresses she owned, the ‘simple little black number’ that was supposed to be suitable for any occasion, but which she dragged about with her merely because it didn’t get creased in her backpack!
Unfortunately, Christi had been right about the ‘freezer’ temperatures in the castle, and so the sleeveless style of the dress wasn’t ‘suitable’ at all! The only visible heating she had seen so far was the fire roaring away in the cavernous grate in this room, and for all its size it didn’t even take the chill off the room. At least she had left her long hair loose tonight, so that her ears weren’t actually freezing off! However, the wild tumble of blonde curls gave her the look of a wild wanton. No doubt Christi would be delighted with her appearance, although the professor looked far from pleased!
The black evening suit and white shirt were a definite improvement on his previous appearance. At least, they would have been, if the suit had been in the least tailored to the magnificence of his body, and the collar of his shirt wasn’t sticking up on one side! The fact that his hair was newly washed, and once again brushed severely back from his face, didn’t add to his attraction either, and his pipe seemed to have gone out long ago, although it was still clamped between his teeth to the side of his mouth.
To Dizzy, he just looked all the more endearing because of his lack of the sophisticated perfection that most of the men she had met in the past seemed to consider a must if they were to be successful with women. Maybe if she hadn’t seen how beautiful he was beneath his ill-fitting clothing she might have accepted the face-value impression of the absent-minded professor, but her first sight of him had made that impossible.
‘It’s the house of the MP Martin Ellington-James,’ he added, breaking her prolonged silence.
Her indulgent smile faded as she turned dutifully back to the painting of the gothic manor house, the artist having captured the cold ugliness of it perfectly. ‘Quite impressive,’ she said non-committally.
‘Valerie Sherman is the artist,’ he continued, as if even the polite conversation was a strain to him.
Dizzy turned back to him, transfixed, as she found his attention was riveted on the painting, those golden eyes aglow with admiration. Her breath caught in her throat at how breathtakingly handsome he was, and she couldn’t help wondering what it must feel like if he looked at a woman in that way. She would like to see him without his glasses, and couldn’t help wondering if he really needed to wear them when he wasn’t working, or if they were some sort of shield to him. His eye-sight had seemed perfectly all right this afternoon as he swam in the lake… Colour heated her cheeks as, once again, her thoughts unconsciously returned to that time.
‘She used to live there, I believe.’ He spoke tersely now.
Dizzy blinked, giving a self-conscious grimace as she realised Zachariah Bennett had stopped looking at the painting and was now looking at her—and was obviously wondering what she found so fascinating about him. She doubted he would look quite so impatiently polite if he knew the truth about that!
‘I believe you’re right,’ she confirmed drily.
Honey-gold eyes widened. ‘You know something about paintings and their artists?’
‘Something,’ she nodded wryly.
He couldn’t completely keep the surprise out of his expression. ‘You like Miss Sherman’s paintings?’ He seemed relieved to have found a subject he could talk to her about while they waited for Christi to join them.
‘I appreciate good paintings,’ she evaded, not really wanting to get into a discussion about this particular one. ‘I don’t think there can be any doubt that Valerie Sherman is a talented artist,’ she added abruptly. ‘She’s certainly captured the sheer ugliness of Knollsley Hall perfectly!’
His attention returned to the painting. ‘Perhaps it is a little—’
‘Grotesque,’ Dizzy supplied abruptly.
‘Possibly,’ he nodded. ‘Although it’s haunting, too.’
The reason Dizzy hated the painting of Knollsley Hall was because it was too lifelike!
‘I have other Shermans,’ the professor told her lightly. ‘Ones that perhaps aren’t so—gothic. You must let me show them to you some time.’
It was the politely meaningless offer of a host to a guest in his house—even an unwanted one—and Dizzy accepted it as such. He had no real desire to show her the Valerie Sherman paintings, and she certainly had no interest in seeing them.
‘I’d like that.’ She turned away from the disturbing painting. ‘I—oh, excuse me,’ she said awkwardly, as an involuntary shiver racked her body. ‘I—it’s a little chilly in here,’ she excused with a grimace.
A ghost of a smile lightened his austere features. ‘Not at all what you’re used to, I’m sure.’
Oooh, ouch! Dizzy ackno
wledged ruefully. Obviously, he believed that when she sponged off her friends she made sure it was only the ones who could give her all the creature comforts!
Her gaze was widely innocent. ‘It’s certainly an improvement on a park bench.’
His mouth twisted as he stepped back from her. ‘Come and stand beside the fire,’ he ordered curtly. ‘Would you really have slept on a park bench tonight?’ he probed softly, as she obediently joined him beside the fire.
She sent up a few silent words of reproach to Christi for the lies she had entangled them in. A park bench, indeed! ‘I’m really not sure,’ she dismissed non-committally.
Gold eyes raked over her speculatively. ‘I’m sure it’s never actually come to that,’ he said coldly. ‘Probably—Henry would have been able to help out again.’
Dizzy drew in a sharp breath. Where was the instigator of all these lies when she needed her? ‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head. ‘I—he’s sleeping with someone else tonight.’ Good lord, she was doing it herself now!
‘I see,’ Zachariah Bennett bit out abruptly. ‘Do you see much of Christi when you’re both in London?’
Nothing like finding out straight away whether or not she was a constant bad influence on his niece! ‘I believe she told you that we haven’t seen each other for years,’ she dismissed. ‘I can’t tell you what a piece of luck it was to find out Christi was staying up here.’ At least that was true; she wouldn’t have got to meet him or see his castle if Christi hadn’t been staying here, and she wouldn’t have wanted to miss either one of them!
‘Exactly why are you in the area, Miss James?’
‘Dizzy, please,’ she invited for a second time—while she frantically tried to think of a reason she could be in the Lake District. Her expression cleared as the most obvious one occurred to her. ‘I—er—needed to get out of London for a while,’ she told him lightly, keeping her expression deliberately bland.
He frowned. ‘Henry—has a wife?’ he rasped.
And she had always thought a professor of history couldn’t have an imagination! ‘No, nothing like that,’ she dismissed without rancour. ‘I just—well, I wanted to get away for a while. I’m sure you know how it is.’ She gave him a bright smile.
‘No—no, I can’t say that I do. Could I get you a drink?’ he offered abruptly, looking as if he certainly needed one.
If a drink would help thaw her out, then she would have half a dozen of them! Although, if she asked for the whisky that would have warmed her, she was sure Zachariah Bennett would be convinced she was an alcoholic on top of everything else he seemed to think she was!
‘Just a small sherry, please,’ she accepted with another shiver.
‘Perhaps you should go and get yourself a cardigan,’ he suggested as he saw the shiver. ‘I don’t feel the cold myself, but Christi assures me the evenings can be chill. I’m sure Christi would be glad to let you borrow something of hers if you don’t have a sweater with you,’ he added at her hesitation.
Well, really, he was going too far, even for the parasite he thought her to be. ‘Thank you, I have one of my own—it comes in handy for the nights on the park bench,’ she said sharply.
His gaze narrowed as he handed her the glass of sherry. ‘Don’t your parents worry about—the life you lead?’
‘Not at all,’ she answered truthfully; the lectures from her father had stopped long ago—about the same time he had lost interest in her completely! ‘They have problems of their own,’ she shrugged.
‘Of course,’ he accepted, still believing Christi’s story of the financial difficulty of Dizzy’s parents.
‘The castle doesn’t have any heating other than individual fires?’ she asked, in the hope of changing the subject.
‘Not yet,’ he replied distantly, the frown between his eyes seeming to indicate that the question irritated him.
‘It’s a wonderful place,’ she enthused, her earlier antagonism gone as her eyes glowed with interest. ‘Do you—’
‘Sorry I’m late.’ Christi burst smilingly into the room. ‘Here, Dizzy, I brought you this to wear, in case you didn’t have one.’ She held out a cream cashmere cardigan.
Dizzy gave her friend a frowning look as she absently took the garment and pulled it on, noting that Christi’s face was a little flushed and she was breathing heavily—almost as if she had been running!
She gave Christi a hard glare as she realised that that was exactly what she had been doing, that her friend must have been standing outside the lounge door when she and Zachariah Bennett had the conversation about cardigans, that Christi must have rushed back up to her room to get her one, just to add to the impression of Dizzy’s destitution. Only this afternoon she had cautioned Christi to ease up a bit, and here she was making it look as if even the clothes on her back were borrowed!
‘Thank you,’ she accepted in a hard tone, uncaring of the fact that the cashmere cardigan was making her feel a lot warmer.
She had been going to ask Zachariah Bennett about the history of the castle, but now the moment was lost, and she felt sure that Christi had spoilt it deliberately. Christi seemed determined to let her uncle believe their school had produced an idiot, rather than let him realise she had an avid interest in his own subject. Obviously she and Christi were going to have to have another little chat—and soon!
‘You’re very welcome,’ Christi dismissed, putting her arm through the crook of her uncle’s. ‘Have the two of you been getting acquainted?’ she prompted brightly.
How could she become genuinely acquainted with a man who believed the things about her that Zachariah Bennett did! And that was a great pity, because she found him very interesting indeed.
‘Yes,’ he answered Christi curtly. ‘Could I get you a drink before dinner?’
‘Just my usual juice,’ she accepted lightly.
The only time Dizzy could remember Christi drinking juice was when they were at school, and then it had only been because it was that or milk, and she couldn’t stand milk! Christi was going to go home from this visit with a halo if she didn’t take care.
‘Dizzy?’
She gave a start at Zachariah’s first use of her name, finding she liked the slightly husky tone to his voice as he said it. ‘I’m fine with my sherry, thanks.’ She refused another drink. She knew it would have pleased Christi immensely if she had said yes, but as she usually drank very little she wasn’t about to change that for Christi’s benefit.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have minded this situation, would have been glad just to help Christi out, knowing her friend really was mature enough to handle her own affairs. But she found she intensely disliked this false impression of her that she and Christi were so determined to give Zachariah Bennett. She would probably never see him again after this brief visit, never have to worry what he believed about her, but she couldn’t help disliking it all, none the less.
‘Cut it out, Christi,’ she muttered, once the professor had crossed the huge, high-ceilinged room to get Christi’s juice.
Her friend looked at her with innocently wide blue eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The cardigan,’ she sighed.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘I love it,’ she muttered. ‘What I didn’t like was your perfectly timed interruption with it!’
Blue eyes flashed. ‘Well, what do you mean by talking to him about his precious castle?’ Christi attacked. ‘That isn’t going to help your image at all.’
‘As you obviously heard all of our conversation,’ she muttered sarcastically, keeping a wary eye on the broad back of Zachariah Bennett as he stood in front of the drinks’ cabinet, ‘you must have realised that my reputation has already taken enough of a beating tonight. It’s time to give it a rest, Christi.’ She sighed again. ‘Unless you want your uncle to become so worried by my presence here that he tells you to ask me to leave?’
Christi looked panic-stricken. ‘You really think I’m going too far?’
‘Ab
out three hours ago,’ she said drily. ‘And you could have warned me about the Shermans.’
‘I—’
‘Tell me,’ Zachariah Bennett looked at Dizzy as he turned back to them, crossing the room to hand Christi her juice, ‘how did you come by the unlikely name of Dizzy?’
She glared at her friend as she almost choked over her juice. ‘Unlikely, Professor Bennett?’ she returned coolly. ‘Most people consider it suits me very well.’ She deliberately ignored the mischief glowing in Christi’s eyes.
‘Surely it isn’t your given name?’ he frowned.
‘I didn’t say that,’ she shrugged. ‘Although it’s the only one I’ll answer to!’
She cringed every time she thought of the names her father had let her mother give her. At the time, he had been so disappointed she wasn’t the son he had wanted, that there could be no more children, that he hadn’t cared what the daughter he hadn’t wanted was named. It had only been later, when the shock had worn off, that he had realised how totally unsuitable his only child’s names were. Out of desperation he had begun to call her by her initials of DC, but with the mischievous humour of children, those initials had become Dizzy once she began school.
To her mother she was still—but she was in total agreement with her father about those two names, it was probably the only thing the two of them had ever agreed upon! To her father she was still DC—when he called her anything, which he probably didn’t do any more! But to everyone else she had been Dizzy since she was eight years old. And she intended remaining that way!
Zachariah Bennett gave the ghost of a smile. ‘And I usually answer to Zach, or Zachariah, if you prefer. Only my students ever called me Professor!’
At last! It was a little unnerving to think of a man who affected her as deeply as this one did by the formal title of ‘Professor’, or the equally unsuitable ‘Zachariah Bennett’. ‘Zach, I think.’ She smiled warmly. ‘Thank you.’
One Chance at Love Page 4