‘Good evening, Father. Miss Salforde.’
Elyse kept her eyes averted and acknowledged him with the merest inclination of her head. If he noticed her coolness he did not show it but engaged his father in conversation. She sat up very straight, chin raised and full of steely resolve to show him that she, too, could act as if their encounter in the pavilion had never occurred. The mask slipped only once. Sir Edward went out and they were left alone. Elyse remained statue-like in her seat, staring straight ahead of her.
‘‘Elyse, I—’
‘Pray do not speak to me, Mr Castlemain. I do not wish to acknowledge you.’
‘And how the devil are we to travel to Bath together?’ he demanded.
She said icily, ‘You should have thought of that before you treated me so abominably this morning.’
‘Then let me apologise—’
‘No. I want nothing else from you, ever, save my freedom.’ She summoned up a look that would cut through stone. ‘Please do not address me further. Once you have done your duty tomorrow, I never want to see you again.’
She hunched a shoulder at him as Sir Edward returned to the room and any hasty retort Drew might have made remained unsaid. How little he must care, if he would make not the slightest protest. Burying her hurt and anger, she began conversing with her host as if she had not a care in the world.
Chapter Nine
Despite a certain lack of finesse in the presentation and the fact that food was served by the housekeeper, the meal that evening was the very essence of civilised dining. The diners talked of unexceptional topics and Elyse played her part with all the ease and gaiety of a consummate actress. She addressed all her remarks to Sir Edward and avoided looking at Drew but she was very much aware of him, felt his presence like a magnet, a force that she had to resist constantly. Her emotions were deeply conflicted, one part of her was glad she had helped to bring about a reconciliation between Drew and his father, but it angered her that he could apparently enjoy his meal while she found every mouthful tasted like ashes.
When she heard him discussing crop yields and estate business she was suddenly overwhelmed by sympathy for both men, knowing as she did that Drew could not remain in England without fear of being arrested. How was it possible, she wondered, to hate Drew for the way he had treated her yet at the same time to want him to be happy?
She loved him. As she pushed the food about her plate she could only hope that the misery she felt now would ease once she and Drew were parted.
‘Miss Salforde?’
‘I beg your pardon, Sir Edward, what were you saying?’
‘I only asked if you would care to try a little of the claret with the venison, it is very good.’
‘No...no, thank you, Sir Edward. I prefer to keep a clear head.’
The old man was regarding her with such a sympathetic smile that she felt the colour rising to her cheeks.
‘Are you fatigued, my dear? You were miles away.’
Even without looking at Drew she knew he was watching her closely.
‘I am a little tired. If you will excuse me I think I will retire now. I want to look my best to meet my betrothed tomorrow.’
It gave her some satisfaction when Drew dropped his fork with a clatter but she affected not to notice as Sir Edward got up to help her from her chair.
‘Goodnight, sir, and thank you for your generous hospitality. I shall not forget it.’
He walked over and opened the door for her.
‘And I shall not forget you, my dear.’
He picked up her hand and kissed it. Her eyes slid to Drew. He, too, had risen, but was busy folding his napkin, his face inscrutable. The lead weight that had been permanently lodged in his stomach all day grew a little heavier. Swallowing a sigh she walked away.
* * *
Elyse took an early breakfast in her room and presented herself in the hall as soon as the carriage was at the door, shortly after seven o’clock. Sir Edward appeared with Mrs Parfitt and Jed behind him.
‘By heaven, mistress,’ cried the housekeeper, bustling up, ‘You are keen to get away from us.’
‘My chamber overlooks the drive and I came down as soon as I heard the chaise at the door. I do not wish to keep Mr Castlemain waiting.’
Sir Edward’s brows shot up.
‘Mr Castlemain? You were wont to be much less informal with my son.’
She felt the blush stealing into her cheek.
‘It is not seemly that I should call him anything else, unless it is Mr Bastion, which is what I must remember to do in Bath.’
He looked at her closely.
‘Have you quarrelled with Drew?’
Her blush deepened.
‘We are not...friends.’ She added quickly, to change the subject, ‘I have left the gowns you loaned me in the linen press.’
‘Do you not wish to take them? You will hardly turn up in Bath with nothing.’
‘That is precisely what we shall do, sir. Thieves took everything we had with us, Lord Whittlewood must understand that.’
‘But I would happily give you the clothes—’
‘No, sir, I thank you. I could not take them.’
She could not bear to carry with her anything that would remind her of Hartcombe, save the scars on her heart.
‘Ah, good. You are ready.’ Drew ran lightly down the stairs, drawing on his gloves. ‘We should reach Bath within the hour.’ He came to stand beside her. ‘Au revoir, Father.’
Sir Edward nodded.
‘Do you go on out, my boy, and tell the postilion where in Bath you wish to go. I will escort Miss Salforde.’
He did not appear to be overly affected by his son’s departure and as she placed her fingers lightly on the crook of his arm she urged him not to lose touch with Drew again.
‘No, no, I shall not do that,’ he responded in a comfortable tone.
They followed the others out on to the drive. Drew was talking to the postilion but as she approached he went to open the door of the travelling chaise.
Sir Edward stopped and turned to Elyse.
‘I want you to have this, to mark your coming of age.’ He handed her a small square box. ‘Do not look at it now, I do not want you standing about in this chill wind. You may open it once you are on your way.’ He stood back as Mrs Parfitt came to hug her and she said goodbye to Jed, then he helped her into the carriage, saying as she arranged her skirts, ‘And remember, my dear, that if Bath loses its charms, or you need a place of refuge, you will always be welcome at Hartcombe.’
‘Thank you, Sir Edward.’
He turned to Drew and held out his hand.
‘I pray fortune favours you in Bath, my boy.’
‘I shall not stay there a moment longer than necessary.’
Drew gripped his father’s hand then jumped into the carriage. The door was closed behind him and the chaise pulled away. Elyse waved to the little group standing on the drive, only settling back in her seat when they had passed through the rusty gates and were bouncing over the neglected lane that led to the main highway. She stared down at the little box in her hand.
‘Well, are you going to open it?’
She lifted the lid to reveal a small ring nestled into a velvet pad. A single pearl glistened, surrounded by a ring of tiny sparkling diamonds.
‘Oh, it is beautiful,’ she breathed.
She drew off her gloves and slipped the ring on to her finger, holding out her hand to show him.
‘I remember that ring. It belonged to my mother,’ said Drew quietly.
‘Oh, then I cannot—’ She began to pull the ring from her finger but he stopped her.
‘No. My father wanted you to have it. It is a sign of how much he esteems you.’
‘I m
ust write and thank him, once I am settled.’ She turned to fix her gaze on the passing landscape. It was a beautiful gift but she wished Sir Edward had not bestowed it upon her, because it would make the past few days all the harder to forget.
* * *
‘And sole control of everything now passes to Miss Salforde.’
The lawyer in his black robes made his pronouncement in a voice laden with foreboding. Elyse watched him sprinkling sand over the newly signed documents to seal the ink, then rose to her feet.
‘Thank you. I shall be obliged if you will act for me during my time in Bath.’
‘Of course, but since you have taken the trouble to consult me, I am bound to say that in my opinion it would be advisable to leave your affairs in the hands of your guardian until everything can be made over to your husband.’
‘Mr Bastion is leaving Bath as soon as we have met with Lord Whittlewood,’ she replied crisply, before Drew could speak. ‘And I am more than capable of looking after my own affairs.’
The lawyer inclined his head, his doubts of her ability evident in every line of his spare body. Elyse took no notice. She waited in frosty silence for Drew to open the door for her, then she swept out of the office.
* * *
Drew followed Elyse down the stairs and handed her into the waiting chaise before directing the postilions to drive to Lord Whittlewood’s residence in Queen Square. It was a short journey and undertaken in the same stiff silence that had characterised most of the journey from Hartcombe. Apart from her initial gasp of delight when she had opened the little box and seen the ring his father had given her, Elyse had maintained an attitude of stony indifference towards Drew and he had made no attempt to coax her out of it. She was betrothed to William Reverson, he had no right to come between them. His body burned with desire to sweep her into a fierce embrace, to break down the barriers she had put up between them and awaken the passion he knew she possessed, but that would only be a further betrayal of the trust Harry had laid upon him. And even if he seduced her, would she ever forgive him for his past cruelty towards her?
Perhaps, if she loved him. His father seemed to think she did but how long would that love last? He might persuade her to become his wife, but what then? What would she think of him when the passion was spent and she found herself chained to a man of moderate means, heir to a struggling estate, when she could have been allied to one of the most illustrious families in the land? Then all the old hurt and injustice would be remembered, love would be replaced by bitter regrets that would last a lifetime.
No, better that she should think him a rake than he should ever see that disappointment in her eyes.
* * *
His niggling fear that Lord Whittlewood might not be at home was soon banished. The family, they were informed by a wooden-faced lackey, was in the drawing room. They were shown to an impressive chamber on the first floor where upwards of a dozen people were gathered and engaged in noisy conversation.
Good God, thought Drew as he followed Elyse through the door, this is not merely family, they are entertaining.
A hush fell over the room as they were announced. All eyes turned towards them and Drew thought how shabby they must appear in their travelling clothes. He sensed rather than saw Elyse hesitate and immediately stepped up beside her, placing his hand under her elbow in a gesture of support. At least there would be witnesses that he had delivered Miss Salforde on time.
An elderly man in a powdered wig came towards them, limping slightly and leaning on an ebony stick. A quantity of snowy lace at his throat and wrists adorned his suit of burgundy cut velvet. The viscount, Drew guessed. He bowed.
‘Lord Whittlewood, your servant, sir. I have brought Miss Salforde to you, before the end of Michaelmas Day, as agreed.’
‘Indeed.’ The viscount returned his bow. ‘I had begun to give up hope. My secretary lost track of you after you left Marlborough.’
‘You did not think to send out a search party to find us?’ asked Drew.
‘I did not. We thought it most likely you had taken Miss Salforde back to the north country.’
Drew’s anger rose at his indifferent tone but before he could speak again Elyse addressed the viscount.
‘I hope Mr Settle is recovered? He was very poorly and we were obliged to go on without him.’
‘He is, quite recovered I believe, and will be relieved to know you are safe.’
‘He has reached Bath, then?’ asked Elyse.
Lord Whittlewood bowed again. ‘He reached us a week since.’
‘Then he was more fortunate than we were,’ said Drew. ‘We had the misfortune to be waylaid on the road. The villains made off with the coach and all our baggage and left me with a bullet in my arm.’
There was a general muttering and expressions of outrage from the gathered assembly, one gentleman in a full-bottomed wig exclaiming, ‘Good heavens, did you not have outriders, sir?’
‘We were travelling as the viscount’s guests,’ Drew responded, watching the viscount carefully. His surprise and displeasure looked genuine enough.
‘That was certainly an error, and one I shall investigate,’ said his lordship, frowning. ‘May I ask when this attack occurred?’
‘On the twenty-first,’ said Elyse. ‘We took refuge at—at a gentleman’s house until Mr Bastion was well enough to travel again.’
The viscount’s cool gaze gave nothing away when he turned to Drew again.
‘And you have managed to keep our agreement and bring my son’s future wife to him, sir. I congratulate you. I know William will want to thank you himself.’
Lord Whittlewood raised one white hand and beckoned towards the throng gathered behind him. A young man stepped out of the crowd and Drew’s stomach lurched with sudden disappointment. No wonder Elyse thought herself in love. The fellow had the classical beauty and bearing of a Greek god.
* * *
Elyse had been unable to see William, who now emerged from the far corner of the room. As she watched him approach she could not suppress her smile of delight. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered, the elegantly styled wig, his wide brow and soft brown eyes, the classical nose and sculpted lips—if anything he look more handsome than when they had last met three years ago. He came towards her with the same boyish smile that had charmed her from the start.
‘Miss Salforde. Elyse.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘You are even more beautiful than I remember. How can I have kept away from you for so long?’
She was silent, surprised that she wanted to say tartly, Yes, why did you do so?
‘When you did not arrive I thought you had changed your mind about marrying me,’ he continued, gazing into her eyes. ‘I was desolé.’
‘Really?’ she sighed. It was impossible not to melt beneath his blatant admiration. It provided some balm to her wounded spirits.
Lady Whittlewood glided up, the lappets of her exquisite lace cap flowing out behind her as she gently moved her son aside and addressed Elyse.
‘Oh, my dear, what a most shocking tale. To have lost all your baggage, too, you poor child. But what fun we shall have dressing you. La, but you were always a pretty little thing and now you are decidedly a beauty.’ She looked past Elyse and directed a smile at Drew. ‘We are truly most obliged to you, Mr Bastion, for bringing dear Elyse to Bath. You may leave her safely in our care. I would ask you to stay and dine but...’
She trailed off, her glance leaving Drew in no doubt that his attire was quite unsuitable.
He stood his ground.
‘Thank you, my lady, but before I go I would like a few words in private with Lord Whittlewood.’
‘Is it really necessary?’ The viscount glanced over his shoulder at the murmuring group behind him. ‘My lawyer is fully conversant with the settlements. You may talk to him in the morning.’
‘I wish to assure myself upon certain points before leaving Miss Salforde.’ Drew’s reply was smooth but decided.
‘Very well.’ With the faintest of shrugs Lord Whittlewood limped towards the door.
‘I should like to come with you,’ said Elyse. She added, as the viscount raised his brows, ‘I came of age today, my lord. Mr Bastion is no longer my guardian and if he has anything to say that concerns me I should like to hear it.’
William touched her arm. ‘It will be very dull, I am sure. I should much rather you remain here and meet our friends.’
But Elyse would not be moved. Drew recognised the stubborn set to her chin and was not surprised when the viscount capitulated. As they went out the drawing room began to hum with chatter and speculation, even before the door was closed behind them. Drew felt a grim satisfaction that their arrival had certainly not gone unnoticed.
* * *
Lord Whittlewood led the way to a small study on the ground floor and Drew began without preamble.
‘First, my lord, I wish to look over the marriage settlement, to make sure there is no difference between your copy and the one given to me by Mr Salforde.’
‘Would you accuse me of trying to change the agreement?’ asked Lord Whittlewood coldly.
‘Of course not,’ said Drew. ‘But you will appreciate that I am concerned for Miss Salforde’s interests.’
The viscount unlocked a drawer in the small mahogany desk and took out a sheaf of papers. He handed them to Drew, who read through each sheet steadily, then silently handed them back.
‘I trust you are satisfied?’ The viscount moved towards the door. ‘If that is all—’
‘Not quite.’
Lord Whittlewood stared at Drew, who met his eyes coolly. At length the viscount nodded and reluctantly invited his guests to sit down.
‘Now, what else may I do for you, Mr Bastion?’ he asked, lowering himself into a chair. ‘As Miss Salforde said, she is of age now and mistress of her own affairs.’
Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel Page 62