by Sandra Heath
He was taken in, but still had no compunction about threatening her. “Very well, my dear, but be warned that I’m still more than prepared to throw your kith and kin into the street. And you’d better remind Woodville about his IOUs, for I wouldn’t want him to become too complacent in Miss Deveril’s sweetly wanton embrace.”
He pulled his gloves on again, and remounted after donning his top hat. “I’ll ride here at ten every morning from now on, so if you have anything to tell me, you’ll know I’ll be here then. Do you understand? “
“Yes.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll bear all my warnings in mind.” He gave a thin smile. “À bientôt, ma chère.” Doffing his top hat mockingly, he turned his horse and rode back along the track the way he’d come.
She pushed the letter into her pocket and then rose shakily to her feet, brushing moss and bluebells from her riding habit. She was trapped between two loyalties, one to her family, the other to Blair. Could she be true to both? She could if the necklace’s hiding place remained unknown, and she convinced Miles that Blair really couldn’t be seduced. She gazed after her tormentor. He’d taunted her about being an actress, well, she’d show him! She’d be superior to Mrs. Siddons herself!
He disappeared from view, and after doing what she could with her hair, she picked up her hat and pinned it back into place. She knew she didn’t look as immaculate as she had when she’d set out, but if anyone asked, she’d just say she had a slight fall. Her thoughts returned to Miles, and she gazed in the direction he’d gone. She’d leave things as they were for a few days, then wait here one morning at ten to tell him she really couldn’t make any progress at all with the necklace or Blair, and she’d bring Stephen with her to back her story. She didn’t doubt the latter would help. Because of Marianna, it was in his interest too to get out of Miles’ clutches if he could.
She drew herself up sharply. She mightn’t be here in the past in a few days’ time! She might be somewhere in the future, unable to do anything about anything! There was no way of knowing what would happen from one hour to the next, for she certainly didn’t have full control over her time travels. Sometimes she could precipitate a journey, like happened the first time she’d returned to the field gate, but other times it just occurred, like last night in the hotel dining room, and here in the woods today. And so far she’d mostly been able to choose when she returned to the future, but intuition warned her not to rely on it.
She turned to her horse, and seeing the animal’s bay coat reminded her she’d set out from the hotel on a roan. What had happened to it while she was here in the past? Had she simply disappeared from its back? A case of “now you see her, now you don’t”? She drew a long breath. There was so much she didn’t know or understand, so much she wanted to know, but one thing was certain—finding herself back in 1818 without warning meant sooner or later she had to confront Blair. It was an ordeal she wished to get over and done with, so she remounted and followed Miles back along the track.
She emerged from the woods by the inn, and noticed a small blue rowing boat among the moored barges. By the decorative carving on its stern, she knew it was the boat that in the future would lie rotting by the ruined cottage. Then she also noticed that some of the barges were making ready to move east toward the tunnel, which clearly had been left open after all. She prayed no one would come to any harm when the roof collapsed. Maybe Gulliver Harcourt knew. Surely he couldn’t object to telling her whether or not anyone had been caught in the 1818 disaster? She’d ask when she returned to the future.
She was so deep in thought that it wasn’t until a whip cracked behind her that she realized the mysterious carriage was bearing down on her at breakneck pace from the steep hill down from the village. She just had time to maneuver her frightened horse out of the way as the vehicle swept past. One blind was raised this time, and the woman hadn’t covered her face. Laura caught a glimpse of eyes as dark as coals, and a pale, almost ghostly face framed in mourning muslin. Was it Miles’ wife?
Laura glanced uneasily back along the track, wondering if Lady Lowestoft had somehow witnessed the meeting with Miles? If so, what might his wife think she’d witnessed? Remembering how Miles had pinned her to the ground, and how close his lips had been to hers, she knew the meeting could have been interpreted as a tryst. Especially to a jealous wife. She urged her horse on toward the inn.
In the swaying carriage, Estelle’s face was contorted with distress. She’d made it her business to learn Miles’ travel plans, and knew he’d taken rooms at the inn on the road to Stroud town. Intercepting the anonymous note he’d sent to Deveril House had been easy enough, stable-boys could always be bribed, and so she’d been waiting secretly in the woods.
She’d watched as her husband lay down with the harlot, watched how close they’d come to slaking their lust beneath the trees. God would punish such sinfulness!
Chapter Eleven
At the Deveril House stables, Laura handed her horse to a groom and then approached the house through the kitchen gardens. It was too much to hope Blair wouldn’t remember. In those final seconds in the library he’d realized she couldn’t be Celina, and from there it was an only too logical step to knowing he’d made love to his sister’s chaperone. It was no defense to point out that he’d been a willing participant, because he’d been in his cups and racked with grief, but she’d been only too sober.
What did he think? Was he angry? Shocked? Bitter? Maybe—probably—all three. How could he possibly want her beneath his roof anymore? Maybe he’d dismiss her! Her steps faltered as the thought occurred to her. What would happen then? To her and to her parents? Miles certainly wouldn’t be able to further his plans if she was no longer employed. Although, there was still poor Stephen, of course. The responsibility would fall solely on him. Feeling sick with misgiving, she entered the house by way of the kitchens.
She soon heard Marianna at the harpsichord, and as she reached the foot of the main staircase Harcourt called out to her. “Ah, there you are. Sir Blair wishes you to await him in the drawing room.”
Her heart sank with foreboding. “Very well. Where is he now?”
“In the gardens with Mr. Vesey-Thompson, his lawyer.”
“Thank you, Harcourt.”
He inclined his head, which was as far as he intended to go with a glorified servant he considered to be of less importance than himself.
She hurried up to her room to change into her white lawn gown and tidy her hair. Her mouth was dry and she still felt sick. There could only be one reason why Blair wished her to attend him in the drawing room, and that was to request her to leave. She had no doubt about it, nor could she reasonably blame him, for she’d impersonated his wife in a most licentious and unforgivable way.
She went down to the green-and-gold drawing room, directly across the landing from the ballroom. Paneled and hung with tapestries, it enjoyed a magnificent prospect over the gardens and canal, and as she looked out, the spaniels dashed across the lawns. Blair and an elderly gentleman wearing somber lawyer’s garb were strolling together, the latter nodding sagely at what was being said.
She turned back into the room. Sunlight shone upon the garniture of Chinese vases and bowls on the mantelpiece, and she noticed a number of documents scattered over a table. Everything was quiet. The minutes ticked endlessly by, and her apprehension became unbearable, but at last she heard someone coming. Hurriedly she sat down on a sofa and folded her hands neatly in her lap. At least she could look dignified and self-possessed, even if she didn’t feel it, but then she realized two men were approaching, and her composure vanished. Was she to be dismissed in front of his lawyer?
She stared at the doorway in dismay as the two men entered, accompanied by the spaniels. Blair’s dark eyes went directly toward her in a way that told her he’d remembered everything. Ashamed color drenched her cheeks.
“Ah, there you are at last, Mrs. Reynolds,” he murmured.
“Sir Blair.”<
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“May I present my lawyer, Mr. Vesey-Thompson? Henry, this is my sister’s new chaperone, Mrs. Reynolds.”
Surprise marked the older man’s face as he saw how like Celina she was. He glanced at Blair, then dissembled as he came over to take her hand. “Mrs. Reynolds.”
She was at a loss. Was it usual to effect polite introductions before summarily dismissing an unwanted employee? “Mr. Vesey-Thompson,” she murmured politely.
The spaniels went to lie in a patch of sunlight by one of the windows, and Blair adjourned to the table where the documents lay. He looked at the lawyer. “Come and rest your bones, Henry,” he said, drawing out a chair.
As the lawyer sat down gratefully and began to place the documents in order, Blair leaned his hands on the table. “Henry, I realize it’s the eleventh hour, and you’ve come here to finalize everything, but there’s something I wish to do before I sign. I must seek a neutral opinion. That is why I’ve requested Mrs. Reynolds to join us.”
Laura stared at him.
The lawyer was taken aback too. “Well, of course you have the right to seek as many opinions as you wish, but I must point out that Castle Liscoole is a very desirable property, and you’ve acquired it for a song.”
“It isn’t Castle Liscoole that’s necessarily in question.”
The lawyer was astonished. “You’ve decided not to sell Deveril House after all?”
Blair didn’t answer as he selected a sheet of paper and brought it over to Laura. “Mrs. Reynolds, this is a sketch of the estate I’ve purchased in Ireland. What is your impression?”
Her eyes met his for a moment, but she couldn’t tell anything from his manner, except that he’d definitely recalled their shocking lovemaking. Confused, she turned her attention to the pen-and-ink drawing of a seventeenth-century country house beside a beautiful island-dotted lake. “I—I’m not sure what you want of me, Sir Blair,” she said at last.
“Just tell me what you think of the property.”
“Well, it’s very handsomely situated,” she said a little lamely.
“A worthy replacement for Deveril House?”
“It depends on what you mean, Sir Blair. It seems a fair exchange, but its history isn’t your history, is it?” She looked up into his eyes.
He gave a faint smile. “History is sometimes an unwelcome tie, and needs to be cast off.”
“Then Castle Liscoole would seem suitable, but little will be achieved if the past crosses the Irish Sea with you. Please don’t ask me more, for it’s not my business.” Why was he toying with her like this?
He lowered his voice to a whisper the lawyer couldn’t hear, “Madam, after last night, I would have thought us sufficiently intimate for you to be much more forthcoming.”
Her cheeks flamed as he returned to the table. “Henry, I’ve decided. I’ll sign, but only on the strict understanding that I will not vacate Deveril House until the end of the year. It will take that time to pack everything and settle all outstanding matters.”
“You mentioned this possibility before, Blair, and I mentioned it to the purchaser’s representative. It seems the purchaser—whatever his name—is willing to wait.” The lawyer selected the necessary documents and then held out an inked quill.
“Why is he so intent upon anonymity?”
“I really don’t know. An agent has been employed throughout.”
“His identity will soon be known when he takes up residence, so why go to these lengths now?”
The lawyer shrugged. “No doubt he has his reasons.”
“Such secrecy arouses the unfortunate suspicion that all is not as it should be,” Blair observed as he signed.
“The sale is perfectly legal and the purchaser’s financial wherewithal proven, and now you’ve signed, the sale is final and binding too. In anticipation of your agreement, the new owner has already placed the necessary sum in my care, so nothing more is required. Whatever happens, Deveril House is now off your hands. In just the same way that Castle Liscoole has been on your hands from the moment of purchase,” the lawyer added prudently as he began to heat the sealing wax.
Blair gave an ironic laugh. “I wish I’d decided upon this sooner, I could have saved myself the expense of refurbishing the library! Now the new owner will reap the benefit. One thing more. I wish to give everyone employed here the choice of coming to Castle Liscoole or of taking their chance with the new owner.”
“You may leave it all to me, Blair.” Mr. Vesey-Thompson dripped some molten wax on to the first document, and as Blair pressed a seal into it, the lawyer looked sadly at him. “I’m so sorry it’s all come to this, Blair. I didn’t think the day would come when the Deverils left Deveril House.”
“Nor did I, but sometimes now I find myself positively despising this house and its memories.” Blair’s glance briefly encompassed Laura.
A few minutes later he prepared to see the lawyer to his carriage, but turned to Laura first. “Please wait here, Mrs. Reynolds, for I still wish to speak to you.”
She nodded wretchedly.
Mr. Vesey-Thompson shifted a little uncomfortably. “Look, Blair, I’m quite capable of seeing myself to the door. I’ll be in touch directly.”
“And I’ll arrange to vacate this house by the end of the year.”
They shook hands, the lawyer left, and at last Blair faced Laura alone. “Now, Mrs. Reynolds, I think we have some rather private and delicate matters to discuss,” he said quietly.
She rose unhappily to her feet. “Is there any need to discuss anything, sir? We’re both aware of the facts.”
“Are we? Mrs. Reynolds, I’m not really sure of any facts except that you and I made rather passionate love on the desk in the library.”
“What else is relevant, sir?”
“To begin with, I’m most intrigued to know your reason for consenting to such abandon with a man you hardly know. My reason is only too obvious, I was far too gone in cognac to tell fact from fantasy. Now, you don’t strike me as a woman of easy virtue, yet you not only permitted my advances, but matched them. Why?”
She raised her eyes. “We all have fantasies, Sir Blair.”
“And yours is to make love on a desk with a virtual stranger?” he asked bluntly.
She didn’t say anything. How could she tell him she loved him when he’d just pointed out they hardly knew each other?
“I’ve been honest, so please allow me the same courtesy.”
“I—I know I should have turned away last night, but...”
“But?”
Oh, what was the point of pretending? She’d done it because she hadn’t been able to resist! And shamefully wrong as it had been, she knew she’d do it again! “I was tempted,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely.
“Are you saying I seduced you?”
“No, I’m only too aware it was the other way around. I did it because I wanted to, very much indeed.”
“The needs of a woman used to the marriage bed?”
“No.”
He looked at her again. “Then what? To simply say you were tempted isn’t sufficient. You might be tempted by a ring in a jeweler’s window, but I doubt you’d steal it, so what was so irresistible last night? What was it that turned lady into…er?”
“Whore?”she supplied.
“No, never a whore.” Suddenly he came close and put his hand to her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I repeat, why did you let me make love to you last night?”
Confession suddenly came spilling from her lips. “You’re right that we hardly know each other, but from the moment I met you, you’ve affected me as no other man. If there’s such a thing as love at first sight, then that’s what happened to me at the ball the other night. Love made a jezebel of me! Is that sufficient explanation for you?”
“Jezebel is not a word I would ever use.”
“It’s what you think.”
“No, Laura, it isn’t.”
He’d used her first name! She looked swiftly into his ey
es. “Then what do you think?”
“That your explanation is more than sufficient.” Incredibly, his thumb moved softly against her skin before his hand fell away. “Perhaps I should be completely honest, which I haven’t been until now. You see, very early on last night I knew you weren’t Celina.” He laughed a little self-consciously. “I wouldn’t have admitted anything if you hadn’t been so painfully sincere just now, but since you have been, it’s only fair that I should do the same.”
She stared at him. “But, I thought—”
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive...” he quoted softly. “So who was the seducer last night, Laura? You? Or me?”
Her heart thundered. “It’s now my turn to ask your reasons, sir,” she whispered.
His lips parted to answer, but then they both heard Marianna’s sobbing cries as she hurried up the main staircase. “No, I don’t believe you! Blair wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t sell Deveril House without telling me!”
The spaniels leapt to their feet, whining, and Blair drew sharply away. Laura’s senses were at sixes and sevens, and she could have wept at being interrupted at such a vital and heart-stopping moment. Another few seconds and her wildest dreams might have been realized!
Instead, he was turning toward the door. “Henry must have told Marianna!” he breathed. “Damn it, I should have reminded him to be on his guard with her!”
Laura’s disappointment was so keen that for a moment she didn’t care that Marianna had been acquainted with the harsh truth about Deveril House. But almost immediately she was ashamed. Marianna loved this house, and had just learned of its sale. She was bound to be desperately upset.
The spaniels rushed over to Marianna as she halted in the doorway. She ignored the dogs or Laura as she fixed her accusing gaze on her brother. Her dark eyes brimmed with tears, and her shaking hands were pressed into the folds of her pink jaconet gown. “Tell me it’s not true you’ve sold Deveril House!” When he didn’t reply, more tears sprang to her eyes. “How could you?” she whispered.