“What I mean is…You should not…I am not—”
“I would hate you to think that I had kissed you by mistake, ma’am,” the gentleman said politely, and it seemed to Caroline that he was wilfully misunderstanding her. “I cannot possibly let you go under such a misapprehension. Allow me…”
Caroline gave a little squeak of dismay as he pulled her close again. This was a deeper kiss. Her lips parted under the skilful pressure of his. He tasted cold. Sensation swept through Caroline and left her shivering. She could not believe what was happening to her and could not begin to understand why she was letting it happen. With a supreme effort of will she tried to free herself again, and he let her go immediately.
“Listen to me.” She put a hand out as though to ward him off, although he had made no further move towards her. “I am trying to explain to you that you are making a serious error, sir! I am not what you think me, and you, sir—” She broke off, unusually lost for words as she considered his face.
She had been wrong to think his looks fine-drawn. On a woman, the high cheekbones and chiselled features might have appeared delicate, but there was too much authority and determination in his face to give any hint of weakness. Those blue eyes held a disconcerting look of appraisal and the thick fair hair that Caroline had wanted to touch…She cleared her throat self-consciously, aware that he was still watching her.
“I believe that you must be Captain Brabant,” she said, with as much composure as she could muster. “I am Caroline Whiston. I am staying at the Manor.”
A frown had come into the gentleman’s eyes, replacing the look of appreciative amusement that had lingered there. This time when his gaze considered her it held no warmth. Caroline drew herself up a little. She dared not think what she looked like, her hair all tousled and her lips rosy from his kisses.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said slowly, “but are we acquainted? Or do you include clairvoyance in your gifts, that you already know my name?”
It was on the tip of Caroline’s tongue to say that she felt he had treated her as rather more than an acquaintance already, but she knew that there was no point in provoking further trouble. There was no doubt that this could only be Lewis Brabant and she cursed herself that she had not recognised him from the start. His resemblance to his sister was sufficiently strong that she should have guessed his identity straight away, rather than realising only when he was at close quarters. Very close quarters, she amended. And now she was well and truly in the suds, since this man was heir to Hewly Manor and, more to the point, Julia’s former fiancé…
She realised that Captain Brabant was still awaiting her response and dropped a slight curtsey.
“No, sir, we have not met,” she said, with tolerable composure, “but you have a great look of your sister about you so it is small wonder that I recognised you. The household has been expecting you home this se’ennight and more.”
“I see,” Captain Brabant said, and Caroline had the disconcerting feeling that he saw more than was comfortable. She reflected ruefully that she felt much as the cabin boy must have done when Captain Brabant was inspecting his crew on the quarterdeck. Those blue eyes were disturbingly perceptive.
“Forgive me, Miss Whiston,” he said, “but when you said that you were a guest at the Manor—”
Caroline felt a blush rising. “You misunderstand me, sir,” she said hastily. “I am not a guest of your father’s but companion to your cousin…to Mrs Chessford.”
“Julia’s companion? You?” Captain Brabant took a step towards her and Caroline backed away from him instinctively. One brow arched in ironic amusement as he saw her withdraw. “My dear Miss Whiston, pray do not be alarmed! You have nothing to fear from me! But—a companion! How very inappropriate!”
“I do not know how you could be a judge of such matters, sir!” Caroline snapped, forgetting that he was to all intents and purposes her host, and giving in to her indignation. “Upon my word, you have a strange concept of appropriate behaviour! What is appropriate about accosting respectable ladies as they take a walk in the woods? I believe that you must have been away at sea so long that you forget your manners!”
She saw him grin. It seemed an unacceptable response to her annoyance.
“Maybe that accounts for it,” he murmured. “Deprived of the improving company of the fair sex…Indeed, ma’am, I think you must be right!”
“Fustian, sir!” Caroline retorted, the colour flaring in her face. “I do not believe that you have been deprived of female companionship! Such freedom of manner argues that the reverse is true—” She broke off, realising that this exasperating man had driven her to express views that should have remained private. Severe Miss Whiston never normally allowed herself a vulgar display of opinion. It was not at all proper for a governess companion.
She bit back her words, trying to ignore the Captain’s infuriating smile. “Well, that is nothing to the purpose!” she finished sharply. “Good day, sir! I shall leave you to complete your journey alone.”
“That seems rather pointless when we are both travelling in the same direction,” the Captain said politely. “Permit me to escort you back, Miss Whiston! We may become better acquainted!”
Caroline gritted her teeth. That was the last thing she wanted, and if Julia should witness Captain Brabant’s arrival at the Manor with her in attendance…Well, it did not really bear thinking about.
“No, indeed—”
“Perhaps you could explain why you were running away from me,” the Captain continued affably, as though she had not spoken. “After all, it was your own behaviour that sparked the whole incident!”
Caroline blushed. She knew that he was right, but felt it was not gallant of him to remind her. “I apologise, sir,” she said tightly. “I fear I was nervous. You must think it quite odd in me—”
“I do! To startle my horse and then to run off as though you were a miscreant! What was I to do?”
“You cannot truly have thought me a poacher, sir—” Caroline stopped, realising that she was once again being drawn into a ridiculous conversation.
“Not once I had caught you, of course,” Captain Brabant said, with a quirk of his brows. “When I was holding you, I thought—”
“Thank you, sir, it is best forgotten, I think!”
The Captain seemed undiscouraged. “This must be yours, I think, ma’am.” He was holding out her book of sonnets to her. “Shakespeare? Do you also read the romantic poets?”
Caroline practically snatched the book from his hand, thrusting it back into her pocket. Why must the man insist on making conversation?
“I have little time,” she said crossly.
“For poetry or for romance?” Once again he was smiling at her quizzically.
Caroline concentrated on picking her way through the brambles and did not reply.
“You would probably find walking more comfortable in suitable clothing,” the Captain continued, from close behind her. “That evening dress, whilst most appealing, is not very practical. Though with the boots,” he sounded as though he was giving the matter real consideration, “it is particularly fetching—”
Caroline set her lips in a tight line and still said nothing. She could not believe how unfortunately everything was falling out. Here was Captain Brabant, authoritative, assured and utterly unlike Julia had described him. Why could he not have been the gentle dreamer of Julia’s memory, or at the least a bluff old sea-dog with hair prematurely grey and an everlasting fund of boring tales? She watched him covertly as he retrieved his horse from the forest edge, where it had been happily munching its way through a brambly hedge. She was forced to acknowledge that there was something powerfully attractive about Captain Brabant’s loose-limbed grace, something deceptive about that air of abstraction. A thinker as well as a man of action. In Caroline’s experience that made him all the more dangerous.
It was the worst possible luck that they were obliged to be under the same roof, but she comforte
d herself with the thought that she need not see him much. Now that he knew she was not a guest but a servant his interest must surely wane, and any further unsuitable interest would have to be discouraged. It was a pity that he did not have enough proper feeling himself to understand the indelicacy of their circumstances. She was sure that she could hear him whistling under his breath, a sure sign that he did not take the situation seriously.
“Your basket, Miss Whiston.”
Caroline jumped. Captain Brabant gave her a slight bow and presented her with the woven reed basket, a few solitary mushrooms rolling around in its base. She had dropped it when she ran away, and she could see the rest of her crop scattered about on the path and in the undergrowth. He followed her gaze.
“We could pick them all up, I suppose,” he mused, “although in a ballgown it would be quite difficult—”
“Pray do not put yourself to any trouble, Captain!” Caroline said hastily, feeling cross and foolish in equal measure. Would the man never cease to remind her of her idiocy in wandering about in the scarlet dress? Now she was well served for her vanity! The dress would be banished to the back of the wardrobe and never see the light of day again!
She reluctantly allowed Captain Brabant to fall into step beside her as they made their way along the path towards Steep Abbot. Caroline tried to preserve a chilly silence, but found that that seemed to make her even more aware of the Captain’s presence at her side. Eventually she was forced into speech by her own self-consciousness.
“Did you have a good journey home, Captain?” she asked politely, picking on the most innocuous topic she could think of. Lewis Brabant smiled at her. It was decidedly unsettling.
“Yes, I thank you. I spent a few nights in London on my way up from Portsmouth. It was strange to be back.”
“Cold as well, I shouldn’t wonder,” Caroline said encouragingly, glad to see that he was capable of holding a proper conversation. “After the Mediterranean, autumn in England must seem very cold.”
There was now a decided twinkle in the Captain’s eye. “Oh, decidedly, ma’am! Cold and wet.”
“It has not rained here for several weeks, although the summer was very wet,” Caroline observed, ignoring the fact that he was now grinning. She knew he was funning her but she was determined to disregard it. She knew how to behave even if he did not.
“I had also forgotten,” the Captain said conversationally, “how the English are obsessed with the weather! Or perhaps,” he turned slightly to look at her face, “it is a defence against too personal a conversation? One thing I have not forgotten is society’s ability to discuss trivia for hours!”
Caroline knew what he meant and she agreed with him. She had spent many a long hour in various drawing-rooms, listening to ladies chatter inconsequentially about something and nothing, gossiping on fortune, connections and scandal. It was galling to think that she was sounding just as hen-witted as they. Yet how to avoid it? She already suspected that Captain Brabant was a man who had little time for prevarication and she felt she had to keep him at arm’s length.
She put up the hood of her cloak. The morning was chilly, though the sun was now breaking through the branches. She knew she looked most disheveled, with her hair in disarray, and she was anxious not to arrive at the Manor looking as though she had been dragged through a hedge—or thoroughly kissed.
“Ah,” she heard the smile in Captain Brabant’s voice, “there are other defences, are there not, Miss Whiston? Hiding away inside your cloak must be one of them! So I suppose that it is out of the question to ask you to tell me a little about yourself? After all, we shall be sharing a roof…”
Caroline did not like the sound of that. The implied intimacy made her blush and she was glad of the concealment of the hood. They had reached the edge of the wood now, and Lewis held the gate for her before leading the horse through. The path crossed the Steep River and approached the village. The river ran in lazy bends here, bounded by trees that in the summer bent down towards the slow, brown waters. This morning, with the sun gilding the frosty branches and glittering on the water, it looked very pretty.
“There is little to tell,” Caroline said, coolly. “I am a very dull subject. I have been a governess for eleven years, since I left the Guarding Academy, and I am now Mrs Chessford’s companion. A paid companion,” she added, to make her meaning crystal clear. For a long moment, blue eyes met blue, then Lewis Brabant nodded slightly.
“No one is ever as dull as they pretend, Miss Whiston! A lady’s companion who walks in the forest wearing a ballgown and reading Shakespeare seems extraordinary rather than ordinary to me!”
Caroline could feel her colour rising again. “Nevertheless…I wish you will not pursue it, sir!”
“As you wish…” Caroline could feel him watching her. “I did not realise that you were a school-friend of Julia’s,” he added thoughtfully. “I do not remember…”
“That is hardly surprising,” Caroline said sharply. In her experience, the relatives of her old schoolfriends, particularly the male ones, had no recollection of her at all. How could they, when she paled into invisibility beside Julia’s golden beauty?
Captain Brabant raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Very well, Miss Whiston, we will change the subject, since you evidently think it unsuitable! You are the paid companion here—scarce better than a servant!” His tone had taken on a sarcastic edge. “Far be it from me to overstep the social distinctions that clearly form the boundaries of your life!”
They had passed the Guarding Academy now and had turned down the cobbled lane that led to the Manor, walking at least four feet apart. Caroline clenched her fists in her pockets. She told herself that she had wanted Captain Brabant to observe the proprieties and it was therefore contrary to feel ill-used when he did precisely that.
They approached the gate of the Manor in silence and Caroline’s heart sank to see the Captain’s frown deepen as his gaze fell on his inheritance. The five-bar gate was rotten and a couple of the spars had broken off. The wall had long ago tumbled into the road and the drive beyond was overgrown with weeds and grasses. It was almost impossible to distinguish the formal gardens from the orchards, for all was a wilderness.
“Much has changed, has it not?” Lewis Brabant said under his breath, and Caroline felt his gaze linger on her as though she were part of a new, unwelcome order. It was not a pleasant feeling.
The clock on the stables read ten thirty, and somewhere in the house Caroline heard the echo of chimes. She winced. Julia might well be awake by now and wanting help with her toilette. She turned to Lewis Brabant, whose face was set in tense lines as he surveyed his home.
“I will go and tell them that you are here, sir. Excuse me—”
She pushed at the wicket gate leading into the gardens, slipping on the damp moss underfoot in her haste to get inside. Immediately the Captain’s arm was about her waist, steadying her and holding her close.
“For all your objections, fate seems determined to throw us together, Miss Whiston,” he murmured in her ear.
“The stables are that way, sir,” Caroline said crossly, trying to free herself. He did not remove his arm and she was obliged to push hard against his chest to make him let her go. She heard him laugh.
“I know it. I was brought up here, if you recall—” He broke off and straightened up suddenly, his arms falling away from her. Caroline spun round. One of the upstairs windows of the Manor was open and a figure was leaning out. Her hair was like spun gold on the breeze. She looked like the princess in a fairy story. Caroline bit her lip.
“Lewis!” the vision called out. “You are home!”
“Julia!”
Caroline heard Lewis Brabant say the name softly and felt a strange pang of envy. She watched with rueful disbelief as he dropped the reins, pushed the gate open and strode towards the main door. Caroline turned away abruptly, took hold of the horse’s bridle and led the grey down the lane towards the stables.
“
So that is why Julia has been betrothed three times, married and widowed all in the space that I have been governess and companion to three families!” she whispered in the horse’s silky ear. “Alas that I could study for years and never achieve such a result!”
The horse whickered softly and shook his head, as though in agreement. Caroline sighed as she handed him over to the groom, instructing the lad to take a look at the injured leg. That was that, then. It seemed that Julia would have little difficulty in engaging Captain Brabant’s affections once again. Perhaps Lewis had never really forgotten her, despite all that had happened since the two of them had last met. As for his behaviour in the wood, it only served to show him to be a man who trifled with the feelings of others and could not be trusted. Caroline thrust her hands into the pockets of the cloak and reflected that the Captain would receive a dusty answer were he to try such shabby tricks on her again.
Chapter Two
“Pray be careful with those curling tongs, Caroline!” Julia Chessford said fretfully, moving her head to one side to admire the fall of golden ringlets about her shoulders. “I declare, you are as ham-fisted as a scullery-maid!”
Caroline resisted an immediate urge to press the hot tongs against Julia’s ear. “I fear I am no turn at these matters, not being a trained ladies’ maid,” she said evenly. “It is unfortunate that you gave Letty the evening off—”
“Oh, the worst chance imaginable!” Julia agreed, smiling as she considered her reflection in the mirror. “But how was I to know that Lewis would choose this of all days to return home? Such bad luck quite oversets one’s plans, but we must make shift as best we can! Do hurry, Caroline! We are to dine in ten minutes!”
Caroline moved across to the closet to fetch Julia’s wrap, watching as her former friend stood up and turned around slowly to consider her appearance. There was no denying that Julia looked very beautiful. She had huge blue eyes that gave a misleading impression of sweetness and innocence, and the thick golden hair curled lusciously about her rounded face. Her lips were a perfect bow shape, her nose small and straight. Caroline, blessed with a set of features that were less regular, tried to repress her envy. She would not have exchanged her own informed mind for Julia’s less enquiring one at any price, but sometimes she could not help coveting Julia’s beauty.
A Companion of Quality Page 2