'As yet. The younger ones are barely out of the schoolroom, but there, you won't mind that. You'll just about be on their level.'
This gibe caused Thomas to aim a playful blow at his companion, which Giles avoided with ease. Spurring his horse ahead, he took off at a gallop across the flat land leading to the Grange.
As Thomas was about to follow, three riders came up fast behind him. As they swept past he decided to give chase. Bruising horsewomen, he thought to himself, but darned if I'll be beaten by three females.
He was well mounted and he caught them up with ease just as their leader swung round to her right and came to a sudden halt.
'What do you want?' a clear voice called. 'I'm armed, so pray don't think of robbing us.'
Thomas swept off his hat. 'My apologies, ma'am. I didn't mean to frighten you.'
'Nor did you do so.' The lady's hand was hidden in the folds of her riding skirt, but a look at her eyes convinced him that it held a pistol. 'Are you in the habit of chasing females, sir?'
'Only pretty ones,' Thomas answered audaciously.
The lady chuckled. 'I phrased that badly, didn't I? What I meant to ask was why you followed us?'
'Ma'am, your speed was irresistible. I can never turn down a race, can you?'
'Not often. Now, sir, tell me who you are. Are we on your land?'
'No, ma'am, but if it were mine you would be more than welcome. My name is Thomas Newby, and I shall be staying at the Grange with Lord and Lady Isham. Are you a stranger to these parts?'
'No, though I have been away for many years. My name is Gina Whitelaw, and these are my stepdaughters, Mair and Elspeth.'
'Why, you are the ladies who were driving past the Angel earlier today,' Thomas exclaimed with delight. 'You looked so charming. Giles said that I should have stopped your coach to introduce myself.'
'Did he indeed?' Gina permitted herself a faint smile. 'I think he could not have known our names.'
'Why no, but he'll be glad to meet you. Here he comes now...'
Giles had turned his horse and was trotting back towards them with a smile of amusement on his lips. He cast a merry eye at Thomas, promising that gentleman a roasting later on. Then his gaze fell upon the ladies and he reined in sharply, causing his mount to rear at the sudden check.
His efforts to control the animal took him several minutes, much to Thomas's astonishment. His friend's horsemanship was legendary. Now Giles was making much of the simplest of manoeuvres.
It served. By the time he had stilled his restive mount Giles had schooled his expression to one of polite surprise.
'Lady Whitelaw?' he said stiffly. 'Isham told us that you had returned to Abbot Quincey. I...we...had not expected to find you riding out so soon.' He stole a careful look at Gina's face.
He'd dreamed of this moment for so long, wondering how she would react if ever they should meet again. Now he was baffled. In her look he saw no trace of embarrassment, regret, or the least trace of affection.
She gave him a cheerful smile. 'Giles Rushford! What a pleasure it is to see you again! Girls, do you remember Mr Rushford? We met him in Italy long ago.' She might have been greeting a distant acquaintance.
His own heart was pounding at the sight of his lost love. Lost indeed! This sophisticated, self-possessed young woman bore no resemblance to the loving, innocent girl he'd left so long ago.
Chapter Three
'You know each other?' Thomas beamed with pleasure. 'Good! Giles, will you assure her ladyship that I am not a highwayman?'
'My good sir, I didn't think you were.' Gina gave him a demure look. 'Your face was a study when I threatened you with my pistol.'
'I expect it was, ma'am. For all I knew you might have shot first and asked questions afterwards, perhaps in a fright, you see.'
'Gina is never frightened, Elspeth told him proudly. 'She killed two men in India, when they came to rob us.'
'I don't doubt it.' Thomas pretended to cower away, much to the delight of both the girls. 'I'm hoping not to make a third. In a fight, your ladyship, I shall wish to have you on my side...'
'And will you be behind me or in front of me, Mr Newby?'
This sally even brought a smile from Giles, though he felt obliged to offer a word of warning.
'I see that you ride without your groom,' he said. 'Is that wise, Lady Whitelaw? You may not have heard of it, but there is some disaffection in the countryside.'
'Luddites?' Gina gave him a measured look. 'I have no plans either to set up a factory or to import the new machinery, Mr Rushford. The frame-breakers have no quarrel with me.'
'Other elements have joined them,' he told her brusquely. 'The riots have often been a cover for robbery and even murder.'
'I thank you for your concern, but, as you see, I am well armed. As for my groom, he rode ahead of us with a message for your sister. I think I see him in the distance...' Gina was smiling, but there was an edge to her tone which left both men with little doubt that she would brook no interference.
She turned her mount as the groom rode up, and bidding the girls to follow she rode off with a final word of farewell.
Thomas gazed after her with an open mouth.
'That's quite a woman,' he said with feeling. 'Did you see her face when you tried to warn her? That one won't stand quietly in harness for any man.'
'I see no merit in being foolhardy,' Giles retorted.
'Perhaps not, but you won't deny her courage. Do you believe that she killed two men?'
'Oh yes! Isham told me something of her history. She and her family travelled widely, as Whitelaw hoped always to find some cure for his first wife's illness. Gina dealt with a Lascar mutiny on board ship and stood up to the Voodoo priests in the Caribbean...'
'Great heavens! How can you think her foolhardy? I should imagine that she will find no difficulties in this country. Perhaps it is no wonder that her husband lets her ride abroad without protection.'
'She has no husband. Gina is a widow,' Giles said shortly. 'Whitelaw died two years ago.'
'Ah, now I understand. The girls are not her own? I thought her too young to be their mother.'
'Gina has no children of her own, I believe.' Giles urged his horse into a trot, clearly anxious to dismiss the subject, but Thomas could not contain his curiosity.
He stole a look at his friend's face.
'You don't like her, do you? Why is that? I thought her a charming little creature...'
'You think all women charming creatures until they let you down. What happened to that stunning bird of paradise who won your heart last year?'
'I ran out of the dibs, old son. Carriages and jewels cost a mint, to say nothing of that pretty little house in Mayfair. When Brande came along with all his shekels I didn't stand a chance.'
'Shall you go up to London for the Season?'
'Not this year. My father has refused to stand for it. Can't say that I'll miss it much. Stale sandwiches and weak lemonade at Almacks', and dodging all those match-making mamas. Of course if I married the old man would stump up, but what a price to pay!'
'You are incorrigible!'
'I know it. But women are funny creatures, aren't they? They won't rest until they have you by the leg, and then they try to change you, Won't do for me. I plan to remain a bachelor, and you, for one, won't argue with that.'
If this was an invitation to a confidence Giles ignored it. How could he explain that he longed for nothing more than to make Gina his wife?
True, she had changed, but perhaps no more than he himself. Behind the elegance and the casual politeness of a woman of the world there was still the same indomitable spirit. Her smile, the turn of her head and her graceful carriage reminded him so vividly of the days when he had held her to his heart, murmuring endearments and secure in the knowledge that she returned his love.
It all seemed so long ago, and clearly the years of their separation had killed that love once and for all. He could not blame her. He too had changed. At thirty he w
as no longer a carefree youth prepared to conquer the world for his lady's pleasure. The years of struggle had taken their toll.
He would not, could not, ask her to wait till he might offer her a comfortable future. Gina would marry again, he was sure of it. She was made for love. Why should she waste her youth in vain hopes, even if he should manage to win back her affections. Better to put it out of his mind and pray that when she did re-marry he was not around to witness it.
Gina herself was taking a much more sanguine view of matters. She had been half dreading meeting Giles again, unsure of her ability to hide her feelings for him. Now the first hurdle had been overcome and she was pleased with the result. She had had long experience in keeping her countenance. What she could not control was the thudding of her heart. To her it had seemed deafening. Surely he must have heard it?
'Gina, you were unkind to Giles,' Elspeth accused. 'Why did you call him Mr Rushford? I thought he was a friend of ours.'
'He used to be,' Gina said carefully. 'But that was long ago...'
'But you told us that once a friend, always a friend,' Elspeth persisted.
'So I did, but times and people change. When we knew Mr Rushford he was just a boy, and you were babies. Perhaps he has forgotten the days when you used to play together.'
'No, he hasn't.' Mair spoke with conviction. 'He looked so sad. I wanted to make him smile.'
'And you will do so, my dear one.' Gina gathered her charges to her. 'I have a surprise for you. Lord and Lady Isham have invited us to dine with them.'
'Oh, Gina, are we to go as well, even though we are not out?'
'This is just a small family party, my dears, and I have no fears for you. You know how to behave. It is so much more sensible to learn how to conduct yourselves in company before you are thrown headlong into a London season.'
'Darling Gina!' Both girls hugged her. 'We shall be very good. You'll be proud of us...'
The excitement of being invited to dine at the Grange lasted for the next few days and led to long discussions as to suitable toilettes, and who was likely to be their dinner partners.
'I shall hope to be seated by Mr Newby,' Elspeth announced artlessly. 'Giles is much more handsome, of course, but Mr Newby is my idea of a perfect gentleman.'
This brought cries of amusement from Gina and Mair.
'Don't tell me that Lord Isham is no longer your idol,' Gina teased.
'Well, Mair was right. He is a little old for me. Besides he is married now...'
'For all you know Mr Newby may be married too,' Mair said wickedly.
'Oh, I don't think so. He has not the look of a married person...'
'And what look is that?' Gina was vastly amused.
'Oh, I don't know...perhaps I mean a little staid.'
'Like me?' Gina enquired.
Her companions shouted with glee. 'Not in the least like you,' said Mair.
'Of course not.' Elspeth was quick to support her sister. 'You are no more staid than Mr Newby. Isn't he fun? He makes me laugh so much.'
'I see that he is a paragon of all the virtues. You are quite sure that you were not swayed by his compliments?'
'Of course not!' Elspeth was indignant. 'I know that gentlemen are trained to make pretty speeches. They don't always mean what they say.'
'It might be as well to remember that...' Gina's smile hid an anxious heart. Who had learned better than she to place no faith in pretty speeches?
When Giles had vanished all those years ago the shock had left her reeling. How many times had she relived those final hours together when they had strolled on the terrace of the villa hand in hand, stopping now and then for a passionate kiss as the moon sailed high above the Mediterranean in a cloudless sky. A silver pathway on the mirror-like surface of the sea had seemed to point the way to a lifetime of happiness and love.
The prospect of a few days apart was little to be regarded when they had all their lives ahead of them. With a final, lingering kiss Gina parted from her love with a promise to see him when her employers should return from a brief trip into the countryside.
That trip was soon cut short. With the breaking of the Treaty of Amiens the French were quickly on the move again as Napoleon resumed his dream of conquest. The whole of Italy was thrown into turmoil. The Whitelaws fled back to their villa on the coast and from there to Naples. Refugees had taken almost every berth on the few available ships. Given no choice Sir Alastair had embarked his family on a merchantman bound for the Caribbean.
Gina had suffered agonies of mind, but Giles was nowhere to be found, and in the panic and confusion of those final days in Italy she had no hope of tracing him. She would not believe him a coward who would take care of his own skin, leaving his friends to fend for themselves.
She'd heard that all foreigners had been advised to leave the country, but he must have had time to send a message to the villa.
She could not know it, but Giles had done so. A frantic message from his uncle had warned him to get out of Italy fast before escape became impossible. His father's affairs were in a bad case and Giles was needed at home.
He'd scrawled a few lines before embarking on a vessel bound for Dublin, but it had taken a heavy bribe to persuade his Italian servant to carry his letter to the Whitelaw's home to await Gina's return. En route his messenger had had second thoughts. Why should he risk his neck for what could only be some trivial billet-doux? The man tossed the note into some bushes and turned back to the port, thankful to see that Giles had already sailed. His ship was far out in the bay.
Gina's heart was breaking, but she'd been given no time to mourn. The stress of the enforced evacuation from her home had affected Lady Whitelaw's already fragile health. Gina's days were spent in a whirl of caring for the invalid and cherishing her two small charges. Each night her pillow was wet with tears, but by day her expression gave no hint of her anguish.
Now, after all these years, she realised that the experience would stand her in good stead. No one must be allowed to guess that she still loved Giles.
She'd tried to crush that love, telling herself that he was faithless and that his promises were false. She'd even tried to hate him, but such a destructive emotion was alien to her character. Instead, she'd attempted to banish all thought of him from her mind.
Sometimes it worked. Then some remark, some fragment of a song, would bring her memories flooding back, often just as she was beginning to congratulate herself that the pain was growing less. It was in vain.
Then she would throw herself into a flurry of activity, studying the history of each place to which they travelled, noting the customs of the country, attempting to learn the language, and even to record their expeditions with her modest attempts at painting.
After a few years she didn't often permit herself the indulgence of looking back. What was done was done. She could not change it, nor must she waste the rest of her life in vain regrets. Just as the girls developed, so did Gina. Now, at the age of twenty-six, she was no longer the child who had offered her love so freely. She had learned to face reality, and she'd discovered that life was a mixture of triumphs and disappointments. What mattered, she'd decided long ago, was how you faced them.
This philosophy had served her well. She'd had no hesitation in marrying Sir Alastair after the death of his wife. She loved him dearly, though not as she had loved Giles. Sir Alastair was her closest friend, and she'd known how highly he regarded her.
It was not until Lord Isham had married India Rushford that she had news of her lost love. Then she learned that Giles had never taken a bride, although sometimes she had pictured him with children of his own.
Perhaps it was not too late to find happiness the second time around. Giles was living close to Abbot Quincey, her own birthplace. Swiftly she made plans to move there from the Whitelaw estate in Scotland. She had the perfect excuse. Sir Alastair's daughters were growing up. In a year or two she must give each of them a Season, and Abbot Quincey was not too far from London.
<
br /> She summoned Anthony Isham to her aid. It was he who had found the ideal house in the centre of the village. Next year she would ask him to suggest a suitable place in town.
Meantime her plan of campaign was working well. She'd been undeceived by her former lover's stiff manner. Gina was not lacking in perception and she'd sensed at once that Giles was far from happy. Mair had been right. His eyes were sad and the tracery of lines upon his brow had almost broken her heart. Even so, he was still the handsomest man she had ever seen. The blond hair might have darkened a little, but nothing could alter the wonderful bone structure of his face, and that brilliant blue gaze still had the power to make her tremble.
But Gina knew her man. This would be no matter of simply resuming a former love affair. Now their roles were reversed.
When they met Gina had been a servant, and worse, the daughter of the local baker in Abbot Quincey. They'd known the difficulties ahead of them. A gentleman would be shunned by society if he married beneath him.
Now Gina had a title and a handsome fortune. That obstacle had been removed, but there was a greater one. The Rushford family had suffered a great reversal of fortune, saved only by India's marriage to Lord Isham. Giles himself had nothing but his position as India's estate manager.
Even if he still loved her, Gina knew that his own pride would make it impossible for him to offer for her. A match with a wealthy bride might be considered desirable by the Ton, but her own heart told her that he would have none of it. That was unless...unless she could persuade him otherwise.
But how was she to do it? The problem exercised her constantly. Certainly she would not throw herself into his arms. Even if he longed to do so, he would not respond. For the time being she must go slowly, treating him in a friendly way as an old acquaintance and giving him no hint that she remembered what had been between them.
Her first opportunity to carry out this plan came at the Ishams' dinner party. Gina had dressed with care in a favourite gown of cream silk crepe which she had bought in India. It was trimmed with tiny pearls and with it she wore an overdress of lace.
Mr Rushford's Honour Page 4