Now, as Rose watched people start to disembark, she feared there might be a litany of such terrors ahead, and wished herself back at Penver Court rather than hobnobbing with more of the social elite. A prospect which filled her with trepidation.
The party made their way down the gangplank, Rose carrying Robbie, and Tilly following close behind with the toddler’s teddy and bag. Gwenna was fussing over Lady Tregowan, putting up her parasol against the sun even as she draped a shawl about the older woman’s shoulders in case of a cool breeze. Jago was already on the quay, standing by the motor he’d hired for them, a beautiful Daimler open tourer, issuing orders to Joe and John on how best to stow the luggage safely on board the Ford which would follow on behind. Tilly, together with Gladys, Lady Tregowan’s maid, would travel with Joe in this second vehicle.
Rose gazed about her in wonder, lifting her face to savour the warmth of the sun, marvelling at the huge ships in port, the busy, industrial nature of the scene, which reminded her so much of Bristol that she felt quite homesick.
Bryce came to stand beside her. ‘Do you have any plans for how you would like to spend your time while in Biarritz?’
‘I haven’t really given it much thought,’ Rose said, paying particular attention to setting Robbie on his feet while keeping a firm hold of his hand, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat always quickened whenever Bryce came near. ‘I shall be perfectly content to sit and watch Robbie play in the sand. He is such a live wire now I can’t take my eyes off him for a second.’
‘Ah, but there will be plenty of events for grown-ups to enjoy too. Cocktail parties and balls, tea dances and the casino, even sea bathing. You might care to try the latter.’
‘I really don’t think so,’ Rose demurred, panicking slightly at the prospect of being seen in a bathing dress by Bryce Tregowan.
‘Would you at least allow me to show you the town, perhaps take you on a short motor tour of the surrounding villages?’
Nothing would induce her to accept an invitation from him, despite his very evident charm. She looked up into his handsome face, ready to fix him with a glare and tell him so. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘Excellent! I shall look forward to it.’
Then, as he smoothly handed her into the car, Rose could have kicked herself for being all kinds of a soft fool. What a weak and feeble creature she must be. Hadn’t she promised herself not to get involved?
Lady Tregowan and Gwenna already being comfortably ensconced, Rose settled herself beside them with Robbie on her knee. Bryce climbed into the front with Jago, which was a relief as she’d dreaded being seated next to him in the close confines of the car. With John at the wheel, the motor drove out through the streets of the busy Spanish town, then on to the coast road that led to Biarritz.
The journey was long and tiring. Robbie would sleep for a while then wake up and grow fractious, and Rose would have her work cut out trying to keep the toddler amused. But if she hoped to enjoy a little nap herself, she was soon disillusioned. Lydia took this opportunity to issue her with yet another stern lecture on how to behave in polite society.
‘I’ve no idea how you deal with such matters in America, but now that you are going out into society it is essential that you behave impeccably at all times.’ As if no one beyond the shores of England could have any notion of what good manners might mean.
‘Should I decide to hold a small soirée, for instance, you must remember always to introduce those of lower rank to the higher, and not the other way around. You would likewise give preference to a lady of more mature years than yourself whenever you enter a room. At a ball, it is also customary to ask a lady’s permission before making an introduction to a gentleman, as it would be hugely embarrassing were she to refuse his request for a dance following it. And do remember to incline your head politely when meeting friends out of doors. Oh, and never put a knife in the marmalade jar.’
An error Rose had never been allowed to forget.
Lydia droned on for some time, till finally, satisfied she’d made her point, she moved on to another of her favourite topics: society gossip. ‘I do believe that dear Nancy – Lady Astor, you know – will likewise be wintering in Biarritz. If that proves to be the case then I shall certainly make a point of issuing her with an invitation to one of my musical evenings.’
Lydia did so love to name-drop with careless abandon.
‘Anyone would think they were bosom pals to hear her talk,’ Tilly had once said. ‘Yet to my certain knowledge, Lady Astor has never set foot in Penver Court.’
‘Lady Tregowan may visit her in London instead,’ Rose had suggested, although she tended to agree that it was all show on Lydia’s part, simply in order to increase her own sense of importance. Nancy Astor was a formidable and ambitious woman who was married to one of the richest men in England, and lived in Cliveden, one of its finest houses. From what Rose had heard of the lady in question with regard to her spirited sense of independence, she rather thought the two women might have a great deal in common.
Now, as the Daimler bumped along rough country roads, a whole string of names poured out. Lytton Strachey, René Lalique, the jewellery maker from Paris, Lady Gwendolen Guinness, and Mrs Asquith, the politician’s wife, all claimed by Lydia to be among her close acquaintances, and likely to be wintering in Biarritz. Yet Rose hadn’t seen any of these notables at Penver Court either.
Is it possible that Lydia is as much a liar as me? Rose wondered with some amusement.
Chapter Thirteen
Within twenty-four hours of settling into the Hôtel du Palais, Bryce repeated his invitation to show her around and Rose found herself accepting. She had fully intended to avoid him, but, confusingly, as they lingered over breakfast Jago too asked if he might escort her. Rose wasn’t sure who looked more surprised by the request, herself or Gwenna.
‘Oh, but I thought we were going to the casino,’ the other girl protested, a tremor in her voice.
It was as if she hadn’t spoken for all the notice Jago paid her, and the poor girl looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
Rose hastened to decline, saying that it wouldn’t be at all seemly by way of an excuse. ‘I believe Lady Tregowan would insist that I need a chaperon, and Tilly has already taken Robbie to a sandcastle competition.’
Lydia, who had carefully listened in to this little exchange, laughed out loud. ‘Dear me, no need to be precious. You are not some unmarried innocent needing to protect her reputation, as our dear little Gwenna is. You are a widow. Besides, you will be perfectly safe with either one of my sons.’
‘That is good to hear,’ said Bryce, walking in at precisely that moment, ‘as I have already asked Rose if I may conduct her on a tour of the town. We’ll see you later, Jago.’
Rose gratefully took his arm and allowed him to lead her from the breakfast room, all too aware of Jago’s glowering scowl at being bested by his brother. Although why on earth he should seek her company rather than enjoy Gwenna’s she could not imagine. Were they not affianced, or very nearly? It could be for no good reason, that was certain.
They walked along the Quai de La Grande Plage as far as the Casino Municipal, a large white building with awnings over a parade of shops to protect the ladies who browsed in their windows from the sun. Wooden walkways led down to the beach where Rose could see rows of tents set out, no doubt where guests could change into their bathing suits. She could see a crowd of children some way off, hear them shouting and laughing, and was quite sure Robbie would be having a lovely time. She was looking forward to spending precious fun time with him herself this holiday. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and she felt deliciously happy and relaxed.
‘You must be quite well travelled, having been to Canada and America. Have you visited any other countries?’ Bryce asked, as he led her to a table and ordered a café au lait for them both.
‘Never,’ Rose said. Nor had she been to those places either, truth to tell.
‘
This Basque area is lovely, don’t you think? Conquered in the sixth century by the Romans, who named the region as Aquitania, or Aquitaine,’ he explained, ‘because of the tradition for raising horses, the name coming from the Latin word “equites” meaning horses. You do ride, I assume? I’ve never thought to ask.’
‘There wasn’t much call for it in New York,’ Rose excused herself, not knowing whether that were true or not, but fearing he planned a horse ride next, a terrifying prospect.
‘Not to worry, there are plenty of other pursuits to amuse us in Biarritz. I shall enjoy showing you the sights. Where shall we begin?’
He was grinning boyishly at her, and Rose couldn’t help but respond in kind. ‘I am entirely in your hands,’ she said, then seeing the mischievous twinkle come into his charcoal-grey eyes, instantly wished the words unspoken. ‘What I meant was—’
‘I realise what you meant,’ he laughed. ‘Although I would not be averse to handling you, in the nicest possible way, of course.’
Rose could easily deal with Joe’s flirtatious flattery, even his pushy boldness. Somehow it felt different coming from this man, and brought that betraying crimson flush to her cheeks which she so hated. Fortunately, she was saved by the arrival of the waiter who set coffee cups before them both, together with a plate of chocolate croissants.
‘Goodness, I couldn’t eat another thing, not after that breakfast.’
Bryce broke a piece off one and fed it to her, gently putting it to her lips so that she couldn’t avoid taking it from him. His fingers brushed lightly against her mouth, sending a shaft of excitement rippling through her.
‘You eat, while I finish your history lesson.’ He leant closer, his eyes on her mouth, watching as she chewed.
What it was he said to her Rose could afterwards barely recall. Something to do with Biarritz once having been a small fishing village that had depended largely on whale hunting for its living. Information poured out of him, but she was far too engrossed noting how white his teeth were, how strong the square jut of his chin, and how his dark eyes were surprisingly kind, almost merry.
‘And in the last century, Napoleon III and his Empress Eugenie used to come here for their vacation every year. They built a palace in 1855. When it was sold, it was turned into a hotel offering a service second to none, pandering to the rich, and to those who would like to be.’
‘It also offers beautiful scenery,’ Rose added, gazing out over the vista of golden sands.
‘It is certainly beautiful from where I am sitting.’
When she glanced across at him she realised he was staring straight at her, and not at the view at all, which brought yet another flush of crimson to her cheeks. Uncertain how to respond, Rose concentrated her attention on sipping her coffee while Bryce went on to say something about the hotel having suffered from a serious fire a couple of years ago, following which it had only recently reopened.
‘Goodness, you’d never think it to see how the place looks now – absolutely perfect, so far as I can see.’
‘Ah, but sometimes it is not easy to see beneath the surface, do you not think? There may be dark corners, hidden down in the cellars for instance, where its true history can be seen. Rather like people.’
Rose felt a jolt of fear grip her. What was he suggesting? That she had secrets hidden in dark corners too, which was indeed true.
Some of the milk from her coffee must have strayed on to her upper lip, for, reaching out a finger, he wiped it gently away. Rose could feel herself tremble at his touch, and knew that it would be dangerously easy to fall under this man’s spell. He was exciting and charismatic, far too much so for her own safety. Taking out her handkerchief she carefully patted her lips dry. ‘I do beg your pardon.’
‘Not at all, my pleasure,’ Bryce said, with a soft chuckle; and then in that unexpected way he had, swiftly changed the subject. ‘I was delighted to note that you are an early riser, and amazed to see Mother at breakfast this morning. I doubt we’ll see her there again as she rarely sets foot outside her room before noon. Were you sorry that I stole you from Jago?’
‘Not in the least. Your brother and I, we don’t … we are not … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say this but—’
‘There is no need to explain, I understand perfectly. He wouldn’t be my chosen companion either. But he is, or rather was, the heir to much of Penver Court estate, if not the title. I expect Mama came down to breakfast with the intention of seeing her little plan put into action.’
‘Little plan?’ Rose stared at him, bemused. ‘What can you mean?’
‘Be warned, she will be set on a little matchmaking between the pair of you.’ His jaw seemed to tighten, the previously benign expression hardening very slightly. ‘It would, in her eyes, be the perfect solution. And I shouldn’t imagine Jago would be against the notion, not for a second.’
Rose again felt her cheeks start to burn, but with temper this time. ‘What notion? You aren’t seriously suggesting that Jago and I … that he would wish to …’
‘Oh, but I am. My brother misses no opportunity to improve his own status, and marrying you would elevate him considerably.’
‘I’m afraid he is entirely wrong there,’ Rose demurred. ‘More likely his “status”, as you call it, would be reduced considerably, certainly in the eyes of the world.’ Dear heaven, she’d said too much, or maybe not enough?
Bryce frowned. ‘How so? You are the mother of a baronet, and now a rich woman in your own right.’
‘The fact of the matter is …’ Rose paused to take a breath. She wanted to say that she wasn’t at all rich, had no intention of touching this inheritance which had been handed to her. It belonged to a dead woman, to dear Rosalind, and not to her at all. For a terrifying second the urge to come clean was overwhelming. She longed to confess that neither was she the mother of a baronet, but only pretending to be, so that she could stay with darling Robbie to keep him safe. But something stopped her. What? Fear of prison for herself and Joe? Such a confession would also demand further explanations, of the incident on the cliff top, which would damage the agreement she’d made with Jago over the Carwyn family. If she broke her side of the bargain, they’d be evicted. They’d lose their home and livelihood, and Rose really couldn’t do that to such lovely people.
Or was it the fear of seeing that disappointment in his eyes which would surely come if he learnt the truth about her?
‘Ah, you mean your protests over accepting the inheritance because of the rift between Robert and his father.’ Bryce seemed unfazed by her flustered silence. ‘You must forget all about that little matter, Rose. It was not, in any case, your fault. Think of your son. Robbie is the only one who matters now.’
She almost sighed with relief. ‘You’re right, of course. Robbie is the only one who matters.’ Rose sternly reminded herself of Jago’s threat to that darling child.
Smiling, Bryce propped his chin in his hand. ‘So, if I have no reason to be jealous of my brother, what about your manservant, Joe? When did you first meet him? Is he in love with you?’
Rose started, once more thrown off her stride by this man, and perplexed how best to answer. ‘That is a question you must ask him.’
‘I did, and he told me I should ask you.’ Bryce had that wicked smile on his face again, but his eyes had narrowed slightly, as if waiting on her answer.
Rose got to her feet. ‘You promised to show me the town, not drag up my past, which I confess I still find distressing as it reminds me so much of Robert.’
Bryce was at once all contrite apologies, and, tossing a few coins on to the table to cover the cost of their coffees and croissants, he again offered her his arm. They strolled down the narrow streets, smiling at the ladies and their tiny dogs with jewelled collars, of which there were any number, admiring the little shops, in one of which he bought her a pretty fan.
‘There is really no need to buy me a gift,’ she protested.
‘There is every need. I upset you back there wi
th my insensitive questions, and I beg your forgiveness. Besides, I believe you, about Joe, that there is absolutely nothing between you. Although he is clearly badly smitten, how can I blame him for that?’
This was all becoming rather serious, and again stepping into dangerous territory. ‘I think I’d like to go back to the hotel now, if you don’t mind. I’m rather tired after the journey.’
‘Your word is my command,’ he agreed.
But as they walked back along the beach, Bryce insisted they stop for lunch at a small café with a panoramic view of the ocean, and over a delicious salmon salad Rose risked a question of her own. ‘So why do you and your brother not get on?’
Bryce toyed with a fragment of lettuce. ‘For a start he’s only my half-brother. Jago was the progeny of Mama’s first marriage, a mad elopement at a ridiculously young age, from which she was swiftly rescued by her parents. The young man was so devastated by the prospect of having to live without her that he took an overdose of laudanum and killed himself.’
‘Oh, how very sad.’
‘Apparently the marriage would never have worked as he turned out to be poor, and Mama had counted on quite the opposite. She was far from pleased to discover herself pregnant after his death, until Jago was actually born. He has been her favourite ever since.’
‘But why, when he is so … so difficult?’
Bryce smiled. ‘I expect she feels she has to compensate him for losing his father so tragically, before he was even born.’
‘And what of your own father?’
‘He was number two, a Scottish laird of advanced years. Living with my demanding mother wore the poor old chap out rather quickly, I fear. Then he took a fall from his horse while trying to impress his young wife, which left him crippled and he just faded away. Her third was something of a rogue and the marriage ended in a bitter divorce.’
My Lady Deceiver Page 16