by Lara Temple
This wasn’t just misplaced lust, this was not something that would ache a little and eventually he would look back on it with rueful fondness.
This was his fate. This would never leave him.
Like the moment his mother had looked up from the letter she held and spoken those four words—‘Your father is dead’—and he knew nothing would ever be the same.
Nothing would ever be the same.
She wasn’t even doing anything—just standing there, her smile raising a dimple on the soft slope of her cheek—and it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be with her. He was made for that moment, to watch her laugh, to give her joy, to bring her peace in a way he knew was as unusual for her as this descent into madness was for him.
It made no sense, no sense at all that he could not do what every element of his being was telling him was at the very fundament of existence—bend down to press his lips to that elusive sign of her pleasure, bury his face in the soft warmth of her hair and breathe in her scent—the coolness of lilies and the sweet, almost exotic promise of vanilla, as conflicting and complementary as the strains of her nature. Wrap himself around her and just...be. Even the agony of lust she sparked in him was a pleasure he would happily wallow in if she could only be his.
‘Chase?’
He heard her voice, but he could not move because to move would be to accept this madness. Perhaps if he kept very still it would pass him by, like the riders of the wild hunt passing through a village by moonlight.
But then the distinctive squeak of the gallery door broke the silence and heralded Pruitt’s arrival.
‘Her ladyship requests your presence in the yellow salon, Mr Sinclair, Miss Walsh.’
Chapter Eleven
Ellie glanced at Chase as they followed Pruitt. He had not said a word since closing her hands on that vase. There was that same distant look on his face as when he was deep in thought, when the humour and warmth were washed away and exposed the taut watchfulness that revealed his uneasy passage through life.
It was a timely reminder he was no longer the bruised, frightened boy hiding in the cupboard or the young man in Huxley’s notebooks who quietly but efficiently arranged the world for others.
Now he was The Right Dishonourable Chase Sinclair—charming and protective when so inclined and ruthlessly dismissive when not. She’d seen the warning signs that very first day they met in the Folly, but now it was far too late to heed them.
Tomorrow he would leave and take part of her with him. And she would have to take part of him in her memory and preserve it, like the Egyptians preserved desiccated organs in funerary urns.
Her hands burned, her throat and eyes, too, and as Pruitt crossed the hallway she hung back. Why did Lady Ermintrude have to send for them now, when she had so little time left with him?
Chase turned to her, his gaze coming into focus as he scanned her face.
‘What is wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You have no cause to worry. I imagine Aunt Ermy fantasises about casting us out into the rain and watching us melt into the fog, but she has no power over you.’
The thought of melting anywhere with Chase was far too unsettling.
‘I know that.’
‘Good. Now come let us see what Aunt Ermy has in store for us.’
* * *
What she had in store was nothing more alarming than an attractive and fashionably dressed young man with a wide smile and curly hair the colour of firelight. He was seated on a sofa beside Dru, but he stood at their entry, beaming at them as Lady Ermintrude made the introductions.
‘Mr Sinclair, Miss Walsh, may I introduce Mr Ambleside of the British Museum.’
Henry strode forward.
‘There you are, Chase! I was telling my aunt there is no need for Mr Ambleside to waste his time here. Uncle left his collection to you, didn’t he?’
‘No trouble, no trouble at all,’ Mr Ambleside said. ‘Happy to make the trip. Lord Huxley was a noted collector. Make myself useful sorting the wheat from the chaff, eh?’
Lady Ermintrude ignored this enthusiastic interjection.
‘Huxley’s will specified the contents of the East Wing and the Folly go to the Sinclairs, but there are other artefacts littering the Manor which I am convinced you will be only too pleased to see assessed, yes, Henry?’
‘But...’
‘Precisely,’ Lady Ermintrude continued. ‘Now why don’t you show Mr Ambleside around, Drusilla? After all, you know the Manor best, my dear girl. I suggest we begin in the Long Gallery.’
Henry’s frown deepened, but he fell into step beside Ellie. Mr Ambleside walked ahead with Dru, his head bent towards her as she spoke.
‘Did you see this Bartholomew baby’s waistcoat?’ Henry whispered contemptuously. ‘Hummingbirds and clocks!’
‘He seems a pleasant young man,’ Ellie replied politically.
‘I concur,’ Chase said. ‘I know the family. Good prospects. Maybe you should invite him to stay, Henry. He might be able take one of your dreaded cousins off your hands. In fact, he looks halfway to captivating Dru already,’ he added, ignoring Ellie’s frown.
The Long Gallery was a wide hall which Lady Ermintrude kept resolutely closed, but which could serve as a ballroom if she ever loosened her vice-like grip on the manor. Pruitt opened the curtains and a burst of sunlight caught on a series of stone friezes and burnished Dru’s hair into russet and brass and Mr Ambleside’s hair into mahogany as he went to inspect the carvings.
Lady Ermintrude seated herself on a chaise longue.
‘You may take Miss Walsh to look at the family portraits at the other end of the hall, Chase. You go with them, Fenella. Henry, you sit by me. Drusilla can see to Mr Ambleside.’
‘Our marching orders, Miss Walsh. Fen, come along.’
‘What on earth is wrong with Henry?’ Fenella asked as she followed Chase. ‘He looks livid.’
‘Indigestion, Fen. He is having trouble swallowing the charming Mr Ambleside. Come look at this fellow, Miss Walsh. The first Baron Huxley and just as much a sufferer of indigestion as the current one by the looks of him.’
Fen giggled, but Ellie cast a worried glance at Henry, who had left his perch by Lady Ermintrude and was hovering beside Mr Ambleside and Dru. Even across the gallery Ellie could see he was being neatly shouldered aside by the taller Mr Ambleside.
‘Perhaps I should...’
Chase clasped her elbow gently but firmly.
‘No, you should not. Now, Fen, tell us what ailed this bewigged fellow.’
* * *
For the next half hour as Dru guided Mr Ambleside through the Manor Ellie was convinced they had fallen into a farce, with Lady Ermintrude as the managing mama, Dru the shy but promising debutante, Mr Ambleside as the charming suitor and poor Henry the bumbling one that kept saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and growing ever more flustered and angry. To her added frustration, Chase spiked every attempt of hers to intervene on Henry’s behalf. She was even more surprised that Lady Ermintrude appeared to approve of Mr Ambleside’s interest in Dru.
‘He must be very wealthy for Lady Ermintrude to be encouraging him so,’ Ellie muttered to Chase as they finished the tour and headed back towards the yellow salon.
‘Priceless. And such a handsome fellow, no?’ Chase replied.
‘He is too pretty.’ Ellie shrugged, annoyed on Henry’s behalf. Chase stopped in the hallway, his mouth twisting.
‘Ah yes, I forgot your taste runs to rustic vicars.’
‘Don’t sneer. I don’t see why you are enjoying Henry’s discomfiture. It is not like you to be unkind.’
‘Thank you for that at least.’
‘Couldn’t you rid us of that fellow before Dru forgets all about Henry? Tell him there is a...a marvellous mummy in the Folly or something?’
Ellie tried not to smile.
‘You haven’t a romantic bone in your body. Surely you can think of something to pry him away, or at least stop interfering when I try to do so.’
‘And how do you propose to do that? Dazzle him with your golden eyes and lips like new rose petals?’
Ellie’s smile faltered as his gaze followed his words. He continued, his voice losing its sardonic tone, sinking deeper.
‘And I object to the slur, Ellie Walsh. You might be surprised how many of my bones are romantic. Now come along before we overplay our hand.’
She allowed him to move her towards the salon, a little dazed by the seductive force of his words.
The moment they entered, Henry strode towards her.
‘Eleanor! Where did you disappear to? And where is Pruitt? I rang for him hours ago!’
‘Pruitt might be otherwise engaged with more important tasks, Henry,’ Lady Ermintrude interjected, but for once Henry did not beat a retreat.
‘Well, he should un-engage himself, Aunt Ermintrude. He is now my butler and he does not have more important tasks than doing as I request and so I shall tell him!’
‘Henry!’ Dru admonished. ‘There is no reason to be rude and certainly not to exaggerate. It has not been hours; we have not been here ten minutes.’
‘It feels longer,’ he muttered. ‘Are we done here? Surely you’ve seen every dusty and dank corner in the Manor, Mr Ambleside.’
‘Miss Walsh reminds me there is yet the Folly to inspect, Mr Ambleside,’ Chase offered and Ellie blushed.
‘I would be glad for a look in the Folly, Mr Sinclair,’ Mr Ambleside replied amiably, throwing a smile at Drusilla. ‘Miss Ames tells me it is quite a curiosity. Perhaps you care to join us?’
* * *
‘I do not think there is anything there worth your time, Mr Ambleside,’ Dru said conscientiously. ‘I helped Uncle Huxley prepare a package to be sent to Egypt while Mr Mallory was in town and we searched the Folly thoroughly for a notebook he wished to include. I did not see anything there that might be of interest to the Museum.’
‘A package?’ Chase and Ellie asked in unison and Dru blinked.
‘Why, yes. He mentioned something about sending it to Egypt, I presume to his friend Mr Carmichael. Though I don’t see what he could want with old notebooks and the pages ripped out of those poor books. The only thing that might have been of interest was a lovely little vase we wrapped in cloth and there was a small picture frame, though I did not see if there was a picture in it or not. It certainly didn’t appear worth the cost of sending Mr Mallory all the way to Egypt, but I do hope he is careful so that lovely vase doesn’t break. It looked quite delicate.’
‘No one mentioned that Mallory went to Egypt.’ Chase said sharply and Dru blinked at him in surprise.
‘I did not know you were interested, Charles. I would not have known myself had I not helped him prepare that package and then it was only a passing comment he made. You know what he was like before he fell ill—he and Mallory would be up and gone in a moment without a word to anyone.’
‘What on earth does it matter?’ Henry demanded. ‘Stop distressing Dru, Chase. And you’d best go to the Folly soon so Mr Ambleside may yet catch the mail coach to London.’
The moment the words were out Henry flushed at his ill manners, but Chase merely nodded and opened the door.
‘Come with me, Mr Ambleside.’
Mr Ambleside directed a smile at Drusilla and a bow at Lady Ermintrude and followed. When the door closed behind them Dru turned to Henry.
‘That was very rude, Henry. He was only doing his duty.’
‘Was he? It looked as though he was doing a great deal more than that! I’m the head of the family now and I am dashed if I will have popinjays like that come in and sniff around the Manor at will, flirting and smirking and grabbing arms...’
‘He only took Dru’s elbow to steady her when she tripped on the loose carpet,’ Fen said. ‘I think it very gallant of him.’
Henry snorted and Dru took a step forward.
‘I did nothing improper, Henry Huxley. I didn’t spend hours with him alone in...’ She stopped, her eyes flying to Ellie, her cheeks flushing as brightly as her hair. She pressed her palms to them and hurried out, murmuring something that sounded like an apology as she passed by Ellie. Ellie was sorely tempted to go after her, but instead she turned to Henry.
‘Shall we go for a turn in the garden, Henry?’
Henry looked as though he would prefer kicking something, but he mastered himself and followed.
‘Tell me,’ she invited when they were alone, and Henry tugged at his hair.
‘What a counter-coxcomb that fellow is! I dare say he’s heard Dru is an heiress. And she! Why, she was as bad as he was! I haven’t seen her smile so much since she saw me trying to skate on the winter pond years ago.’
‘Perhaps Dru doesn’t have much opportunity to meet nice young men.’
‘That’s where you are wrong. Dru has even had a couple of offers, so don’t you feel sorry for her. But there’s something not above board about that fellow and I’m dashed if I’ll have him sniffing about and making up to her. He is a fortune hunter if ever I’ve seen one.’
‘I doubt you have seen any and besides, Chase said he is quite—’
‘Quite what?’ Henry frowned as she broke off.
‘Quite priceless,’ Ellie repeated in a hollow voice as realisation struck. No wonder Chase been so bent on keeping her away from Dru, Henry and Mr Ambleside. But how could she guess anyone would actually bring...what? An actor...? To perpetrate such a fraud simply to excite Henry’s jealousy? It was an outrageous gesture. But then, this wasn’t anyone. This was Chase.
‘Priceless,’ Henry snorted.
She took Henry’s restless hands in hers and gave them a little shake.
‘It does not matter. What does matter is that we must call a halt to this, Henry. We never should have begun, but I never imagined when we did that you would fall in love with Drusilla.’
She waited for his denial, but his hands merely tightened in hers and he groaned.
‘I don’t understand it, Eleanor. I never liked her and she never liked me. It makes no sense, but I can’t seem to stay away from her. Deuce take it, I must have been dropped on my head at birth to be such a fool. What are we to do?’
‘You will tell her the truth.’
‘No. Eleanor...’ He groaned again.
‘All of it.’
‘She will never forgive me.’
‘Somehow I doubt that. Once Mr Ambleside is gone, I suggest you find a private moment and make a clean breast of it, just please don’t make a gift of the news to Lady Ermintrude until I am gone as well, I don’t think I could bear her gloating. Could you arrange for me to return to Whitworth tomorrow?’ Her voice broke a little on the thought and his grip tightened.
‘I might yet find a way to raise the funds, Eleanor. Ermy isn’t loosening the purse strings as I hoped and every last inch of land is entailed, but perhaps if Dru does agree to wed me she might...’
‘Good heavens, Henry, you cannot ask the woman you wish to marry to lend money to the woman she thought was rival for your affections. You shall have your head handed to you and with good reason. But I was thinking...perhaps if we lose Whitworth we might lease a cottage here on the estate...’
Henry’s dark expression lifted. ‘Why, that would solve everything, Ellie. I know you will miss Whitworth, but it really is a millstone about your neck. Father would have approved, do you not think?’
Ellie forced her lips into a
smile and nodded.
‘Oh, yes. Undoubtedly.’
Chapter Twelve
Ellie slowed outside the door of the yellow salon—the voices were low but recognisable and Ellie smiled. She could not hear what was being said, but it was clear Henry and Dru were, for once, in accord. She gave a little sigh and moved on towards the small drawing room, hoping her quarry had not yet retired for the night.
She eased open the drawing-room door and glanced inside. He was seated with his back to her, a glass of dark liquid in his hand, his boots stretched out to the fire. She sighed in relief even as her nerves leapt to attention. He turned and rose in a swift motion that reminded her again how different he was from the men she knew. For a moment she stood in silence, trying to read his expression, but the fire behind him cast him into shadow.
‘Miss Walsh. Did you forget another shawl?’
Ellie shook her head, closing the study door behind her.
‘No. I was curious. About Mr Ambleside. You brought him, didn’t you?’
‘I thought you would see through our little charade immediately.’
‘So who is he? A friend of yours? He was most convincing.’
His mouth softened at her enthusiasm.
‘I shall tell him so. He is my secretary, Mr Barker. I sent for him so we could discuss some business of mine and I thought he could be useful prodding some sense into Henry. It was far more effective than I imagined.’
‘It was. They are in the yellow salon even now. I tiptoed past.’
He swirled the contents of his glass and she waited for him to offer her some, but he just watched her.
‘It does not bother you?’
‘Of course not. I am happy for Henry. But what is truly fortuitous is that we might not have heard about the package the late Lord Huxley sent to Egypt with Mr Mallory if not for Mr Amb—Mr Barker’s questions. At least it solves the mystery of the missing notebooks.’