by Stella Riley
‘I was. But once the Scots disintegrated into full flight after Warrington —’ He stopped and, without appearing to do so, read her expression. ‘You haven’t heard about that?’
She shook her head. ‘Tell us.’
‘There’s not a lot to say. They made a second stand at a place called Winwick but they were badly equipped from the outset and no longer in any condition to fight. So they retreated to Warrington where, rumour has it, the Earl of Callander insisted that their only option was surrender.’ Gabriel paused again and added dryly, ‘The truth is that, by then, it probably was. But from what I’ve heard, the blame for that rests securely on Callander himself.’
‘Yes. It would seem so,’ agreed Venetia.
The grey eyes trapped hers.
‘Why do you say that?’
Her stomach lurched and she cursed her own stupidity.
Then, in the nick of time, Sophia said vaguely, ‘You know what it’s like. People love to gossip.’
‘And say what, precisely?’
Sophia’s gaze turned inward again and, seeing it, Venetia took up the baton to say, ‘All the usual things – along with the suggestion that Callander undermined Hamilton’s decisions. Isn’t that what you meant?’
‘Yes. That’s precisely what I meant.’
‘So it’s true, then?’
‘Very probably.’ Apparently satisfied, Gabriel reached for some bread and a slice of ham and, folding one around the other, said bluntly, ‘This can’t be easy for you. I’m aware that you didn’t want this war … but you wouldn’t be human if you hadn’t hoped it might end differently.’
Venetia shrugged and struggled to keep her relief well-hidden.
‘I won’t pretend I didn’t. But perhaps it’s better this way. From what we’ve heard, aside from Colchester, all the risings in the south have come to nothing – so Hamilton would have found little enough support waiting for him if he had managed to get that far. And the entire country would have been turned upside down again for the same result that we have now.’
He nodded and then, as Sophia rose from her stool, said, ‘Don’t go. I’ve brought you a present.’
She smiled. ‘Really? How kind.’
‘Isn’t it, though?’ He pulled a rather battered leather flask from his pocket and offered it to her, grinning. ‘I understand you’ve been ill. So since I was passing quite close by the Tewit Well at Haregate-head, I thought —’
‘Oh, did you indeed?’ Mingled indignation and laughter combined to produce a surge of rare animation. ‘And have you tasted it yourself at all?’
‘Well, no. To be frank with you, the smell was enough.’
‘Exactly!’ Sophia sailed to the door, her scarves flying like pennants. ‘And anyone who uncorks it in my presence had better be prepared for the consequences.’
Gabriel continued laughing for several moments after she had gone. Then the realisation slowly dawned that he was alone with his wife, without any idea of what to say. He had felt awkward when he’d walked in – but the comic nature of his reception had temporarily banished it. And now he was more aware than ever of the sheer impossibility of saying, ‘Ellis tells me you slept with him. Did you?’
Equally ill-at-ease, Venetia said, ‘We’ve strayed from the point somewhat, haven’t we? You were about to explain how you come to be here and not chasing the Scots.’
‘I asked for three days leave of absence and was granted it.’ Gabriel crossed to the dresser and poured a cup of morning-ale from the jug. ‘My regiment is still moving south with Lambert, trying to round up his Grace of Hamilton and Sir Marmaduke Langdale – and I’ve to be back at my post the day after tomorrow.’
She digested this; and then, staring at him, said, ‘You mean you’ve ridden here overnight?’
‘More or less.’ He turned and, smiling faintly, gestured to the disreputable state of his uniform. ‘It shows, doesn’t it?’
Venetia nodded. And then suffered her second shock of the morning from the realisation that, until this moment, she had noticed nothing except that the glossy, dark hair was longer than she remembered it and the black-lashed eyes were shadowed with fatigue. In short, the tawny Parliamentarian sash she’d hated so much had for the first time made no impression whatsoever. She drew a small, unsteady breath and then said quickly, ‘You’ll want to bathe and rest, then.’
‘Presently.’ Gabriel moved back to the table and sat down again. ‘First I’d like to hear how things have been with you here.’
‘Much as they were when I wrote to you,’ she shrugged. And briskly recited the litany of her daily concerns. Then, ‘It’s going to be another bad harvest and there’s very little we can do about it. The cloth fetched a good price, it’s true; but, as you said yourself, we need the flax as well if the operation is to succeed – and Carter is beginning to have doubts on that score. But he’ll tell you that himself later, I daresay.’
‘No doubt.’ Gabriel frowned into his ale and then looked up at her. ‘So. Any other problems I should know about?’
A tiny tremor made its way down Venetia’s back.
‘I’d have thought those I’ve mentioned would be enough.’
‘They are. More than enough.’ He paused. ‘Are you afraid we won’t be able to meet the taxes?’
‘Yes. And when you’ve seen the ledgers, so will you be.’
‘If you want the truth, I’m afraid of it already and praying that something will turn up – such as my back-pay.’ He rose again and paced restlessly away from her. Then, without turning, he said abruptly, ‘I was glad of your letter. I’d have sent Wat with a reply if there had been time … or no. That’s not strictly true.’ He swivelled smartly to face her. ‘I didn’t know what I wanted to say to you. And still don’t.’
The air shifted about Venetia and she suddenly felt a little shaky. She said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I hope we’re no longer enemies but don’t know how far we’ve progressed towards becoming friends,’ replied Gabriel carefully. ‘Perhaps you don’t know that either. Or there again, perhaps you’d say that the idea there’s been any change, however small, is all in my mind.’
Silence stretched out to the edges of the room while Venetia tried to unscramble her wits and frame some sensibly non-committal reply. Then, giving way for once to sheer impulse and aware neither of her smile nor the effect it was having on Gabriel, she heard herself say, ‘It’s not only in your mind. And I would like to think that friendship might not be beyond us – though it may take more than a day.’
Over the odd disturbance in his chest, Gabriel made one more bid to lure her to confide in him. ‘And trust?’
She nodded. ‘That, too.’
He found himself facing a brick wall. He could no more ask if she had anything she’d like to tell him than he could come straight out and ask if she’d lain with Ellis. And suddenly he realised that it didn’t really matter. Just as he was no idealistic boy of twenty, she was no sheltered seventeen-year-old; and, like his, her past life belonged to no one but herself. Consequently, the only thing to regret was that – out of all the men in the world – she’d been betrothed to one whom he personally held in total contempt and whom he once more suspected of telling him a pack of lies.
Venetia watched him, waiting for him to speak and unable to interpret his expression. Then the harsh lines of his face dissolved slowly into a sinfully charming smile and he said, ‘Thank you. And, short though this visit of mine must be, I would hope we might at least be able to try furthering our acquaintance. Beginning, perhaps, over supper?’
*
Gabriel spent what remained of the morning with Dick Carter and most of the afternoon taking a lightning tour of the estate. This gave Venetia plenty of time in which to thank Sophia for her discretion and also to confront the head groom over the subject of the missing roan. Then, when both matters were satisfactorily dealt with, she consulted with the cook, summoned her maid and devoted two relaxing and extremely enjoyable hou
rs to her appearance.
Downstairs again and still with time on her hands, she made sure a fire had been lit in the parlour and checked that there was wine ready and waiting. She was not sure why she was going to so much trouble or even what she hoped would come of it. She only knew that this was the first time she and Gabriel would sit down to a meal without hostility joining them like an uninvited guest. And that his parting smile had left a distinct flutter of something she didn’t recognise somewhere behind her bodice.
When the parlour door finally opened, she turned with a half-smile, expecting to see Sophia … and then froze.
It wasn’t Sophia. It was Gabriel, still in his shirt-sleeves, with one hand resting on the door-latch and the other clenched on something at his side. Suddenly acutely self-conscious, Venetia rose in a rustle of dark green taffeta and embarked on some flippant remark about her unaccustomed finery, only to have the words wither on her lips before the blazing anger in his face.
The dark eyes swept over her intricately-arranged curls and flowing, décolleté gown. Then, his voice ragged with temper, he said, ‘How charming. I suppose I should be flattered. But though it’s ungrateful of me to find fault, I can’t help thinking red would have been more appropriate.’
One of her hands closed hard over the other.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Wrong? Now what could possibly be wrong?’ Gabriel released the door, slammed it shut with his foot and crossed the room towards her. ‘Think carefully. You never know – you may even come up with the answer.’
With her conscience far from clear, Venetia hovered between blurting out the truth while she still had the chance and hoping that the cause of Gabriel’s wrath was something quite different. Then, just as she opened her mouth to speak, he said, ‘What – no idea? Then perhaps this will jog your memory.’ And he hurled a lavishly embroidered glove down on the floor at her feet.
It was very much the worse for wear but she recognised it instantly. Indeed, it was difficult not to – for, with his usual extravagance, Ellis had caused his monogram to be picked out in silver thread amidst a profusion of leaves and flowers. Venetia stared down at it thinking stupidly, But I was so careful. And discovered that she felt sick.
The silence stretched on and on; and finally, steeling herself to meet the glittering grey gaze, she said tonelessly, ‘Where did you find it?’
‘You mean you don’t know? My God – how many options are there? This room? The gallery? My bedchamber? Yours?’
‘Of course not,’ she began. And then, the answer suddenly presenting itself, ‘Oh. The bookroom.’
‘Hallelujah!’ said Gabriel grimly. ‘The bookroom. What was he doing? Going through the accounts? No doubt he found them stimulating reading. Not that it matters. The point at issue is what he was doing in this house at all. And don’t try convincing me that glove got here except on my half-brother’s hand – and recently too - because I won’t believe it. The damned thing’s still damp!’
Venetia tried to stop telling herself that she ought to have checked the bookroom after she’d taken Ellis upstairs. It was pointless. She hadn’t checked …and the disaster she’d wanted so badly to avoid was filling the room like smoke. So the only thing left now was to make a clean breast of the whole thing.
Her voice less composed than she would have liked, she said, ‘He came here the night before last and let himself in. I went into the bookroom and found him there. He was tired and wet, so —’
‘Spare me the pathos and stick to the facts.’
‘I am sticking to them. I hid him in the east wing while I got him some food and dry clothes.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t invite him. I didn’t want him here. I —’
‘No, no. Of course you didn’t.’ His temper simmering gently, Gabriel regarded her over folded arms. He wondered how many more lies she would tell him … and how many other things she’d keep hidden. ‘Let’s get to the interesting bit. When did he leave?’
Her heart sank. It was going badly and she didn’t know how to mend it.
‘In the early hours of this morning.’
His eyes bored into her like flints and an unpleasant smile curled his mouth.
‘So,’ he said, at length. ‘Ellis spent the best part of two nights here. That must have been cosy for you.’
She was about to vehemently deny it … but then something in the tenor of his voice stopped her. Drawing a short, painful breath, she said, ‘What exactly are you suggesting? That I … that I lay with him?’
‘Didn’t you?’ Gabriel paused, his expression one of malicious contempt. ‘After all, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
The parlour rocked beneath Venetia’s feet and ice invaded every vein. No wonder it was going badly. It was worse … so very much worse than she had thought.
In a thread-like voice, she said, ‘Who told you?’
‘Not, obviously, the one person who should have done. Do you deny it?’
Venetia sank slowly back into her chair.
‘No.’ She frowned down at her hands. They were bloodless and shaking. ‘How long have you known?’
‘Not long. And I only started believing it when I found that.’ The raw, eviscerating anger which Gabriel thought he’d had under a modicum of control, erupted again and he kicked the glove savagely into the heart of the fire. ‘I could have accepted the fact that you’d slept with him during your betrothal. I could even just about excuse you for not telling me that you had. But what I can’t forgive is that you could talk so glibly to me this morning about trust – when the bed you and he had shared was barely cold!’
‘But it wasn’t! I mean – we didn’t!’
‘And I’m supposed to believe that, am I? Christ! You must think I came down with the last shower. Behaving like a perfect bloody gentleman when all the time —’ He stopped abruptly, breathing rather hard. ‘It’s a good joke, isn’t it? Did you enjoy sharing it with Ellis?’
Formless suspicion sent the tremors that had been afflicting Venetia’s hands into every nerve and sinew. Speech was beyond her but she managed a small gesture of denial and instantly regretted it as Gabriel closed the space between them. He leaned over her, his hands gripping the carved arms of her chair. He was so close that she could see the pulse hammering in his throat. Then he said, ‘Don’t lie. There’s been enough of that already. And don’t give me any excuses. Just tell me one thing. Do you love him?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No? You’re sure?’
Her mouth was bone dry. ‘Perfectly sure.’
‘I see.’ He released her chair and straightened his back. ‘Well, that simplifies matters no end. For if you can lie with Ellis without loving him, you can’t have any objection to lying with me – now can you?’
For a moment, Venetia couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. She said hesitantly, ‘You - you don’t mean it.’
‘I do.’ Gabriel smiled again, a frighteningly ice-cold smile that chilled her to the marrow. ‘After all, why should Ellis have all the fun? And at least he won’t be able to call me a eunuch when next we meet. So get up, my sweet and let’s go to bed.’
With only one thought pounding in her brain, Venetia couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.
‘Ellis,’ she whispered. ‘Ellis told you?’
‘Who else? Aside from yourself, I’d assumed that no one else knew. Another of my misconceptions, perhaps?’
‘N-no.’
‘Well, that’s a comfort. A pity you couldn’t be equally discreet about the fact that I hadn’t bedded you.’ His teeth gleamed with predatory intent. ‘But we can remedy that lack soon enough. Get up.’
She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Gabriel’s hand immediately closed about her wrist, pulling her out of the chair and propelling her with him across the room. Jerked into sudden awareness, Venetia tore at his grip and shouted at him to wait; but he merely continued hauling her with him and did not speak until
he threw open the door and almost collided with Sophia.
‘Our apologies,’ he said, barely breaking stride and heading for the stairs. ‘You’ll have to sup alone tonight. My wife and I have unfinished business to attend to.’
Venetia opened her mouth to ask Sophy to help, recognised the futility of it and stumbled blindly on in the Colonel’s wake, clutching a handful of green taffeta.
At the top of the stairs, Gabriel hesitated briefly before heading for Venetia’s chamber rather than his own as a lone thought filtered dimly through maelstrom of bitterness and sheer, mind-blowing fury. He intended to fuck her. He did not intend to spend the whole night with her.
When he catapulted her into her room and turned to slam the bolt home, Venetia said breathlessly, ‘There’s no need for this. I didn’t sleep with Ellis while he was here. I haven’t slept with him for four years.’
‘Why should I believe that?’ Gabriel pulled his shirt off over his head and advanced on her. ‘You’re wasting time again. Are you going to remove that gown or shall I?’
She backed away from him, still convinced she could make him listen; terrifyingly aware that she had to make him listen.
‘It was in June of ’44 in Oxford and it was only three times. I —’
‘Suit yourself.’ He grasped her elbow and spun her round. Then, when she tried to get away from him, he hooked his fingers in her neckline and, locating the small blade she used for sharpening pens from the table beside him, sliced through her laces.
Venetia gasped and made a quick grab for her gown as it slid from her shoulders – but Gabriel was even quicker. One sharp tug sent it slithering to her feet while he dealt equally ruthlessly with stay-laces and petticoat ties. He threw the knife back on the table and released her.
The whole business had taken only seconds. Reduced to her shift, Venetia turned slowly amidst a heap of taffeta and cambric to meet his eyes … and finally, her stomach plummeting, accepted the reality of the situation. Something – perhaps fear or perhaps her own guilt – made her say haltingly, ‘You’ve every right to – to be angry. But do —’