‘I have a housekeeper for that.’
‘Then I can help you with your work—take notes. Write letters.’
He turned his head and grinned at her. ‘I have Harris to do that.’
She stared at him and then she laughed, which was a joyous sound to Alex’s ears. ‘There you are then. Heaven forbid that I should tread on Mr Harris’s toes. Since you are so well taken care of there will be nothing at all for me to do except die of boredom if I don’t work.’
‘You are forgetting that you will soon have a baby to take care of.’
‘I haven’t—but no doubt we will have a nanny and a nursemaid to help me with that as well.’
Falling silent, she settled down to enjoy being with him. She could hardly believe how deep her feelings were running and the joy coursing through her body melted the very core of her heart. She loved Alex. She knew that now and that perfect certainty filled her heart and stilled any anxiety she might otherwise have had.
Except one, and she was somewhat deflated by the thoughts that suddenly assailed her.
Attuned to her every mood, Alex glanced across at her. ‘What is it? You look troubled.’
‘How long do you think it will be before Miranda gets to know what happened in Scotland—how Henry betrayed her with me?’
‘Do you want her to know?’
‘Perhaps it would be best all round if we were honest with her and told her the truth. Then we could move on. Although I don’t want the subterfuge to cause a rift between the two of you. There is something I haven’t told you. Irene Hilton knows about us.’
His jaw hardened. ‘Irene? How?’
‘She overheard our conversation that day I called to see you—when you asked me to marry you. The fact that she is holding this information that will devastate Miranda if she lets it be known does concern me.’
Alex nodded, thoughtful. ‘I agree. Better if it comes from me. Miranda already knows Henry was involved with a woman so that part is taken care of. How she will feel and react when she realises that woman was you is another matter entirely.’
* * *
When they arrived at Aspen Grange they were surprised to see a carriage in front of the house. Lydia’s stomach sank when she saw David and Irene Hilton climb out.
‘Oh, dear,’ she breathed.
‘What the hell are they doing here?’ Alex growled. ‘I certainly didn’t invite them.’
Lydia found it difficult being in the presence of Irene. When Alex stepped forward to greet them, automatically she held back, but sensing her reluctance, Alex drew her forward.
‘I knew you were coming to Aspen for the weekend so I thought I’d call,’ Sir David said with a smile that embraced both of them. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t resist meeting the charming Miss Brook once more.’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Alex replied. ‘And I’m sure Miss Brook would want you to call her Lydia.’
‘Yes,’ Lydia said, responding quickly. ‘Please do.’
Eager to meet once more the tantalising young woman who had bewitched his friend, David moved towards her. As he reached for her hand, his handsome face broke into a brilliant, reassuring smile and his eyes twinkled with delight. ‘Your servant, Miss Brook,’ he said, bending over and pressing a gallant kiss on the back of her hand. ‘And may I say I am truly delighted to meet you again—and looking just as lovely,’ he said meaningfully, casting his friend a mocking, lopsided grin.
On seeing Lydia’s cheeks flush a delicate pink, Alex laughed. ‘Don’t be embarrassed by David’s flattery. He’s harmless enough. Irene, his sister, you have already met.’
‘Yes, we’ve met,’ Lydia replied coolly, noting how Irene held back. She liked David Hilton—he had made a pleasing impression on her when she had met him at the theatre and for the life of her she could not possibly understand how such a charming and amiable man could have such an obnoxious sister.
‘You must stay for lunch,’ Alex said. ‘Miranda’s here as well—somewhere.’
‘And Henry?’ Irene asked, sliding her eyes to Lydia with subtle meaning. There was something in their depths, something malevolent, which no one else saw but Lydia.
‘Not Henry. He has things to do in Surrey.’
Irene smiled, showing her perfect teeth. ‘Really? How convenient,’ she replied blandly, turning from them and sweeping into the house in search of Miranda.
* * *
Aware of Irene’s hostility towards her—she clearly resented sitting down to lunch with a woman who had to work for a living, for in the world in which she lived, class and distinction were to be observed—Lydia was mostly quiet throughout the meal, content to listen to the conversation with a polite interest, conscious that Irene tried to exclude her from any discussion.
Her appetite having deserted her, she toyed with her food, mostly cutting the meat and moving it around her plate. Alex watched her. His eyes were warm and his lips curved in a secret smile. It was meant to encourage her, to tell her all would be well soon enough. Talk was of matters in general and the time David and Irene had spent in France. They also discussed horses, the main topic being the winter’s hunting.
‘We often come during the winter months for the hunting—fox hunting, you understand,’ Irene said condescendingly to Lydia. ‘Is that not so, Alex?’ Without waiting for him to reply, she went on, ‘There is always a good turnout. Do you hunt, Miss Brook?’ she asked, watching Lydia like a hostile cat while knowing full well that she didn’t.
‘No—I don’t ride, let alone hunt. I don’t think I would care for it.’
‘Goodness! Don’t tell me you are one of those people who are against hunting, Miss Brook,’ Irene said imperiously.
‘It is not my idea of a pleasurable pastime, if that is what you mean,’ Lydia replied, becoming increasingly irritated by Irene’s manner.
‘Alex always enjoys country pleasures—is that not so, Alex?’
‘Very much, as it happens, but that does not mean Lydia has to share our enthusiasm for field sports, Irene.’
Irene’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t suppose she has to. However, it is hardly a pastime but a way of life—as it has been for generations past.’
Determined to keep calm, Lydia looked her in the eye. ‘That does not mean to say it is right.’
‘But everyone enjoys it—you only have to ask them, riders and hounds alike.’
Lydia had to admit that she wouldn’t mind learning to ride over the open countryside, but she couldn’t help saying, with a delicate lift to her eyebrows, ‘Then it’s a pity no one thought to ask the fox.’
Two angry spots appeared on Irene’s cheeks and she pursed her lips. Knowing that she was silently fuming, trying desperately to control her temper for fear she’d made a fool of herself, Lydia exchanged looks with Alex, and he grinned lazily, frankly amused by the short interchange between them. However, sensing a skirmish, Miranda put her napkin on the table and rose.
‘I think I’ll take a walk on the terrace. It is rather warm in here. Would anyone care to join me?’
Lydia stood up, glad of the reprieve Miranda was offering. ‘I will join you in a few minutes, Miranda. I’ll just go to my room for a shawl.’
In her room she lingered a while, reluctant to face Irene again and wishing she would leave. Eventually, draping a shawl about her shoulders to guard against the chill, she found her way to the terrace, where Miranda and Irene had been joined by Alex and David.
Irene watched her walk towards them, ‘Miss Brook! I am bemused as to why you are here. I would have expected you to be far too busy in that shop of yours to spare the time for a visit to the country.’
Alex overheard what she said and moved to stand beside Lydia, taking both her hands in his. He smiled down at her, his lips lifting at the corners in his joy. She allowed her hands to remain in his. What he was showing
her in his warm light blue eyes told her of his feelings. Raising her hands before the three spectators, he kissed them, a declaration that none of them could ignore and caused Irene’s eyes to narrow with anger.
‘I invited Lydia to spend the weekend here.’
‘Why on earth would you do that?’ Irene asked.
‘Because, Irene,’ Alex said, glancing down at Lydia, ‘and I hope Lydia won’t mind if I make an announcement—but she has done me the honour of consenting to be my wife.’
There was a long moment of absolute silence in which everyone seemed to hold their breath, then Miranda rushed forward, her expression one of genuine delight as she hugged both her brother and future sister-in-law, happy for them both.
‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘I knew you would eventually agree to his proposal, Lydia. I am so happy for you both.’
‘Me, too,’ David said, slapping Alex good-naturedly on the back and kissing Lydia warmly on the cheek.
Irene’s body was rigid with hatred as she watched Miranda and David pour their good wishes on the happy couple. It was evident she would never forgive this woman for stealing the man she had earmarked for herself.
The sudden change in the weather put an end to the congratulations. It began to rain so they went back inside into the drawing room. Miranda made herself comfortable on a sofa at right angles to the fireplace. Irene sat next to her. Alex and David moved to the library next door to drink a celebratory brandy. Reluctant to be too near Irene, Lydia went to look at the pictures that adorned the walls.
She had nothing to talk about with Irene. Irene had no interest in hearing what she had to say and Lydia had no interest in her, which rather limited the conversation between them. But it seemed that now Alex and David were no longer within earshot, Irene had plenty to say.
‘Naturally I was surprised when David told me Alex had invited you to Aspen Grange for the weekend—and now we know the reason why. And you are here, too, Miranda, and without Henry. I did think that rather odd—but, thinking about it, I don’t suppose it is. Is it, Miss Brook?’
Lydia felt her nerves tighten. A searing white light seemed to dance in front of her eyes. She felt hot, blazingly hot, and physically sick as she waited for Irene to do her worst. Irene got to her feet, facing her so that her focus was on her and not Miranda. It was a tense moment in which Lydia waited for more. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and the blood started singing in her ears. Outside, a gust of wind and the rain that had begun to fall hit the lead-paned windows of the room. Lydia was the one to flinch.
Irene smiled. ‘Worried, are you, Miss Brook?’ She laughed, a thin strident sound, clearly enjoying sticking in the knife. ‘You should be. You are a sly one. How well you have engineered all this.’
Lydia paled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Then let me explain. When you found you couldn’t have Henry—you turned your sights on Alex. You’re a quiet one,’ Irene sneered. ‘The quiet waters of your outward appearance run deep enough for us all to swim in.’
Miranda gave her a puzzled look, for Irene’s eyes and her voice were full of something she did not care for. And what did Henry have to do with this? ‘What on earth are you talking about, Irene?’
Irene felt it was time to inject her poison, knowing full well the effect it would have on Miranda when she saw the awful truth about her precious husband and brother—and the upstart who thought she was good enough to marry Alex. ‘I am talking about Alex—and Henry. Clearly, you don’t know.’
Miranda’s brain was numb, for all her senses told her that something was badly wrong, that what Irene was about to tell her was not going to be pleasant. ‘Tell me. I don’t understand.’
‘You will,’ Irene said, her eyes narrowing and glittering viciously as she prepared to deliver her trump card, ‘when I tell you that Miss Brook was the woman who ran off to Scotland with Henry to be married. When you know for yourself who she really is, then I doubt you will want to welcome her into the family.’
It became so quiet in the room that the steady tick of the clock on the mantelpiece sounded like a gun being repeatedly cocked.
Finally, Miranda said, ‘What did you say?’
Irene’s face expressed a look of malicious triumph, but before she could repeat the words that damned three of the people in the room, David, along with Alex, who had just arrived in the open doorway in time to witness the scene unfold, said, ‘Stop it, Irene. This isn’t necessary.’
‘I’m afraid it is at this point.’
Miranda digested the knowledge slowly, unable to believe what Irene had disclosed. There was an appalled silence as she stared wordlessly from Alex to Lydia, giving them both a look of condemnation. Irene watched and rejoiced with gloating eyes. In alarm, Alex went to his sister, for in that instant he could see Irene had dealt her a crippling blow.
Miranda looked at Lydia in a way that made Lydia feel that the thousand truths she had hidden from Miranda were there, openly displayed, and she was reading them all. The blood had drained from Miranda’s face and her eyes had a haunted, almost desperate expression.
‘You and Henry?’ she asked, looking at Lydia, who nodded dumbly. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘How could you?’ Irene said, excitement over the disastrous effect her revelation had caused bringing a bright glitter to her eyes and showing in every line of her body. ‘It would appear that the three of them have deceived you in the most cruel manner. And you were taken in by Miss Brook just as well as I—which goes to prove she’s a better actress than either of us realised. She has an artful tongue and it is clear that her powers of persuasion are so remarkable that she managed to capture both your husband and your brother.’
Alex straightened from Miranda’s side. There was no softness in his expression, no emotion either, and the ice-cold slivers in his eyes and the marble severity of his face left Irene in no doubt of his anger. ‘Shut up, Irene. I think you’ve said quite enough.’
Irene’s vicious outpouring had left Lydia speechless. Still, perhaps it was better that what had transpired in Scotland was out in the open, but it did not justify the cruel brutality of Irene’s words and the devastating impact they had on Alex’s sister.
‘I am so dreadfully sorry about this, Miranda,’ she whispered. ‘We—Alex and I—intended to tell you when we returned from our drive this morning, but when we saw Sir David and Miss Hilton...’
‘Please don’t say anything,’ Miranda said hoarsely, pushing her brother’s hands away as he tried to draw her close again. ‘Not now. I—can’t take it in.’ With her head lowered she turned away. ‘I’m going to my room. Excuse me.’
‘I suppose you’ll be leaving now,’ Irene said calmly to Lydia as Miranda went out of the room, her eyes aglow with smug satisfaction and a triumph that ever since she had seen Lydia in Alex’s carriage she’d obviously been waiting to savour.
Lydia looked at her, her face cool and exquisitely set. Yet inside her the anger that she managed to keep under ruthless control swirled around her in waves. ‘I am not. And did you have to tell Miranda in such a brutal manner with such malicious joy? It doesn’t matter to me—or to Alex, for that matter—but Miranda is with child. What you have said today might have done her untold damage.’
A brief flash of contrition came and went in Irene’s eyes. ‘It’s as well that she knows what her husband gets up to when he’s not with her.’
‘Miranda already knew and she dealt with it in her own way. I congratulate you. You have most certainly done your worst.’
‘There is one thing before you leave, Irene,’ Alex said, finding it virtually impossible to restrain his anger. ‘I have a feeling you can clear up a matter that has been giving me one hell of a headache. It concerns a letter Lydia wrote to me—a letter which mysteriously disappeared around the time I left for Aspen on my return from France. I suspect you know all about that letter
, don’t you, Irene?’
Her face chalk white, Irene stared across the room at his relentless features. In an attempt to lie her way out of a predicament she had not foreseen, she said, ‘Letter? What letter? I know nothing about a letter and that is the truth.’
‘Truth?’ David said sharply. ‘You wouldn’t know how to tell the truth if it leapt up and hit you in the face.’
Irene cringed at her brother’s tone. ‘Really, David! This is quite preposterous. I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘Do not insult my intelligence with your denials. Tell the truth, Irene. You removed the letter from the pile I picked up in Alex’s London house, didn’t you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. How on earth would I know if it was from her?’
‘Because you recognised my handwriting,’ Lydia said quietly. ‘You saw me writing in my ledger when you called to see me at the salon. You would have recognised it on the envelope.’
David was astounded. ‘Why did you call on Lydia, Irene? And for God’s sake do not tell me it was to order a new gown. You went to warn her off Alex, didn’t you, because you wanted him for yourself?’
Alex saw the truth mirrored in her eyes. ‘If that was what you wanted, Irene, then you deceived yourself. Not once have I given you reason to believe you are anything more than the sister of my closest friend. Yes, I always knew you were available, too ready to grasp everything I could give you, but you were too much like my first wife to even consider making you my second. You did take the letter, didn’t you?’
Irene’s hands were clenched by her sides and her face so contorted with rage that it was almost ugly. ‘Yes, all right, I did. I admit it.’
‘And you also read the contents so you must know that Lydia is carrying my child.’
‘Yes,’ she hissed, ‘I do know that—that you have fathered a brat on a common shop girl—for no matter what she tries to aspire to, she will always remain what she is. A plain nobody.’
The callous bluntness of her reply jarred every one of Alex’s nerves. He moved close, looming over her, and never had Irene seen such an expression of fury in any man’s eyes. ‘And you have a warped definition of how a well-bred young woman should behave. Lydia could give you lessons in the art of being a lady.’
Carrying the Gentleman's Secret Page 22