Shadows in the Grass

by Beverley Harper

  Dallas didn’t know where to look. It was such an intimate act.

  ‘Oh, come now, don’t be so stuffy. It’s only hair.’

  At that moment the train gave one of its unexpected lurches and Lady de Iongh lost her balance and sat down heavily, right next to him.

  Dallas fidgeted in his seat.

  She made no attempt to move away. Her eyes locked on his. Dallas felt he might drown in the limpid pools. ‘Do I shock you?’

  ‘I . . . No, of course not.’

  She smiled slightly. ‘Of course I do. I shock most people. Have you heard of William Acton?’

  Dallas tensed. The subject change was of no comfort. ‘The doctor?’

  Alison nodded and he watched fascinated as curls bobbed around her face. ‘He’s written a book.’

  ‘Really?’ What else was he supposed to say? Lady de Iongh watched him expectantly. ‘What kind of book?’ He knew what kind of book. Half the British Isles had a copy.

  ‘About sex,’ Alison said bluntly. ‘The man claims ladies of quality have no sexual desires.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dallas ran a finger under his collar. It felt unusually tight.

  ‘He’s wrong.’ She laid one hand on his leg, raising an eyebrow when he jumped. ‘The earl is away in London a good deal. He is much older than me. Even when he is home . . .’ She shrugged elegant shoulders. ‘Do you understand?’ An edge of exasperation had crept into her tone.

  Dallas heard it. ‘I . . . I think so.’ She’s Lorna’s mother, for God’s sake!

  ‘Do you think I’m attractive?’

  He’d never really thought about it. ‘You are beautiful.’

  Something glowed in her eyes. She reminded Dallas of a satisfied cat.

  It was now or never. His heart was hammering wildly. There was a fifty-fifty chance of getting it wrong, whatever he did. Her face was close to his. The partially open bodice revealed a swell of milky breasts. Dallas felt desire stir. He tentatively leaned closer and she parted her lips. Dallas took the plunge. Her reaction exceeded his wildest dreams.

  Alison de Iongh, Lady de Iongh, Countess de Iongh, wife to an earl of the peerage, a man who was a respected member of the House of Lords and one who had Queen Victoria’s respect, gave a small cry, pressed herself closer, wrapped both arms around him and whispered against his lips, ‘You can do whatever you like to me.’

  It must be said in defence of Dallas that this particular temptation was damned near irresistible. He was like a small boy let loose in a confectionery establishment. When the train rumbled and hissed to a stop at their final destination, Dallas was in a daze. Alison had captivated . . . Well, it wasn’t his heart. Reason and commonsense told him he was playing with fire. Prudence, however, had been overruled by a somewhat more basic desire. Justification seemed so flimsy – he was not being unfaithful to Lorna, she would always be out of his reach; it was once only, the earl would never find out; this was obviously not Alison’s first extramarital encounter, nor likely to be her last; anyway, a man had to gain experience somewhere.

  Expecting Alison would retreat into cool aloofness, the experience a never-to-be-mentioned or repeated thing of the past, Dallas was somewhat surprised, and more than a little alarmed, to learn she had other ideas.

  ‘Friday,’ she whispered before they alighted from the carriage. ‘Come to Canongate at eleven.’

  Friday! So far away. Only two days from now. What am I to do?

  Dallas knew it was wrong. He was aware that the servants gossiped about them. They’d be found out eventually. Dallas didn’t care. Alison was like a drug, likely to bring him down, yet intoxicating and habit forming. He’d leave her bed determined never to return but, by the time the next arranged assignation arrived, found himself eager and impatient, unable to deny the fires of longing that spread within him. ‘Just one last time,’ he told himself over and over again.

  Guilt took up residence in his heart. Dallas was betraying everyone. Still, he could no more end the relationship than fly.

  One month into the affair with Lady de Iongh, Lorna’s betrothal to the Marquis of Dumfries was announced. Lord Dumfries was a widower with no heirs. A dour and humourless man who had vast estates bordering with those belonging to the de Ionghs in the Dumfries and Galloway region, he was eight years older than Lorna’s father. The marquis had not so much as glimpsed young Lady de Iongh when he decided to marry her. He had approached the earl and suggested that a marriage between their two families would strengthen both. The union, as far as he was concerned, was to produce heirs. In return, Lorna would enjoy the status of marchioness. A perfect business arrangement.

  Without consulting his daughter, or even his wife, Lord de Iongh accepted Lord Dumfries’s proposal. It made sense. Lorna would outlive the old man by many years. With luck, by the time he died, she would have produced a male successor to his lands and title. If the boy were young enough, Lord de Iongh, or his own heir, Charles, could exert considerable influence over the lad and control the administration of both estates.

  Lorna was horrified. ‘No, Papa, please. He’s so old.’

  She was even more disgusted on first meeting her intended. A plain, bony face with hooded eyes perched on stooped shoulders, giving him the appearance of having no neck. He was not tall, and skinny legs bowed outwards. There was something almost reptilian about the man’s appearance, especially in his cold stare and bloodless lips. Lord Dumfries barely acknowledged Lorna other than to comment loudly and crudely that she appeared to have all the makings of an excellent brood mare.

  Lorna’s mother, equally aghast that her husband could be so uncaring about their daughter’s happiness, and trying desperately to console the girl, unwittingly set in motion an event that would have far-reaching consequences. ‘Calm yourself, dear child. You are no different from many women. Give the old wreck a son and look elsewhere for love and pleasure.’

  Unfortunately, Lorna believed she had already found the man of her dreams – Dallas. Yet, like him, she accepted that a union between them would be impossible. Marriage to another was something that would be bearable if the man was young and possessed a modicum of good looks and humour. Lord Dumfries was more than she could bear. The mere thought of him made her flesh crawl. However, betrothed she was and married she would become, there was nothing Lorna could do about that. But with her mother’s apparent blessing, she could make damned sure of tasting something infinitely more palatable before the old bastard got his hands on her.

  Lorna had no idea that the subject of her intentions spent so much time at Canongate. Alison made sure her daughter was kept busy with social engagements and works of a charitable nature. These, she attended to willingly. Indeed, it never once crossed Lorna’s mind to pursue her plan while still in Edinburgh. The forthcoming pheasant shoot on Lord Dalrymple’s estate in Tayside should provide an ideal opportunity.

  The shooting party was expected to run for four full days. Dallas, as youngest son of the host, probably in the field with a gun for only two of them. For the rest of the time he would be expected to help entertain other guests. Lorna was sure a chance would present itself. Her father should be out on all four days. Her mother much in demand at the card table. Brother Charles, when not shooting, would be mooning around Charlotte.

  The day finally dawned. Lorna and her parents travelled to Perth by train. A coach then took them on to Tayside. Charles would be coming over from the de Ionghs’ Perthshire estate later in the day.

  As they drew up outside the Dalrymples’ imposing country residence, Lord de Iongh would have been astounded if he’d known that both his wife and daughter, unbeknown to each other, had plans for the good-looking young man who came down the wide stone steps, a welcoming smile on his lips.

  For that matter, so would Dallas.

  Lord and Lady de Iongh were shown to a sumptuous guest suite on the first floor, Lorna to the second floor where unmarried girls had their own rooms. Charles, when he arrived, would be at the other end of the house with the b
achelors.

  A housemaid took care of Lorna’s unpacking and brought her hot water so she might bathe. Refreshments had been laid out. As with all guests, Lorna was expected to remain in her room until it was time to go downstairs for dinner.

  Boredom was relieved by the arrival of Charlotte. She rushed into the room, kissed Lorna’s cheek, then dropped all pretence and asked, ‘Is Charles here yet?’

  Lorna smiled at her friend’s eagerness. ‘He’s coming over later this afternoon. Papa expects him around six.’

  ‘I do hope he won’t be late.’

  ‘My dear brother is as keen to see you as you are him,’ Lorna said, envying Charlotte’s affection – both given and received. ‘Wild horses could not keep him away.’

  Charlotte blushed. ‘Do not think me forward.’

  Lorna caught Charlotte’s hands and swung her around. ‘You are a baggage but I forgive you.’ Her face clouded. ‘I daresay you know of my betrothal?’

  Charlotte sobered immediately. ‘Oh, my dear. How selfish of me. You poor darling.’

  Tears formed in Lorna’s eyes. ‘He is quite hideous and does not try to hide the fact that an heir is the only reason for our union.’ Lorna brushed her cheeks impatiently. ‘But I will not think of him until I must. There. No more tears. Tell me about the other guests.’

  The two girls gossiped until it was time to dress for dinner.

  Lorna took great care with her toilette. As she descended the wide staircase, more than one pair of male eyes glanced up with admiration. But Lorna was seeking Dallas. He had already seen her and when she looked his way, both smiled in acknowledgment. To her delight Dallas excused himself from the group he was with and made his way to the foot of the stairs.

  ‘How lovely you look,’ he said softly, bending over her hand. All good intentions disappeared as the feelings evoked in London flooded back.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ Lady Dalrymple linked her arm affectionately through her son’s and smiled at Lorna. ‘I swear, you young people cause such headaches. I was at a loss to know who to pair you with, my dear. An unattached male simply would not do with your fiancé so far away. Anyway, all’s well now. Dallas has said he’d be delighted.’ A small frown creased her brow. ‘I do hope you don’t mind. I’m sure it will be all right. After all, you’re practically brother and sister.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all, Lady Dalrymple. It will give us a chance to catch up. We’ve hardly seen each other since London.’

  ‘Good.’ Duty done, the countess was anxious to circulate among other guests.

  Left alone, Dallas had no choice but to offer his congratulations on the news of Lorna’s engagement, though it was the last thing he felt like doing.

  She glanced briefly at the diamond ring on her finger and gave a small shudder, remembering Lord Dumfries’s words when he put it there. ‘Don’t you dare lose it. It belonged to my grandmother. This ring is worth a fortune. You’re a lucky girl.’

  Dallas saw her shiver. He knew she couldn’t possibly have feelings for Lord Dumfries but hadn’t expected any outward show of revulsion. Ladies of quality had certain duties and went about them, irrespective of how onerous they might be, with the poise expected of them. ‘Is my lady displeased with the arrangement?’

  ‘You are my friend, are you not?’ Lorna asked by way of response. Tears glinted in her eyes.

  ‘You know I am.’

  ‘Then do not speak to me as you would a stranger.’

  Dallas leaned closer. ‘Lorna, what is it? What ails you?’

  ‘We must speak,’ she whispered, head lowered. ‘But not here.’

  Dallas wanted to reach out and touch her. Lorna was clearly very unhappy. ‘Perhaps a ride with Charles and Charlotte in the morning,’ he suggested.

  She fingered the locket around her neck and nodded. Her brother would welcome the opportunity to be with Charlotte away from prying eyes, which could very well give rise to a chance to be alone with Dallas. ‘That would be most agreeable,’ she murmured.

  Parental permission to go riding the next day was happily granted by both mothers. What better way for youngsters to spend time than enjoying the company of friends? Being with Dallas and Charles, Alison and Pamela had no reason to worry about their daughters’ well-being.

  After breakfast the four set off. Charles and Charlotte rode on ahead, engrossed in each other. Lorna seemed subdued and silent. Dallas didn’t push her, assuming she’d tell him why when she was ready.

  They ate a picnic lunch beside a swiftly flowing stream that ran along the foothills of Glen Almond. ‘Oh, my hat,’ Charlotte exclaimed, packing away the last of the food. ‘I couldn’t eat another crumb.’ She jumped up and stretched out a hand to Charles. ‘Come on, lazybones. Let’s walk off some of that food.’

  Groaning, Charles allowed her to pull him up. ‘Are you joining us?’

  The question was rhetorical. Dallas and Lorna would not be welcome.

  Lorna shaded her eyes. ‘I’m far too comfortable here. You three go ahead. I’ll be fine.’

  Naturally, as Lorna had anticipated, she couldn’t be left on her own and, as expected, Dallas said he’d stay too.

  Charlotte and Charles set off, promising to be away no longer than a couple of hours. Watching his friend help his sister over the pebbly riverbed, Dallas said idly, ‘Charlotte seems very fond of Charles these days.’

  ‘Fond!’ Lorna responded with a humourless laugh. ‘She adores him.’

  Dallas threw her a sharp look. ‘You disapprove?’

  Lorna’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘Forgive me. My own unhappiness clouds sincere feelings of joy for Charles and Charlotte. Of course I am pleased for them. Charles could well declare his love this very afternoon and would do so with my blessing. He spent some minutes alone with Lord Dalrymple when he arrived last night. Charles has said nothing to me but from the way he’s behaving, I’d say your father has no objections.’ She sighed deeply. ‘How lucky they are.’

  ‘What troubles you then? Come, speak frankly. You are as close to me as my own sister.’

  ‘Am I?’ Pain crossed Lorna’s face. ‘You do not feel like my brother.’ She plucked at her skirt before looking intently into his face. ‘But I will be frank. There is no choice left to me.’

  ‘So. It is your forthcoming marriage. It does not please you.’

  ‘How could it?’ Lorna cried out. ‘He is an old man. He is nothing to me. I will hate him, I know I will. Why should I submit to this? It’s not fair.’

  Dallas watched a single tear slide down her cheek. Reaching over he gently brushed it away. To reveal his true feelings was impossible and his own pain was acute. ‘I know it is hard but you will have children to love.’

  ‘His children!’ she said bitterly. ‘What about the other kind of love? I will never know a lover’s arms or the feel of his kiss. Not for me a wildly beating heart or the sparkle I see in Charlotte’s eyes when she looks at Charles. The thought of marriage to Lord Dumfries makes me want to die inside. And that is probably what I shall do. Become old and dried up before my time.’ More tears fell and she shook her head helplessly. ‘I am a woman yet I cannot choose my husband, I know that. If I could, I would choose you.’

  ‘Me!’ Dallas’s heart skipped a beat. Her revelation had taken him by surprise. Lorna was well outside acceptable social boundaries. Eyes could say it. Words, however, should not be uttered. And yet he was glad she had spoken. Warning bells clanged. He was in dangerous territory in more ways than one.

  ‘I cannot marry you, Dallas, I have always known that, even though it is what I desire most in this world. This sadness would be bearable if I married a kind and loving man. A young man.’ Her eyes were still locked with his. ‘But this old . . . disgusting creature with bony hands and watery eyes, his thin lips and yellow teeth, his stoop and potbelly.’ She shivered. ‘He even smells old. How can I bear it?’ Lorna bowed her head and sobbed.

  Dallas moved quickly to her side and t
ook her hands in his. ‘Calm yourself, dear one. I am with you. Lord Dumfries is far from a pretty picture but, as you point out, he is old. Soon he must die. You will still be young. As a widow of means you will be free to marry whoever you wish.’

  ‘You,’ she whispered. ‘I love you. Will you wait for the marquis to die?’ She tried to read his look. ‘Do my words shock your tongue to silence? Or do I hope for something you are unable to give?’

  Oh, if only I could. ‘Shush, Lorna. Do not torture me, dearest, with what I can never have. You are betrothed to another, and even if this were not so, as we both know, more cannot be between us.’

  ‘But it can, dear heart. And I mean it to be so.’ She looked away, towards the distant hills of Glen Almond. ‘Can you still see them?’

  ‘Just.’ Dallas pointed. ‘There.’ The indistinct figures of Charles and Charlotte moving further away. ‘What are you saying, Lorna?’ His heart beat a wild acceptance of what his head told him to refuse. Even if he promised to wait for her, even if Dumfries dropped dead on his wedding night, what about Alison? Would she stand by and allow her daughter to marry her own lover? Somehow he doubted it. All else aside, Alison’s ego would not tolerate such a match.

  Lorna took his silence as unhappy acceptance that they could never be together. She lay her head against his shoulder. ‘I will marry Lord Dumfries and I will bear his children, but he shall not be the first man to touch me. You shall be that man. I give myself to you. I come to you freely and willing, asking only that you know I love you. Until the day I marry, I am yours. Will you take me, Dallas? Will you show me how love feels?’ She turned her face to his. ‘Can we not pretend, even for a little while, that we belong together?’

  Her lips were close to his. Knowing full well what folly such weakness was, Dallas drew her towards him. It was a long kiss, full of yearning. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked breathlessly when their lips finally parted.

  ‘Dallas, my darling!’ It was a cry of despair. ‘Give me a memory. Something I can take with me. I beg of you, don’t let me go to his bed not knowing how it should be.’