‘Yes, I know. But there will always be a part of her that is damaged, and when I think of what that man is guilty of—that he has simply walked away unpunished…At least as far as Lettie is concerned.’ She shook her head. ‘Grant says he is being investigated by the police for crimes which I know very little about—nor do I wish to.’
‘I am glad he’s under investigation. But if the truth were to come out about Lettie it would bring shame on her, and Lord knows she has already paid a high enough price for her foolishness.’
Reaching out, Hester squeezed Adeline’s hand in gratitude. ‘That I do know. The injustice of it pains me greatly, but you are right. Lettie must move on—we must all move on and look to our good name. Scandal can be so damaging, so destructive. We mustn’t let it.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Suddenly Hester brightened. ‘Adeline, how would you and your father like to spend Christmas with us at Oaklands?’ She saw doubt cloud Adeline’s eyes, and, afraid that she was about to refuse, went on quickly, ‘I will not take no for an answer—and I know I can speak for Grant. I take Christmas very seriously—even when the family isn’t complete. I make it an event every year, and savour the ritual. I would so like you to be there.’
Adeline had grave doubts about returning to Oaklands, but not so her father. He was delighted at the prospect of spending some time with Hester. The time she had visited him at Rosehill, when Adeline had been in London, seemed a long way in the past, and since his heart attack he had been realising more and more every day how he missed her.
He continued to get better, and when the time came for them to leave for Oaklands he was back to his old self.
Adeline’s time had been taken up with writing and sending out Christmas cards to friends and family, and buying presents. She had chosen two rather beautiful silk scarves—one for Lettie and one for Mrs Leighton. Because she wasn’t sure how many children would be there, she had also bought a selection of novelties and chocolates.
Grant was more difficult. After a great deal of deliberation she had chosen a gold cravat pin—plain, yet tasteful—hoping it would be an appropriate gift for their host and that he would like it. She had tried to keep herself focused on preparing for the visit, but her fragile control had begun to crumble the closer the time came for them to leave for Oaklands.
Grant had promised to write to her and he hadn’t. She could only assume that what had happened between them hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to her. She tried to imagine their meeting. Would he be angry because his mother had invited them? Would he be glad to see her or want to show her the door?
With firm determination she pulled her mind away from this nonsensical preoccupation and concentrated on what she would take with her. A terrible premonition of Christmas being a disaster quivered through her—and yet she felt she had been serious too long, and should be none the worse for a little light entertainment, which she intended her Christmas at Oaklands to be.
Since they had left Rosehill the day had become colder, with a knife-edge to it, and the sky was lower and heavy, with more snow in the air. There had been a fall during the night, with slight drifting in places, disrupting both road and rail travel. As the Leighton carriage, which had met them at the station, approached Oaklands, Adeline was as impressed by the house in its colour-bleached surroundings as she had been on her first visit.
Seated across from Adeline and Emma, her father was tucked beneath a thick rug, his chin sunk deep in the collar of his coat, his fur-trimmed hat pulled well down over his ears. Beside him, attentive and concerned for his master’s wellbeing at all times, sat Benjamin, his manservant of many years.
They climbed out just as the door opened, and Hester came to welcome them. Horace strode the couple of paces over to her and took her in his arms. Normally Adeline would have been slightly shocked by this show of familiarity, but at that moment she could think of nothing other than seeing Grant again.
Hester stood back and gave Horace a close look. ‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Horace. Indeed, you do look much improved since I saw you last, thank goodness. Do come inside,’ she said, after greeting Adeline warmly and ushering them into the hall. ‘We were beginning to think you might not make it with all this snow—and more on the way by the look of the sky. Still, the children are loving it, and it keeps them occupied so we mustn’t complain.’
Leaving Emma and Benjamin to follow on with the cases, Adeline entered Oaklands. The hall, which was lavishly decked with holly, mistletoe and red-veined tree ivy, was warm and inviting, with happy-faced servants flitting to and fro, and delicious Christmassy smells drifting on the air from the kitchen.
Removing her bonnet and warm coat and handing them to a servant while her father was conversing with Hester, she felt Grant’s presence. Adeline’s gaze was drawn towards him. He stood in the doorway to the drawing room, the daylight shining in from the windows behind him. There was a moment frozen in time when they looked at one another across the days that had gone by since they had parted in London, and then he was striding forward.
Dressed casually, in an open-necked shirt, tweed jacket and cord trousers, he was just as she remembered—his dark hair outlining his darkly handsome face, the same magnetism in his silver-grey eyes, the same firm yet sensual mouth. The hall seemed to jump to life about him as his presence filled it, infusing it with his own energy and vigour.
His eyes having taken their fill of her, Grant let his mouth curl slightly at the corners, suddenly alive with interest as he strode towards her. Adeline could feel the heat of embarrassment creep from her neck up her face. She was conscious of his nearness, of every detail about him once more, and the energy that radiated from him. Unable to drag her eyes away from his, she felt the black wave of apprehension lifting a little.
‘Welcome back to Oaklands,’ he said, shaking hands with Horace before letting his silver-grey gaze sweep over Adeline’s face once more. ‘It’s good to see you both.’
Adeline could do nothing but stare at him. The rush of familiar excitement had caused her to become tongue-tied, strongly affected by the force of his presence.
Emotions swept over her as she remembered the intense passion they had shared. Sometimes at night she imagined him in her bed, and her heart would beat faster—to both her disgust and her rising passion—her thoughts would be in disarray, desire and reason conflicting. Then she would reproach herself. The presence of Diana Waverley in his arms still haunted her, but the eyes looking at her now dared her to fall into the same dangerous trap in which she had allowed herself to be ensnared in London, causing her to lose her self-respect and her sanity.
Pulling herself together, she chose directness. ‘Thank you for inviting us to share the Christmas celebrations with you. We had intended spending it quietly at Rosehill—Father’s illness, you understand—but when Mrs Leighton invited us to Oaklands, Father was easily persuaded.’
He raised a questioning brow. ‘And you, Adeline? Were you easily persuaded?’
‘No,’ she answered truthfully. ‘But I was outnumbered.’
He nodded slightly, knowing just how difficult it must have been for her to come here with matters unresolved between them. ‘I’m glad you were,’ he said quietly, and then went on to say, in a more conversational manner, ‘You will find a large complement of family staying. As you know, my sister Anna and her husband David have travelled over from Ireland with their children. They have brought David’s sister Kathleen and her two children with them. Her husband’s a sailor and somewhere on the high seas. And Roland arrived from India just last week, so it promises to be a lively affair.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting them—and I’m longing to see Lettie again. Is—is she well?’ she ventured to ask.
‘Subdued, but on the whole she is quite well, and looking forward to being reunited with her good friend.’
A woman came to stand behind him. She was fresh-complexioned, and sufficiently like Grant to tell A
deline that this was Anna, his sister. She smiled warmly.
‘You must be Adeline,’ she remarked. ‘I am Anna, and I’m so glad to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you from Lettie that I feel I already know you. You must come and meet David, my husband, and our boisterous brood of three.’
Adeline followed her into the drawing room, where a log fire blazed in the enormous fireplace. Immediately David, a charming, easy-mannered man, handed her a glass of punch. She was overawed by the large gathering, and seemed to be surrounded by an onslaught of people—not only immediate family, but aunts and uncles, and she was sure she was introduced to a major and a lord whose names she couldn’t possibly remember just then. They were all from different parts of the country, and all of them were welcoming, promising a Christmas unlike any other.
Roland’s pale blue eyes appraised Adeline. Friendliness and charm he possessed in good measure, and there was a similarity of features between the two brothers. Like Grant, Roland was dark-haired and tall, but he seemed to lack the power and authority of his older brother. As Grant introduced them she warmed to him as he took her hand and kissed it, bowing with an essence of grace and charm.
‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Osborne.’
‘Please—you must call me Adeline.’ She gave him the warmest of smiles.
His answering grin was roguish, his even teeth very white against the tan of his skin. ‘Thank you. I shall. I’m glad you were able to come, Adeline. Lettie’s been singing your praises ever since I arrived—and I can see why. Are you aware that apart from Lettie you are the only unattached female here?’
Laughter crept into Adeline’s voice when she replied. ‘No, I am not. But I don’t think I’ve ever been made to feel so welcome.’
‘The Leightons are famous for their hospitality—is that not so, Grant?’ he said, slanting a look at his brother, who returned his sideways glance with an identical one of his own, hiding his irritation behind a mask of genteel imperturbability. He knew his brother was trying to bait him. ‘I don’t think anyone would blame me if I took it upon myself to get to know you better before you disappear back to Rosehill.’
Adeline was unable to suppress her laughter. She looked at him directly and smiled enchantingly. ‘Then I would advise you to be careful. You’re liable to turn my head,’ she teased—something the old Adeline would never have dreamt of doing with a complete stranger. ‘Are you always so impetuous with the ladies, Roland?’
‘As far as I am aware a young lady has yet to catch Roland’s eye,’ his mother remarked jokingly as she passed them in a rustle of bronze taffeta to sit beside a rather stout Aunt Maud, who was looking decidedly flushed from imbibing too many glasses of punch. ‘At least one of my sons is still heart and fancy-free—as the saying goes.’ She exchanged a penetrating look with Grant before saying, ‘Is that not so, Grant?’
Grant’s lips twitched in a smile and he merely nodded.
Mrs Leighton’s casual remark went straight to Adeline’s heart, and for a moment she was bewildered. What had she meant by it? Who was the woman that held Grant’s heart?
While Adeline’s attention was diverted elsewhere, Grant moved closer to his brother. ‘Roland,’ he drawled, in a steely voice that was in vivid contrast to the expression of bland courtesy he was wearing for the sake of his guests, ‘while you are at Oaklands, brother mine, feel free to lavish your attentions on any one of the available females from round about, but I am already committed to that particular young lady—as you well know.’ The grooves beside his mouth deepened into a full smile that was complacent and smug. ‘I have no desire to be free of the obligation. Is that clear?’
‘As crystal,’ Roland replied with a low chuckle. Giving his brother a conspiratorial wink, he murmured, ‘Far be it from me to spoil the surprise you have in store for Miss Adeline Osborne,’ before sauntering away.
Trying hard not to look at Grant, Adeline was glad of the distraction when she felt a tug on her dress. She looked down into the shining face of a little boy no more than six, beaming up at her.
‘Hello. I’m Gerald.’
‘And I’m Mary,’ said a little girl with rosy cheeks, huge blue eyes and black curls, perhaps four years old. ‘Would you like to come and see the Christmas tree? I can show you.’
‘Not now, darling,’ Anna said, scooping the child up into her arms. ‘Miss Osborne has only just arrived. There will be plenty of time to show her the tree later.’
‘Oh, but I’d love to see it,’ Adeline said, smiling at Mary. ‘Will you show me, Mary—you, too, Gerald?’
‘Yes,’ they cried in unison, and Mary wriggled out of her mother’s arms and grasped Adeline’s hand.
‘You’ll be sorry,’ Anna warned her laughingly. ‘They’ll never leave you alone now.’
‘I hope not. I think they’re charming.’
‘Off you go, darlings,’ Anna said, shooing them away as another boy and girl of similar ages—Kathleen’s offspring—joined them. ‘Nanny will be down shortly, to whisk you off to the nursery for tea, so be quick.’
‘Uncle Grant must come, too,’ Gerald enthused, jumping up and down with excitement.
Playfully ruffling his nephew’s curls, Grant looked at Adeline and gave her a long-suffering smile. ‘Woe betide me if I refuse.’
Altogether, amidst a great deal of chattering and laughter, the children made a wild dash along the passage to the big library—Adeline and Grant following at a more sedate pace. The door stood open to allow all those who passed a glimpse within and an invitation to step inside.
The children piled in. Holding hands, they advanced towards the light until they stood in the very centre of it. It was a glorious moment of realisation. They stood in a line, as still as statues, gazing with something like awe at the sight that confronted them. There was something magical in the air, and the delicious fragrance of singed fir branches permeated the room.
The Christmas tree, an import from Germany and popularised by Prince Albert, was the centrepiece of the decoration. Surrounded by a multitude of gifts, this particular tree was planted in a brightly decorated tub in the corner of the room and towered high above their heads. Secured at its pinnacle was a beautiful fairy with golden hair, a flowing sequin-spangled white dress and a wand. The tree was brilliantly lit by a multitude of little tapers, and everywhere sparkled and glittered with bright objects, reflecting warmly on the leatherbound gold-lettered books which stocked the shelves that lined the walls.
‘Why, it’s beautiful!’ Adeline exclaimed, as awestruck as the children.
‘And essentially for the children,’ Grant laughed, pointing to a rosy-cheeked doll hiding behind a branch. ‘It’s also dangerous, and Mother makes sure there is always one of the servants with a wet sponge on tree patrol to guard against fire.’ He looked at her. ‘No doubt you celebrate the festive season at Rosehill in similar style?’
‘Yes, and often several elderly relatives come to stay. Sadly we lack children. We always have a tree—but not nearly as large as this.’
Adeline knelt on the floor with the children in front of a nativity scene that had been set up, gazing with wonder at the wooden image of the baby Jesus in the crib, surrounded by figures of people and animals. She laughed when the children enthusiastically began telling her who the figures were supposed to represent, all talking at once, some louder than others, to make themselves heard.
She was rescued by the sudden appearance of Nanny. Wearing a starched white apron, she came bustling in and ushered her young charges out and up to the nursery for tea.
Left alone with Grant, Adeline moved closer to the tree. To be within close proximity to him was agonisingly difficult, and she couldn’t help thinking what a strange situation this was. When she had last seen him she had been furious with him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him again, but here she was, unable to utter a cross word and thoroughly nonplussed by his manner.
Grant perched his hip on
the edge of the desk, and a slow, lazy smile swept across his handsome face as his eyes passed over her shapely figure with warm admiration. He watched her tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear before reaching forward and lightly touching a decoration on the tree. For a moment the bodice of her gown stretched tight across the slim back.
The firelight and tree lights had turned her glossy reddish-brown hair a darker shade, touched her lips to a deeper red. Her face was in repose—vulnerable, thoughtful, like the children dreaming of Christmas, dreaming of something wonderful to happen. He had missed her. When he had found her gone from the hotel it had been like an arrow to his heart. How well he remembered the enchanting sexuality that she had brought to his bed, the wanton loveliness.
In his experience with women—and his experience could not be truthfully termed lacking—he had been most selective of those he had chosen to sample. Yet it was difficult to call to mind one as delectable as the one he now scrutinised so carefully. Even now, having known her as well as a man could know a woman, there was a graceful naiveté about Adeline Osborne that totally intrigued him.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked quietly.
Adeline turned her head and found him studying her. ‘Nothing too profound,’ she hedged. ‘Just—things in general.’
‘Care to tell me about them?’
Trying to avoid both his searching gaze and the entire discussion, she looked away at the Christmas tree. ‘They really aren’t worth discussing.’
‘Why don’t you let me decide that?’
She looked back at him, thinking of the short time they had spent together in his hotel rooms, how he had made love to her with that mixture of exquisite tenderness and demanding urgency. Unfortunately, with the passing of time she was finding it more difficult to cling to the illusion that he was her devoted lover. Now she was unhappily aware that the man who had made love to her with such wonderful passion, who had made her feel that she was the only woman he had ever made love to, had also made love to countless others—including Diana Waverley. She had been reduced to the status of an old friend—a passing acquaintance.
Wicked Pleasures Page 24