A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Even if what you say is true, Archie, I am still very angry with you. You should have explained, rather than simply assuming that you knew what was best for me.’

  ‘And you would still have agreed to live here if I had done that, would you?’

  She felt the anger drain out of her, which was annoying. If she was to stand the slightest chance of countering his intelligent arguments, she needed to cloak herself in righteous indignation, which would justify more irrational answers. But she couldn’t bring herself to lie.

  ‘Probably not,’ she conceded.

  ‘Precisely, but you would have gone somewhere else and encountered all the difficulties I am attempting to save you from. And just so that you are aware, I have implied that you are my ward.’

  ‘Ha! As if anyone will believe that.’

  ‘Even so.’ He tilted her chin backwards with his index finger and smiled into her eyes. ‘Am I forgiven? Your father might assume the worst—in fact, I am sure he does, because it suits him to. That’s the way his mind works, but the villagers know better. I encourage my servants, or rather Pawson encourages them to ensure that word circulates of the platonic nature of your visits to Felsham Hall.’

  ‘I don’t like it, Archie.’

  ‘Which is why I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘You assume too much. I have escaped one controlling man and have no intention of replacing him with another. As to forgiving you, I shall think about it.’ She grinned at him. ‘Actually, when Papa made his accusations, I used them against him. If that’s what he thought, I decided that I might as well take advantage of my tarnished reputation. I told him that you had the power to spread word of his barbarous treatment of his own daughter, and that the newspapers would print the scandalous account of the Dean of Salisbury Cathedral’s behaviour if you were to send it to them.’

  Archie threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘You are my conscience, Miss Latimer.’

  ‘You would have done it for Melanie’s sake—gone to the newspapers, I mean, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Not for her, no. But for you, my love, anything.’

  ‘There’s no point in trying to regain my good favours.’ She stood up but spoiled her attempt at feigned indignation by grinning. ‘No, don’t get up, Archie. I will sit down again and save you the effort, but not next to you. You are far too good at confusing me.’

  ‘Me?’ He flashed a wicked smile that made her scowl and then smile.

  ‘I asked Papa about his friendship with Conrad,’ she said, reseating herself across from him, and relating all that her father had said in that regard.

  ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘Not for a moment.’ Flora flapped a hand. ‘Papa is very good at talking about charitable duty, but not so good at putting his hand in his own pocket. Besides, he claims the group of gentlemen have intellectual interests in common. Papa, to put it politely, is not a deep thinker. Bombastic and dictatorial is more his style.’

  ‘I think it unlikely as well.’

  Flora was very interested in what Archie had to tell her about Conrad’s visit to him and his subsequent call from a Coutts’ representative.

  ‘Why on earth would Conrad question you about me?’ she asked, leaning towards him with her elbows planted on her knees.

  ‘I know. It’s preposterous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Stop making light of things, Archie!’ she cried crossly. ‘I suppose the ridiculous rumours about you and me had reached his ears and he wanted to discover if there was any validity to them. What did you tell him? I hope you set him straight.’

  ‘So that he could continue to plague you?’ He shook his head, sending dark hair flopping across his brow. ‘Not a chance. I simply refrained from responding to implications that he had no business voicing.’ Archie paused to rub his chin in a reflective manner and Flora sensed that he had found Conrad’s presence in his home offensive. She also realised that he had only received the man for her sake, and the remnants of her anger at his arbitrary behaviour drained away. She was unaccustomed to having anyone looking out for her interests with no expectation of reward or obedience in return. ‘I was surprised by the degree of his dislike for me, I will admit that much. He still bears a grudge from our college days.’

  ‘You beat him to all the attractive women, one supposes,’ she remarked with an impudent smile.

  ‘What a suggestion to make.’ He sent her a castigating look. ‘No, I think it was more a question of him resenting me because we didn’t include him in our set. Not because he was from the middle classes, but because he was trying to be something that he was not, which we all found rather tedious.’

  ‘And because he cheated at his examinations.’

  ‘And because of that,’ he replied, smiling at her. ‘Gentlemen do not cheat.’

  ‘Heaven forbid!’

  ‘I think your father told you a partial truth,’ Archie said after a short pause. ‘I believe there is a collection of gentlemen with whom your father and Conrad are involved. That would explain their unlikely alliance. But their common interests are unlikely to be charitable or intellectual.’

  ‘I agree, but how do we find out what the connection really is, and do we actually want to?’

  ‘You don’t need to be involved. In fact, I would prefer it if you were not, but I don’t think your father will give up on Melanie that easily.’ He paused. ‘Nor will Conrad admit defeat where you are concerned, especially if he thinks that I have engaged your affections.’

  ‘That I am committed to you?’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘If he believes that, then he surely ought to graciously withdraw.’

  ‘Any gentleman worthy of the name would do so, but as I say he is no gentleman and bears me a massive grudge.’

  ‘If Conrad is now employed by a provincial bank, perhaps the answers are to be found there.’

  Archie shook his head. ‘They are more likely to come from his brother. He will know what Conrad argued so violently with his father about, and which probably led to his being disinherited. The brother happens to be a Member of Parliament and the house is sitting at present, discussing the latest Irish problem. I am going up to London tomorrow. I have made an appointment to see him.’

  ‘Archie, no!’ She jumped to her feet, overwhelmed by his willingness to put himself out on her behalf. She knew very well that travelling, especially at this time of the year, played havoc with his misaligned limb. ‘I can’t ask such a thing of you.’

  ‘You have not asked, my sweet,’ He smiled as he fixed her with a probing, deeply intense look. ‘Let me protect you, Flora, in the purest possible manner. It makes me feel like a whole man again, so you would be doing me the greatest possible favour.’

  ‘You have nothing to prove to me,’ she said, blushing when the words slipped past her lips and their implication belatedly occurred to her.

  ‘Ah, if only!’

  ‘Behave!’ She shook a finger at him, smiling. ‘Very well. I can see that you are determined, so thank you.’

  ‘I need to go up to town anyway. I have business with my legal people and cannot always expect them to come to me. If you want to do something to help in the meantime, I suggest re-reading your grandmother’s diaries, searching for clues.’

  ‘Yes, I can do that. I have been taken up with Melanie’s arrival but I will get back to it immediately.’

  ‘I shall be in my London house for two nights and then here the day after that to take you to Beranger Court. Hopefully by then I shall have found something out.’

  ‘Ah, of course. With all the excitement I had forgotten about my dress fitting. Do you think Violet would mind if we take Melanie with us?’

  ‘Not in the least.’ He grinned at her. ‘She can be your chaperone and save you from my evil intentions.’

  ‘Are they evil, Archie?’

  Archie let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Don’t flirt with me, wench, or you might just find out.’

  She blushed and looked away from him, wondering wh
at devilment had possessed her to speak so recklessly. Wishing he would be completely frank with her and admit that he wanted her as his mistress. At the same time, she was glad that he had not, since she would be sorely tempted to accept. She sensed the countess applauding her salacious thoughts from the next world, and smiled at the image.

  Melanie bounded into the room, her lively presence breaking the tension between them, which Flora considered to be just as well.

  ‘Beatrice asks if Lord Felsham is remaining for dinner,’ she said.

  Flora glanced at Archie.

  ‘Thank you, but I had best not. I want to make an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Very well. Melanie, ask Mr Pawson to bring the carriage round, if he can tear himself away from Polly.’

  ‘I shall see you in a couple of days,’ Archie said, standing in the hallway after donning his hat and coat. He lifted Flora’s hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed the inside of her wrist. Flora noticed Melanie in the periphery of her vision, her eyes as wide as saucers as she observed the gesture. Flora snatched her hand back and glowered at Archie, aware that he was being deliberately provocative. ‘Behave yourself—if you possibly can.’

  ‘It is not my behaviour that is at fault,’ she replied with asperity.

  ‘Sadly not.’

  Flora watched as Archie and Pawson made their way to the waiting conveyance, unable to decide if she was still angry with him or grateful for his protection. Archie climbed into the carriage with Pawson’s help, then lowered the window and waved as it moved off.

  Flora stood where she was, oblivious to the cold, until it disappeared from view.

  Chapter Twelve

  Early the following morning, Archie settled into as comfortable a position as he could in a first class carriage on the London train. Pawson sat across from him, but instinctively seemed to know that Archie required peace in which to contemplate recent developments. His man hid his face behind a newspaper and made no sound, other than the occasional rustle when he turned a page, or when he tutted in disgust about something he’d read.

  Archie worried about leaving Flora and Melanie comparatively unprotected, even if it was only for a couple of days. He sensed that Melanie’s arrival in Lyneham had somehow increased Latimer’s determination to return both girls to the family fold—by force if necessary, regardless of the fact that Flora was of age and Latimer had no authority over her.

  Flora was possibly the most compassionate person he knew; always putting the welfare of others ahead of her own concerns. Why Latimer, as a man of God, found that trait displeasing was beyond Archie’s comprehension. The fact that he was not inordinately proud of his eldest daughter’s achievements reinforced Archie’s private opinion regarding the clergy and their assumptions of superiority.

  ‘I wish I knew what he’s so frightened about,’ Archie mused aloud, idly staring out at the bustling platform when the train pulled into Reading. Several people left their carriage and more joined it. Two porters lumbered along behind a well-dressed woman, struggling beneath the weight of her luggage, the disposition of which she was most particular about.

  ‘Latimer, I take it you mean.’ Pawson’s head appeared over the newspaper. ‘Perhaps he worries how it will look if he’s unable to control two of his daughters.’

  Archie waved the suggestion aside. ‘We both know there’s more to it than that. The man’s running scared.’

  ‘Will has been told to keep a careful watch over the girls. He’s tough enough to protect them, and knows where to send for reinforcements if needed. Stop worrying, guv’nor. You’ll be more use to them in London getting answers than you would be if you remained at Felsham Hall getting yourself into a stew.’

  ‘Very delicately put,’ Archie replied, sending his man a scathing look.

  ‘I aim to give good service.’

  Archie inclined his head towards the woman encumbered with all the luggage when she took a seat unnecessarily close to his own. He didn’t recognise her and wasn’t about to be drawn into a dreary conversation. It happened frequently; he was unsure why. Perhaps there was something about his bearing that implied wealth and consequence. Archie hadn’t needed to try and attract female attention when he had been a younger man, sound in mind and limb. He had stopped trying to make any sort of impression since his accident, but the attention still prevailed. This particular woman carried a small dog in her arms that constantly yapped, making Archie’s head ache.

  ‘Now, Benji,’ the woman admonished. ‘Be quiet. You are disturbing the gentleman.’ She fluttered her lashes at Archie, who turned his head away without responding.

  Pawson chortled. ‘Still got what it takes then, guv’nor,’ he remarked sotto voce.

  Archie rolled his eyes and fell to contemplating for the rest of the journey.

  Paddington railway terminus was in its customary state of organised chaos. Archie remained on the train until the other passengers, including the woman and all of her luggage, had left it. Crowds were difficult for him to negotiate since they increased the possibility of his being barged into and knocked from his feet.

  Once it was safe for Archie to disembark, Pawson helped him down and then hailed a cab. Archie climbed into it, already feeling the cloying atmosphere of a crowded city that no longer held any appeal. His father had been a frequent visitor to the family’s town house in Grosvenor Square. He enjoyed London society and, Archie knew, often entertained his lady friends in the palatial mansion.

  Archie had little time for London now that he was incapacitated, so the house was mostly empty and he kept just a reliable skeleton staff to maintain it. He often wondered about selling, but something held him back. It was part of his inheritance, which meant that it was his duty to pass it—as well as the thorny question of heavy property taxes—on to his heir.

  Always supposing he had one.

  Now there was an enticing prospect, he thought, as the hackney made its way through clogged streets, finally depositing Archie and Pawson in Grosvenor Square. Archie hadn’t given much thought to procreation, having been more occupied with regaining his health over the past decade. It was simply a duty that would be required of him; the downside of which required him to fix his interest upon a potential wife. Now that he’d found a female whom he would be happy to make that commitment with, a whole plethora of obstacles barred his way.

  He glanced down at his broken body and cursed Magda Simpson for her selfish determination to get her revenge in such a brutal fashion when she’d worried about his interest in her waning. He cursed his own stupidity in being strung along by her when he sensed that she required more than a dalliance.

  Archie hadn’t warned his staff to expect him but found nothing to complain about in the running of his household, and was greeted deferentially. Tired after the journey, he rested for a short while before keeping his appointment with his lawyer, which lasted for over an hour.

  It was six in the evening when he made his way to White’s, where he had agreed to meet Marcus Conrad. Despite it being over a year since he had last been at the club, the porter who opened the door recognised him and addressed him by name. Archie would have been surprised if he had not. Porters’ positions at gentlemen’s clubs were highly sought after and given only to those with retentive memories who also possessed the correct degree of deference.

  Archie’s leg ached after the tiresome railway journey and he inwardly cringed at the thought of ascending the wide staircase in order to reach the body of the club. He did so slowly, leaning one hand on the balustrade and the other on his stick.

  It gave him a small measure of satisfaction to think that the long day and equally long staircase was in no danger of defeating him, as would have been the case before Flora took it upon herself to improve his mobility. This fresh reminder of just how much she had done for him reinforced his determination to return the favour in some small measure. He would have done so anyway, since he had never been one to ignore a female in distress. But then again,
had he not been injured there was a possibility that his life might have taken a very different path. He would probably have married a suitable woman without thought of affection or compatibility long before now, simply to do his duty by his father.

  He paused halfway up the stairs and allowed himself the suggestion of a smile. For the first time ever, he had reason to feel if not grateful then at least accepting of his incapacity. Without it, his path and Flora’s might well have crossed only in passing.

  He might never have found his soulmate.

  That was what she had become, he realised as he continued his slow ascent. And yesterday, for the first time, he had dared to allow himself to hope that she returned his regard. She was angry with him for his clumsy attempts to protect her, yet reasonable enough to see the need for that protection. Even so, it would be a grave miscalculation to become complacent—to assume. Flora was an annoyingly independent law unto herself. She was a challenge, which is partly why Archie had lost his heart to her. The marriage of convenience he had considered would no longer serve—but asking Flora to commit to a cripple, the sight of whose scars was abhorrent to Archie himself, was altogether another matter.

  ‘One bridge at a time,’ he muttered as he reached the euphemistically named coffee room, only slightly out of breath. Very little coffee, as far as he was aware, was consumed by the gentlemen members of the exclusive White’s club.

  The place was crowded at that time of day and Archie scanned the sea of faces, wondering if Marcus Conrad had yet arrived and whether Archie would recognise him if he had. They had only met once on a social occasion and that was before Archie’s life had changed so dramatically and he had been shipped off, more dead than alive, to France.