Claudia said, “I shall go and ask Bloom to serve tea. Excuse me for a moment, Alexis, Papa.”
Left alone, Sebastian gently turned Alexis around to face him, continued, “It is a very old farmhouse, dating back to the last century, 1790, something like that. I actually bought it for the land that stretches to the Marsh, about a hundred and forty acres. But I’m afraid the house itself was a ghastly mess.”
“So you had to renovate it?”
“I did have to rebuild parts of it, and add rooms. Some of the restoration parts I did myself.”
“You did! I can’t even imagine that. You’re far too elegant to be on a ladder.”
Sebastian laughed, amused by her comment, enjoying her forthrightness. “Give me a bag of nails, a hammer, and some planks of wood, and you’ll soon know what a good carpenter I can be. I enjoy working with my hands.”
His words startled her. She couldn’t visualize him doing carpentry, but she believed him and laughed with him. “When did you buy it?”
“Seven years ago. I was looking around Kent, wanting to be near the Marsh, and came across it quite by accident. I needed to occupy myself at weekends, wanted a project. And voilà! Suddenly there was the old farmhouse that needed an overhaul, and much love to go into its restoration.”
“And what about the garden? Did you create that as well?”
He shook his head. “No. That was done by a very talented gardener. However, Claudia and I did suggest various flowers, the ones we liked, and the colors we wanted. In particular, I needed lots of blue in that garden.”
Stepping closer to the painting, she asked, “Who painted this, Sebastian? I don’t see a signature.”
“There isn’t one.” He smiled at her. “It was painted by a friend of mine, who is rather shy about his talent as an artist. There are a few more of his paintings at Goldenhurst Farm. Perhaps, no, I hope that you will visit us at the farm one day soon.”
She nodded and looked directly at him, unexpectedly without any words to say, held by those compelling clear gray eyes, lost in them.
Reaching out, Sebastian took hold of her hand and said, “I want you to see another painting. One I love as much as my friend’s gift to me. You missed it when you entered the room, because it’s behind us, hanging over the fireplace.”
As he walked her down to the fireplace, she knew instantly that this was very special indeed. It was a painting of a young girl with a parasol in a garden, and as they drew closer she realized at once who had painted it.
“It’s a Renoir!” she cried, gazing at the painting in awe, genuinely thrilled by its beauty.
Sebastian was delighted she knew about art. “So you like Renoir? Other Impressionists, too, I suppose?”
“I do indeed. I like Monet very much, and I think he’s credited with being the first painter to use that word to describe the paintings which he created later.”
“Absolutely correct.” He was looking at her intently, had to use extreme self-control not to go and embrace her, hold her close. He started to say something when he abruptly stopped.
Claudia was coming back into the blue room, followed by an unexpected guest. There he was, his best friend, Reggie, grinning from ear to ear.
“I hope you don’t mind me barging in, old chap, but I was in the vicinity and couldn’t resist dropping by. Can I cadge a cup of tea?”
“Of course. Come and meet a friend of Claudia’s.” Turning to Alexis, he said, “I’d like to present Lord Carpenter … Reggie, this is Miss Alexis Malvern.”
The two of them shook hands, and Alexis smiled at him with her usual grace. Sebastian was delighted to see that his friend was quite bowled over.
Claudia said, “Come along, Uncle Reggie. Sit down with me for a moment. I need to speak to you about Jasmine.”
Sebastian stepped over to the window, then looked back and beckoned Alexis to join him. She did, walking across the room swiftly. He said in a low voice, “Don’t mention the garden painting. It was Reggie who painted it. As I told you, he is rather shy about his art.”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned it anyway, Sebastian.” She asked in the same low tone he had used, “Is it all right to call you by your first name in front of Claudia?”
“It is indeed. In front of anyone you wish. It is my name, after all. What else would you call me?”
She knew suddenly that he was teasing her, and she replied, “Why Mr. Trevalian, of course.”
He grinned. “Do you by any chance speak French?”
“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t go to the finishing school my father had selected for me in Switzerland, but I did agree to take French lessons in London. I had a good teacher. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Seventeen
For all of her life Esther Falconer had believed that things happened by chance … both good things and the bad. They just happened, and that was that, as far as she was concerned. Life either came up hard to hit you in the face or it came up soft and gave you something beautiful.
But she no longer believed in chance happenings, not now, after the horrendous attack on her golden boy, her beloved grandson James. He had been targeted on purpose, along with his friend Denny. No question about that.
She would never forget how shocked and frightened she was when Sergeant Mick Owen and Constable Tony Roy had arrived at the Montague residence on Sunday morning, earlier in the week.
Her fear for her grandson’s life had permeated every cell of her body. Even after Sergeant Owen had endeavored to reassure her and Philip that he would be fine, that fear had lingered. Yes, James might well live, she had thought on that horrific morning, but would he be brain-damaged? Or facially disfigured? No one could really answer that. The entire family had rushed over to King’s Hospital; his parents and siblings first, then she and Philip, later his uncles, George and Harry. Everyone had visited every day to comfort and console James. It had been five days of anxiety for them all. Now it was Thursday, and on Friday, the old bandages would come off and new ones would go on. The healing process had begun. This thought helped her to relax. She believed he would be as good as new.
Esther was sitting next to James’s bed, her sewing in her hands, although the needle was still. Her grandson was sleeping, breathing gently, at rest. He was now in one of the main wards in the hospital, with screens around him for peace and quiet, and also privacy. Two detectives from Scotland Yard had been to see him, following up on the policemen Roy and Owen, who had found the boys on Chalk Farm Road. Unfortunately, there were no leads, nothing to go on. Seemingly it was a dead end.
WHY?
That was the question which haunted Esther. Why had someone wanted to harm her grandson and his friend Denny Holden? Innocent boys, minding their own business, never in trouble. Jack Holden had asked her that on Sunday and every day since. She had no answer for him or for herself. It was a mystery.
An image of Jack Holden’s face came into her mind, and a slight shiver passed through her. On Sunday, he had looked stricken, was white with shock, anguish making his body taut, tension surrounding him like an aura. His Denny was in a coma, and Jack feared for his son’s life.
Esther had endeavored to comfort him, wanted to help him get through the ordeal. He had no one else. His wife was ill, and his daughter, Nancy, was in service and it had been difficult to reach her. Thankfully, she had finally been contacted and was now with Jack, supporting him as best she could. But she was just a young girl, with little experience of life, not much to draw on.
A sigh escaped. Esther leaned back against the chair, her thoughts whirling in her busy mind. Sunday had been the worst day. Then slowly, things had settled down, and the news for them had been good … James was improving on a daily basis. But not Denny. He was still in a coma, and Jack Holden was beside himself, his pain a palpable thing. Philip was spending time with him at this moment, hoping to ease his suffering …
“Grans?”
At the sound of James’s voice, Esth
er was on her feet. She went to her grandson swiftly and stared down at him. “Do you need something, James?”
“A drink of water, please.”
Esther reached for the glass, propped him up, and helped him to hold the glass. He drank half of the water in the glass, obviously thirsty. “That’s better,” he said, smiling at her.
Placing the glass on the nightstand, she returned to her chair, pulled it closer to James, and sat down. “How are you feeling, my boy?”
“All right, really, Grans, but I’m still a bit stiff. My whole body aches.”
“The doctors believe you will come out of this all right, James. Be as good as new, one of them said.”
“That’s what they told me earlier. How’s Denny? I’m worried about him.”
“He’s still in a coma, but apparently that’s not uncommon under the circumstances after that kind of beating. They think he’ll be out of it soon and that he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. He’s not as strong as I am, you know. I often call him Tiddler, just as a joke, because he is shorter, smaller than me.”
Esther nodded. “That’s true, but I want you to know he will get the best of treatment when he comes around,” Esther assured her grandson. “Now, I need to ask you a question regarding Denny. You told me yesterday that you went to that bar Tango Rose because Denny liked the barmaid there. Sergeant Owen went to speak to her … she’s called Milly Culpepper, I believe. Is that the girl you mean?”
“Yes, that’s her. Very pretty. A blond girl with a nice manner. They really liked each other, she and Denny, I mean.”
“Sergeant Owen told me she’s not married, so it can’t be a jealous husband who attacked you both. However, does she have a boyfriend? A young man who might be interested in her?”
“Not that I know of, Grans. She met with Denny several times, just the two of them. They hit it off, you see.” James fastened his blue eye on his grandmother, and asked uneasily, “Do you think she lied to Denny? Do you think we were attacked because of her?”
“I don’t know. No one knows. But Scotland Yard is going to investigate her. She might not have been telling Denny the truth about being unattached.”
“Oh my God!”
“Don’t be upset. Let the police do their work. You and I have other fish to fry.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a plan for you, James, a wonderful plan that we shall put into place when you are feeling better. I’d like to tell you about it.”
“Tell me, Grans. I’m all ears … I can’t wait to be up and about and out of here.”
Leaning forward slightly, Esther said, “I am going to take you away from here, far away from Camden and up to Hull. It is there that you will recuperate properly, at my sister’s house on the High Street. Great-Aunt Marina and Great-Uncle Clarence will look after you, and I shall stay at least two weeks. When you are up to it, you will go and work with their son William at their shipping company. You will learn a lot from Clarence and William, which will serve you in good stead when you return to London.”
“It’s a good plan, Grans, but when will that be? When will I return to London?”
“In about a year from now. You’ll come back strong and whole, and you’ll have learned a lot. Then you can put your own plan into operation. The plan you have about working for Mr. Henry Malvern at his Piccadilly office.”
James began to laugh. “If I could clap my hands I would, Grandmother!” he exclaimed. “I’m thrilled you think I can still have a plan and make it work.”
“Of course you do, silly boy. You are not a defeatist. You are a winner … winners always go up and up and up! And I bet my bottom dollar on you. I know in my deepest heart that you will always be the winner, James Lionel Falconer. You see, that’s what I trained you to be.”
Eighteen
Alexis was well aware she was totally committed to Sebastian Trevalian, just as he was to her. They had hardly been apart since Sunday afternoon, endeavoring to be together as much as they possibly could.
This had been easily facilitated by their sudden business relationship. At his suggestion he had become her banker and financial advisor for her charity, Haven House. It was a means to an end. A morning meeting in his office inevitably led them to lunch at a restaurant, and another in the afternoon prompted not only tea but supper at his Grosvenor Square house.
A great deal had been conveyed between them, obliquely, by innuendo, and often quite outspokenly. They knew exactly where they stood with each other, honesty the byword of their budding relationship.
He had told her she had turned his life upside down, and she had shot back that he had not only turned her life upside down, but inside out as well. He had merely smiled that enigmatic smile of his, made no response.
It was true. All of her past beliefs, plans, ideas, and decisions about her life, men, and marriage had been blown away, gone forever from her mind.
She was in love for the first time, wanted to be with this particular man in every way … with Sebastian forever. And she would do whatever she had to do to achieve that. She no longer worried about her fortune; he had his own and it was much larger than hers.
The matter of her work had come up only last night, and he had said she could do whatever she wanted as long as they were together on a permanent basis. He had added, with a small sly smile, that he was rather proud of her accomplishments and her business acumen, and wished he could boast about her to his friends.
So many thoughts about him ran through her head tonight. She was seated next to him in his elegant dining room at the Grosvenor Square mansion. Surrounding them were his daughter Claudia and the guests they had invited to the Thursday supper, which she knew full well had been done especially for her.
Lord Reginald, whom she had met before, and his wife Lady Jane, Cornelius Glendenning, Mark Brewster and his sister, Evangilina, were the other guests. Just eight. Exactly the right number. They obviously knew each other well, so that conversation between them was easy and relaxed, and there was a certain friendliness toward her. She felt welcomed, accepted by his friends.
Alexis was pleased she was sitting next to Sebastian for a variety of reasons. Her body was close to his; she could breathe in the scent of him, his cologne. He frequently put his hand lightly on her knee or nudged her foot under the table. And twice he had placed her hand on his knee.
She realized he had planned the table seating, knowing that if they faced each other they would be unable to conceal their feelings for each other. He had told her that only Claudia and Sir Reggie knew how smitten he was with her, and that Reggie would never betray a confidence, not even to his wife. So their secret was safe.
There were other secrets in this room. Alexis smiled to herself. Claudia was to become engaged to Cornelius in the very near future. He had asked Sebastian for her hand in marriage two days ago and Sebastian had agreed. Alexis thought he was not only a good-looking young man, but had charm and a certain gentleness about him. She had liked him the moment she had met him.
The last secret was one that both excited and frightened her. Sebastian had asked her to go with him to Kent, to spend a week at Goldenhurst. Claudia and Cornelius would come for a weekend “as cover,” he had said. And then they would spend the rest of the time endeavoring to work out their future together. He had also explained that his two other daughters were going with his sister, Dorothea, to her shooting lodge in Scotland, which was an annual holiday for them. He had lowered his voice when he had finished that in Kent they would be alone for most of the time, except for the servants, and would hopefully get to know each other fully.
Alexis had already told her father that Claudia had invited her to spend a week at the Trevalian country home in Kent, and that she had accepted. She couldn’t help noticing the gleam in her father’s eyes when he had asked who else would be there. She had shrugged and answered that she had no idea. She had been astute enough to add that Sebastian Trevalian would not be present because he
would be abroad. The white lie had been a necessity to throw her father off the track.
Sebastian broke into her thoughts when he turned to her and said, “You’re very quiet, Alexis … I do hope you’re enjoying the evening.”
She nodded, offered him a warm smile. “I’ve been thinking and listening, very happy being here—” She broke off, slipped her hand under the table to touch the side of his leg.
He said, “That makes me happy.”
Leaning into him, she murmured in a low voice, “You never did tell me why you asked me if I spoke French?”
“I wanted to know if you knew what a coup de foudre meant?”
“Struck by lightning,” she answered, looking into his lovely gray eyes, not caring if anyone noticed.
He gazed back at her. “That’s what happened to us, isn’t it?”
“It is,” she answered, feeling her heart swell inside of her. She knew he loved her.
* * *
Sebastian made his own rules in life, liked to be in control of the world he occupied. One of his genuine dislikes was the social habit of dividing the men and women after a lovely dinner. Suddenly the men went off to smoke and drink a port or brandy, and the ladies were left to their own devices in another room.
He had never quite understood why that was, and had abandoned this peculiar separation of the sexes when he owned his own home. Those friends who had partaken of supper were led into a drawing room, where they enjoyed an after-dinner drink together, and the men smoked if they so wished. He wanted the companionship, laughter, and enjoyment of the meal to continue on without disruption.
And so on this particular Thursday evening, everyone flocked into the blue drawing room, where Bloom served nightcaps to the men, cordials to the women, and coffee to those who enjoyed it. There was more conversation, hearty discussion about all kinds of things, from current politics to the latest play in the West End, and a certain amount of gossip.
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