Finally, growing conscious of the stillness surrounding them, her lack of response to him, she said hurriedly, ‘Oh no, you’re not intruding at all. I simply came out…for a little air.’
‘It was warm inside.’ He paused, stared at her intently.
To Edward she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her face was a perfect oval, with high cheekbones and a broad brow. Her eyes, large and set wide apart, were a light blue, sky blue; she had wonderfully arched blonde brows and a sensual mouth. Like most women of today who were fashionable, her hair was worn swept up on top of her head, piled high with a mass of curls at the front. But it was the colour of her hair that captivated. Pure silver gilt, he thought. She wasn’t very tall, of medium height, but a quick, glance told him she had a lovely figure and high, firm breasts. Her dress, simple yet elegant, was made of black chiffon and lace, with a square neckline and slashed sleeves. The skirt floated around her, swirling in the light breeze. The gown was in the new style, long, flowing and full, and without the once-popular semi-bustle.
She cleared her throat softly.
He said swiftly, ‘I beg your pardon, how rude I’m being, staring at you. Please forgive me. Actually, I have a feeling we’ve met before. We have, haven’t we?’ He knew they hadn’t; he would not have forgotten this beauty. But he needed words to bridge the silence.
She was shaking her head. ‘No, we’ve never met, not ever. I would have remembered,’ she said, echoing his own thoughts without knowing that she did, and without any artifice.
‘I am Edward Deravenel.’ He thrust out his hand.
She took it. For a moment he held it tightly in his—too long, in fact—and then he let go of it very quickly. Her skin felt scorched.
She noticed, unexpectedly, the open cuff again.
‘And you are?’ he asked, raising a brow questioningly, his eyes searching.
‘Elizabeth Wyland.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, very pleased indeed.’ He bowed slightly, and as he did he noticed the gold wedding ring on her finger. Straightening, he asked, ‘And you are no doubt here with…Mr Wyland?’
‘Yes, my brother. That was whom I was talking to earlier.’
Edward frowned, looked slightly perplexed.
She said quietly, ‘I’m a widow, Mr Deravenel. I was married to Colonel Simon Gratton. He was in the British army.’
‘Oh. I see.’ He seemed even more perplexed. ‘But you did say Wyland?’
‘Yes, I did, my maiden name.’ She shrugged lightly, dismissing this point. ‘My husband was wounded in the Boer War, and when he came home to England from Africa in 1900 he was not the same man at all. The war killed his spirit, Mr Deravenel. He was a different person altogether, and he suffered from the after-effects of his wounds. Sadly for me, he died several years ago, in 1904. My mother said death was a relief for him, that his suffering was over…’
‘I am so very sorry. My condolences.’
She inclined her head. ‘Thank you,’ was all she said.
‘So here you are Elizabeth!’ Anthony exclaimed, walking out onto the terrace, joining them. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. Mother would like to have a word with you, my dear.’
Elizabeth merely nodded, then said, ‘This is Mr Edward Deravenel.’ Glancing at Edward she added, ‘This is my brother, Anthony Wyland.’
The two men shook hands, and Edward said, ‘I’m not certain, but I do believe we have met before, Wyland. Am I not correct?’
‘We have indeed met before, Deravenel. With my father.’
Edward nodded politely, then turned to Elizabeth, said, ‘Thank you for your courtesy.’ He flashed her a brilliant smile. ‘With your permission, I would like to call on you in the near future, if I may?’
‘That would be acceptable,’ she answered, then couldn’t resist saying, ‘Your right cuff is undone, did you know?’
He glanced down at it, smiled wryly. ‘Could you fasten it for me?’ He reached into his pocket, brought out a lapis lazuli cufflink that matched his shirt studs. ‘Here you are,’ he added, offering it to her.
She hesitated fractionally, and then took it.
He shot his sleeve down so that she could insert the link in the cuff. Without looking at him, her eyes on his sleeve, she murmured, ‘I receive friends at four every afternoon.’
When Edward returned to the drawing room a few minutes later, Vicky was waiting for him. The orchestra was playing a waltz, and as he led her onto the floor Vicky looked up at him, and asked, ‘So who was the beautiful blonde?’
‘I never found out,’ he lied, although he did not know why he did this. ‘Maude was leading Gosford off into the other drawing room, so I abandoned the quest.’ He laughed. ‘Got caught up with an old friend for a few minutes,’ he improvised, in order to explain his absence.
Vicky wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she let the matter drop. There was no point pressing it, and it wasn’t any of her business. She knew that Edward had not had a permanent relationship since Lily’s death, just lots of women hanging around him.
Her brother Will called them ‘Ned’s carnal relationships’, and would laugh and say blithely, ‘Women are crazy about him. So much so, some chaps say he never has his trousers on. But I know differently, I’m with him at work every day, and he works like a galley slave, believe you me.’
She knew this was true. Ned was a lot like his cousin Neville Watkins, another man who spent most of his time at his office. Defying demons and driven by ambition, the two of them, she thought. She liked Neville, he was a man of his word and considerate. As for Edward, she loved him dearly like another brother, but sometimes she had problems understanding certain aspects of him. Ned was a hard taskmaster with himself, and yet he had, somehow, managed to acquire a reputation for being very much the ladies’ man. But why not?
At almost twenty-three, Ned was determined to live the big life. And he was entitled; after all, he was young and single, and he had the world in his hands. Edward Deravenel had money, position and background, therefore he was in demand at all the dances, cotillions and balls, dinner parties and every other kind of high-profile social event in London. Because of his wealth, success and power, and that awesome charm of his, Ned was the most eligible young man in London these days. Since he was also stunning looking and known to be a great lover, every woman wanted him; even older married women played up to him. No wonder he was just a little bit spoilt by women…women of all ages.
‘Penny for your thoughts, sweet Vicky,’ Ned said, looking down at her. She had always been a favourite of his, and he went on gently, ‘You seem miles away. In New York, I’ve no doubt, with Stephen?’ His bright blue eyes were searching, questioning.
‘That’s right.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I miss Stephen so much Ned, and so does little Grace Rose.’
‘When does he get back to London?’
‘In about ten days, two weeks at the latest. Talking about that, I’m giving a party for Grace, when he returns. I’d love you to come, Ned. With Fenella.’
‘Thank you, I will, and who else are you going to invite?’
‘Amos, of course. Grace loves him.’
‘Good old Finnister, he’s the salt of the earth. Splendid chap. I suppose my boon companion is coming, too.’
‘I haven’t asked Will yet, but I’ll mention it tonight. The only person other than you I actually did invite so far is Fenella. She’s always shown such an interest in Grace.’
‘And done a great deal of detective work on her behalf,’ Ned pointed out, laughing. ‘Amazing how persistent Fenella was.’
A little smile played around Vicky’s mouth. ‘Yes, she was, and I for one am very glad.’
They finished the waltz in silence.
A short while later Edward found Will standing at the bar alone, drinking a glass of champagne. As he reached his closest friend, Edward said, ‘You’re looking glum. What’s wrong?’
‘I miss Kathleen rather more than I thought I would,’ Will said in a l
ow voice. ‘I think I’m finally going to have to take that fatal step. Get married.’
‘I think you should,’ Edward answered swiftly, fully approving of Will’s involvement with his cousin, Kathleen Watkins, sister of Neville and Johnny. ‘She adores you, you know.’
Will nodded, and suddenly smiled. ‘That’s good to know.’
‘Don’t act daft, Hasling! You damn well know how she feels.’
Will grinned, and took a swallow of champagne, asked, ‘And did you find out who the mysterious blonde is?’
‘I did.’
‘And?’ Will stared at Edward, frowning, ‘Why the long face?’
‘She’s a Wyland.’
‘God, no!’ Will leaned closer to Edward and said, sotto voce, ‘Her father used to be very close to the Grants, very close indeed, although I must admit I don’t know where he stands today, now that the Grants are living in France. But surely you knew the Wylands did business with the Grants. And for years…they go back a long time, that I do know.’
‘My father once told me that the Wylands had been involved with Deravenels for over a hundred years, so they do go back, far back. I met her brother: he seems like a pleasant chap.’
‘Nicest of the bunch, so I’ve heard.’
‘She’s a stunning woman, Will. I was bowled over. Captivated. I have to see her again…By the way, she’s a widow.’
‘Oh Christ, no! Why is it that you always fall head over heels for blondes who are widows? You certainly have a peculiar knack for it, Ned. It’s uncanny. Come to think of it, she’s probably older than you.’
‘Probably.’
‘Make it a short run, Ned, short and sweet, and then say farewell. She’s from the enemy camp. Don’t you forget that.’
Edward gave him an odd look but made no further comment.
FORTY-SEVEN
‘I’m so very sorry, Elinor, but I really must be getting back to the office,’ Edward Deravenel said, smiling at the woman who was seated opposite him.
‘I understand, darling, but I am so disappointed,’ she murmured. ‘I thought we could spend the afternoon here…we are alone, you know, as I told you my housekeeper is off today. We could be…together.’
‘I had planned to be here with you, but unfortunately something came up at the office this morning, and it needs my immediate attention. I have a meeting at three.’
Elinor Burton nodded. ‘I realize you have a huge business empire to run. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Not alone, I can tell you that,’ he replied, with a smile, standing up. ‘Thank you for lunch, it was delicious.’
‘All prepared by Fortnum and Mason,’ she laughed and also rose, and together they left her dining room, went out into the entrance foyer of her small house in Belgravia. ‘When will I see you again?’ she asked.
‘I’ll try to come down to the country next week, I’ll let you know.’ He pulled her towards him, held her tightly in his arms, and then kissed her passionately on the mouth. She clung to him, responding enthusiastically.
After a moment, they stood apart, and she said, ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Ned, it was far too tantalizing.’
He merely laughed, gazing down at her, thinking how lovely she looked today, with her shining blonde hair and hazel eyes that were golden in certain light. ‘Oh, Elinor, you are a true beauty,’ he murmured, genuinely meaning this, and took hold of her again, suddenly aroused.
Elinor held him at bay, laughed lightly. ‘Oh darling Ned, you’re incorrigible. But not now. I will not be blamed for interfering with your business.’
‘Sanity usually reigns when I’m with you.’ Flashing her his brightest smile, he let himself out of the house, and within minutes his mind was focused on business.
And then he stopped, thinking of Elinor. He had not been very nice to her today, and she really was the loveliest of women, sweet and gentle, and almost Madonna-like in her appearance. Turning around he walked back to the front door and lifted the brass knocker.
Surprise filled her eyes as she opened the door and saw him. ‘Edward!’ she exclaimed, staring at him. ‘Did you forget something?’
He smiled at her. ‘Yes, I forgot for a moment how much I care about you, my darling. Can I come in for a short while?’
‘Of course,’ she answered, opening the door wider. ‘But I’m confused. You said you had an important meeting to attend.’
‘I do,’ he said, turning to her in the entrance foyer. ‘But it’s only one fifteen—we had a very early lunch, you know. Noon…a little bit too early for me. Never mind, let’s go upstairs, as you wanted to before.’ He took her in his arms, and kissed her, and then led her upstairs to the next floor. She did not protest.
She was wearing a loose, navy-blue silk dress, with a dropped waistline, and she turned to him when they were in her bedroom and asked, ‘Could you unbutton me, please, Ned.’
He laughed as he started on the buttons, kissing the back of her neck and her lovely blonde hair as he did so. The dress fell to the floor; she stepped over it, turned to him, smiled into his face.
‘How lovely you are, my sweet,’ he whispered, touching her cheek. There was something truly innocent about her face, and in her eyes there was nothing but peacefulness, and love for him. He had wanted her from the moment he had met her, attracted to her because of the innocence and simplicity in her. Of course she had fended him off, being a very proper widow, and virtuous; he had exercised every ounce of his charm. And eventually she had succumbed to him, and given herself to him most wholeheartedly.
‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked, staring up into his eyes.
‘I was thinking how your reluctance to start an affair with me actually made me want you all the more. In any other woman I might think the reluctance was a ruse, but with you I know you were sincere.’
‘Oh yes, I was, Ned, but I’m glad now that we are together. You are so important to me. Let us go to bed, so I can show you how important.’
Elinor was always ready for him, and after kissing her and smoothing his hands over her long slender body, he knew she was growing more and more hot under his hands, agitated even, and so he took her to him swiftly, entering her with ease. She was truly ready, opening herself up to him like a flower, and the heat of her body aroused him further. He was unable to hold back. Against her neck he whispered, ‘Now, Nell, now, come to me.’ And she did so, clinging to him, her body trembling with joy under his.
As they lay together later, talking softly, she suddenly said, ‘You will come to the country this weekend, won’t you?’
‘I will. Where else would I want to be but with you?’ he answered, knowing full well that he would visit her at her country cottage. He was not going to treat her lightly.
Edward had only been back in his office at Deravenels for half an hour when Will Hasling knocked on the door and came in. ‘There you are. It’s almost three so let’s go to the boardroom, and Oliveri and Aspen will join us in a few minutes. How was lunch?’
‘Pleasant. Marsden is a nice chap, but I don’t think we’ll be able to do any business with him.’
‘Where did you lunch? At White’s?’
‘No, his club. The Reform. But it was very quick, he was in a hurry,’ Ned answered, glad that he had indeed met Marsden at his club for a drink before rushing over to Elinor’s pied-à-terre for their private luncheon. It gave him an alibi. The affair with her was a secret; they both wanted it that way, at least for the moment.
‘By the way,’ Will went on, ‘Neville has finalized the plans for the Paris trip, to meet with Louis Charpentier. He telephoned a short while ago and said he’ll have all the details later. But he’s going in a few days.’
‘Very good. Shall we go into the boardroom?’
Ever since Edward had become managing director of Deravenels, Will had worked with him closely, as his personal assistant. But he was also in charge of a pet project of Edward’s, one which they were about to discuss.
Withi
n seconds Alfredo Oliveri and Rob Aspen joined them and sat down at the conference table. After greetings had been exchanged, Edward said, ‘Well, tell me the big news.’
‘It’s not big news,’ Alfredo answered. ‘But our contacts in Persia have confirmed that the company called Onpeg is definitely still there, continuing to drill for oil. At Masjid-I-Sulaiman.’
‘That’s in southwest Persia,’ Rob Aspen explained.
‘But they haven’t struck oil yet, have they?’ Edward asked, frowning. He glanced at Will as he spoke. ‘Nothing much has changed, has it?’
‘Several other companies are out there already, drilling in other parts of Persia, and I think we ought to do what you’ve always wanted to do—send a team of our own to look around, investigate,’ Will said.
‘Then let’s plan it,’ Edward agreed, always sure of himself, of his ability in business. It had served him well for the last three years. He had brought Deravenels back to a large extent, had ensured its future, and rectified much of the damage done by Grant mismanagement in the past. He was aiming to make it more important than it had ever been.
‘So,’ he went on, ‘who’s to go? What about you, Oliveri? Do you want to hop out there to the desert sands of Persia?’
‘If you want me to, I will.’ Alfredo grinned. ‘You know I love adventure.’
‘I’ll go too, if you think I can be useful,’ Rob Aspen interjected.
‘I’m game. Persia appeals to me,’ Will announced.
‘Oh no, not you, Will. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay put. Now, chaps, let’s discuss this further,’ Edward said. ‘Definitely make the proper plans. I believe oil is going to be the big commodity of the future. And we must be in on its discovery. We need our own oilfields, they’re vital…’
‘Under no circumstances are you to allow him to climb into your bed,’ Jocelyn Wyland said, giving her daughter Elizabeth a hard and cautionary stare. ‘He has something of a reputation, you know, as a womanizer. And if you become intimate with him, that’s it. You will soon be discarded by him.’
The Ravenscar Dynasty Page 42