Wendy Soliman (9 page)

“Impossible. He doesn’t have any.”

“You don’t like him?”

“Do you?”

She tilted her head, apparently considering the question. “He’s useful.”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“Well, it’s the only way I can describe the way I feel about him. I don’t altogether approve of his teaching methods, but he’s right, I suppose, when he says that I’m too lax with the twins.”

“Rubbish!”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Your children are a credit to you, Saskia.” He removed one hand from the ribbons and placed it over hers, wondering if she’d object to his use of her name. She didn’t…nor did she remove her hands from beneath his. “The twins have lively personalities that will blossom into intelligent minds, if allowed the freedom to flourish.”

She wrinkled her brow. “How can you be so sure that they’re intelligent rather than mischievous?”

He smiled. “I just know.”

“Well, sometimes they’re a little too imaginative. Josh and the garden boy were having a tumble yesterday. Amy wanted to join in, but I told her she couldn’t play boys’ games because they’re too rough.”

“But she didn’t see it that way?”

“Indeed, she didn’t.” Saskia chuckled. “She asked me if it would be all right to join in if she could find some smooth boys.”

Felix laughed. “That’s precisely my point. If you stifle their impetuous natures you wouldn’t have nearly such a good understanding of the way their minds work.”

“And that would be a bad thing?”

He could hear the laughter in her voice as he pulled the curricle to a halt outside the assembly room and threw the ribbons to the first urchin to rush forward. The room was already crowded, but a momentary hush fell upon the proceedings as Saskia entered on Felix’s arm. Sensing her anxiety, he tightened his muscles beneath her fingers in a gesture designed to encourage. Only now that they were here did he fully appreciate what an ordeal this must be for her. She had shunned local society for six years; people must have been talking about her, wondering what had caused the rift with her father…Now, here she was, paraded in on the arm of a complete stranger.

She lifted her chin as they made their way through the throng, staring straight ahead, acknowledging no one. They hadn’t proceeded many paces before they were descended upon by a matron. Her round face was wreathed in smiles, and it was impossible to ignore her.

“Saskia, my dear! Words can’t describe how delighted I am to see you here. We’d quite given up on persuading you back into society.” The lady smiled, all the while looking with undisguised interested in Felix’s direction.

“Good evening, Mrs. Watkins,” Saskia said evenly. “May I present Mr. Beaumont, a guest of my aunt’s? Mr. Beaumont, this is Mrs. Watkins, our rector’s wife.”

Felix’s bowed. “Your servant, madam.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Beaumont, especially as you’ve managed to lure Saskia away from Riverside House for a few hours.”

“It wasn’t easily achieved, madam.”

“Perhaps I can understand why she was tempted,” Mrs. Watkins remarked with a glint of mischief in her eye.

The first dance was about to form up when a commotion behind them heralded the inevitable arrival of Fothergill, Fanshaw, and Mr. & Mrs. Jennings. Felix’s languid expression underwent only the most fractional alteration, since he’d been expecting as much.

“We decided to follow your example.” Fothergill was still clad in his dreadful puce-coloured coat.

“So I see.”

“There’s no need to adopt that attitude, Beaumont. This is a public occasion. Anyone can attend.”

Felix offered Fothergill a withering glance. “Evidently.”

“Ah, Mrs. Eden, the first dance. Shall we?”

Fothergill appeared grateful for an opportunity to bring his discourse with Felix to a close. Without giving Saskia the opportunity to refuse, he bossily swept her onto the floor.

At the conclusion of each dance she was surrounded by a number of gentlemen, all of whom she appeared to know. Felix kept a weather-eye on her from whichever part of the room Mrs. Watkins had led him to. She introduced him to a seemingly endless supply of curious matrons and their blushing daughters, most of whom were, quite literally, lost for words in his presence. He danced with one or two of the girls, much to the delight of their avaricious mothers, all the while biding his time.

Just when impatience was in danger of getting the better of him, the final dance before supper was heralded by the opening stanza of a waltz. Saskia was still surrounded, but Felix strode between her admirers, something about his determination causing them to scatter, mumbling their complaints, as he bowed before her.

“I believe the pleasure is mine, Mrs. Eden?” he said in a velvety drawl.

Saskia hesitated for a fraction of a second, made a graceful curtsey, and returned his smile. “I believe, sir, that you’re correct.”

Ignoring the disappointed expressions on the faces of several of the gentleman, and Fothergill’s half-hearted attempt to prevent her from accepting him, Felix led Saskia to the floor and swept her into his arms. She waltzed beautifully, moving with instinctive grace wherever his feet led. Her body in his arms was feather light and a smile of genuine pleasure graced her features. She was enjoying herself but not, he was surprised to discover, nearly as much as he was.

“You waltz very well.” Felix held her tightly but, aware that they were being observed, no closer than he should.

“Thank you, as do you.”

“Do you enjoy dancing?”

“Yes, indeed, but it’s a long time since I last had the opportunity.”

“You’ve lost none of your skill.”

“And you,” she said, shaking her head at him, “with your silken tongue and smooth manners, are in danger of overstepping the mark.”

“You’re hardly in a position to judge since you have yet to experience the full delights of my silken tongue — ”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“And in return I’d be intrigued to learn whether or not you share your daughter’s taste for smooth males.”

“My daughter is six years old. Far too young to know what’s she’s saying.”

“But you’re not.” He tightened his hold on her waist, shortening the daylight that separated them, enjoying the feel of her breasts as they brushed against his lapels.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Beaumont?”

“Most assuredly.”

“Then I wish you wouldn’t.”

He quirked a brow. “Why?”

“Because it isn’t seemly, that’s why.”

“Which makes it all the more enjoyable.” He smiled into her eyes as he guided her into a tight turn. “Tell me you’re not enjoying it and I’ll talk about the weather instead.”

She smiled. “I find it hard to imagine you discussing something as banal as the weather.”

“Good, then I shall continue to flirt with you instead.”

“Behave yourself!”

“Certainly not.”

She tilted her head to one side and regarded him with an impish smile. “Then I shall just have to throw myself upon Mr. Fothergill’s mercy.”

“Heaven forbid.” He shuddered. “You’ve just said the only thing that could persuade me to desist flirting, heartless wench that you are.” Felix’s attention was caught by a man whose eyes had followed their every move since taking to the floor. “Who’s that person leaning in the corner? His attention has been concentrated upon you for the entire evening. Since I’m forbidden from flirting with you, I’m precluded from remarking that I can scarce blame him, since you put every other lady in attendance to shame. Were I to say something of that ilk, you might consider that I’d already broken my word, and alas,” he said with a theatrical sigh, “my word is my bond.”

She looked in the direction which Felix had indicated. The smile left her face with such abruptness that he regretted his question.

“My father’s steward,” she said. “His name’s Johnson.”

“And you don’t wish him to address you?”

She shuddered. “I don’t wish to have anything to do with him. Or anyone else here this evening that’s connected to my father.”

Felix was encouraged by the admission. It suggested that she was starting to trust him. “Then he won’t be given that opportunity,” he said with determination.

Saskia’s appreciative smile caused his mind to wander in any number of forbidden directions. “You must find me a dreadful trial. You wanted to come dancing, and yet I appear to be scared of my own shadow.”

“I find you any number of things,” he said softly. “A trial, most definitely. Intriguing, certainly. Dreadful, never.” He paused. “And as for lacking in courage, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

A flare of provoking laughter greeted this statement. “Then it’s as well that you don’t know me better.”

“That’s a situation I aim to rectify.”

The dance came to an end. Felix raised Saskia from her curtsey and offered her his arm, for all the world as though he was about to escort her in to supper. As he did so, he noticed Johnson heading in their direction.

“Mrs. Eden!” He raised his hand in greeting. “A word, if you please.”

At the same time Fothergill and his entourage was approaching from the other side of the room. The desperation in Saskia’s eye reinforced Felix’s guilt at having pressed her into attending this gathering and confronting her demons.

“Do you wish to take supper here?” he asked.

“Not if — ”

“Then come with me.”

Using the surging crowd as cover, Felix dexterously guided Saskia toward the door, avoiding both Johnson and Fothergill. He stood her in the shadows as he retrieved her evening cape and then ushered her outside. He called up his curricle, and within minutes they were alone, the services of the livery yard groom having been dispensed with. To hell with appearances!

Without saying where they were going, Felix took the road which would lead them toward the dunes…

…and guaranteed solitude.

F
ELIX
S
LANTED
G
LANCES
A
T
his distracted companion as they drove away, but said nothing, giving her the opportunity to gather her thoughts and regain her composure. The horses trotted along at a steady pace, the rhythmic sound of their hooves and the gentle sway of the curricle soothing its occupants. A light breeze worried at Saskia’s hair, but she appeared oblivious to it.

After ten minutes Felix halted the curricle at the spot he’d chosen the previous day. They were close to the sea, in a slight cove in the dunes, which afforded them protection from the elements. Still without speaking, Felix alighted from the conveyance, removed the travelling rug which he’d placed over Saskia’s knees, and helped her down. Looking about her, she spoke at last.

“What are we doing here?”

“Having supper. You didn’t imagine that I’d allow you to go hungry, surely?”

“Mr. Beaumont, I don’t think it’s entirely appropriate to — ”

“Shush, just trust me. I kept my word and stopped flirting with you, didn’t I, so that proves my trustworthiness.” His voice conveyed conviction, his smile was intended to reassure as he led her to the rug now spread on the ground in the lee of the cove. “Your table, madam,” he declared with an exaggerated bow.

Laughing in spite of her obvious doubts, Saskia appeared to catch his spontaneous mood and sank gracefully down onto the rug.

“Now, if madam will excuse me for just one moment?”

Felix went to the trunk of his curricle and returned almost immediately with a large hamper. Saskia eyed it with disbelief.

“I rather think you planned this diversion all along,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

“No, but I did anticipate that Fothergill et al. might attempt to follow us this evening. I had no wish for their company and imagined you would feel the same way. I also thought the ball might prove to be more of a trial than a pleasure for you. It seems I was right on both counts, and so my contingency plan was called into action.”

Felix lit two candles within protective lanterns and set them in the sand. They cast a soft glow and poured elongated shadows across the cove, adding an air of expectation to their clandestine supper. Pleased to have created intimacy in such a public place, he delved into the hamper and produced a bottle of champagne, perfectly chilled. He opened it with swift proficiency and filled two flutes.

“What shall we drink to?” he asked, handing her a glass.

“You choose.”

There was wariness in her expression, but he took heart from the fact that she didn’t appear especially alarmed at the prospect of their unconventional al fresco supper. Even in the dim illumination provided by the candles, he could tell that she was distracted. There was a melancholy about her, tension in her rigid bearing. As she sat there in her simple emerald gown, making no effort to secure his attention, Felix felt the first stirrings of something he’d never before experienced. He was at a loss to name such deep feelings of protectiveness…was surprised by the strength of his determination to right any wrongs done to her and dispel the haunted look in her eye. The unsettling emotions coursing through him reinforced his resolve to discover what had frightened her so much that she’d prefer to work herself ragged rather than live in comfort beneath her father’s roof.

Saskia was looking at him, a question in her eyes, and he realized that he’d made no answer in respect to their proposed toast. He rallied, offering her a curling smile.

“I’d like to drink to silken tongues and the best used to be made of them,” he said with a devilish grin. “And perhaps the qualities attributable to smooth men finding themselves unexpectedly alone with beautiful women — but, were I to do so, you might think I was going back on my word. Under the circumstances, perhaps it would be safer to drink to the loveliness of nature.” His outstretched arm encompassed the moonlit sea lapping gently against the shore and the undulating dunes, eerily mysterious in the flickering lantern light.

“To nature then,” she agreed, raising her glass to his.

Felix unpacked the hamper. That Perkins would have done him proud wasn’t in doubt. There was cold chicken and ham, tiny quails’ eggs, cheeses, pickles, fresh crusty bread, and every delicacy the limited resources of Burton Bradstock had been able to supply. Felix spread a crisp white napkin over Saskia’s knees and commanded her to eat, topping up her glass as he did so.

Much to his surprise she did eat…more than he’d ever seen her do during his time at Riverside House. He supposed it was because, for once, she had no one else’s needs to consider but her own.

“Thank you, Mr. Beaumont.” She consumed the last fragments of ham and delicately licked her fingers. If she understood how erotic that simple gesture seemed, she gave no sign. Felix was obliged to loosen the fabric of his own napkin lest she saw evidence of his reaction. “That was most thoughtful of you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He packed away the remnants of food and filled her glass again.

After a brief silence Saskia addressed him. “I believe I owe you an apology, Mr. Beaumont.”

“Ah, so you regret your self-imposed ban on flirting then?”

“No, not that. I don’t know anything about flirting.”

“I could teach you.”

“I dare say you could. However, I owe you an apology for something far more serious than a mild flirtation.”

“Believe me, nothing is more serious than flirtation and, in this case, you ought to know that it would be anything other than mild.”

She raised a brow. “Your promises don’t appear to stand the test of time.”

“And you appear immune to genuine compliments.”

“That’s because you’re talking in riddles. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about me that requires lavish compliments.”

Felix chortled. “Allow me to be the judge of that.”

“Stop diverting me away from my apology. It’s hard enough to make it without your interrupting.”

“I beg your pardon.” Felix endeavoured not to smile since it was evident that she had something serious on her mind. “Please go ahead. You have my complete attention.”

“Well, I need to crave your pardon because…well, because I overcharged you for your room.” She glanced at him, a hint of defiance in her eye. “There, now you know.”

“I already knew.”

“You knew!” She appeared totally flummoxed. “Well, if you knew, why did you take the room?”

“Why did you overcharge me?”

After another brief hesitation, perhaps emboldened by the champagne, she spoke with such directness that he knew she was telling the truth. “Because I thought you’d been sent by my father to spy upon me.”

“But you no longer consider that to be the case?”

“No,” she said softly, “I don’t.”

“Thank you. And you’re quite correct. You have my assurance as a gentleman that I’ve never laid eyes on your father, nor do I have any connection with him.”

“Yes, I realize that now, but I’m still curious about why you would take a room at a price which is far too high?”

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise, but first will you tell me what it is that frightens you so much about your father?”

“No.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms round her torso.

Felix realized that he’d grossly underestimated the extent of her fear. Her voice trembled, her hands were unsteady, and if she could have taken flight and run from him, he didn’t doubt she would have done so.

“We have plenty of time and there’s no one to overhear us.” He waved his arm in a circle to emphasise their solitude. “But if you would prefer me to return you to Riverside House, if my questions are causing you distress, you need only say the word.”

Saskia stood up and stared out to sea, wondering what she was doing here with this man, a virtual stranger. More to the point, she wondered what madness was causing her to even consider confiding in him. But something about him compelled her. Oh, not just his beauty or the commanding figure he cut. She could see beyond those things. It was something more basic than that.

Suddenly she understood what it was. She trusted him. She had no idea why he was here, what it was that he wanted from her, but she instinctively knew that he had only her best interests at heart.

It was enough. She would tell him, at least some of it. God alone knew, it was time she told someone. He would be gone from here in a few days, taking her secrets with him, and perhaps she would feel better for having talked her problems through.

“My mother died when I was fifteen,” she said, turning back to face him. “I loved her very much, and so did my father. We were all devastated by her untimely demise, but life had to go on. My father had always been a strict disciplinarian, but he changed after her death. Without Mama’s restraining influence, his desire to dominate and control everything and everyone was free to run riot, for there was no one else who would dare to try and reason with him. I confess that I was a little scared of him even then, although I always fared better than my two brothers when they were boys; he would routinely beat them at the slightest provocation.

“Anyway, about a year after my mother’s death, when I was sixteen, my father informed me that he wished me to marry.”

“And you had no say in the matter?”

“Heavens, no! That was how it had been for my brothers, and I’d always known it would be the same for me. Mr. Eden was twenty years older than me and owned a cutter which my father wanted to include in his fleet. I was the bargaining point in their negotiations,” she said calmly.

“But did you like Eden? Was he kind to you?”

“Not really to both of your questions, but fortunately I saw little of him. He was at sea for much of the time, and six months after we were married his ship foundered and was lost with all hands, including its captain.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. He was a brute of a man, and I won’t pretend I wasn’t glad to be free of him. I was but sixteen, Mr. Beaumont, and completely innocent in the ways of the world, with no mother to advise me of what to expect. Mr. Eden didn’t care, though, and forced himself on me every night when he was at home.”

Saskia was silent for a moment, relieving those dreadful days. Days when he would enter her room night after night, his breath smelling of stale tobacco and port. He would leer at her and, without any pretence at tenderness, bluntly order her to do her duty. She shuddered with distaste. God, how she hated the very sound of those words! She remembered how she felt as she lay there trembling and praying that, just for once, he wouldn’t come that night. He always did so eventually but sometimes only after she dared to allow a glimmer of hope to surface. To imagine that he might be intoxicated, or embroiled in a game of cards with her father. It was almost if he had understood her fear and fed upon it, enjoying the power he wielded over her, emphasising his total domination over every aspect of her life.

“He brutally took his pleasure, hurting me so much that sometimes I couldn’t prevent myself from crying out. That seemed to encourage him, and I soon learned to bite my tongue and suffer in silence. It lasted for less time that way.”

She stopped speaking and looked at Felix for the first time, aware of the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes but refusing the let them fall.

“Oh, Saskia!”

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. She was crying gently, giving vent to emotions that had lain dormant for far too long. When at last her tears were exhausted, he passed her his handkerchief, watching her as she mopped her face. A sophisticated man like him probably thought she was making a big fuss about nothing, and so when he kissed the top of her head with infinite tenderness she looked up at him in bald surprise. He repeated the gesture, and her body reacted with a violent tremble.

“You are cold?” He removed his coat and placed it about her shoulders.

“No, I’m not cold.” She offered him a watery smile. “It’s just that I’ve never spoken about my husband before and was wondering why I should choose this moment to speak of it, especially to you?”

“Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who’s unlikely to be falsely judgemental. But tell me how you felt when you knew your husband was gone forever.”

“Relieved, may God forgive me.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “It’s an un-Christian reaction but no more than the truth. The only thing he gave me that I can’t regret is the twins.”

“Ah, the twins.” He smiled at her. “They are indeed a blessing.”

“You like my children?”

“Indeed I do. They’re engaging company, and I can’t imagine anyone disliking them.”

“Mr. Fothergill would likely disagree with you.”

“Fothergill’s an idiot.”

“The twins are quite besotted with you, and it irritates Mr. Fothergill excessively.”

“What of their mother?” he asked, tilting his head to one side and focusing his eyes on her in a most disconcerting manner. “Dare I hope that she’s just a little besotted too?”

He pulled her a little closer, tilted her chin upwards, and placed a very delicate kiss on her lips. She made no objection, neither responding nor drawing away. He clearly interpreted her passiveness as encouragement and kissed her again, a little more firmly this time, probing a question with his tongue. Saskia felt panic welling up inside her. She’d miscalculated. He’d promised not to flirt with her, but here he was kissing her. She had no idea that a simple kiss could create the maelstrom of emotion currently churning deep within her core, as though something inside her was stirring into life. Something she had no idea existed. Powerless to help herself, she sighed and leaned a little into his broad chest, feeling safe and protected. Never wanting this madness to end.