Annie Burrows (10 page)

‘And what,’ she added with a frown, ‘was he doing coming here on his horse anyway, instead of upriver with the others?’ Did he have such bad memories of the last time he’d come here that he could not bear to replicate even one aspect of it? She could well imagine him having nightmares over the time he’d very nearly stumbled into parson’s mousetrap. So he must be very, very keen on Rose, to force himself to visit Westdene at all.

Robert shrugged. ‘A couple of the other male guests have arranged to have their horses or curricles transported here. They won’t want to be confined to the house and grounds all the time. There are some very good rides in the vicinity. But in answer to your first question,’ he said, ‘Lord Rothersthorpe asked one or two searching questions, but he did not seem unduly perturbed by my answers. And when I made it quite plain that if her behaviour offended him, he was at liberty to leave, he chose to stay.’

That was not as comforting as Robert had probably intended it to be. It just meant she had to relinquish the last shred of hope that she might be spared the sight of Lord Rothersthorpe dazzling her beautiful stepdaughter.

Mustering a wan smile, Lydia left Robert’s study and went back upstairs to the nursery, where she’d left the children unwrapping their presents.

She paused for a moment just outside the door to blow her nose and straighten her shoulders. There were happy sounds emanating from the room and she had no intention of lowering anyone’s spirits by revealing the state of her own.

Pinning a bright smile to her face, she flung open the door and strode in. The sight which met her eyes wiped the smile from her face at a stroke.

Shredded wrapping paper littered the floor like so much bark mulch. It originated from Cissy and her dog, Slipper, who were sitting on the floor playing tug-of-war with any large pieces they could find. There were not many left. Dog slobber, she observed with horror, had a rapid and highly deleterious effect upon brown paper.

She turned an indignant face to Marigold, who lifted her chin mutinously.

‘It is the first time she’s been happy for weeks,’ she said by way of excuse.

Michael came running over to her, his little face creased with anxiety.

‘I kept telling Cissy you were coming back any day now, but it didn’t make any difference,’ he said. ‘I know you wouldn’t leave us, Mama. Not for ever and ever!’

‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ she said, pulling him into a hug. Oh, it felt so good to hold his warm little body in her arms again. How she had missed him.

‘You aren’t cross with me?’

‘Of course not!’ She looked down into his upturned face and smoothed back the fringe that would keep flopping into his eyes. ‘You did your very, very best to try to make Cissy understand. But, sometimes, nobody can get through to her.’

‘You can,’ he said.

‘Not always.’ She sighed. ‘It is just that she is happier when I am near. And so she is less inclined to be...naughty.’

Slipper had just destroyed the last substantial piece of wrapping paper and flopped down on the floor with his nose in Cissy’s lap. She ruffled his soft velvety ears with one hand and put the thumb of her other hand in her mouth, only the occasional shudder hinting at the emotional storm she’d just weathered.

‘Are we all ready?’ Lydia asked Michael and Marigold. ‘Because Robert is waiting to take us all down to the Persian Pools to meet Rose’s new friends.’

Marigold leapt to her feet, her face alight with excitement. ‘Oh, she has written all about the two naval officers who are vying for her favours. I am so looking forward to seeing them. Are they really as handsome as she says?’

‘They are both very handsome,’ Lydia confirmed. Well, she supposed young girls would find them so. It was just that she found it so hard to tell them apart. It had even occurred to her, when she’d seen their names side by side on the guest list, that Rose might be having the same trouble. Why else would she have listed them in the same way she’d done with the sets of brothers and sisters, unless she thought of them as a matched pair?

Marigold ran to the mirror to check her appearance, patting her bright auburn curls swiftly into place. With her huge green eyes, and her tendency to freckle, it was sometimes hard to believe she and Rose were sisters—until she recalled they’d had different mothers.

Michael ran to Cissy and put his thin little arms round her shoulders. ‘Picnic, Cissy,’ he said, slowly and clearly. ‘You will like it. And if you don’t we’ll steal some cake and come back here.’

It looked very much as though, in her absence, Michael had become her closest friend. She supposed this was inevitable. Marigold, who had been her playmate for the last few years, was growing up. But Cissy would never start primping in front of a mirror, or wondering whether men found her pretty. Though her body was of a similar age to Rose’s, her mind had not progressed at all since she had been about Michael’s age. For the next few years, he would be closest to her in temperament.

As though to prove her point, he went across to the toy chest and got out a ball for Slipper to play with while they were out. The moment the dog saw what Michael was about, he got up, barked once and nosed at his mistress to get up, too.

Cissy clambered to her feet. Her face was clean, though her eyes were still red-rimmed. She had allowed somebody to tidy her hair and put her in one of her new dresses—though it was now crumpled, and liberally sprinkled with bits of soggy brown paper and dog hairs. In short, she looked as respectable as she was ever likely to look.

Michael took her hand and tugged her towards the door. Marigold twitched the folds of her shawl one last time before setting out, by which time Lydia could hear Cissy and Michael thundering along the corridor. She and Marigold followed at a much more decorous pace. When they reached the back hallway, the rest of the schoolroom party had checked and were staring up at Lord Rothersthorpe who, beside Robert, was leaning against the door jamb, his arms folded across his chest.

Cissy broke away from the power of his scrutiny first.

‘I’m sorry, Robber,’ she said plaintively, ‘for being so naugh-y. I shoul-n’t ‘ave hi’ you. Or knot off your ha’.’

‘That’s all right, little love,’ he said, opening his arms wide. Cissy ran into them and gave him one of her hardest hugs.

‘Now,’ he said, putting her from him, and making sure she was looking at his face. ‘Make your curtsy to Lord Rothersthorpe.’

Cissy did as she was bid. Lord Rothersthorpe, in turn, bowed to her with great formality, which had the effect of making her crow with laughter. She had never, Lydia realised, been formally introduced to anyone before. No wonder she was a little startled.

Cissy clapped her hands and curtsied again.

‘For the lord’s sake, don’t bow to her again, Rothersthorpe,’ said Robert out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Or we shall be here all day. Michael,’ he said, much louder, ‘make your bow to his lordship.’

Michael bowed very correctly, and Lord Rothersthorpe returned the compliment, causing Cissy to laugh again.

Lord Rothersthorpe did not even attempt a polite smile, Lydia seethed. He clearly found the whole situation most uncomfortable. Though he did at least have the grace not to make his disapproval of Cissy obvious. Instead, he was gazing with narrowed eyes at her six-year-old son, Michael.

‘Come now, Cissy,’ said Robert, taking her very firmly by the arm. ‘It is time we went down to the Pools.’

‘There will be cay’.’ She beamed. ‘Miker said so.’

‘Indeed there will...’

Robert led her inexorably away, and although Marigold fidgeted about in front of Lord Rothersthorpe he did not take the hint and offer her his arm.

‘Come on,’ said Michael, when nobody else seemed inclined to make a move. ‘Or there won’t be any cake left!’

When he charged out of the door, Slipper frisking at his heels, Marigold heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes and set off after him.

Which left her alone in the doorway with Lord Rothersthorpe.

‘Alone at last,’ he said, once the others had moved out of earshot. ‘I was beginning to wonder how I was ever going to get a chance to speak to you in private.’

‘With...with me?’

He crooked his arm and she laid her hand upon his sleeve.

‘Of course with you,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘How else are we to arrange things?’

‘What things?’

‘Mrs Morgan,’ he said, ‘will you cease this stupid pretence that you do not know what I am talking about? It is all very well acting the innocent when your family is within earshot, but they are not.’

Indeed they weren’t. What with Robert’s long strides and the way Slipper was dashing about madly, they had all drawn quite some distance away. Even Marigold—in spite of her initial attempts to behave like a young lady. Michael kept throwing the ball for Slipper to fetch back and she hadn’t been able to resist getting drawn into the game.

‘So,’ said Lord Rothersthorpe, setting a leisurely pace which ensured they would never catch up with the rest of the party, ‘let us make the most of this chance to make arrangements.’

Arrangements? Whatever could he mean?

‘Normally,’ he went on, when she’d remained in baffled silence for several paces, ‘in this kind of affair, the gentleman in question would make his way to the lady’s bedchamber at the appropriate time. But since I am not at all familiar with the layout of this house and there seem to be an amazing assortment of corridors leading to various wings, you will have to come to me. Or,’ he said sarcastically, ‘was it your intention to furnish me with a map?’

‘A map? Whatever for?’

‘Perhaps you are right. I confess, I had qualms about visiting you in the same bed you once shared with your husband. What, then, was your plan?’

‘My plan?’

‘Yes.’ He shot her an impatient look. ‘I take it this is not going to turn into the kind of house party where the ladies wander through the corridors at dead of night. Think, woman. Think of a place where it will be safe for us to be quite alone. A place where we will not be disturbed.’

Only then did his odd choice of words finally make sense.

‘You are speaking of conducting an affair with me!’

He hadn’t come here because he wanted to marry Rose, at all! Oh, how marvellous!

Oh, poor Rose. She was going to be so disappointed.

But then she did have five other single gentlemen down here dangling after her to make up for it.

She glanced up at Rothersthorpe’s handsome profile, her spirit soaring again. He wanted
her,
not Rose. Not young, fresh, vibrant Rose with all her money and beauty.

‘Why else,’ he growled, ‘did you send me that note, begging me to join you down here for the duration of this house party, if not so that we could become lovers?’

He thought
she
had invited him? Why would he think...? Oh! That was right. The last time they had talked, he had briefly mentioned having an affair with her. And said that she would only have to send him word and he would oblige.

Well, she hadn’t thought he’d meant it! He never meant the half of what he said. In fact, most of what he said was designed to amuse or charm. So she had just thought he was trying to insult her when he’d implied she was the kind of woman who would indulge in that kind of behaviour.

But he
had
meant it.

And to prove it, the moment he got Rose’s last-minute, no doubt hastily scrawled invitation, he’d come straight down here. In pursuit of her.

For a moment, she had the feeling that the whole world had turned upside down. And she wasn’t sure whether to be grossly insulted, or immensely flattered. In fact, she was so flustered she couldn’t say a word.

‘Not in the room you once shared with your husband,’ he said, mistaking the confused shake of her head. ‘No, I suppose that would not be in very good taste. Though if that was not your intention, I wonder that you should have put me in a room with such a very narrow bed.’ He chuckled. ‘You obviously have no experience at conducting this kind of intrigue, do you? Am I the first since your husband died? If so, I have to tell you that I appreciate the compliment—’

‘Oh, stop it, stop it!’

He took her words literally, bringing their progress along the path to a halt and turning to face her.

She took a faltering step back, pressing her hands to her burning cheeks. The moment he had put the notion of how one would manage...congress...in a single bed, her mind had supplied a series of quite shocking images.

‘I...’ she gulped. ‘I...’

‘I know,’ he breathed.

Their eyes met. And she knew he was thinking more or less the same thing she was.

Something like a bolt of lightning flashed between them. He seized her upper arms and manoeuvred her behind a stand of saplings, even though the rest of the party were disappearing round a bend in the path that would have hidden them from view.

‘Just the thought of us together, at last, has the same effect upon me,’ he said gruffly.

And before she quite knew what he was doing, he’d pulled her roughly into his arms and was kissing her.

Whenever, in the past, she’d dreamed about kissing him, he had been gentle and respectful. Now he was neither.

For a moment, she stood quite stiff in his arms, resenting him for treating her so roughly. For thinking she was the kind of woman who...

Oooh, but he
wanted
her. He was making no attempt to disguise his rampant ardour. And she was so tired of always holding back. Of watching what she said and how she behaved, and even what she thought.

She could not rein back her natural impulses one second longer.

With a small cry of desperation, she flung her arms round his neck and gave herself up to the kiss. He gave a low growl of approval, and, although she had not thought it possible, took the encounter to another level, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and clutching her bottom in his hands to hold her in place while he ground his pelvis against hers.

She gave as good as she got.

By the time they broke apart, they were both panting, and rather red in the face.

‘My God,’ he grated, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to wait until night time, not now you’ve let me see...what you are really like.’