Love Became Theirs (15 page)

She had wept during the night, but had smothered her sobs in the pillow, so that Alice should not hear.

She felt alone and adrift as never before. She did not understand anything that was happening to her. All she knew was that nothing made sense, and the man she had loved and trusted had abandoned her.

She walked under the trees for a long time, thinking of the day ahead. Soon her father would be here, and she and the Earl would continue the pretence of an engagement.

And afterwards?

The future was a blank.

"Rona."

She looked round quickly, but as first she could see nothing but trees. The sound was a whisper that seemed to come from nowhere.

"Rona."

It was the voice of the man she loved. Then she saw him walking towards her through the trees. In that moment everything was forgotten but the fact that she loved him and she ran to him, her arms opened wide.

His own arms opened to her. She flung herself into them and they stood motionless for a long time, clasping each other, heart to heart and soul to soul.

"I had to come and find you," he said at last, "to say goodbye."

"Why does it have to be goodbye?" she asked huskily.

"Because of Giles. Did you see how he looked at you? If only I could have stepped in last night, there might have been a chance for us."

"Why didn't you?" she cried.

"Because I couldn't," he cried. "It tortured me not to be the one to help you, but I have a duty to others that made it impossible. I couldn't put myself first. I couldn't put you first. I wanted to but I
couldn't
. Try to understand, I beg you – "

"How can I understand something you won't tell me about? What is this duty you speak of? Are you married."

"No," he said violently. "And I never will be now. Nobody, if not you." He forced himself to calm down. "And now I know that it cannot be you. After Giles said so much in front of everyone – "

He stopped. His voice was shaking.

"He's the best man in the world," he went on after a while. "He's always been good to me. A few years ago I was wild. I got into bad company, and then into trouble. Giles hauled me out and set me straight again. It wasn't just to make my sister happy. She was dead by then, and couldn't have been hurt.

"Giles stood by me because he was my friend. No man ever had a better friend. But for him I wouldn't be here now. He has never asked me for anything in return. I can't repay him by behaving like a cad."

He groaned suddenly. "I had no idea how much he loved you."

"Neither had I," she said wretchedly. "And when he came to my rescue last night – my father would have dragged me away by force. He had authority on his side. Who could have stopped him using it?"

"Nobody except your promised husband," Peter said sombrely. "As you say, he rescued you. Having accepted his protection, you cannot throw it back in his face."

"I know," Rona said. "It would mean exposing him to public derision."

"We can't do that to him," Peter said harshly. "When we leave each other now, it will be forever. But first – kiss me, my darling, kiss me again – and again – "

She wept as she kissed him. She had enjoyed so brief a love, and it was over almost before it had begun. Now she felt as though her life was over too, and all she would have left would be the fleeting echo of a love that had once nearly happened.

But she knew there was no choice. They could not build their happiness on the pain of a man who had deserved well of both of them. No matter how much they might long to be together, their honour forbade it.

So she kissed him passionately but with finality. And then she wrenched herself from his arms and fled temptation.

On the edge of the wood she took one last look back, and saw him standing where she had left him. He was quite still, his eyes fixed on her. Then she turned and ran into the house.

And she did not look back again.

*

Her father arrived at precisely eleven o'clock. He was shown ceremoniously into the library, where Rona and the Earl were waiting for him.

A change had come over Mr. Trafford since the night before. He smiled, even if briefly. He shook hands with the Earl and nodded to Rona.

"My dear," he said gruffly.

Rona felt as though she were in a trance. In a few moments her life would be settled.

But was it really too late? She had still not given the Earl her formal answer.

But then she felt his hand take hers as though seeking reassurance. She could not hurt him. If she had not known it before, she knew it now.

She squeezed his hand back, and smiled at him.

"I take it the matter is settled," said Mr. Trafford abruptly.

The Earl looked at Rona.

"Yes," she said. "It is settled."

"With your permission, sir," said the Earl with a little bow, "I should like to make Miss Trafford my wife, the Countess of Lancing."

"Very well," Mr. Trafford barked. "You are so determined that I suppose you know that I'm a rich man."

"Papa!" Rona exclaimed.

"Miss Trafford's dowry is unimportant to me," Lord Lancing said. "Until last night I did not know who she was. If she were penniless, I should still want her to be mine."

Mr. Trafford snorted in derision. Rona wanted to sink with shame.

The Earl mentioned settlements. The talk became financial. Rona ceased to listen. She felt the cage closing around her.

At last it was over. Her father rose to his feet, crossed the floor and kissed her forehead.

"My dear child, I am happy for you," he said in a voice that sounded forced. "As soon as we're back in London I'll give a big engagement party for you. Now, go and pack."

"What?" she looked at him.

"Go and pack. We are returning to London together."

"No," she said at once.

The smile remained on his face but behind it his teeth were gritted.

"Go upstairs and pack immediately. Now that you are betrothed it is highly improper for you to live under the same roof as your fiancé."

"Not at all," Rona replied. "We aren't alone in the house, and it is not improper."

"We'll all be returning to England in a couple of days – " the Earl began.

"And I repeat that my daughter must return with me. Until you are married she owes me the obedience of a daughter. No doubt you will wish your wife to obey you!"

"No," said the Earl immediately. "I should hope that my wife would try to please me out of affection, just as I should with her."

Mr. Trafford snorted.

"I've no time to argue. Rona!"

"No," she said firmly. "I'm staying here."

In the silence that followed the Earl took a step towards her, silently signalling that she was under his protection now.

Mr. Trafford looked from one to the other, and his face hardened.

"In that case," he barked, "I will see you in London."

He turned and walked out.

"You see?" said the Earl in triumph. "When he was faced with us both, he had to give in."

"Yes, he does seem to have done," said Rona doubtfully.

The Earl took a large and very beautiful diamond ring from his pocket. He slipped it onto her finger and then carried her hand to his lips.

"My dear wife," he said reverently.

*

Later that day Rona wandered out into the garden again. She needed solitude before she could face the world.

She had no right to feel wretched.

She was betrothed to a good man, who wanted to make her happy.

And in time she might learn to forget the feel of Peter's passionate lips on hers, the glory of his love. Maybe one day she would no longer remember what might have been.

One day.

When she was dead.

She had wandered into the wood where they had said their last farewells that morning. Her feet took her to the very same spot, and she closed her eyes. Here, hidden by the trees, she would say goodbye to him in her heart.

Then she heard a noise.

For a wild, joyful moment she allowed herself to hope.

But when she opened her eyes it was her father standing there.

"Papa," she faltered. "I thought you had gone."

"I returned to fetch you," he grated.

"But – "

He seized her wrist.

"Do you think I was fooled by that little scene in there? He has no intention of marrying you."

"Of course he has or he would never have talked to you," she cried, frantically trying to free herself.

"He'll keep you abroad, wandering around Europe, having his way with you, then toss you aside before he returns to England. Who'll care for your reputation if I don't?"

"You don't care for my reputation," she said angrily. "You're just set on having your own way, whatever it does to me."

"Now listen here my girl, you may think the chance of being a Countess is glorious, but the Duke of Cannington has made me certain offers – his friendship, membership of his clubs, a position in court circles, a title – "

"All of which he'll forget the minute he's secured your money for his son."

"Lancing couldn't do any of that, even if he wanted to. He never goes anywhere, shuns society. He doesn't even go to Ascot. Cannington's son is my choice."

"But not mine," she cried as he dragged her away. "Let me go Papa! Help!"

She tried to scream again but her father's hand was over her mouth. He was dragging her irresistibly through the trees to where she could see a wall, with a wrought iron gate in it, through which she could see a closed carriage.

There was a man on the other side of the gate, watching them approach. He opened the gate so that Mr. Trafford was able to haul her through without taking his hand from her mouth. Then the man opened the door of the carriage and the two of them thrust her in.

Her father got in after her and the vehicle began to move. Desperately she tried to get out the other side, but that door was locked.

"Sit down and stop your nonsense," he grated. "You're coming with me and that's that."

"No," she cried. "No, Papa please let me go."

"Shut up!" he said.

But she fought him like a mad thing, refusing to give up. The cab was going faster and faster, rocking from side to side. In his fury her father raised his hand. In another moment he would have struck her, but suddenly the carriage lurched more violently than ever.

He lost his balance, falling against the locked door. The carriage righted itself, sending Rona against the other door, which opened under the impact. She went flying out onto the pavement and picked herself up, running desperately.

From behind her she heard her father's angry voice, shouting for her to come back. It only made her run faster. If she did not escape now, she knew there would never be another chance.

And then, just up ahead, she saw her salvation.

"Alexei," she screamed. "Alexei, help me!"

The Russian Count was mounted on a big black horse. He turned at the sound of her voice, and nothing had ever looked so welcome to her as his splendid moustache.

"My dear girl," he roared. "Whatever has happened?"

"Help me. Please just help me escape."

"Come!"

He reached down, wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up before him. The next moment they were galloping down the street, away from her father, to safety.

*

"But she cannot simply have vanished," the Earl cried in distraction. "Who saw her last?"

"One of the maids saw her go into the garden," said Madame Thierre. "It seems that nobody has seen her since then. We thought she was in her room, but Alice says this is not so."

"But that was two hours ago," said the Earl, aghast. "We must search for her."

"My friend," said Monsieur Thierre, "we have already combed the house and gardens, and she is not there. Alice says that none of her things is missing. It would appear that she did not leave willingly."

"My God!" said the Earl, turning pale. "That father of hers – surely it isn't possible – ?"

But Peter, entering the house from the garden, confirmed the worst.

"I've been talking to a lad outside your rear gate," he said. "Earlier today he saw a young woman being forced into a carriage. From the description it sounds like Rona."

"And he didn't raise the alarm?" demanded the Earl, aghast.

"He's rather a slow-witted lad," said Peter. "He didn't think anything of it until I started asking questions."

"He's had two hours' head start," the Earl groaned. "If he took the train he'll be at Calais by now."

"But perhaps he didn't," said Monsieur Thierre. "A timetable, quickly, from my study."

Marcel hurried to the study and appeared a moment later with the timetable, which his father studied with satisfaction.

"It is as I thought," he said. "There was no train to Calais this afternoon. The next one is this evening. He won't have risked such a delay. It's more likely that he's heading for the coast in that carriage, in which case you can overtake him on horseback. Take my fastest horses."

"I'll come with you," said Marcel at once.

"And I," said Henri. "If he tries to hold on to her, you may need our help."

The four men set out ten minutes later, galloping out of Paris with fierce, determined faces. As Monsieur Thierre had prophesied, they overtook the slow carriage after only an hour, and converged on it like bandits.

Marcel and Henri seized the horses' bridles, while the Earl and Peter opened the door to confront the man inside.

But he was alone.

Peter's face was livid. "Where is she?" he demanded. "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing," shouted Mr. Trafford. "She escaped me and now I'm done with her."

"Where did she escape you?" demanded the Earl in a terrible voice. "Tell us where to look for her."

"How do I know? She's in Paris somewhere. I'd only had her a few minutes when she managed to get out of the door. I saw her hurl herself straight into the arms of the first man she saw, like any hussy."

"What do you mean?" demanded Peter. "What man?"

"I never saw him before, but he had a big moustache. He just swept her up on to his horse. Good riddance, I say! I'm returning to England, and she can save herself from whatever mess she's got into. She's no daughter of mine. Now, let go of me."