A Sense of Belonging Page 7

  ‘I cannot prevent you from living wherever you want to, Magda, but I would strongly advise you against settling here,’ Luke said in a clipped tone, rising to his feet. ‘Take fair warning, if you live in Swindon I am perfectly sincere when I say that you will not be welcome at Beranger Court. And it is within my powers to make you persona non grata with all the families you would most want to become intimate with.’

  She gasped. ‘You would not be that vindictive!’

  ‘My advice is that you not put that assertion to the test.’ He fixed her with a menacing look, his features set in stone. ‘We are no longer carefree students with whom you can dally and cast aside when you tire of your games. We are adults now, with positions of responsibility, and if you decide to remain in the district I will not hesitate to use my influence to prevent you from corrupting any other gullible idiots. The choice is yours.’ Alvin stood at a nod from Luke. ‘Good afternoon. We shall not see one another again.’

  ‘Luke, please!’ She stood and clutched at his arm. ‘I had hoped we could at least be friends.’

  Luke shook his head, wondering what he had ever seen in her. More grateful than he could say that he hadn’t taken her up on her less than subtle invitations when he had been in his final year at Oxford and besotted with her. He had been too young to know better then. Now he could see her all too clearly for what she was and didn’t much care for the view.

  ‘Will that be the end of it, do you suppose?’ Alvin asked, as they reclaimed their horses and rode away at a brisk trot. Luke could sense Magda’s eyes boring into his back as she watched their departure from the drawing room window.

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Luke replied, almost too angry to speak.

  ‘Simpson was a good thirty years older than her, so I would imagine that Chiseldon’s son is similar in age to her. No doubt she lured him into her web, and when she learned where his parents lived, she wormed her way in with them too.’

  ‘I dare say.’

  ‘She hasn’t given up on you, Luke. Did you notice how she looked at you as though she wanted to eat you whole? How angry she was when she realised I wasn’t about to leave the two of you alone?’

  ‘Thank you for the reminder,’ Luke said, shuddering.

  ‘There’s nothing else for it. You will just have to marry Miss Carlton, then she will have to concede defeat.’

  ‘I doubt that very much. You saw how little respect she had for her own marriage vows, and I’m sure she thinks that everyone else enters matrimony with a similarly cavalier attitude. Besides, if I do decide to marry, it won’t be in order to avoid Magda’s clutches. That would make the final victory hers.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, I suspect she needs to economise and has decided to move here because she can depend upon the Chiseldons for support. Always supposing that they haven’t seen her darker side yet, and let’s face it, she fooled all of us.’

  ‘We were young men with our thoughts permanently upon bedroom sport. The young Chiseldon might be similarly minded, or simply keen to be of service to his late-colonel’s wife. But Mrs Chiseldon won’t be taken in by her for long, unless of course she assumes that her son intends to marry Magda.’

  ‘Well anyway, I think she is strapped for cash. She wouldn’t have left London otherwise. She enjoys society too much for that, so she imagined she could move here, reingratiate herself into your good graces and enjoy your hospitality. Or more.’

  Luke snorted. ‘She’s delusional.’

  Alvin conceded the point with a nod. ‘I don’t doubt that.’

  ‘I meant what I said. I will leave express instructions that she is not to be permitted past the gatehouse at Beranger Court and if she tries to approach any members of my family when they are out and about, she will get short shrift from me.’

  The conversation took them to the edge of the fields that Luke had raced through the day before with his brothers. Luke pushed Onyx into a flat-out gallop, hoping to clear the thudding sense of doom that permeated his head.

  *

  Flora watched from her window as the earl and his companion—either Mr Watson or one of his brothers—trotted their horses down the driveway. She wondered where they could be going, so close to the dinner hour. The local tavern, perhaps. Gentlemen enjoyed frequenting them, she had heard, condescending to rub shoulders with the hoi polloi. She could easily imagine the earl so doing, despite the fact that he probably had a cellar full of the finest wines. Her speculations were pure conjecture since Papa did not approve of alcohol and none was kept in their house. He said it led to immoral behaviour, but his breath often smelled of spirits when he returned from conducting church business. A case of do as I say, not as I do.

  Now she would discover for herself how it affected one’s judgement, since presumably she would be offered a glass of wine with her dinner. She had long wished to try it. That was what came of possessing an enquiring mind, she thought, grinning. It was both a blessing and a curse.

  ‘Now, what to wear to support my new hairstyle?’

  She opened the doors to her armoire without expectation of receiving inspiration, and was not disappointed. She had two evening gowns only. Mama had deemed that to be a sufficient number, assuring her that there would be no requirement for her to draw attention to herself.

  ‘Fat chance of that,’ she muttered, tutting at the prudish choice that faced her. ‘Now, midnight blue or burgundy?’

  It hardly mattered. She slipped out of the gown she had not changed out of since arriving, glad to be rid of its restricting bodice, and washed in the lukewarm water that had been delivered to her room by an unseen hand. A clean chemise preceded the midnight blue, arguably the more becoming of her gowns, although that wasn’t saying much. The bodice was ludicrously high and she’d be willing to wager, if games of chance were not also considered to be the devil’s work, that she would be the only female at his lordship’s table not displaying bare shoulders.

  ‘Definitely no danger of my drawing attention to myself, Mama,’ she told her reflection, widening her eyes at the stranger with the flattering hairstyle who stared back at her.

  A movement in the corner of the mirror had caught her eye. She turned to see that Zeus had settled in the centre of her bed, where he calmly set about washing his face. He paused with his paw raised when she spoke to him before blinking and returning to his ablutions. He had either learned how to open closed doors or sneaked in when her water had been delivered. Either way, she was glad of a friendly face that didn’t sit in judgement on her dowdy wardrobe.

  Flora’s preparations had taken her all of fifteen minutes. Ready and with time to spare, she decided to return directly to the countess’s room, just to show willing. She found the old lady issuing conflicting orders to Sandwell, although her maid seemed perfectly capable of carrying out her duties without instruction of any kind.

  ‘Are you sure you should go down, my lady?’ Sandwell asked, presumably not having heard Flora enter the room. ‘I’m afraid it will be too much for you. Miss Latimer cannot be aware of your delicate constitution, otherwise she would not have suggested it.’

  ‘Oh, do stop flapping, Sandwell! It’s high time I sat with all my grandchildren and made sure they are behaving themselves.’

  Flora suppressed a smile, thinking there was only one member of the family who could be accused of misconduct. She cleared her throat, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping on her first day in her new position. Sandwell, she sensed, was very attached to the dowager duchess and fiercely protective of her interests. She was probably also a little jealous of the rapport she sensed forming between Flora and her mistress.

  ‘Good heavens!’ The countess turned to look at Flora and raised her brows in evident astonishment. The gesture caused the ostrich plume set in her headdress to wobble alarmingly. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Shall I disgrace you? Mama assured me that no one would take any notice of me.’

  ‘They certainly won’t if you
wear that monstrosity.’

  Flora spread her gloved hands. ‘I don’t have anything better. I will take supper in my room if you are ashamed of me.’

  ‘You will do no such thing! Irresponsible child. Did it not occur to you that it’s not simply a question of who might or might not look at you?’

  ‘Frankly, no.’

  ‘Standards must be maintained. You are not in some rectory now, and your appearance reflects directly upon me.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Flora valiantly held in the persistent giggle that seemed determined to escape. The countess’s garb was, to put it charitably, highly individual. Bright reds clashed with an orange bodice that struggled to contain her ample bosom. The ostrich feather, for some reason, was yellow, held in place by a blue and green turban. She put Flora in mind of a human rainbow. But still, she reasoned, the style suited the countess’s personality, although she couldn’t help wondering if her attire was a deliberate attempt to shock her grandchildren. The countess, she already knew, enjoyed making mischief and drawing attention to herself with her outlandish behaviour.

  ‘Your mama has been most remiss, and if she were here now I should not hesitate to tell her so.’ The countess tutted, but there was no real conviction in the scolding. ‘Still, at least your hair is a vast improvement. You will have to do, for now. We’ll see what we can do to improve your wardrobe tomorrow.’

  Sandwell scowled at Flora, but she pretended not to notice. It was hardly her fault if the countess disapproved of her possessions. It was not as though she was serious about replenishing her wardrobe and she would have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.

  ‘Come along then.’ The countess took her stick in one hand and leaned heavily upon Flora’s arm with the other. ‘I despise tardiness.’

  Sandwell opened the door, pursing her lips when Flora thanked her graciously.

  ‘Take no notice of Sandwell,’ the countess said in a voice loud enough for her maid to clearly overhear her. ‘She tends to fuss.’

  ‘Well, I do not. I cannot abide people who make themselves invalids for no reason, or suffer when there is no need to, just to draw attention to themselves. How are your hands, by the way?’ she asked innocently.

  ‘There was nothing wrong with them in the first place.’ But Flora could see that the fingers were already a little straighter and less swollen.

  ‘Of course there was not.’

  ‘Besides, I do not pretend to be an invalid,’ the countess said in a disgruntled tone, gripping Flora’s arm more tightly as they reached the staircase and began the slow descent. ‘Everyone else foists that condition upon me, just to keep me out of the way. I am inconvenient, you see, an embarrassment that they would prefer to keep locked away.’

  Flora shook her head, enjoying the feel of her liberated curls dancing around her face. ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

  ‘Insolent child!’

  ‘You do not embarrass me,’ Flora assured her, unmoved by the chastisement. And I am glad to hear what you say about invalids. I was obliged to visit the sick on a regular basis as part of my duties as a cleric’s daughter, and some of the sights I saw will never leave me. However, since you are keen to impress upon me the fact that you are not unwell, tomorrow we shall take a turn around the lake.’

  The countess threw her a worried look. ‘It’s years since I did that.’

  ‘Then it’s beyond time you tackled it again. The fresh air and exercise will do you the world of good.’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are impossibly bossy?’ the countess asked, looking pleased rather than disconcerted about the proposed excursion.

  ‘Never. I was not allowed to be completely myself when living beneath my father’s roof.’ She grinned mischievously. ‘Although it was not for the want of trying, I do assure you. But be aware, I fully intend to express myself freely now that I am away from him.’

  ‘Saints preserve us!’ the old lady muttered, rolling her eyes as they reached the door to the drawing room.

  Chapter Six

  Alvin Watson had little time to dwell upon their unsettling interview with Magda Simpson but remained convinced there was more to her sudden intrusion into Luke’s life than the coincidence she had made it out to be. He had an uncomfortable feeling that they hadn’t seen the last of her, and that by rejecting her Luke had only made her more determined to see her as yet undefined purpose through. Magda was not accustomed to rejection.

  But reflections upon the disturbing scene that had just played out would have to wait for a more suitable juncture, since when they got back to Beranger Court there was barely time to change for dinner. Just as well, Alvin thought, as he tied his neckcloth and slid his arms into the coat that his man held out for him. The three of them—he, Luke and Paul—had done their level best to put the cataclysmic events of nine years ago behind them. But now Magda had reappeared, intent upon making trouble for Luke, forcing them to confront aspects of their past that they would prefer to forget.

  Luke had been the one she’d most wanted to get her talons into when they had been young and carefree but Archie—the undisputed leader of their pack—had staked his claim first. The others had made way for him, with devastating consequences. Alvin ran a brush through his blond hair, allowing it to fall into place however it chose, wondering if Magda seriously believed that she could win Luke’s affections after what she had done. If she couldn’t draw him in when he had been too young to know better, she must be aware that her chances were now remote. She was unquestionably a beautiful woman—but deadly with it.

  Quite literally.

  Alvin checked the clock, saw that he was in danger of being late for dinner and abandoned his gloomy thoughts. As Norton brushed the shoulders of his coat, Alvin vowed that Luke and Paul, his oldest and closest friends, would not be troubled further by Magda—not whilst he still had breath in his body to prevent it from happening.

  Alvin was in the fortunate position of having the freedom to do as he pleased, with no pressing familial obligations to tie him down. He was the third son of an earl who was still alive and kicking. His two older brothers remained in residence at the family home, slowly taking over the pater’s duties. There was nothing for Alvin to do at Greystone so he’d taken up residence in a sprawling manor house not twenty miles from Beranger Court. He’d inherited it from his grandparents, along with a generous sum to maintain it, and he spent his time knocking the comparatively small estate into order and indulging his passion for engineering by occasionally taking on commissions that came his way.

  Luke on the other hand, had the extensive Beranger estate to manage, his sisters to worry about and a senile grandmother to tie him down, as well as being faced with the chore of considering matrimony when Alvin sensed he didn’t want to become leg-shackled. Luke had given Paul gainful employment to compensate for his generous sacrifice nine years ago. It was beyond time that Alvin pulled his weight.

  Satisfied with his appearance, he thanked Norton for his efforts and made his way downstairs, expecting to be one of the last. Instead he found the drawing room completely deserted but for one female who appeared to be shaking her head over a flower arrangement. With a jolt he realised that the female in question was Emma, Luke’s elder sister. He hadn’t seen her for over a year, and the changes time had wrought to her appearance were quite remarkable. Poised and elegant, the child he had become accustomed to teasing had turned into a very fetching young woman.

  Alvin now better understood Luke’s determination to do the right thing by his sisters. He had not entirely understood the urgency, still seeing them in his mind’s eye as irksome young girls who trailed around after them, plaguing them with questions whenever Alvin came to Beranger Court. But what he saw before him now was anything but irksome. In fact, Emma’s figure made for enticing viewing and Alvin was in no particular hurry to stop admiring her slender waist and the manner in which she filled out the bodice of her gown. A long dormant feeling was awakened by the sight. Only by remindi
ng himself that Emma was Luke’s sister and it seemed almost…well, incestuous to harbour such thoughts did he managed to expel them from his mind.

  She still had her back to him, but he didn’t need to see her face to be aware that he wouldn’t be disappointed by it. The girls had been blessed by nature, just as Luke and his brothers had. Dark haired and dark-eyed, all six of them must turn heads wherever they went. Emma’s elegant presence was certainly in danger of turning his, until he again reminded himself that she was his best friend’s sister, still only a child in many respects. She would be presented next season and deserved all the attentions and accolades that would come her way—to say nothing of advantageous offers of marriage.

  Alvin brushed aside the brief and unreasonable jealousy that thought invoked and stepped further into the room, clearing his throat so that Emma would be aware of his presence. She swivelled to face him and her pale cheeks flooded with colour.

  ‘I almost did not recognise you,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Watson. How nice to see you again.’

  He might have hoped for a more fulsome greeting, but told himself that he was glad when she returned her attention to the offending flower arrangement with almost insulting speed.

  ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She stood back and examined the floral decoration, a slight frown marring her otherwise smooth brow. ‘I think so, but I cannot decide what.’

  ‘You are being too critical, if you don’t mind my saying so.’ He took her elbow and turned her away from the side table, leading her to the French doors. They had been closed to keep out the cool evening air, but afforded them a fine view over the terrace to the lake beyond. ‘It’s only natural, I suppose, that you want everything to be perfect, and it is. Besides, it’s only us here this evening and I should like to think that you consider me a member of the family.’

  ‘True, but as you say, I want to prove to Luke that I am capable.’