скачать книгу бесплатно
‘It’s none of my business, I know. My apologies for mentioning it.’ Hugh had sensed her frostiness increase at the mention of her marriage. She had good cause to dislike him, and he’d often cursed the reason for it.
But not any more. He’d been too broke to have her—the only woman he’d really wanted—and following several humiliating and vain attempts at fortune-hunting a bride he’d done with love and marriage. Now he could buy himself all the female company he needed, and renew it when he grew bored with the women in his life.
Hugh’s mouth slanted in self-mockery as he recalled that a joyful wedding reception had been taking place the last time they’d been in one another’s company.
Alex Blackthorne had been married in Hertfordshire at a country church with few people in attendance, but he had bestowed on his bride an extravagant party when they arrived back in Mayfair. No expense had been spared and the lavish affair had seen ambitious society brides emulating it ever since.
During the celebration Hugh remembered Beatrice and her father keeping their distance from him. He had taken against the fellow escorting Beatrice even before Alex told him that Beatrice Dewey had become engaged to Colin Burnett.
‘What do you want, sir?’ Bea asked coolly, although her complexion had grown warm beneath his relentless scrutiny. She felt wound as tightly as a spring, but the thrill of being so close to him, enveloped in his musky sandalwood scent, was not easily conquered. If he’d just stop staring at her, she thought crossly, she might manage to calm down and stop turning over in her mind what had happened between them years ago.
At Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, Hugh had singled her out, paying her such attention that a crowd of envious women had closed in on them to eavesdrop. The giddy elation of that warm midsummer evening and the following days, anticipating her next meeting with Hugh, were not easy to forget. Neither was the memory of her happiness disintegrating when he bluntly told her he couldn’t see her again.
‘We have some neighbours visiting. I do not want to seem inhospitable, sir, but it might be better if you do not join us.’ Mrs Callan’s hoarse laugh had jolted Beatrice to the present. ‘My father has not forgotten or forgiven that once we knew each other...that is, he recalls that our brief friendship turned sour,’ Beatrice hastily amended, blushing. They had most definitely not known each other—in the biblical sense or any other. She had mistaken this man’s nature and sincerity just as she had with Colin.
‘I regret that we parted before I knew you as well as I would have liked.’
‘I cannot echo that sentiment, sir.’ Hugh’s amused tone had deepened the colour staining Beatrice’s porcelain complexion. ‘My only regret is that I ever became acquainted with you at all.’ Stolen kisses and caresses, snatched during their brief moments alone, were at the forefront of her mind, putting a disquieting throb low in her belly. Bea feared he might also be recalling their passionate moonlit trysts, and his next soft comment proved her intuitive.
‘I don’t believe you wish we’d never met when we had such a delightful time.’
‘Then you should curb your conceit, because it is the truth,’ Beatrice snapped, avoiding the sultry glint in his eyes. ‘Once again I must ask you what you want. I cannot believe you have simply come to see me and reminisce—’
‘I won’t keep you long from your friends,’ Hugh interrupted smoothly. ‘Nice as it is to see you, my dear, it’s a far more vital matter that brings me here uninvited.’
Bea was aware of the arrogance in his tone and felt her hackles rise. No doubt now he had increased his prospects he felt she should feel flattered by his attention. Before she could step away from him he’d strolled back towards the door as though he might leave.
‘I have some urgent news for Alex. Would you fetch him, please, so I might speak to him?’ Hugh’s exasperating thoughts made him sound harsh and domineering. Beneath his breath he was cursing himself for finding her country freshness sweetly appealing after Gwen’s cloying presence. Once he’d touched and caressed Beatrice often, and with her full consent. Any sudden move from him now was sure to result in a swift slap, so he’d distanced himself to avoid temptation.
‘Alex?’ A small frown crinkled Bea’s brow. ‘Why, I cannot get him, sir...he is not here. Elise arrived a few days ago with baby Adam but we have not seen Alex. Is he on his way, then?’
‘I imagined he would have arrived by now. He left before me. His butler said he’d travelled into Hertfordshire so I came directly here, assuming he’d be with Elise.’
On the long hard ride towards St Albans he’d been wondering how he’d feel again when he saw Beatrice. In his youth he’d been infatuated plenty of times, impoverished just as frequently, by pert beauties with expensive tastes. But he’d put all of them from his mind. Beatrice Dewey he’d not been able to forget. He’d explained it away by blaming mutual friends for keeping the winsome blonde haunting his thoughts. But Hugh suspected that what presently occupied Beatrice’s mind was her brother-in-law’s safety. She was no doubt imagining that Alex had come a cropper on the road, and Hugh naturally wanted to soothe her fears on that score.
‘If he’d broken an axle, or one of his horses had gone lame, I would have passed him en route,’ Hugh softly reassured her. ‘Alex might have taken a break at a tavern.’
A furrow appeared in Beatrice’s smooth brow, testament to the fact she was not entirely convinced by that argument. ‘I shall let Elise know you are here; she’ll want to speak to you if you’ve come on her husband’s account.’
Swiftly Hugh moved to apprehend her, catching her wrist in a firm grip. ‘It might be best not to tell her anything till I locate Alex. I don’t want to unduly upset Elise if there is an easy explanation for the viscount’s absence.’
‘Yes...I understand...’ Beatrice croaked, her skin heating beneath his clasp. She’d proof now that Hugh Kendrick had kindly sought to allay her fears over her brother-in-law’s tardiness, despite suspecting all might not be well. But it was the sensation of Hugh’s touch—far more assertive than she remembered it to be—rather than anxiety for Alex that was making her captured flesh quiver.
Slowly Hugh withdrew his hand, and this time Bea heard a syllable of the oath he emitted as he jammed his hands in his pockets and walked off.
‘Oh, there you are, Bea...I wondered where you had got to...’
It was too late to prevent Elise knowing the truth: Bea’s prolonged absence had prompted her sister to nip out of the front parlour in search of her. With Adam cradled against a shoulder, obscuring her view, Elise hadn’t at first noticed the gentleman by the door.
‘Hugh!’ Elise hurried towards him. ‘What a lovely surprise to see you! Why have you not joined us in the parlour?’ she burst out. Elise’s sparkling gaze veered between the couple, lingered on Bea, wordlessly enquiring what had brought about this unexpected and exciting turn of events.
‘Mr Kendrick has come here with important news for Alex.’ Beatrice didn’t want to worry Elise, but knew her sister would eventually discover the reason behind Hugh’s visit. ‘We expect he’ll turn up soon, having stopped for a drink.’
‘Alex didn’t say he would come after me but I won’t be surprised if he does.’ Elise smiled contentedly. ‘He’s probably at the Red Lion. He doesn’t like Papa to fiddle and fuss and spend his money on unnecessary comforts just so he might bed down here for a night or two.’
‘Of course...that’s where he is.’ Beatrice sighed in relief. When Viscount Blackthorne had been courting her sister he would often lodge at the inn at St Albans.
Elise was swaying her drowsing son while frowning at Hugh. ‘If you’ve come all this way it must be bad news. Please tell me what it is for I shall only fret if you do not. Has something awful happened in the few days I’ve been away?’
‘I’m afraid that your mother-in-law has scarlatina.’ Hugh comforted Elise with a sympathetic smile as one of her hands flew to cover her shocked gasp. ‘The physician thinks she will recover well but at her age there is an obvious risk...’ His voice tailed off. ‘She has been asking to see Alex.’
‘Of course...he must go immediately to her side. I should return too.’ Elise was very fond of her mother-in-law and knew the woman doted on Alex, her only child.
‘It has been wonderful to see you, but Papa will understand why you must cut short your visit.’ Beatrice strove to remove Elise’s worry over leaving so soon after arriving in Hertfordshire.
The doorknocker was again loudly employed at the same moment that Betty reappeared, shuffling towards them, bearing a tray laden with a silver tea set surrounded by some delicate bone china.
‘If it’s more nosey Parkers here to tattle they can come back another time,’ the housekeeper stated with salty directness. ‘We’re right out of tea anyhow, till Norman gets back from town with the provisions.’
Being closest to the door, Hugh did the honours, opening it to find Alex on the step.
The viscount gave his chum a quizzical look while proceeding inside, but was prevented from asking the most obvious question. His wife hastily handed her precious burden to her sister, then launched herself at him to hug him about the waist in a show of welcome and comfort at the news she must soon break. Gently Elise urged her husband towards a small alcove by the stairs so they might quietly converse.
‘What’s it all about?’ Walter demanded waspishly, emerging from the parlour and pulling the door shut behind him. ‘You’re not going to abandon me with those two, are you?’
Leaning heavily on his stick, he fished out his spectacles and put them on so he might get a closer look at what was occurring. He peered from one to the other of the people crowding his narrow hallway. ‘Ah...capital! I see my son-in-law has dropped by to join us...why are they whispering?’
Walter didn’t wait for a reply to his question about Elise and Alex huddling together a yard or so away. His attention had already moved on to a person he felt sure he recognised. When the fellow’s identity popped into his mind his gaze narrowed angrily on Hugh Kendrick’s tall, distinguished figure.
‘Ha! I do know you! So you’ve heard, have you, and come to speak to my daughter and me? Well, Bea won’t have you now, no matter how much money you’ve got from your diamonds. And neither will I. You had your chance years ago, so be off with you.’
In the ensuing silence Betty shuffled forward with the heavy tea tray, and never before had Bea felt quite so grateful for their housekeeper’s peevishness.
‘Is some kind person going to open the door?’ The woman huffed out. ‘My arms are giving out with the weight of this lot.’ Betty rested a hip against the wall for support.
Courteously, Hugh unburdened the elderly servant, allowing her to enter the parlour. She gave him a wide smile when he carried the tray inside and put it down on the table, causing the two seated ladies to gawp admiringly at him. Hugh nodded politely before retracing his steps, leaving Betty behind the closed door setting the cups and Mrs Callan and Victoria frantically burbling in low voices.
‘You may quit my house, sirrah.’ Walter pointed his stick at Hugh. ‘Beatrice, come into the parlour, do. I’ve exhausted every topic of conversation I can think of that avoids mentioning a fickle scoundrel upsetting my daughter.’ Again his rheumy eyes settled accusingly on Hugh.
Walter beckoned to Elise and Alex, then disappeared inside the parlour, oblivious to his elder daughter’s mortification or Hugh Kendrick’s cynically amused expression.
‘I’m sorry my father was so rude just then.’ Beatrice’s voice was hoarse with chagrin and she found she could not meet his eyes. She feared he’d understood her father’s oblique reference to her having been jilted. Eventually it would all come out and Hugh Kendrick, along with other acquaintances who resided further afield, would discover Beatrice Dewey’s wedding had been cancelled, but she didn’t want his pity, or his questions, today.
‘I’ve poured the tea if you want to go in and drink it before it goes cold,’ Betty announced, still sounding tetchy as she closed the parlour door and stomped off down the corridor.
‘Just take tea with us, Alex, before setting off to see your mother; Papa will like it if you do.’ Elise tenderly removed her drowsing baby from Bea’s embrace. She’d seen the wisdom in her husband’s argument that he could travel faster alone to London. ‘I can explain all about the dowager’s illness to Papa when the ladies leave.’
Elise gave Hugh a look of heartfelt gratitude, then the preoccupied couple joined Walter in the parlour, leaving Beatrice behind and in two minds as to whether to follow them. But running off and letting Hugh Kendrick see himself out would be rude and cowardly. Beatrice hoped she was neither of those things. Today Hugh had acted as a true friend to her brother-in-law; the least he deserved in recompense was a little hospitality before setting again on the road.
‘I’ll go to the kitchen and get you some refreshment. You should have some tea at least...’
Hugh caught at her shoulder as she turned to go. ‘Your father’s churlishness doesn’t bother me, but I’d like you to explain to me what caused it.’
Beatrice tipped up her chin, met his eyes squarely. ‘I have already told you that he has not forgotten or forgiven you for pursuing me when I was younger.’ The sensation of his long fingers again restraining her was making her skin tingle and burn. She glanced significantly at the tanned digits curved on rose-sprigged cotton. ‘If you don’t mind waiting in there I will fetch your tea.’ Beatrice indicated a door further along the hallway.
‘Am I to be held in solitary confinement?’
Hugh sounded less amused now—haughty, even, Bea realised as his fingers fractionally tightened on her before dropping away. But though her defences were rising she knew he had a point. ‘I admit it is unfair treatment, sir, when you have performed a mission of mercy for your friend. I beg you will tolerate my elderly father’s foibles. It is not just you he is set against; he is protective of his daughters and hostile to any person who might have harmed us.’
‘Is Dr Burnett such a person?’ Hugh asked bluntly.
‘I will explain to Papa how generously you have behaved when our visitors have gone.’ Fearing he might repeat his question about Colin’s role in all this, Beatrice quickly took two backward steps before carrying on towards the kitchen.
Chapter Five (#uf1865651-26c4-5264-befc-4525a57dd051)
‘Who’s the handsome stranger?’ Betty asked in her forthright way, having assessed Beatrice’s tortured expression. ‘I’ve not seen him here before but I reckon he knows you...and rather well in my opinion.’ She wiped her damp hands on her pinafore then plonked them on her ample hips.
Beatrice had closed the kitchen door and then her eyes while leaning against the panels, her head tilted up in an attempt to control her whirling thoughts. She pushed away from her support and with a sigh took a seat at the floury-topped table. ‘He’s a good friend of the viscount’s,’ she finally answered, picking up a warm biscuit from the dozen or so cooling on a rack. Beatrice loved a freshly baked treacle biscuit and usually would have taken a greedy bite and got a ticking off from Betty for not letting it set properly. But she put it back, unable to quell the queasiness in her stomach spoiling her appetite.
‘So...this fellow is also a friend of yours, is he, Miss Beatrice?’ Betty crossed her arms over her chest, awaiting a reply.
‘Once he was...or I thought as much. But I was wrong about him as well.’ Beatrice frowned at her fingers, clasped in front of her on the table. She’d banished Colin from her mind and refused to mention his name. ‘Would you put the kettle on, Betty? Mr Kendrick has done the viscount a good turn by conveying news from London. He deserves some tea before setting off home.’
The housekeeper gave Beatrice an old-fashioned look. ‘I’ll do that for him, and I’ll even bring him along a few of those.’ She tipped her head at the biscuits. ‘No matter what your father thinks of the fellow, I took to him— ’cos he’s a gentleman not too high and mighty to give a hand to the likes of me.’
‘He hasn’t always been a wealthy man, so I expect he is used to fetching and carrying for himself,’ Beatrice murmured, almost to herself.
‘Sometimes them that comes late to luxury are the worst sort, with their penny-pinching and lording it. They don’t want to go back to scrimping and scraping, and doffing caps, you see. He’s not like that. I’d stake my life on it.’ Betty imparted her wisdom on the subject of upstarts.
Bea planted an elbow on the tabletop and sank her sharp little chin into a palm. She couldn’t agree with Betty’s estimation of Mr Kendrick’s modesty. She’d seen a very imperious glint in his eyes earlier that had impressed upon her, almost as much as had his cool tone of voice, that he was no longer the ordinary man she’d once known...and loved.
‘Off you go, then, and keep him company and I’ll be along directly.’ The housekeeper nodded at the door.
‘I think I’d sooner stay here with you and wait till the tea’s brewed.’
‘I know you would,’ Betty said. ‘That’s why I reckon you should go and sit with him and show him what you’re made of.’ She wagged a finger. ‘You, Miss Beatrice, are not a coward. If I can tell he frightens you I reckon he already knows.’
‘He does not frighten me!’ Beatrice asserted, sitting straight in the chair and blinking at Betty.
‘In that case you’ll remember your manners and have a nice chat about the weather with him while the kettle boils,’ Betty returned bossily. ‘I’ll be by in about ten minutes with a hot pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.’ She turned away. ‘But those two in the front parlour aren’t getting any; Vicar’s wife maybe, but not a charitable bone in her body by my reckoning. And the daughter’s not much better.’
Betty glanced over her shoulder as she heard the chair scrape back. Her puckered features softened in a smile as she watched Beatrice marching towards the door, a determined set to her full mouth.
‘Tea won’t be long...do sit down, sir.’
Beatrice had entered the morning room to find Hugh standing by the unlit fire, contemplating the view through the window. His long fingers were drumming on the oak mantelpiece, making him seem impatient, and Bea wondered if he’d decide to leave without waiting for refreshment. The idea that he might depart before she’d proved to him her indifference to his arrival prompted her to burst out with some conversation.
‘I hope that the dowager will soon recover. I have only met her once or twice but found her to be very nice,’ Beatrice rattled off. She had decided to steer their chat in the direction of mutual concerns. In that way she might avoid his hard stares and lazy mockery. ‘My father will be sad to hear that she’s ailing. He also likes Alex’s mother...’
‘I’ll attempt to find out how she managed to charm him,’ Hugh remarked dryly. He strolled to an armchair and sat down.
Beatrice perched on a seat opposite, inwardly sighing that she’d suffered an early defeat. ‘How are your family keeping, sir?’ she asked brightly, recollecting that he had a younger married sister. ‘Have you nephews or nieces?’
‘One of each,’ Hugh replied, sitting back and planting a dusty boot atop one knee. His fingers curled close to his mouth and he regarded her through dropped lashes. He knew she was anxious to avoid answering personal questions but, vulgar as his curiosity might be, he wanted to hear from her own lips that her wedding was off.
Elise’s urgent summons to the countryside, taken together with Walter Dewey’s recent bitter comments about scoundrels upsetting his daughters, pointed to the fact that Beatrice was not after all getting married. Hugh wanted her to tell him herself, because in that way he could judge her reaction and whether she had instigated the break-up with Dr Burnett.
‘How old are your sister’s children?’ Beatrice doggedly continued, keeping an eye on the clock. Betty had said she would bring the tea in ten minutes; Bea was sure that five must already have passed. Yet the hands seemed to have crawled only fractionally about the face of the timepiece ticking on the wall.
‘Luke is seven and Lucinda five.’
‘Such nice names,’ Beatrice remarked, on realising he wasn’t about to add anything to the drawled information. Abruptly she got to her feet. ‘I should open the door wider for Mrs Francis or she will struggle entering with the tray. Indeed...I should carry it for her...’
Bea had a plausible excuse to escape the strained atmosphere, but Betty’s warning about acting cowardly rang in her ears, holding her on the spot. Today there’d been nothing in Hugh Kendrick’s behaviour to which she might take serious offence. So far he’d been unfailingly civil... And yet she knew Betty had spoken the truth: she was fearful of him, and not simply because he might at any moment launch an unwanted question at her.
The fever on her flesh where his hands had been, the butterflies circling in her stomach, all were indications that she was not immune to this man, and she dearly wanted to be. It might be three years since they’d kissed and caressed one another but the memory of it was strengthening with every minute that passed. There was an unbearable tension between them and she knew he too was dwelling on that shared intimacy.
Never had Colin Burnett kissed her so hard and long that a vivid colour had stained her lips for hours. Never had he, during their long engagement, pulled open her bodice and drawn whimpers of delight from her when his mouth teased her breasts.
In a brief courtship Hugh Kendrick had done those things and more before it had all turned to ashes.
But he was different now, and she must be too. Behind the screen of his long lashes amusement was competing with lust in his hazel eyes. He might still desire her but he no doubt found his younger self—and hers—risible in hindsight. He now possessed riches...and power and influence. She could tell that from his every mannerism and utterance. He was no longer a man used to being denied what he wanted, whereas once everything...even she as his wife...had been out of his reach. Now, of course, he could pick and choose from society debutantes for a bride.
Well, she wouldn’t want him as a husband now! Beatrice inwardly exhorted herself. Her papa was right: even had he raced here on hearing she was free, to beg her to accept his proposal, she’d not have him! He’d had his chance and could go away, back to his fine life, and leave her in peace. She had earlier said to her father and sister that she’d done with men and marriage and she’d meant it. The idea of living out her days as a spinster, doting on her nephew rather than her own offspring, was not a vastly depressing future.
She moistened her lips, feeling calmer and ready to force out a little more conversation. ‘I shall no doubt hear Betty approaching.’ Beatrice returned to her chair and sat down. ‘There is no need to leave you alone again.’
‘Thank you...’
Beatrice shot him a look, noting his ironic tone, but if he wanted to interrogate her, let him. She now felt prepared for any challenge he might throw down.
‘The weather is cool for the time of the year.’ Bea again broke the silence, irked that she was the one making all the effort to be sociable. ‘Have you a little conversation about your journey?’ she suggested with faux sweetness. ‘For instance...did you drive here or come on horseback?’ She again glanced at the snugly fitting dusty jacket encasing his broad shoulders. She imagined his valet would be horrified to see the state of it.
‘Horseback; it seemed the quickest way to travel with urgent news.’
‘And did it rain during the journey?’ Beatrice asked, causing him to smile.
‘Just a few spots...’
‘Oh...well, I’m glad you kept dry at least.’
‘I appreciate your concern.’
Again Beatrice flicked an acid look at him from beneath her lashes, then glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. She hoped Betty was not deliberately hanging things out because she had taken to Hugh Kendrick and wanted him to stay a while...
‘Do I make you nervous, Beatrice?’
Bea snapped her sapphire eyes to his watching gaze. ‘Of course not! What makes you think that, sir?’
