скачать книгу бесплатно
‘In general it’s an excellent quality for a female to possess, I agree, but taken to extremes rationality can destroy a woman’s natural affections.’
‘I think that unlikely,’ she retorted.
‘Do you? Then consider the case of a woman who decides “rationally” to prefer one man to another on the grounds that he is likely to be a bigger matrimonial prize. When logic leads, a woman’s heart is prone to wither.’
Fire began to simmer within the green depths of her eyes and her whole body tensed for combat.
‘By that reasoning, sir, only women who are witless can know affection.’
‘That’s a trifle crude, but the sentiment is not entirely without merit. I think it likely that many men, including Sir Julian Edgerton, would agree with me. By the way, does he accompany you this morning?’
‘He is still out of town.’
‘Dear me, he appears to spend an inordinate amount of time away from London.’
Christabel took a deep breath and replied as levelly as she could, ‘Rosings is a large estate and takes a good deal of his time.’
‘Of course, he would have to have a large estate.’ His expression was sardonic, a trace of a sneer on his unyielding mouth.
Domino looked from one to the other, aware of the tension which crackled between them, but bewildered as to its cause.
‘As you appear interested in the trivialities of my life, sir, you may wish to know that I am accompanied this morning by Sir Julian’s sister.’ Christabel’s perfectly sculpted cheeks were flushed an angry pink. ‘She is waiting close by so I must beg you to excuse me.’
And with a hasty bow to them both, she walked briskly towards the entrance hall, her mind seething and her form one of unexpressed anger. The frills on her muslin gown tossed as though caught in a tempest and the wayward auburn curls began to tumble out of the restraining satin bandeau she wore. It seemed she was to be followed at every opportunity and forced to submit to any taunt or goad he wished to aim. It was insufferable. She was truly reaping the whirlwind she had sowed all those years ago.
Still standing beside the figure of Iris, Domino wore a puzzled look and her tone was one of concern.
‘Do you not like Miss Tallis, Richard?’
‘I neither like nor dislike her.’
‘I think you made her angry.’
‘I would be sorry to give offence, but if she was angry, it was quite unnecessary.’
She frowned at this. ‘She was offended and I don’t think it was unnecessary. I think she had good reason. You seemed to want to upset her. But why?’
Richard contemplated pretending ignorance, but then said, ‘It’s an old story and not for your ears.’
‘Then you knew her before you came to Argentina—from when you were last in England?’
‘I’ve known her all my life.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘Her family’s estate runs alongside mine in Cornwall. We played together as children—like brother and sister,’ he ended drily.
‘Then you should be friends.’
‘Oh, we were, very good friends.’
‘So what happened? Why are you so unhappy with each other now?’
‘A betrothal.’
‘A betrothal? Whose?’
‘My betrothal to Miss Tallis. We were to be married.’
‘You were betrothed to Christabel Tallis!’ Domino gaped with surprise. ‘What happened?’
‘We decided that after all we did not suit each other.’
‘But if you were both agreed, why are you still so unhappy with her?’
Richard sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘It doesn’t seem that complicated to me,’ she said with decision. He saw that he would have to tell her the full story or at least enough to satisfy her.
‘I was away at Oxford for three years,’ he began, ‘either at the university studying or staying with friends in the holidays, so I didn’t see her for a long time. When I finally returned home to Cornwall, I found her very changed. She’d always been a tomboy, a thin, gawky girl with her dresses usually torn and her hair in a tangle. But now she was this amazingly beautiful young woman. I could hardly believe my eyes the first night I saw her again. She was the toast of the county, worshipped by Cornish manhood from Penzance to St Austell—and that’s a long way, Domino.’
He paused for a moment, remembering that evening when he’d walked into the drawing room at Lamorna and found her waiting, a slender vision of cream lace and gold roses. When she’d glided forwards and laughingly put her arms around him in welcome, she’d taken his breath away.
‘I suppose I was irritated,’ he continued. ‘Whenever I visited Lamorna Place I tripped over some lovesick swain clutching a posy of flowers or reading her the latest bad poem he’d written in her praise. It was comical, but also annoying. She’d always been my particular friend and now I was supposed to share her company with all the fops and dandies from miles around. So I decided to woo her myself, win the prize and delight my parents—it was what they’d been hoping for since we were children.’
‘And Miss Tallis?’
‘I think she was flattered by my sudden interest. I was a welcome diversion from the cloying attentions of her local admirers, but only a diversion—until her come-out at the next London Season. But she never did come out that year. Her mother couldn’t leave the younger children to travel to London, so she deputed the task of presenting Christabel to a relative. Then the relative became ill quite suddenly and the plans were cancelled. Christy had to resign herself to staying in Cornwall and it was then that she agreed to marry me.’
‘So when did you find out that you had both made a mistake?’
‘When she made love with another man.’ Richard had not been able to stop his bitter denunciation. Domino looked shocked. ‘His name was Joshua,’ he said acridly, discarding any hope now of keeping the full story from his young admirer. ‘My mother had accompanied Christabel and myself to London to buy bride clothes. Instead Christabel purchased a very different item—the attention, for I cannot call it love, of a man I’d thought a friend. She confessed that she’d fallen in love with him. Perhaps she had: he was clever and handsome and the sole heir of a very wealthy uncle. She said that she could no longer marry me. I left for Argentina shortly afterwards. The rest you know.’
Domino considered his story for some time. Christabel Tallis had not seemed the kind of woman who would treat a man so shockingly, but there was no doubt Richard had suffered hurt.
She turned impulsively to him, but her question was tentative. ‘It happened such a time ago, Richard, can you not forgive her?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ he said in a breezy voice. ‘It’s over.’
But it wasn’t, he thought, as he escorted his young companion to Gunter’s for her favourite elderflower ice. It was far from over. Christabel had come back into his life and the world he’d built for himself had begun to shatter. He remembered how in those early months in Buenos Aires, he’d walked around a stunned man. He’d lost so much, not just the girl he loved, but his entire life. Early one blisteringly hot morning, he’d walked on the beach when the world was still asleep and he was alone. Looking out over the limitless ocean, he’d willed himself back to his beloved homeland. But friends and family had gradually faded from view and he’d been helpless to recall them. He’d borne the rupture calmly, stoically, never allowing a hint of trouble to show, and he’d grown to love Argentina. He’d put down new roots, made new friends, taken new lovers. So why was he allowing such furious resentment to seep into his life and destroy the pleasure of his homecoming? After his scourging from the Tallis affair, he’d become adept at sidestepping deep feeling and for the first time in years strong emotions were crowding in on him. Ever since he’d seen Christabel. His constant need to provoke her, to disturb her, was a signal that he’d never truly overcome her betrayal. He’d simply shut it away. Seeing her afresh had reawakened feelings that he’d thought dead.
His anger was directed as much at himself for still being in thrall to her. If he were to know any peace, he must exorcise that demon and do so as quickly as possible. The lawyers, he’d learned, would be ready within a fortnight and last night he’d written to his mother to expect him shortly. But how to free himself of this unwanted legacy from the past? In the heat of their first unexpected meeting, he’d entertained some wild thoughts. But were they that wild? If he could prove Christabel unchanged, prove that she was the same inconstant woman, surely that would get her from under his skin.
Instinctively he knew that she was not wholly indifferent to him. Her face might remain immobile, but her eyes gave her away. He had the power to rouse this cold and remote woman to strong feeling—anger and love were bedfellows, after all. There was a lingering tie between them, he was sure, and he’d taken every chance to play on whatever jealousy Christabel might feel towards the young girl who walked beside him. He had done so in the hazy belief that he might force her into showing her true colours. But there had to be more. He would have to entice her into his arms, tease her, goad her, until she was ready to say she loved him, ready to be disloyal. Ready to betray Sir Julian Edgerton as she’d betrayed him. The man who had taken her arm so proudly would be forced to recognise her for the jilt she was. And if he could learn the same lesson himself, her power to perturb would be over. He would be free of her—for ever.
The Tallis family ate an early supper, for Christabel and Lady Harriet were engaged to attend Almack’s. Christabel felt no joy at the prospect. This morning her pleasure in viewing the Marbles had been spoiled by Richard’s antagonism and an evening spent at the exclusive club was no compensation. It would be a tedious few hours although largely effortless. Several glasses of lemonade, a number of country dances, a nod or two at acquaintances and then they would be free to return home. She’d never understood what made the place exceptional, but her mother always held it to be good ton to attend regularly and made a point of escorting her elder daughter every week. Sir Julian, too, was a frequent visitor and Christabel derived some comfort at least in knowing that tonight he was safely lodged at Rosings many miles away and she would be free of any threat of a marriage proposal.
She had dressed with some care for the evening. After the unsettling events of the last few days she felt the need to look her best. The emerald silk gown opening to an underdress of the palest green gauze was a stunning creation, her hair flaming in contrast and the green of her eyes reflected in its deepest tones. A low bodice revealed the pale perfection of shapely breasts and shoulders as smooth as alabaster. Without immodesty, she knew from experience that she would attract the attention of most of the men there. Not Richard’s, though. He would certainly not be at Almack’s. Even in his youth it had been a place he’d always refused to attend, though she had often begged him to be her escort.
She looked across the table at her sister who was drinking soup with exaggerated care, intent on preserving her gown. With a start she realised that Sophia was dressed rather too elaborately for dinner at home and wondered why. The conundrum was soon solved.
‘Sophia will be coming with us,’ her mother announced with studied carelessness.
‘To Almack’s?’ Christabel asked blankly.
‘Yes, of course, to Almack’s.’
‘But what about vouchers?’
‘I have managed to obtain some. Lady Jersey was kind enough to bestow them on me at short notice. She understood the position and wanted very much to make Sophia’s acquaintance.’
‘Nobody gets tickets for Almack’s that quickly, Mama, so you must have known for some time that Sophia was coming to London.’
Her mother made no reply and the ruthless interrogation continued. ‘I thought you said that you and Papa had decided only recently that she should visit—in fact, you must have been plotting it together for weeks!’ The net seemed to be closing in on her ever more tightly.
Her mother’s telltale blush revealed her unhappiness at the deception while Sophia’s face was one of untroubled victory.
‘Hardly plotting, Bel. Sophia’s coming to stay was certainly not part of any grand plan. But when Sir Julian began to grow ever more particular in his attentions to you, it seemed sensible to introduce Sophia to ton society a little earlier than we planned. I heard only last week that your brother and sister were on their way, but said nothing. I knew you had a lot on your mind and thought it would be a delightful surprise.’
‘Delightful,’ Christabel offered drily. ‘But do you feel that the dress is quite right for the occasion?’
‘And what, pray, is wrong with my dress?’ Sophia asked combatively.
Lady Tallis, who had unsuccessfully tried to direct her younger daughter to one of the more modest creations hanging in her wardrobe, interjected gently, ‘Christabel has such refined taste, my dear, and she is familiar with what is most suitable for Almack’s. Why don’t you reconsider the magenta? The rose chiffon would become you so well.’
‘The rose is boring and I have no intention of being boring.’
‘You won’t be that,’ Benedict put in unhelpfully, ‘the whole world will see you coming at fifty paces.’
‘You have no notion of female dress, so hold your tongue,’ she spat.
‘I have no notion of going to Almack’s either so I won’t be the one who has to hand out the sunshades,’ her unrepentant brother grinned.
‘What is this, Benedict, of course you are to come with us,’ his mother chided. ‘You will need to put on evening dress. I assume that you brought it with you.’
‘But not to do the pretty at Almack’s,’ he grumbled.
After a good deal more in this vein he agreed reluctantly to squire his mother and sisters. Almack’s he stigmatised as being the waste of a good evening and issued a cryptic warning that he would be leaving pretty promptly as he had far more interesting prospects in view.
Almack’s was always crowded even at nine o’clock in the evening. The doors shut promptly at eleven and anyone arriving after that time, no matter how important, was barred. The patronesses controlled every aspect of the club with iron fists and Lady Jersey’s vouchers had been hard won. In the entrance hall Sophia stopped to preen herself in the Venetian mirror, which hung at the bottom of the red-carpeted stairs, but not for long. Her mother was soon ushering both girls upwards into the main salon, ablaze with a thousand candles hanging from crystal chandeliers and tucked into the wall sconces. People looked curiously at the small party, finding it difficult to believe that this new young woman was Christabel’s sister. There could be no greater contrast, one tall, willowy, an ice maiden with flaming hair, the other shorter, rounded and an undistinguished brunette. No wonder the gown had to be magenta. It was Sophia’s way of seizing some of the attention that always fell so unfairly to her sister.
In the event neither girl lacked for partners. For some Sophia’s was a new face and a likely diversion while for others she promised to be the means of an introduction to the peerless Christabel. Happily she had no notion of this and smiled benignly on the world as she passed down the rows of the country dance on the arm of one partner after another. Benedict had discovered a few choice spirits who had also been coerced into escorting family members and was content for the moment to bide his time. The evening was young and he felt sure that it could only get better.
Only Christabel felt depressed. This night was one like so many others. She smiled gracefully at her partners and diligently performed each dance. Between cotillions and quadrilles she sipped lemonade and made kind conversation with those young damsels sheltering by the wall and too shy to talk to anyone else. But there was emptiness in her heart. Soon it would be time to call the carriage and return home, but for what? In two days’ time Sir Julian would return and her future would be decided for ever. If she accepted him, this was one engagement that would have to stick.
A sudden flurry at the top of the stairs made her look up. A small brunette, her dark curls glistening in the candlelight, had just made it through the doors before they were locked. The girl looked around her with animation and then turned to her companion, grasping his arm and pointing out the glittering chandeliers and frescoed ceilings. Christabel drew a sharp intake of breath. It was Richard, of course. Richard, who had never before set foot in this hallowed place, now dancing attendance on the little Spaniard. She watched as though in a dream as he presented Domino first to Lady Sefton, one of the patronesses present that night, and then on to Mr Davenant, Lord and Lady Wivenhoe and the Misses Newcombe. The girl had an entrancing smile, Christabel thought, and though she beamed happily on everyone she met, it was clear that she smiled for Richard alone. She loves him—the thought struck her with explosive force. Her stomach began to churn sickeningly, but why she could not understand. Richard had been dead to her for six years. Why should it matter who his fancy now alighted on?
At that moment she was claimed for a country dance. Somehow she managed mechanically to perform the steps without making a mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard and Domino take the floor. He’d always been a graceful dancer and she noticed that in this respect he hadn’t changed. Throughout he kept up a lively conversation with his partner and it was evident that he was delighted to be with her. Social rules dictated that they could not stand up together for more than two dances, but when they were not on the floor he talked to her; when she partnered other men, his gaze was never far away. And so it went on, dance after dance, while Christabel watched the clock and prayed for the carriage to arrive. She felt she could not bear to look at them a minute longer and yet her eyes were instinctively drawn in their direction. They made a handsome couple and it was clear that others thought so too. There were many admiring glances and much chatter behind opened fans.
When the orchestra struck up for a waltz she was relieved to be sitting out the dance. For some years she’d been permitted by the patronesses to waltz at Almack’s, but Sophia was not in that fortunate position and she had no desire to irritate her sister any further. She had deliberately kept her dance card free so that she could keep Sophia company.
‘Miss Tallis, I believe you waltz?’
Richard Veryan stood before her, immaculate in white ruffled shirt and black long-tailed coat. The crisp white folds of his silk neckcloth were tied in a perfect trône d’amour. Well-fitting black-satin knee breeches did nothing to disguise the muscular thighs beneath. His attire was that of the most fashionable of London gentlemen, but the lean, tanned face hinted at another story.
Christabel found herself once again struggling to maintain her composure.
His grey eyes, flecked with flint, were fixed penetratingly on her and without speaking he held out a hand and with the other gestured to the dance floor.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, recovering her wits a little, ‘but I do not care to waltz while my sister does not dance.’
Richard glanced indifferently at Sophia, who stared haughtily back at him.
‘I’m sure Miss Sophia Tallis would not wish to keep you from enjoying a dance she must know you love.’
It was true. Ever since she’d learned to waltz, she’d treasured the joy of floating light as thistledown across the ballroom, her feet skimming the floor and her whole body responding to the rhythm of the music. Her sister pursed her lips angrily, but said nothing. Richard was still holding out his hand, his cold eyes seeming now to blaze with something akin to fire. Christabel could not understand his persistence, but found herself mesmerised into accepting his invitation.
A slight pressure on her waist and he had led her into the dance. His arms encircled her body lightly at first, as, twisting and pirouetting, they became familiar with each other’s paces. They had always danced well together and soon they were in tune, step by step, movement by movement. The music’s lush strains trembled through her limbs and she lost herself to its rhythms.
Gradually his arms tightened around her and she was acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressing her close. The heady smell of his scent enveloped her as she was held ever more nearly, his face almost bruising her cheek. Carelessly his mouth brushed the top of her hair and without thinking she melted more closely into his embrace. They were dancing now as one, their bodies a rhythmical caress which shocked those who witnessed it. Yet the power of Christabel’s beauty held them spellbound. She looked magnificent, almost otherworldly in her splendour, the green silk of her dress swishing across the floor, little emerald slippers on her feet and that haze of red curls cascading downwards to meet her wonderful white skin.
Her mother, sitting on one of the small gilded chairs reserved for chaperons, looked up and caught her breath in distress. That was surely Richard Veryan!
She had no idea he had returned to England. And Christabel was dancing with him and in a fashion that could only be described as provocative! Richard’s hand was curved around Christabel’s waist and his face so close to hers that he could, if he’d wished, nuzzle and caress the soft skin almost touching his.
And he did wish. He felt his body hard against this woman he’d loved so well. He felt her soft pliable form fusing with his and rejoiced in the sheer physical exultation that was pulsating through him. He could have danced with her all night and then—no, he could not think like that. It was his mission to entice her and the dance must be part of that. His delight in her proximity was something he must not acknowledge.
The music stopped and for a moment they stood dazed. Then he led her back to the row of chairs, every eye in the room upon them.
‘Thank you, Miss Tallis, for a most enjoyable dance,’ he said formally.
‘It was a pleasure, my lord,’ she replied, equally formal.
‘We must waltz more—I hope to see you at Almack’s again very soon.’
‘I fear that is unlikely. I shall not be in London long and I imagine that you will be leaving shortly yourself.’
‘Why are you so sure?’ and he looked over to where Domino was standing, wide-eyed and apprehensive.
‘I beg your pardon, but I thought you would be returning to Cornwall to be with your mother.’ Christabel sounded puzzled.
‘One can return, and return again—if one has something worth coming back for,’ he replied smoothly.
Once more he looked meaningfully across the room at the young girl waiting patiently for his return. Christabel was bewildered. Seemingly he wished her to understand that Domino de Silva was the woman who held his heart, yet just seconds ago he had been dancing with her in so intimate a manner that together they’d shocked the assembled company. They’d danced as one body, man and woman, merged in a sensual unity. She’d felt his warm breath so close she could have reached out and tasted it. And now this.
‘I do believe that finally I have something to come back for,’ he continued, making it impossible to mistake his meaning.
She gathered up all her reserves of dignity and faced him with a studied calm. ‘You are indeed fortunate.’
