by Anne Herries
Walking up the stairs, Samantha was conscious that her host stood at the bottom watching her, as if to catch her should she stumble and fall. Now why should he do that? She smiled over her foolish fancy and resisted the temptation to look back, even when she reached the top.
‘How long will you be staying, miss?’ the maid asked as she paused in front of the bedroom door. ‘It is unusual for us to have female guests. His lordship only ever brings gentlemen home.’
Poor Eleanor, thought Samantha but merely nodded. ‘I believe his lordship has been away in the army for some years?’
‘Since he was a young man and fell out with his father,’ Annie said and then blushed. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, should I – but it’s the truth. The old man…well he was a bit of a tarter. Mrs Brown was Cook here then and she said he used to beat his son and never hardly spoke a word to his daughter. They’re better off without him if you ask me.’
Samantha hadn’t asked her but forbore to say so since she was learning some very interesting things.
‘Why did they quarrel, do you know?’
‘Something to do with a young woman I’ve heard folk say, though I don’t know for sure, miss. I wasn’t working here then. I only came after his lordship returned from the war – but Mrs Brown is my Granny’s best friend and we have a cup of tea in the kitchen for old time’s’ sake now and then. She likes to talk about the old days, but some things she won’t say even if I ask.’
Samantha was quite sorry when her room was reached. However, it was such a pretty room, the colours of greens, blues and white very much to her taste and she gave a cry of pleasure.
‘This is lovely.’ She crossed to the window. ‘What a beautiful view.’
Through the window there was a panoramic view across some charming cottage gardens with flowers, roses and herb beds to a distant vista of a lake with trees in the background.
It’s the best in the house, miss. They say it was intended for…the old lord was to marry again, I’ve been told, but then he took ill and died. It was refurbished special for the bride but she never came here.’
‘How sad,’ Samantha said. ‘He must have cared for her to furnish it with so much style.’
‘Yes, miss,’ Annie said. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to settle in then…unless there’s something more I can do, miss?’
‘I can manage now, thank you.’
She went away, a little reluctantly it seemed. Samantha smiled, because she had learned more from Annie’s talkative tongue than from Eleanor in the all the time she’d known her.
She wondered if there was some mystery about the bride who had never seen the room that had been so thoughtfully prepared for her, but then dismissed the thought as improbable. It was just a rather sad story and one that she did not think she would have heard from Eleanor or her brother.
In his own room, Robert wondered why he had asked that Samantha Merlin should be given that particular room. It was the most recently refurbished room in the house and therefore their best guestroom, but it had never been intended as such. Indeed, it had been intended for a bride – but the wedding had never taken place.
Robert cursed as the painful memory reared its head. He did not wish to think of Marianne, the cause of the rift between himself and his father. Lord Brough had never particularly loved his children, or his wife for that matter. When Robert thought of the way his mother had been treated at times he was angry; she had been forced to accept a man fifteen years her senior, a man who had wanted her until she had given him two children, and thereafter, taken a string of mistresses.
Marianne had been his last mistress and, when Lord Brough had decided he was ready to marry again, he had announced that he would marry her. Unable to accept that his father would put a woman who had caused his mother pain in the last years of her life, Robert had lost his temper and told him that he would never set foot in the house while that woman lived here. He had been told that his presence was not required in no uncertain terms and left with the breach between them unhealed. Marianne’s subsequent death had been a shock and left Robert feeling guilty somehow.
He had never been able to explain to his father that one of the reasons he had objected to the marriage was that Marianne had offered her services to him just a few days previously. She was, she’d told him, laughing, tired of being an old man’s pet and wanted a young and virile lover. Revolted and disgusted, he had not spared her his thoughts and so unfavourable were they that she had been furious, lurching at him suddenly and trying to mark his face. Robert had prevented her, leaving her to spit and vent her fury by throwing a heavy object at the door that closed after him. He could not be certain, of course, but he believed that she had teased his father into a proposal of marriage to spite him.
None of which explained why he had given Samantha that room, especially as it was part of the master suite, which he had had refurbished for himself after he came home. It was the only suite of rooms in the house suitable for the lord and his wife to share and connected through a dressing room, an elegant parlour and another dressing room. Designed to be a sumptuous but private apartment for the lord and lady of the house, it took up most of the upper floor in the west wing.
Robert still had the room he’d occupied as a boy and he could of course have removed to his old chamber, but as yet he had made no decision concerning his sleeping arrangements while Samantha Merlin was in the house. The door between the private parlour and his dressing room would remain locked, naturally. Her modesty would not be at risk from him!
The room Samantha was occupying had been refurbished to a high standard and never yet used. When Robert married, which in time he must, his bride would choose colours and furnishings to her taste. A waste perhaps when some of the other rooms needed attention, but a bride could not be expected to use a room decorated for another woman.
Glancing in the oval dressing mirror, Robert brushed his hair back; it had been cut in a style that was short, practical and, when he ran his fingers through it looked windswept as it was meant to be – a fashion set by the London dandies and all the rage. Noticing a grey hair at his temple, he pinched it between his fingers and pulled it out.
Now why had he done that? Robert grimaced at his image. He was nine and twenty, his thirtieth birthday in a few days time. Did he look older? War took its toll. He had seen men age overnight after a battle, and there were memories that would haunt him all his life. If he took a wife she must be a woman of some experience, for a young debutante would not suit him. He feared he was too serious for a very young lady.
It occurred to him then that Samantha Merlin might be exactly what he needed in a wife…now where had that thought come from?
Robert shook his head. Now he was being ridiculous. He could not deny that he desired her to the degree that every time he saw her his mind filled with erotic pictures. It was natural enough that a red-blooded male should feel passion for a beautiful woman, which she undoubtedly was, and with her hair down very sensual…but marriage? Nonsense! He could not understand himself for he was never like this. In the past he had considered his affairs before approaching the lady of his choice and he had always been in complete control of his emotions.
Damn it, lust was well enough – but to be thinking of marriage to a woman who was irresponsible and…once again the picture of Samantha lying in his arms and reaching up to pull his head down to hers flashed into his mind, distracting his thoughts.
He must be bewitched. There was no other way to explain the way his body and mind were behaving.
Annoyed with himself for giving into his imagination, Robert set his mind on other things. He had business to discuss with his agents and if that failed he would take a swim in the lake, which was always freezing cold even in the middle of summer.
Samantha looked out of her bedroom window. In the distance the lake shimmered in the early morning sunshine. It was going to be a beautiful day. She had asked for her breakfast to be brought up early, because after the painfu
l experience at dinner the previous evening she had not wanted to sit down with Lord Brough too early in the day. He had sat tight-lipped throughout the meal despite all her efforts to make pleasant conversation. Eleanor had begun well enough but grown quieter as the evening progressed and ate hardly anything. By the time they left Robert to his port the girl had been almost in tears.
‘I told you how it would be,’ she said to Samantha when they were alone. ‘He is determined to make me suffer.’
‘Perhaps it is me he wishes to punish,’ Samantha suggested. ‘He did compliment you on your gown, Eleanor.’
‘Oh, it is the same as before Papa died,’ Eleanor said. ‘I used to dread dining with him after Robert left – and now…’ A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘He will forbid me to marry for years I know he will.’
‘I am sure he will not.’
Samantha had tried to comfort her but Eleanor had shook her head, claimed a headache and gone up to her bed before her brother came into the parlour. When he did he’d glared at Samantha.
‘Where is my sister?’
‘She had a headache and went to bed. What do you expect when you treat her to such a display of coldness?’
He’d actually looked surprised. ‘What are you saying? I did no such thing.’
‘You hardly spoke to either of us,’ Samantha replied. ‘While I understand that you blame me for the situation, your sister is hurt by your behaviour. It is exactly as her father behaved to her after you left to join the army.’
‘I am not like my father…’ Robert glared at her. ‘She would be locked in her room on bread and water if he had been the master here.’
‘That might even be preferable to being given the silent treatment.’
‘I was not punishing anyone…I was thinking…’
‘Then I pity your family when you marry. They will live in fear of displeasing you and never know whether you are in a good mood or a bad one.’
‘Damn you, madam. Who gave you permission to lecture me…?’ Robert swore and then reached out, dragging her into his arms. Before Samantha could react or protest, he had kissed her – so fiercely that she felt her lips bruised and pushed him away violently.
‘Sir, I think you forget yourself. I am a guest in your house and unmarried.’
For a moment he’d stared at her with something like bewilderment in his eyes; then he turned, walked from the room and slammed the door behind him.
Samantha waited a few minutes before going up to her room. She closed and locked the door, pressing her fingers to lips that still bore the imprint of his kiss. Why had he done that? Was it a form of punishment?
Trembling, she’d walked to her bed and sat down on the edge, feeling uncertain. A part of her told her that she should flee now while she could, but another part resisted. She would not desert Eleanor. Robert Brough was a brute and needed to be taught a lesson.
Which she could not do hiding in her chamber. In the morning, she would take a walk as far as the lake to compose herself and then she would beard the lion in his den. Robert Brough must understand that his behaviour was not acceptable.
Robert woke and groaned as he felt the hammers at work in his head. After slamming out of the parlour the previous evening, he had taken refuge in his library, where he had finished a decanter of brandy and fallen asleep on the sofa. His back ached, his neck felt stiff and he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. What on earth had driven him to kiss her like that – as if she were to be punished rather than cherished and loved?
Leaving the library, he was on his way upstairs to his room when he changed his mind and turned, a determined gleam in his eyes as he left the house and set out in the direction of the lake. If ever a man was in need of a cold swim it was he and it was now.
He walked briskly through the pretty gardens, seeing only the picture of a woman’s shocked face. Once he began to cross the expanse of green that led to the lake, he broke into a run. Robert needed physical release and the thought of that cold water was beckoning.
Stripping off his clothes, he plunged naked into the water. It was icy and took his breath away. He struck out for the island in the middle and began to feel better, his mind clearing. Robert was a strong swimmer and reached the wooded island easily. He climbed out and stood looking back towards the house. From here it was impressive, a charming picture and the place in which he wanted to spend his life…but he needed a wife to share it with him.
Robert admitted that he was tired of living alone. After that quarrel with his father he had tended to think of women as being schemers and unnecessary, except for certain moments in bed – but now, suddenly, as if the icy water had washed his mind clean, he understood that some women were different.
Of course he had always known that; his mother had been a beautiful gentle lady, but somehow he had forgotten. In the heat of war with the stench of blood lingering in his nostrils, he had sometimes sought a pair of soft arms to hold him through the night, but they had meant nothing to him, though some were kind enough.
He’d tried to dismiss his feelings for Samantha Merlin as being bewitched, but now he saw that they were far more. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman – but it was more than lust. He wanted her to smile at him, to hear her laugh when he talked to her of something he found amusing…to see her eyes light up with welcome when she saw him.
Had he really terrified his sister, making her cry? Were his silences really so terrible that Eleanor thought of him as being like their father? Robert did not like to see himself as a cold tyrant. Surely he had not become a cold heartless monster?
He could not deny he had a temper but as a rule he relented as soon as it was over. Last evening he had not even been thinking of Eleanor…it was Samantha who had occupied his thoughts and made him brood. He had he realised now, been fighting the truth, ignoring what his heart was telling him. It was quite ridiculous. She was irresponsible and…no, she was beautiful, enchanting and it was his fault that Eleanor had run away, because he’d informed her she would make her come out with Aunt Grace without consulting her wishes.
He must apologise to Eleanor, explain that he had no objection to her marriage, perhaps after her birthday – providing he was satisfied that Toby Brockleton was able to provide for her. Robert felt that he might like the young man once they had talked properly, and even if he didn’t, he was Eleanor’s choice and why should he deny her happiness?
Plunging back into the icy water, he stuck out for the spot where he had left his clothes. Face down in the water, his thoughts elsewhere, he was unaware that a young woman had come to the edge of the lake and was watching him…
Samantha shaded her eyes and looked at the water. Someone was swimming strongly. At first she was not sure who it was but as he came closer she knew that it was Robert Brough. She hesitated, knowing that she ought to walk on and leave him to his swim, but for some reason she did not quite understand she could not move.
He had reached the shore and was standing now. Goodness, had he taken all his clothes off? She gasped as he walked out of the water and stood shaking his head. For a moment he stood still as beautiful and perfectly formed as the marble statue of a Roman god she had once seen in a museum.
How beautiful he was! Samantha could not take her eyes from him, even though she was aware that she was being both immodest and rude – and then he suddenly turned his head and saw her. She felt the colour wash into her face, though there was sufficient distance between them for him not to be able to see her change colour. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a rush of shame. She should have respected his privacy. How angry he would be!
Then, incredibly, he inclined his head to her, reached down leisurely and began to dress as if he were unobserved. She could not be certain but she thought he was smiling, amused. Feeling embarrassed, she turned and walked away, leaving him to finish dressing in private – which was what she ought to have done at once.
What would he think of her?’
Robe
rt walked back to the house. He was torn between amusement and frustration. Samantha had looked at him, seeming fascinated by the fact that he was naked…but perhaps she was merely shocked because it was the first time she had seen a naked man. He could only hope that she would not have formed a disgust of him. After his behaviour the previous night, she might pack her bags and leave instantly. He hoped she would not.
He returned to the house and entered by a back door, using the servants’ stairs to gain access to his bedroom. Robert did not wish to embarrass Samantha yet again and it might be best to avoid her for a few hours.
After shaving and changing into clean clothes, he went out and ordered his horse to be saddled. He would visit a few neighbours and issue some dinner invitations to friends. If they had company Eleanor and Samantha might feel more comfortable, even if Robert lapsed into thoughtful silence. When he returned he would seek out his sister and talk to her, but in the meantime he would give Samantha time to recover her composure.
Hearing the knock at her door, Samantha drew a deep breath. Had Robert Brough come to tell her that he no longer required her presence here? She had behaved despicably and was thoroughly ashamed.
Opening the door, she was relieved to see Eleanor. Her former pupil was looking a little subdued.
‘Are you ready to come down?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night. I was very silly to run away like that. I know that I must behave properly or Robert will think I am a foolish schoolgirl and refuse to let us marry.’
‘Your brother told me he was not angry with you, only thoughtful. He says he is not like your father.’
‘Of course he isn’t,’ Eleanor said. ‘Robert gets angry but he doesn’t usually sulk for days on end. Papa would sometimes go into himself and hardly notice me for weeks at a time. I know Robert isn’t like him but I do hate it when he looks at me as if I have disappointed him.’
