by Mary Brendan
‘I’d sooner you didn’t speak of my future husband in that tone,’ Faye retorted; indeed, harmony between them was dispersing now that Peter Collins had been introduced into the conversation.
‘We’ll talk about it later.’ Ryan sounded equally firm as he swung into the saddle of his stallion. Soon he was galloping away, leaving Faye feeling exasperated yet staring longingly after him.
Chapter Fifteen
Following Ryan’s departure that afternoon Faye had immediately brought up the subject of Claire going to Ireland as Ruby’s guest. Her sister’s reaction to the offer had been to jig excitedly. It had taken Faye’s best efforts to persuade Claire that it wasn’t necessary to start packing straight away. The matter had yet to be confirmed with Mr Kavanagh, she’d explained. But Faye had been glad to see Claire in a light-hearted mood after the recent upsets. Her sister had then spent hours sorting through her clothes for a pretty outfit to wear to dine at the manor. It was good to see that Claire was still in high spirits, but the glass of sweet wine she’d been allowed with her dinner seemed to have gone to her head, making her a little too gregarious.
‘Are you feeling rather outnumbered by us ladies, Mr Kavanagh?’ Claire had asked cheekily, just moments ago.
‘My brother likes being surrounded by pretty females,’ Valerie Mornington teased him. ‘Don’t you, Ryan?’
Their host smiled, but said nothing, turning over the music on the piano at which Ruby was seated and playing ‘Greensleeves’ with a modest accomplishment.
‘Do play something else,’ Claire urged as Ruby’s fingers stilled on the keys. ‘You sing remarkably well, too.’
‘Do you think so?’ Ruby beamed. ‘My music teacher judged my voice shrill.’
‘My governess thought I ought to concentrate on painting as I was tone deaf and couldn’t sing or play.’ Claire giggled. ‘But she praised my dancing. Other than that Miss Bates gave up on me the day I turned fifteen, didn’t she, Faye?’
‘Dancing gracefully and painting well are worthy achievements,’ Faye said wryly.
Claire had always preferred to read Gothic novels to set texts and though she could easily calculate how much of her allowance would remain after she’d purchased ribbons and combs, applying herself to her sums for her governess was another matter. From a young age Claire had spoken dreamily of romantic love, even though her own parents had provided little experience of a blissful wedded state. Faye had believed Claire would get her heart’s content: a marriage to a fine gentleman who’d idolise his vivacious bride and take good care of her and their children.
But now things had changed; Claire might have to lower her expectations and rely on reserves of inner strength she’d not yet built. No matter how gay they were this evening, and how much assistance Ryan Kavanagh provided them with, they couldn’t fool themselves that there would be no calamity resulting from Claire’s risky dalliance with a gypsy boy.
‘I love to dance.’ Ruby trotted over to her new friend so they could clasp hands and whirl about together on the carpet.
Faye sipped her wine, watching the lively scene, wondering how she could have ever imagined such an ingénue as Ruby Adair was Ryan Kavanagh’s mistress. Had the idea of it not been introduced by others, she inwardly argued, it wouldn’t have crossed her mind to think so. She took a peep at him as he closed the music book and seated himself on the stool that Ruby had vacated. He began picking out a slow melody with the long supple fingers of one hand. She imagined his mistresses to be charming sophisticates who were well versed in pleasing him, be it by singing or dancing or lovemaking...skills in which she lacked experience. She wondered now...whereas before she never had...if Peter liked the way she responded to him. He’d always wanted more physical passion from her than was possible to give with the children around—even had she felt comfortable with such intimacy. It hadn’t occurred to her before that he might be disappointed with her as a lover, but now the question hovered in her mind.
And she knew why that was; the things that Ryan had done to her, that she’d adored and craved to have again, were what all men wanted to do with women they desired. Peter was to be her husband, yet she only wanted Ryan Kavanagh touching her body in that exquisitely special way...so how could she respond in the way Peter wanted?
‘Have you lived long in the area, Miss Shawcross?’
Ryan’s sister broke into Faye’s torrid reflections with a polite enquiry.
‘I have been in Wilverton all of my life.’ Faye hoped her cheeks were not too flushed as she turned, smiling, to Valerie beside her on the sofa. ‘I was born in the house where I now live.’
‘My brother tells me that your parents have passed on.’
‘My mother died a very long while ago, my father more recently. I miss them both,’ Faye said simply.
Valerie gave an empathetic sigh. ‘Our parents went early, too. Ryan was just twenty-two when he took his birthright. He is a viscount, you know.’
‘I had heard as much,’ Faye replied quietly, glancing from beneath her lashes at his chiselled profile.
On arrival at Valeside Manor she had been made to feel very welcome by their hostess. They had exchanged pleasantries at the dining table, but this was the first chance they’d had for a proper conversation. Faye believed she could come to like Ryan’s sister, given an opportunity to get to know her better. Valerie had thankfully made no mention of their meeting at the White Hart. Faye regretted having jumped to conclusions about Ryan being with a mistress at the inn. She’d never felt jealous wondering what Peter might be up to when not with her. She’d always trusted him and was sure she still did, despite Ryan Kavanagh’s heavy hints that perhaps she should not.
‘It is an Irish title, passed down originally from his grandfather,’ Valerie resumed talking about her paternal ancestry. ‘Our papa would be sad that his son isn’t more proud of the peerage he inherited. If anything, Ryan favours our maternal relations.’
As her brother closed the lid of the piano and stood up Valerie indicated with a shrug that she couldn’t continue with their private talk in his hearing.
Faye watched him absently drumming his long fingers on the piano’s polished top. She knew that he was as aware of her as she was of him and had been all evening, although they had kept a seemly distance from one another and their eyes had only fleetingly grappled. But a moment had been all that was required for her to notice the heat in his eyes as they devoured her face and figure. She had worn the best gown she possessed for her outing to the manor. Though purchased some years ago its classic empire style and fine turquoise silk still suited her as well now as it had then. She had dressed her hair elegantly, with Mrs Gideon’s help, and the loose blonde ringlets swept on her bare shoulders like stroking fingertips. On the last occasion that they had dined together her fiancé had caressed her nape...but it was never his touch she sensed branding her flesh.
‘So, I understand you are engaged to be married, Miss Shawcross.’
‘Oh...indeed...I am. My fiancé is overseas at present,’ Faye replied, shaking herself again from a sensual stupor.
‘He serves in the navy, Ryan tells me. Have you set the date for your wedding?’
‘When Peter returns we will attend to it...perhaps next spring might suit,’ Faye rattled off. ‘Is Mr Mornington at home in Ireland?’ She turned the focus of attention on to her hostess.
‘My husband has taken the children to visit his elder brother in Waterford.’ Valerie sighed. ‘My daughter is quite a madam and not yet twelve. She swore she would not go to her uncle’s and be bored stiff, but I imagine her father persuaded her to do as she was told. He wouldn’t have left her at home with the servants...I hope.’
The ladies watched the two young women cavorting on the rug and their wry smiles spoke for them.
‘Your brother is remarkably tolerant of his boisterous ward,’ Faye said.
‘His ward? Oh, indeed, he adores Ruby.’ Valerie seemed a trifle flustered and reluctant to say more on the subject. ‘The girls seem to have taken a shine to one another, don’t they?’ she burst out. ‘Perhaps I ought to tinkle a sedate tune; it might make them dance a little more prettily.’ Valerie got up to seat herself at the piano.
Ryan had an opportunity to talk to her now the coast was clear, but he remained propped on a fist against the marble mantelpiece. From the moment they had arrived he had been the perfect host, Faye realised, ensuring that they had every comfort.
Dinner had been a wonderful meal the like of which the Shawcross family never tasted any more. When her papa had been alive they might have dined well at Christmas and Easter, but other than that they had eaten modestly. Faye had counted eight courses in all and the manor’s cook had done a fine job, as had the maids who’d served at the table, removing and replacing luxurious crystal and flatware with more wafer-thin china and glass. If anybody believed that Ryan Kavanagh was an ill-bred rogue, they were mistaken. She imagined that he was impressing on her that, gypsy kin or no, he knew how to behave as a viscount...but whether he chose always to do so, was his own concern.
‘Would you like to stroll in the gardens before the light goes, Miss Shawcross?’ Ryan had approached the sofa and extended a hand.
‘Yes...thank you...’ Faye said after a pause that caused his mouth to tug up at a corner. She allowed him to assist her to her feet.
‘I’ll find some cards; perhaps the girls might like to play once they’ve done with wearing out your carpet, Ryan.’ Valerie closed the piano lid and got to her feet to rummage in a bureau drawer.
Faye realised the woman was diplomatically letting them know she’d keep the young ladies out of the way while they had a private talk outside.
The gardens were wonderfully laid out with walks terminating in jasmine-scented arbours and flagged terraces bordered by statuary. As they passed by a rose garden delicate blooms nodded in the mild breeze, perfuming balmy evening air. Ryan threaded Faye’s hand through the crook of his arm and steered them in the direction of a fountain. The spray reached quite a height before falling in diamond-like droplets to run off into a narrow pond flashing with golden fish.
‘You obviously have a very good team of gardeners,’ Faye said to break the ice. The frostiness she’d sensed when they’d parted yesterday hadn’t completely thawed.
‘I brought some of the staff from Dublin with me.’
‘Your cook, too? Dinner was delicious; Mrs Gideon would have approved and she is not one easily pleased.’ Faye slipped her hand free of his arm and turned to face him as they came to a halt with fountain mist cooling their skin.
‘My mother’s cousin cooks for me.’
‘Oh...I see...’
‘She’s a Romany.’
‘I’m sure that Mrs Gideon would be impressed by her skill.’ Faye knew he was watching for her reaction to his abrupt declaration about his gypsy connection through the distaff side. His sister had just told her that he favoured those people over their aristocratic relations. Faye wondered how Valerie got on with her exotic cousins and how her husband did, too.
‘We need to clear the air before your sister travels to Ireland next week.’
‘I hadn’t yet confirmed that she would,’ Faye said with a hint of a smile. ‘But I expect you can guess from her demeanour that she is very happy to accept your kind offer...and so am I.’
The girls were probably even now whispering about what they would do to amuse themselves in Dublin. But the reason for her sister going away at all was not amusing...not one bit...and Faye knew she couldn’t forget that and neither should Claire.
‘That’s one hurdle out of the way,’ Ryan said drily. ‘Now for the rest.’
‘I don’t want you to feel under duress to tell me about your gypsy relations.’
‘None of it is a secret.’
‘What is a secret then, sir?’ Faye asked bluntly. ‘Ruby describes you as her guardian, not her relation. Is she aware of it?’
‘Yes...she knows,’ Ryan replied, gazing into the distance.
‘Have you banned her from mentioning your relationship?’ Faye asked curiously.
‘No, but she believes the tie to be very tenuous. It is not. We are as close as kin can be.’
‘She is your sister?’ Faye ventured. She was aware that she might seem inquisitive, but she was determined to have some relief from puzzles that bedevilled her. Her eyes rose to cling to his intense blue gaze, but as the silence lengthened it seemed he might yet avoid answering her.
‘She is my daughter.’
For a full minute Faye digested that stupefying information. Finally she untied her tongue to utter stiffly, ‘You are married, sir?’
‘No. I’ve never taken a wife, but I’ve had a child with a woman.’
‘I see...’ Faye said faintly and again felt too taken aback to immediately comment further. ‘Where is Ruby’s mother now?’ she eventually blurted. ‘She describes herself as an orphan.’
‘Shona Adair passed away. It is a long and involved story—’ He broke off to drag some fingers through his ebony hair. ‘And possibly this is not the time to discuss it.’
‘When would be?’ Faye returned acerbically.
‘Touché...’ he murmured with equal sour inflection to his voice. ‘You’re right, of course. When would be a good time to tell you that I didn’t know I had fathered a daughter until the child was twelve years old? Or that I believed I had fallen in love and wanted to marry a girl who was deemed unsuitable by my father’s family, and some of my mother’s side as well...’ He grunted a laugh. ‘Perhaps now you can understand why I have been reticent in bringing my past to your notice.’ He shook his head. ‘It is not something I’m proud of and burdening a woman...somebody special like you...with the sordid details of my lechery and lack of judgement...’
‘Viscount Kavanagh! You are needed, my lord, at the house.’
Ryan and Faye swung about to see a manservant bearing down on them looking flustered. The fellow was sprinting in short bursts, then slowing to a walk, attempting to retain some dignity and restrain his flapping coat tails.
Ryan strode to meet him and they commenced talking in low urgent tones.
Worried though she was about what might have occurred, Faye cursed in a rather unladylike way that they had again been interrupted. She had heard extraordinary news and she knew that she would have got a fuller explanation...albeit a shocking one...had they been left alone for a short while longer.
Ryan approached Faye, grim faced. ‘It seems that Donagh Lee has turned up and is threatening violence if he’s not allowed to see your sister.’
That dreadful news drove every other thought from Faye’s head. She rushed forward, but Ryan caught her arms, holding her back from headlong flight to the house.
‘Hush...calm yourself, Faye. I will deal with him.’
‘I feared this would happen!’ she cried in a suffocated voice. ‘The scandal will not go away and will follow her everywhere...even to London next year.’
‘It will not if we manage the situation correctly.’ Ryan brushed a finger along her flushed cheek to soothe her. ‘I will get rid of Donagh, but then I think it would be best if Valerie accompanies the girls to Ireland without further delay. Donagh might return. The more fuss he makes the more likely it will be that his behaviour starts people prying.’
Faye nodded vigorously. ‘You are right; she must be taken away from here immediately. The threat to her future is enormous.’
‘And what of your future? Your fiancé doesn’t know about any of this, does he?’
Faye winced and shook her head, then started towards the house. She knew what he meant by asking that pointed question. And he was right in thinking that if Peter found out about what had gone o
n he would be rightly furious.
Chapter Sixteen
Two footmen had linked arms to bar Donagh from entering the house, but as the youth noticed Ryan he pelted down the steps to confront him.
‘I’m not frightened of you. You might be Ruby’s guardian, but you’re not Claire’s.’ He pointed a threatening finger. ‘If she’ll still have me, then I will marry her. And good riddance to you and to my father. I’m not going to let him treat me like a boy. I’m a man and can manage without him telling me what to do.’ Donagh pulled some money from a pocket and threw it on the ground. ‘There...you’ve not paid me off even if my father took your pieces of silver.’
‘I think you’re short by quite some amount.’ Ryan cast a jaundiced eye on the coins on the gravel.
Donagh turned red. ‘I’ll get every penny of it to you, don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried. The deal was done and that was the end of it.’ Ryan sounded cool and very calm.
‘Not as far as I’m concerned.’ Donagh turned a hungry look on the house. ‘My father doesn’t speak for me. I still want her.’
Faye groaned beneath her breath on seeing her sister and Ruby watching the spectacle from the drawing-room window.
‘It is finished.’ Faye hurried up to join forces with Ryan. ‘I am Claire’s guardian and I would not consent to her marrying you.’ She felt sorry for the youth; Claire should not have encouraged him in the first place, giving him false hope of being his wife. ‘I’m sorry for all the upset,’ Faye added quietly. ‘But you must accept that it is all over now.’
‘Pick up your money,’ Ryan said quite kindly. ‘Get back to your father before he finds out what you’ve done.’ He knew that Bill Lee would never have sanctioned his son breaking the gypsy code. They were hard, but just, people and once money changed hands that was it. Donagh would be punished if his disobedience were known.
A faint shout reached them and Faye pivoted about to see Mr Gideon flicking the reins over Daisy’s back as he rattled along at speed on the cart.
