Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Oh, what a lovely room, Mrs Edwards,’ she enthused with delight.

  ‘You will see it offers a splendid view of the park. It also faces south and has an abundant supply of sunshine—especially during the summer months.’

  A fresh-faced young woman with dark curls escaping from beneath a mob cap appeared from what Lucy would find out was a dressing room. She bobbed a respectful curtsy, her face split with a broad smile. Lucy thought she was probably just a little older than herself.

  ‘This is Ruby. She is to be your maid while you are here.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Ruby. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.’

  * * *

  Later, having taken great care over her appearance, Lucy entered the dining room, nervous about meeting Christopher’s grandfather.

  The Duke of Rockwood, tall and silver haired, possessed a commanding presence. He had the poise and regal bearing of a man who had lived a thoroughly privileged life. He looked cool and contained in his charcoal-grey suit and pristine white stock. She saw at once that Christopher bore a striking resemblance to him. A chandelier suspended above the table filled the room with flickering light, reflecting the large, ornate silver pieces set on the mahogany sideboard, where the two gentlemen stood drinking wine.

  Breaking off his discussion with his grandfather, Christopher placed his glass on the sideboard and came to meet her, his eyes warm with admiration as they swept over her. Taking into account that she was in mourning, but reluctant to wear black, she had settled on a plain dark blue gown to wear with a high neck, which made her look prim and proper. Apart from her face and slender hands not an inch of flesh was exposed. In the soft light her face was like a cameo, all hollows and shadows. There was a purity about her, something so endearingly young and innocent that reminded Christopher of a sparrow.

  ‘You look lovely, Lucy,’ he said, taking her hand and drawing her towards his grandfather.

  ‘I do hope I’m not late.’

  ‘No, and try not to look so nervous. Grandfather, may I introduce Miss Lucy Walsh.’

  Lucy dropped a graceful curtsy, aware that the Duke’s eyes were studying her with an unnerving intensity.

  ‘This is a most unexpected pleasure. I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Walsh, and welcome you to Rockwood Park. I hope that the rooms are to your liking?’

  Lucy smiled. There was an unmistakable nobility etched on his features, but the light grey eyes held a kindness that instantly eased her tension. ‘They are, thank you, Your Grace,’ she said, taking the glass of wine Christopher handed to her. ‘Rockwood Park is a beautiful house.’

  ‘I think so, too—but then I am an old man and allowed to be biased. I suppose we who live here are inclined to take it all for granted.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘Christopher has told me a little of your situation and that you are from Louisiana?’

  ‘Yes—between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. My father sent me to England for my education.’

  ‘I imagine that was a wrench—to leave your home.’

  ‘It was. When my mother died, my father thought it would be for the best for me to receive an English education. I haven’t been back to Louisiana since.’

  ‘I offer my heartfelt sympathies for your loss. It must have come as a shock, losing your father like that.’

  ‘Yes, it was. I wish I had been with him. I am just sad that I didn’t see him one last time.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Now come and meet Amelia,’ Christopher said, taking her arm and escorting her to where a young woman sat on a sofa. She rose when Lucy approached and bobbed a small curtsy.

  Amelia was older than Lucy, but looked the younger of the two. She looked very young, in fact, and very shy and there was a nervous, lost look about her.

  ‘Amelia, this is Miss Walsh,’ Christopher said, ‘the young lady I told you about. She is to stay with us for a few days.’

  ‘How do you do, Miss Walsh,’ Amelia said. ‘I am so happy to meet you.’

  The words were spoken as though she had rehearsed them many times. Knowing what she did about her, Lucy felt sorry for her and understood Christopher’s need to protect her.

  Lucy smiled at her. ‘I am well and delighted to meet you, too.’

  Amelia was very pretty with a clear, creamy complexion and large soulful brown eyes. Her dark hair was her crowning glory.

  ‘Now come and sit down,’ Christopher said. ‘The food is ready to be served. It’s been a long time since you’ve eaten. You must be hungry.’

  He pulled out her chair at the damask-covered table decorated with orchids from Rockwood Park’s hothouse. Lucy slipped into it, taking a sip of wine while taking in the grandeur of the room. The long table shone with silver and crystal ware and up above was a magnificent stuccoed ceiling. Gilt-framed paintings of hunting scenes adorned the walls and the white marble mantelpiece was supported by Roman figures.

  It was a simple, lovely meal, excellently cooked and served by the aloof footmen who came and went. Unfortunately, having little appetite, Lucy was unable to do it justice and toyed with her food, too nervous to eat. Her stomach was all aflutter.

  ‘You must eat something,’ Christopher urged. ‘You will do none of us any good if you die of starvation—and the cook is extremely temperamental and takes it as a personal criticism if anyone refuses to eat.’

  ‘Then I will endeavour to do the food justice, but really, Christopher, you are beginning to behave like a mother hen,’ she said and even as she spoke she scooped some trout with her fork and methodically consumed the rest of it with an unconscious grace under his watchful eye.

  Christopher and his grandfather talked amiably about Rockwood Park and the surrounding countryside, giving Lucy a brief insight of the people who lived and worked in and around the village of Rockwood, just one mile from the house.

  * * *

  As soon as Amelia had finished her dessert she expressed her wish to retire. ‘You will come and talk to me over the coming days, won’t you?’ she said to Lucy as Christopher stood up to escort her from the room.

  ‘Of course. I would be delighted.’ Amelia smiled and Lucy was pleased because she could see that the apprehension she had clearly felt on meeting her was already receding. After a few minutes Lucy followed Amelia.

  ‘Would you like some coffee before you leave?’ the Duke asked.

  ‘No—thank you. I’m rather tired and coffee might keep me awake.’

  ‘I would very much like to show you around, Miss Walsh,’ the Duke said, having risen from his chair and placed his napkin on the table. ‘It would give me great pleasure to have you join me in my carriage—and,’ he added, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ‘it will give the neighbourhood something to gossip about. It’s a long time since I entertained such a charming young lady.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘I would like that. Thank you.’

  Christopher accompanied her to the door, opening it for her. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nightcap before you retire? Can I not tempt you?’

  Meeting his gaze, his heavy lids half veiling those gleaming silver-grey eyes, she felt her flesh grow warm from his nearness and the look in his eyes, which had grown darker and was far too bold to allow even a small measure of comfort. The impact of his closeness and potent masculine virility was making her feel altogether too vulnerable.

  ‘No—thank you. Perhaps another night.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Seeing the uncertainties of innocence in her gaze, telling Christopher that the sudden panic he saw there was not in the least feigned, he smiled. ‘I hope you sleep well. I must warn you that I have been told that the old timbers creak and groan, so don’t be alarmed if you hear anything untoward during the night.’

  Lucy felt a sudden quiver run through her as she slipped away from him, a sudden quickening within as if something came to lif
e, something that had been asleep before. She went up the stairs in awed bewilderment, feeling his eyes burning holes into her back as she went.

  * * *

  Lucy had been eager to be taken by the Duke on a grand tour of the Rockwood estate. When she had suggested that Amelia accompanied them, she’d been pleased when she appeared to welcome the outing. Lucy often sat with Amelia. Sometimes they would walk in the garden. There was a camaraderie between them, probably because of their similar backgrounds. They talked of things in general—about America mainly. Often Amelia would laugh, which was something Lucy thought she didn’t do very often. They never mentioned what had befallen them at Mr Barrington’s hands. It was like an unspoken rule between them. Lucy was moved by the care the Duke showed his granddaughter and that he was all attentive concern.

  He reigned supreme over the surrounding villages. The Wildings were the most important family in the neighbourhood, the benefactors on whom so many depended. People stood respectfully at the side of the road while the carriage, emblazoned with the majestic Rockwood arms, drove past, the men touching their forelocks and the women bobbing their deferential curtsies. The land around the house was extensive and stretched as far as the eye could see, with fields and forests and a lake stocked with fish.

  But it was the times she was with Christopher that she enjoyed the most when he drove her in the carriage. It was clear to her that he loved his ancestral home. Today was a lovely summer’s day and she felt at ease. He was relaxed and fell into reminiscing about his early life and the sadness that the rift between his father and grandfather had caused both himself and Amelia.

  ‘They never became reconciled which I deeply regret,’ he said, unable to hide the aching wound he could not entirely disguise, though his face remained in stoic lines. His defences had been honed to grim perfection over the years. ‘It’s a consolation knowing that my father had a good life and that my grandfather produced a son to be proud of despite their differences.’

  ‘That is very sad,’ Lucy said sympathetically. ‘I imagine something died in your grandfather at his separation from his son.’

  ‘Where my father was concerned, I believe what he did was for the best—for myself there were times when it was difficult, torn between the two, which was the case when I came to England for my education. Grandfather knew he had made a grievous mistake and tried to make amends, to sow the seeds of forgiveness, but it was too late. I know that if he could undo what he did all those years ago he would do it. He’s spent many sleepless nights worrying about Rockwood Park—even more so recently as he’s got older and his health continues to fail. His hope was that where I was concerned and knowing I was torn between my loyalty to my parents and my grandfather, in time he would gain my respect, if not my forgiveness.’

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Christopher, but I suspect he has your respect—and I have observed when the two of you are together how fond you are of him.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes—he has both.’ He laughed softy. ‘I was born with the same proud arrogance and indomitable will as all the Wilding men who have gone before—so it took some time, I admit. I always knew what he expected of me, but like my father I fought against it—for different reasons. I felt that to accept my inheritance I would in some way be betraying my father—and my mother, who was the gentlest of women. When I returned to Charleston I didn’t see my grandfather again until after my father died. He knows how losing my parents so close together and what happened to Amelia affected me. He could not have been more supportive.’

  ‘And Amelia? How did he take what happened to her?’

  He fell silent for a moment, deep in thought, and then he said, ‘He was upset—and angry. He insisted that I brought her here to heal her wounds. He has become fond of Amelia—spends time with her. He could not have been more understanding.’

  Lucy’s heart squeezed with sympathy. ‘Yes. They seem close.’

  ‘He knows that to some extent I blame myself for what happened. He has told me that it was not my fault that Amelia attempted to take her own life, but I know she would never have become involved with Barrington had I not been at sea.’

  ‘What happened to your sister was a tragedy, but it was not your fault, Christopher. That is too heavy a burden for you to bear. You should not punish yourself.’

  ‘That’s easy to say. I still hold myself responsible.’ He smiled across at her. ‘I’m a complicated person, Lucy, and it takes an exceptional woman to understand me.’

  Lucy felt a lump of constricting sorrow in her chest, deeply moved by what he had revealed to her, which went a long way to helping her understand Christopher and the demons inside his mind. She saw the pain in his eyes and her whole heart went out to him. He needed someone to love—and someone to love him unconditionally in return. Whoever that woman turned out to be, she hoped he would learn to love because only then would he be released from the past.

  * * *

  Determined that Christopher, who had spent many years at sea, would be well prepared to step into his shoes when he was gone and knowing that running an estate the size of Rockwood Park was all so new to him, the Duke was teaching him all there was to know about the estate and the many business ventures he was involved with. Fortunately Christopher had a good head for figures and finance and he developed a passion for the land and Rockwood Park.

  Determined to know all there was to know, he poured over the ledgers and accounts most nights into the early hours. It took a large staff to run Rockwood Park and they were all devoted to the Duke, who was well loved. He felt a huge responsibility to them all.

  * * *

  Having been ensconced in the study with his grandfather and his lawyer, going over family business, legalities, documents to be drawn up, signing papers and having explained to him what would be expected of him in the future, with the business of the day concluded to everyone’s satisfaction, he glanced through the window, saw Lucy strolling alone in the gardens and excused himself.

  As Christopher stepped out on to the terrace she seemed to sense his presence and looked towards him. He smiled as he feasted his eyes on her and, stepping down from the terrace, strode towards where she stood. The gardens were a summer paradise, the flowers and shrubs alive with colour. Christopher sensed as he watched her breathe the potpourri of wonderful scents all about her that she was deeply affected by the beauty of the garden and the feelings that the house were unfolding within her.

  Attired in a plain charcoal-grey mourning dress, the starkness of it emphasised the perfect oval of her lovely face. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. The morning sunlight shimmered on her glorious wealth of hair and warmed the delicate creaminess of her features.

  He had appeared too suddenly for her to prepare herself, so the heady surge of pleasure she experienced on seeing him was clearly evident, stamped like an unbidden confession on her lovely face. For the time it took him to reach her they held each other with their eyes, savouring the moment, aware of the powerful current that fizzed between them.

  ‘Christopher! I did not expect you.’

  ‘The meeting ended sooner than I expected. I saw you from the window so I thought I’d join you.’

  ‘The gardens are so beautiful I couldn’t resist coming outside to explore,’ she said as they strolled along a winding path that ended at a stone summer house on a rise, built there so anyone inside could take in the wonderful vista. There was a light summer breeze and her skirts billowed about her leg. There was also the scent of mown grass and somewhere not far away a cow lowed. Lucy was content to walk beside Christopher and feel his warmth and strength, his body lean and long, moving slowly in long, lazy strides. ‘This place is beautiful, magical. You must be proud of your ancestors.’

  He grinned. ‘I am, but we did have our share of sinners along the way—it might be better not to enquire. Although in a family such as ours, we know something of those w
ho went before. People are all different. Those who appear so virtuous often have their secrets.’

  ‘And I suppose villains might possess a little goodness.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘It’s so peaceful here.’

  ‘It wasn’t always so. My father used to talk of all kinds of entertaining, of brilliant balls and elegant banquets and hunting parties.’

  ‘It must have been exciting. Will you be able to put your adventuring behind you to spend your days running an estate and lead a placid life?’

  ‘I hope so. I do not take my position for granted, I assure you. I had to do a lot of soul searching before I came here. I cannot escape the fact that I have my roots firmly fixed in the past and it is obligatory in the family to carry on. I fully understand and appreciate how the fortune of birth has given me all the opportunities and physical comforts of life, enabling me to choose which path to take, but I find I have to shoulder responsibilities I never thought to have. I’m not comfortable with them. I wasn’t raised to the task. But I mean to make the best of it.’

  ‘I can see how fortunate you have been. And now you have a place in the world. You know what it is and where you belong. That is a very comforting thing. I can comprehend how it feels to have roots that tie you to a place and give you purpose. That is how I feel about Aspendale. Whether I go back or remain in England, it will always be my home.’

  Her sudden intensity startled Christopher. She was clearly a person of deep feeling. ‘That was how my father felt. He grew up here and it was a terrible wrench to him when he left mainly because it had always been his home. But he always felt stifled by it all. From an early age he was made aware of family obligations. He had been brought up to regard them as all important.’