A Sense of Belonging (Perceptions Book 1)

by Wendy Soliman

  Emma felt relieved that he had not confided any particular interest to her and treated the subject as lightly as she had. ‘It is as good a place as any to start.’

  ‘Then perhaps that is what I shall do.’ He frowned. ‘But what if the lady who interests me doesn’t have a mother?’

  ‘Ah, I see your point. Well, in that case, I suppose you’d best turn to her closest female relation. It is fortunate that you don’t have designs upon me, Alvin—’

  ‘What makes you suppose that I do not?’ he asked, fixing her with a probing look that caused her insides to liquify.

  A deep blush sufficed her cheeks. ‘We are old friends.’

  He quirked a brow, teasing her. Well, she thought he was simply teasing, although her ability to think coherently deserted her when he looked at her with such profound interest.

  ‘And friends cannot marry?’

  ‘I did not raise the subject in the expectation of drawing attention to myself, which is just as well, since Grandmamma, with her flamboyant clothing and outrageous stories designed to shock, is my only older example.’

  Alvin laughed. ‘I hold your grandmother in great affection, and I can assure you that her stories do not shock me. In fact, if any of your suitors are offended by them then they are spineless individuals not worthy of your regard.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you. I shall remember that.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, standing when the wind picked up and Emma shivered, ‘charming though this discussion is, I can see that you are cold. Besides, it looks as though the rest of the party has gone inside. We had best return to the house as well.’

  He took her hand to help her stand, but instead of releasing it once she was on her feet, he briefly brushed his lips across her knuckles, causing shivers of awareness to vibrate through her body.

  ‘You have grown up, quite without my noticing,’ he said in a musing tone, ‘before now.’

  He released her hand, took her elbow and steered her onto the path back to the house. Neither of them said another word, but Emma instinctively knew that she had just lived through a defining moment, and that knowledge gave her hope.

  *

  Luke left the terrace as soon as the treasure hunt came to an end and took refuge in his library. He threw himself into the chair behind his desk, resisting the urge to resort to whisky. It didn’t matter to him how Miss Latimer chose to behave, he reminded himself. If she had arranged matters so that she could enjoy a private assignation with Carlton in the pavilion it was absolutely no business of his. He was, however, surprised by her duplicity, which he supposed accounted for his vile temper. He admired her outspokenness and quick understanding of Carlton’s character. And yet she had somehow separated the man she claimed to dislike and disapprove of from his sister during the course of the treasure hunt and then flaunted herself in front of him.

  He shook his head, changed his mind about the whisky and stood to pour himself a substantial measure. Still on his feet, he took a swig, savouring the peaty taste as the single malt slid smoothly down his throat and waited for it to calm him. Miss Latimer’s behaviour was a timely reminder that women could not be trusted. They said one thing when they meant something else entirely. Damn it, she knew the cove had dishonourable intentions towards her, yet she had still consented to be alone with him! He clenched one hand into a fist and thumped it against his thigh, angry and upset for no apparent reason.

  Clearly, this particular example of feminine contradictions had taken the opportunity to exploit her newfound freedom to the maximum. He had thought her sensible, yet her independence had obviously gone to her head. Draining his drink in one impatient swallow, he considered a refill, wondering why the matter of Miss Latimer’s behaviour was taking such a major place in his thoughts when he had far more important problems to wrestle with. Problems that reflected directly upon his own immediate future and wellbeing. It was not as though she could have a detrimental influence over his grandmother. That lady was already beyond redemption. But even she had waited to be respectably married and had done her duty by her husband before setting about the destruction of her reputation.

  Paul gave two familiar raps on the door and let himself into the room.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, frowning at Luke’s venomous expression and taking a step backwards.

  ‘Will this interminable party never end?’ Luke replied, refilling his glass and indicating to Paul that he should help himself. His friend did so and raised his own glass in a mock salute.

  ‘Only a couple more days. Of course, there’s the ball on the final night to get through.’ Paul grinned as he took the chair beside the one that Luke had thrown himself into in front of the fireplace. ‘All eyes will be on you. You realise, of course, that whoever you waltz with will assume that she is the chosen one.’

  Luke grunted. ‘Perhaps I’ll sprain an ankle.’

  Paul chuckled. ‘Very wise. Anyway,’ he added, pausing to savour his drink with a greater degree of restraint than Luke had thus far demonstrated, ‘I have news regarding Miss Carlton’s spy. I asked Woodley to watch Miss Carlton’s maid, since I assumed that whatever information she received had been passed on from the servants’ hall.’

  ‘And was it?’

  ‘So it seems. The girl who attends Miss Carlton was caught in close conversation with an upstairs maid earlier today. Mrs Kemp spoke to the maid,’ he said, referring to Luke’s housekeeper. ‘She has not been employed here for long—the upstairs maid, that is. She broke down and admitted that she had been passing on gossip to Miss Carlton’s maid. She has an elderly mother who is unwell, apparently, and needed the extra money to pay for her care.’

  Luke shook his head. ‘She has broken my strictest, my only unconditional rule and will have to lose her position, if only as an example to others. I am sorry about her mother, but I am not an unreasonable employer and would have helped her, had she explained her predicament. Have Mrs Kemp ensure that she is given a good reference and paid until the end of the quarter. That’s all I can do for her.’

  ‘I thought you would say that. I’ll attend to it.’

  ‘Where’s Alvin? He usually joins us about now for a restorative whisky.’

  ‘I noticed him walking round the lake with Emma.’ Luke flexed a brow but made no response. This was the second occasion that Luke knew of upon which his friend had singled out his sister. He wondered if he should read anything into it but decided it would take too much effort. Besides, he knew how uncomfortable it was to be the subject of unsubstantiated speculation. If Alvin had taken a serious interest in Emma, he would tell Luke in his own time. ‘And talking of Emma, she has done an exceptional job this week thus far. I hope you have told her how impressed you are by her efforts.’

  ‘Not yet, but I will.’

  As though aware that Luke had asked after him, Alvin joined them at that point and also helped himself to the single malt.

  ‘Your sister tells me that you have taken against Miss Latimer,’ he said by way of greeting.

  Luke’s brow was exercised once more. ‘What has she said to Emma?’ he asked, more sharply than had been his intention, causing his friends to exchange a look.

  ‘Nothing, to the best of my knowledge, but Emma has eyes in her head. She said you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife when you finished the treasure hunt and came face to face with Miss Latimer.’

  ‘She has disappointed me, if you must know.’

  ‘How?’ Paul asked.

  ‘I came across her and Carlton alone in the pavilion.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Alvin asked, perplexed. ‘Emma tells me that Mary had to leave the hunt because she was overcome by heat exhaustion.’ Luke hadn’t known that. He wondered if it was the truth or if Carlton had become too persistent and she had used it as an excuse to get away from him. In which case, Miss Latimer had likely facilitated her withdrawal. But that did not explain her prolonged sojourn with Carlton once Mary had gone and anyway, Luke was in no mood to give
her the benefit of the doubt. ‘Perhaps your Miss Latimer…well, I don’t know. She was a referee. Perhaps she intervened when she knew Mary was unwell and explained to Carlton that he would have to withdraw,’ Alvin added, giving credence to Luke’s speculative thoughts.

  ‘It didn’t look that way to me,’ Luke said, refusing to be mollified. ‘What I saw through the window looked very cosy and intimate.’

  ‘Just because you are not feeling intimately inclined towards any of the ladies here,’ Alvin said, ‘it doesn’t follow that Miss Latimer should restrain herself also. I dare say it was nothing more than a relatively innocent kiss. How could it have been, with treasure hunters all over the place, likely to intrude upon them at any moment? I don’t understand what all the fuss is about, but if you feel she somehow overstepped the mark, have a word with her. She might not live up to her father’s impossible expectations, but she doesn’t seem like the fast type to me, either. I dare say she can explain herself and satisfy your concerns.’

  ‘I agree,’ Paul said. ‘She is the first companion who has come close to controlling your grandmother and bringing her out of herself. You wouldn’t want to lose her over some silly misunderstanding.’

  ‘You’re right, I suppose,’ Luke said, making a massive effort to shake off his fit of the blue devils. ‘Anyway,’ he added, draining his glass and standing. ‘I suppose we had better all change for dinner.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Flora thought the evening would never end. Dinner seemed especially interminable. The countess, revived after a days’ rest and relieved now of much of the pain in her hands, even if she wouldn’t admit it, was in excellent form. She regaled the table with outrageous and exaggerated tales of her misspent youth. Flora felt the full force of Lord Swindon’s displeasure every time he glanced in her direction, which he did with disconcerting regularity, seemingly determined to unsettle her with a show of brooding disapproval. She was astonished that the whole room couldn’t sense his dark mood and wonder why it was focused upon Flora.

  ‘What have you done to upset my grandson?’ the countess asked in a quiet aside, as though reading Flora’s mind.

  ‘I doubt whether his displeasure is focused upon me,’ Flora said, crossing her fingers beneath the table to negate the lie. ‘I just happen to be in his line of sight. Besides, he can hardly glower at any of the guests.’

  ‘But why does he want to glower at all?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? The time has almost come for him to declare himself to Miss Carlton, or whoever he had decided to make his countess, and he isn’t happy about it.’ She lifted one shoulder, still feeling very daring to have bared them. But since every lady at the table adopted that fashion, she would have stood out more if she did not. ‘Since he pays my salary, I suppose he feels he has the right to frown at me as much as he wishes.’

  ‘The silly boy had better not declare himself!’ the countess said loud enough to be overheard by those closest to them. Several heads turned in their direction and the old lady had the presence of mind to lower her voice before speaking again. ‘I shall have something to say on the matter if he throws himself on his sword, so to speak, out of some sort of foolish sense of familial responsibility. He doesn’t need to rush into anything. There is still plenty of time.’

  ‘He will disappoint most of the young women at this table.’

  The countess flapped a hand. ‘They will recover and turn their collective attention to more willing victims. I have seen it all before.’

  ‘How many heads did you turn, ma’am?’ Flora asked with a mischievous smile.

  ‘More than enough, never you mind. I’ve had my day and enjoyed myself royally.’ She chuckled. ‘Quite literally. Luke will know when the time is right for him.’

  ‘Then I hope you have told him so. If you wait until he has made a girl an offer, always assuming that he does, then it will be too late for him to renege.’

  ‘Hmm, you’re right. I will send for him in the morning and we will have a frank discussion.’

  Since the countess was in a talkative mood that evening, Flora was required to pay attention to her. Even so, she was acutely aware of Carlton, seated two places down from her on the opposite side of the table, frequently sending her speaking looks that made her skin crawl. He was goading her, she realised, hoping she would look for an opportunity to get him alone and take him to task, no doubt. Well, she might be naïve but she was not stupid. He could enjoy himself at her expense as much as he liked. It would make no difference to her and she would not be taken in by him again.

  When not amusing himself by provoking Flora, he seemed intent upon charming the lady on his right, Miss Vaughn, whom he had escorted through to the dining room. Emma had given her a rundown on the circumstances of all the aspirants for her brother’s hand. Miss Vaughn came from a well-off family and was reputed to have a substantial dowry, which explained Carlton’s sudden interest in her. He seemed desperate, increasing Flora’s curiosity about his burning need for a wealthy wife. She felt uneasy whenever she recalled that overheard conversation with his cousin. But still, she couldn’t protect Miss Vaughn and would probably not be thanked for her interference if she attempted it.

  The ladies withdrew, and since the countess wasn’t tired, Flora was unable to escape to her room. There were to be charades when the gentlemen joined them, but no one seemed to have much enthusiasm for the prospect. An air of despondency descended upon the ladies and the conversation was desultory. Miss Carlton looked especially peeved and snapped at Miss Wood when she made some remark about the morrow’s ball.

  ‘Her true colours are already showing,’ the countess said with a satisfied smile. ‘I am never wrong about people, and that one only wants Luke for his fortune.’

  The gentlemen joined them and the games commenced. The countess was a lively participant, making everyone laugh with her extravagant acting. The earl sat back and observed, as Flora did, but everyone else eventually entered into the spirit of things. Flora sensed the malevolence emanating from Carlton when Miss Vaughn’s chaperone prevented him from getting close to her once the games started. Another opportunity squandered, from his perspective. Carlton amused himself by attempting to pull Flora into the games, incorrectly assuming that she would comply rather than draw attention to herself. He realised his mistake and frowned at her when she declined with the minimum of civility.

  By the time the evening came to an end and she had passed the countess into Sandwell’s care, Flora had a thumping headache. She washed quickly and slipped between the sheets, but although she was physically exhausted, her mind refused to shut down and sleep was a long time coming.

  Dawn arrived too quickly. With her head still pounding, she decided that a brisk walk might help to clear the residue of pain. It did not, and she resigned herself to another long day, culminating in the ball which would likely go on into the wee small hours. Emma had arranged for the ladies to go into Swindon in a procession of carriages that day. Some of the gentlemen would accompany them, leaving the earl’s servants free to make the preparations for the ball. She guessed that the earl would not join the excursion. The countess intended to rest for most of the day so that she would have enough energy to attend the ball, leaving Flora free to join the expedition.

  Anything would be better than moping around the estate and running the risk of encountering a disapproving earl, she decided, even though she had little enthusiasm and no money to spare for the fripperies the ladies required to complete their ballroom attire. If she couldn’t avoid Lord Swindon, she might very well lose patience with him and give him a piece of her mind. Thus far, he had not demanded any explanation from her, or told her that her services were no longer required, but he had managed to make his disappointment in her abundantly clear in a hundred small and hurtful ways.

  She thought of the stiff and formal letter she had received from her mother that morning in response to her own missive, assuring her family of her safe arrival and warm welcome. Her mother�
��s response implied disappointment—presumably they had hoped that her reception would be cool enough to send her running back home. Mama mention that Mr Bolton frequently enquired about her, thereby offering an olive branch that she didn’t have the first intention of grasping. She would endure anything, including undeserved disapproval from a man she had begun to respect, in preference to returning to that situation.

  Thus, an hour later, she found herself in a carriage with Mary, Miss Wood and Miss Vaughn. Emma insisted that she could not be spared from supervising the preparations but insisted that Mary and Flora go. As their carriage moved off at the head of the procession, it didn’t escape Flora’s notice that with the exception of Miss Wood, the rest of those in occupation of it had at one time or another this past week been the focus of Carlton’s interest. It clearly struck that gentleman as amusing. He had been riding beside his cousin’s carriage directly behind theirs but spurred his horse forward until he came up alongside and tipped his hat at them, an amused smile playing about his lips.

  ‘Ladies,’ he said, perfectly politely. ‘A lovely day for it.’

  Mary shuddered. Flora pretended not to see him and did not acknowledge his presence. Miss Vaughn, for whom his civility had probably been intended, rewarded him with a wide smile.

  ‘Mama says he is not to be trusted,’ she said in a confidential whisper when he had fallen back again. ‘But I think he is very dashing and I have no intention of discouraging his attentions. I like him and see no harm in him.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Mary said, sending Flora a worried glance.

  ‘Well,’ Miss Vaughn said,’ we shall enjoy our visit to the haberdasher’s and see what the evening brings.’ She giggled. ‘Balls offer all sorts of opportunities for private conversations…and more intimate exchanges. They are always so crowded and Mama does not have eyes in the back of her head, much as she might think otherwise.’