When he had stepped through the door and seen two staggeringly beautiful young women rolling around on the floor he had been nonplussed. He was still at a loss to know what they had been doing and could only surmise they had taken a tumble. That was extraordinary enough, but for them both to ignore his presence and run away laughing at him, beggared belief.
He knew himself to be a formidable man, over the years there had been many an opponent who had lived to regret being on the wrong side of his anger. Yet the older girl, in spite of being well aware of his rage, had been unmoved.
His lips twitched as he recalled her luminous green eyes, her russet curls tumbling around her neck in disarray and the prettiest pair of ankles he'd seen in a long time. His anger was trickling away; maybe there was an amusing side to the incident if one looked hard enough.
The door opened and the butler stepped in. 'Lady Isabelle to see you, my lord.'
He turned and a statuesque woman with the same green eyes, but grey locks instead of chestnut, studied him and found him wanting. His chest tightened. His anger flooded back, but somehow he found the presence of mind to bow deeply.
'Atherton, this was badly done on your part. Sit down, if you please, we have much to discuss.' No pleasantries, no greeting, just a wave of an elegant hand towards a chair. He was tempted to snarl a reply and walk out.
'This is not the time to stand on your high horse, my lord, kindly take a seat and stop glaring at me.'
He did as he was bid, feeling more like a recalcitrant schoolboy than a respected member of his Majesty's Government and a peer of the realm. He folded his arms, stretched out his legs and stared at the toes of his immaculate boots as if examining them for dirt.
The silence stretched and after several minutes he raised his head to find the remarkable old lady watching him with amusement in her eyes. His cheeks coloured. He had behaved appallingly, he was famous for his diplomacy but had let his equally notorious temper overcome his common sense.
'Lady Isabelle, I most humbly beg your pardon. I have not lost my temper since I was a young man and there is no excuse for my incivility.' This time he stood and bowed deeply.
'Apology accepted, young man. Let us forget the incident, we have more pressing matters to discuss. Now, I wish to assure you that my niece did not have my approval for her actions. She has always been headstrong, my brother-in-law was a weak man and allowed her too much rein.' She chuckled and gestured towards the wall.
'Would you be so kind as to summon Foster? I think we could both do with a strong cup of coffee to calm our nerves.'
Perry walked across to tug the strap. What he needed was a very large brandy, but he'd already given a disastrous impression of his capabilities and demanding strong alcohol so early in the day would not improve his image. For some reason he wished to regain the respect of this redoubtable lady.
The refreshments arrived and she was right, the bitter aromatic taste of the coffee restored his equanimity and he was ready to listen to whatever Lady Isabelle had to tell him.
'Perhaps, my lady, it would be politic for me to explain my position?'
She nodded and so he continued. 'I cannot understand why Miss Ellison should have taken me in dislike. We have never met, and I cannot imagine she has heard ill of me from any of her acquaintances. I merely requested that she and Miss Jane join my mother and sisters at my estate in Chelmsford.'
She chuckled. 'I expect you ordered rather than requested?'
'What is the difference? I am not one for flowery language, I am the girls' legal guardian and they are obliged to do as I bid. I will brook no disobedience from any member of my family.' As soon as he completed the sentence he realised what an ass he sounded. He smiled and finally understood what all the fuss was about.
'Am I to understand that Miss Ellison does not take kindly to the curb? That if I approach her more gently I am more likely to get a favourable response?'
'Exactly, my lord. I understand my oldest niece perfectly. I see myself at her age and know just how I would have reacted if some perfect stranger had started issuing dictates.'
'How then, Lady Isabelle, do you suggest I persuade my wards to follow my instructions?'
'It is far too late for that, I am afraid. I think it would be better if you left them in my charge, we can
live here and you can call in whenever you wish to check that they are behaving themselves in accordance with your wishes.'
Perry was about to refuse, but hesitated. Was this such a bad idea? If he insisted they moved to Chelmsford he would be obliged to visit regularly to see they were not leading his sisters astray. He shuddered at the thought. Duty visits at Christmas and Easter were more than enough. When his family came to him in Town he could escape to his club, he had no such bolt hole at Highfield Hall. This way he could keep an eye on them and continue to live the life he chose. His own house was only about fifteen minutes’ walk away in Grosvenor Square.
'I think that is an excellent solution, my lady. However, I shall need to speak to both girls before I leave. I'm sure you understand that matters cannot be left as they are between us.'
'In which case, I shall leave you here and go up and fetch them.' She paused as if carefully selecting her next words. 'My nieces are intelligent and spirited young women, not like the simpering debutantes you might have come across in Town. If you treat them with respect I can promise you that you will deal famously.'
He watched her sail from the room and knew he had been warned. If there was one thing he disliked above all others it was being told what to do. His eyes flashed and his mouth thinned. If Lady Isabelle thought he was going to allow two provincial chits to dictate to him, she was very much mistaken.
Chapter Three
Lady Isabelle swept into the sitting room without pausing to announce herself causing Sarah to leap to her feet expecting to be confronted by Lord Atherton. Greatly relieved to find it was her great aunt, she relaxed. 'Aunt Isabelle, is something wrong? You look somewhat flustered.'
'And well I might, young lady, as I have just spent fifteen minutes in the company of your guardian. He wishes to see you both immediately.'
More orders! 'I shall not go down, I shall send a message saying I have the headache. The wretched man is too fond of issuing commands.'
'I think we should go down, Sarah. We have treated him abominably and whether we like it or not, he has the law on his side and could make our lives wretched if he chose to do so.'
'The voice of reason, Jane, as always. I shall compromise. Am I not always open to discussion?' She ignored the derisive snort from her great aunt. 'I shall go down and speak to him, but you shall stay behind. I'll not have him berating you about something that is none of your doing. I shall apologise prettily and that will be the end of the matter.'
'Very well. My headache has come back and I fear I am getting on my megrims. I shall send Mary to fetch me a tisane and retire to bed.'
Sarah's face softened and she hurried to her sister's side. 'You should have told me, I am so sorry. I shall tell Lord Atherton you are unwell. Now, is my gown creased or my hair in disarray?'
Assured by both ladies that she was looking charming, she headed for the small drawing-room and in spite of her bravado could not help but feel a trifle apprehensive.
As she dithered outside the door she wished she'd had the foresight to ask Mary to accompany her. He might be her guardian, but he was still an eligible bachelor and even from the little she'd glimpsed of him she could not help noticing he was a decidedly handsome man, if a trifle brooding for her taste.
She preferred a fair gentleman, not someone with heavy brows and slate-grey eyes that bored into a person in a most uncomfortable way. If Aunt Isabelle had sent her down to speak to him unchaperoned she must suppose it was acceptable for Atherton to be alone with her as he was, so to speak, in loco parentis.
However, she would leave the door wide open just in case. She smiled at her wild imaginings; he was far more likely to wring her
neck than wish to ravish her.
She straightened her spine, pleased for once that she was unbecomingly tall. Being able to stare into his face, and not into his stock, would be a definite advantage. She was about to knock on the door when she recalled she was entering a room in her own house. He had got her so bamboozled she was behaving like the veriest nincompoop.
Grasping the handle, she pushed the door open with more force than she had intended and to her horror it slammed noisily against the wall causing Lord Atherton to tip his coffee down his immaculate buff unmentionables. Sarah's instinct was to turn and flee but something, she wasn't sure what, held her on the spot. She braced herself for the onslaught of his rage.
To her astonishment he put down the cup and bowed formally. She curtsied, almost losing her balance her knees were shaking so. He didn't attempt to take her hand to raise her, for which she was grateful. If he'd touched her he would have known instantly that she was trembling.
She faced him nervously; he was neither smiling nor scowling. 'Shall we be seated my lord, or do you intend to berate me whilst I stand?'
'Berate you? Why in the world should I wish to do so, I wonder?' His voice was as dark as his complexion, but she thought she detected a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Ignoring his opening gambit she busied herself finding a suitable chair and settling on it. This gave her valuable time to regain her composure.
Raising her head she found, to her consternation, he was sitting astride a chair no more than an arm's length from her, his head resting on his folded arms. So close she could smell an intriguing mix of leather and lemons. She felt herself colouring under his scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably on her seat. This would not do. She had not come downstairs to be treated like a naughty schoolgirl. She was a woman grown and he had no right… her thoughts faltered. 'Well, Miss Ellison, where shall I begin?'
Sarah presumed this was a rhetorical question so didn't answer. She saw his eyes narrow in annoyance and knew she had made another blunder. 'I think that I should begin, my lord, by apologising…'
Her words dried in her throat. Why was he staring at her in that particular way?
'Yes? Pray, do continue. For what of the many misdemeanours you have committed, are you actually apologising?'
He was toying with her, deliberately goading her and she didn't like it one bit. She felt her temper rising and tried to push it down. Now was not the time for argument, but for reconciliation. She swallowed twice.
'I wish to apologise for choosing to come to London and live in my own house, suitably chaperoned, and visit museums and listen to lectures rather than go and live with your family in Chelmsford.'
This was not what she had intended to say, the words hand come out of their own volition and she saw his hands clench. He was no longer relaxed, but tense. This was going to be a disaster, what could she do to smooth him down? Aunt Isabelle always said it helped to defuse an awkward situation if you changed the subject.
'My lord, should I pour you another cup of coffee, I believe you spilt….'
His hands shot out and he grasped her upper arms in a vicelike grip. For a moment things hung in the balance and she thanked God that he had chosen to sit backwards on the chair. If he had been free to move she truly believed he would have lifted her from her seat and then what he would have done, she had no idea.
In all her life no one had ever offered her anything but affection and even when she had misbehaved, she was never punished. As long as she had apologised prettily the matter was immediately forgotten by her parents.
'Release me this instant. You are hurting my arms.' He opened his fingers and she scrambled to her feet. He moved the chair to one side and towered above her. Whatever she had been going to say she forgot. He was so large and so incredibly angry. She raised her hand and placed it on his chest intending to push him away.
Her fingers felt red hot, as if she had placed her hand in the fire. She tried to snatch it back but too late, his hand was over hers, holding it clamped hard against his body.
*
Perry heard light footsteps approaching the door and turned to face it waiting for the knock. When nothing happened after a minute or two he decided he must have been mistaken and relaxed again, picking up his discarded coffee cup and saucer.
The door slammed open and his arm jerked sending coffee down his new breeches. His glance flicked up and saw a look of such horror on the face of Miss Ellison that he swallowed his pithy retort. With admirable aplomb, he thought, he replaced his cup and saucer and bowed formally. His iron self-control was rewarded by an elegant curtsy which gave him ample time to admire his eldest ward.
She indicated a chair and suggested they be seated if he was intending to berate her. He could see she was quivering like a leaf and he admired her courage. This was going to be an interesting encounter. Whilst she fussed about he selected a plain wooden chair and swung it round to straddle it. He folded his arms, rested his chin on his hands, and waited.
Her shock at finding him so close was evident by the way her cheeks suffused with pink. He was beginning to enjoy himself. He made his first verbal attack and waited for her reply. When none was forthcoming he felt a flash of anger and was surprised that she'd read his mood so easily. He saw her gather her wits and he was ready with his response.
Nothing less than a grovelling apology and a promise to follow his instructions to the letter in future would satisfy him. Instead, he got a clever riposte that left him feeling foolish. This would end now. No schoolroom miss was going to treat him so cavalierly and leave the encounter unscathed. When she mentioned the coffee his control snapped, forgetting he was trapped by the back of his chair he took hold of her arms intending to pull her to her feet and shake some respect into her.
'Release me this instant. You are hurting my arms.'
Disgusted by his brutality he dropped his hands and kicked the chair aside. The girl was pale and there was the glint of tears in her eyes. He was ashamed. Then she raised her hand and placed it on his chest. He could feel the weight of her palm through his waistcoat and something extraordinary happened.
It was as if lightning flickered between them. Before she could remove her hand he trapped it against his heart. He inhaled her sweet scent, brushed his mouth across her shining hair and then sanity returned. Devil take it! What was he thinking of? He was behaving like a greenhorn, not a man of maturity and common sense. Gently he released her and stepped away.
'Miss Ellison, it is I who must humbly beg your pardon. I have behaved like a brute, I have no excuse and can only offer my apologies once more.'
*
'My lord, let us be done with these apologies. This has been a disastrous beginning. I shall go out and when I return we must pretend it is the first time we have met and put this behind us.'
Her pulse was still erratic, her fingers tingled where they had been in contact with his waistcoat, she was surprised her voice had emerged at all. She didn't dare raise her head and meet his gaze. 'Miss Ellison, I am yours to command.'
At this total fabrication her head shot up to meet his eyes. He was staring earnestly down at her, his hands clasped theatrically at his heart, his eyes brimming with laughter.
Suddenly enjoying the badinage, she nodded like a schoolmistress. 'In that case, sir, I demand that you order some fresh coffee and plum cake. I shall return presently.'
She tossed her head and stalked out and could hear him chuckling behind her. She continued her march to the window seat at the end of the passageway and then collapsed, not sure if she was exhilarated or terrified by Lord Atherton.
It took her several minutes to regain her equilibrium. When her breathing returned to normal she decided to return to the drawing room. She stood and shook out her gown, checked her hair hadn't come out of its elaborate arrangement, and was ready.
This time the door was open and she glided in, her lips smiling, but her fingers clenched in the folds of her skirt. The room was empty. There was a fresh tray of coffee o
n the octagonal side table and several slices of Cook's delicious cake, but Lord Atherton was absent.
Mystified and strangely disappointed, she resumed her place by the table and poured herself a cup. She was munching happily when he strolled back in. Drat the man! She could hardly spit out her mouthful in order to greet him civilly so was obliged to continue chewing.
He grinned at her discomfiture. 'That cake sounds delicious. Shall I pour myself some coffee?'
She nodded, wanting to spit the contents of her mouth on to his immaculate unmentionables. She knew now where he'd been - to remove the coffee stain. She swallowed and was finally free to speak. 'Please allow me to serve you, my lord. This is my home after all.'
'A hit direct, my dear. However, I thought we were no longer at daggers drawn but here to converse in a calm and sociable fashion?'
'Indeed we are, sir. May I say how delighted I am to make your acquaintance?'
His lips twitched. 'You may say it, but we both know it to be untrue.'
It was her turn to slop her coffee. 'Now look what you've made me do. I shall have to change before…. ' Her voice faltered as she saw his eyebrows raise quizzically.
What could have possessed her to mention something so indelicate as removing her gown? Mortified she couldn't bring herself to look at him again. She felt a movement and the cup was taken from her shaking hand and she heard it being returned to the tray.
'Look at me, my dear, I should not tease you. I wish to be your friend and I am making a mull of it.'
The gentleness in his voice reassured her and she raised her head. It was as if a different gentleman sat before her. This man was no longer formidable, he was smiling and relaxed, his eyes kind. There was an unfamiliar skip of her pulse and she closed her eyes believing she was unwell.
'Come, Miss Ellison, surely I am not such an ogre that you cannot bear to rest your eyes on me?'
'No, I am feeling a little poorly. My sister has gone to bed with a sick headache, I am afraid that we both suffer in this way.'
The Lords & Ladies Box Set Page 28
