His brow arched, his mesmerising lips quirking at the corners. His eyes, deep blue, intent and oddly challenging held hers. ‘It seems the natural place to start to undermine your defences.’
Victoria felt her nerves vibrate to the deep tone of his voice, whilst her heart turned over and her senses sharpened as she registered his words. The most extraordinary things were happening to her. She was buoyed up, excited, filled with energy and confidence and also aware of an entirely new sensation in the depths of her body—a warmth, a quickening, that reached outwards to every corner of herself, and at the same time as she wondered at it she knew precisely what it was. She struggled to regain her wits, to utter some sharp retort, but could think of nothing to say. She lowered her gaze, suddenly shy of him.
‘I—I must return to my mother,’ she said softly, a little smile parting her lips. ‘I’ve been away too long as it is.’
‘Of course.’ He looked down at her, giving her a distracted smile, his white teeth flashing from between parted lips. ‘You are a strange creature, Victoria Lewis. As pretty as an English rose, with a mind as sharp as the thorns that protect it.’ He took the hand not holding the uneaten orange. ‘You are,’ he murmured, raising her knuckles and brushing them lightly with his lips, ‘the most outrageously lovely young woman I have seen in a long time.’
Releasing her, he gently touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. But the reward that outshone any touch was his smile. It was rarely given, much anticipated and treasured. It was a light curve of the lips, an ironic smile, if not lacking in joy. But it was his and, to Victoria’s surprise, she loved it.
She left him then and the steps that took her back to the house were lighter than they had been. A little smile curved her lips and her eyes were aglow as she reflected on her strange encounter. To say she wasn’t affected by it was a huge understatement. It had left her confused and lightly shaken. In fact, the whole incident had been incredible for her.
Looking ahead, she saw a woman walking towards her. On recognition the smile faded from her lips and she felt a sudden irritation. The woman was Clara Ellingham.
Miss Ellingham was dressed in a coral-silk gown and a matching wide-brimmed hat, which all seemed rather overstated for an informal visit to one’s neighbour, but considering her intense greed for Lord Rockford’s attention, one could hardly expect a less flamboyant arrival. Possessed of the inbuilt, unshakeable assurance Victoria so admired and envied inherent in the upper class, to her annoyance Victoria knew she was creased and dishevelled, having spent most of the night and morning in her mother’s room, and was therefore at a disadvantage.
Clara came to a halt. Her cold appraisal swept over Victoria. Victoria saw an experienced woman of the world, at ease with men and determined in her goals, while Clara viewed a young, exquisitely beautiful girl barely attaining that full blossom of youth that she herself would soon be yielding.
‘So it is you,’ she remarked when she was close. ‘When Nathan told me Laurence had given houseroom to the daughter of a servant who used to work for his family, I might have known it would be you. You are nothing but an ambitious schemer, a trickster who has wheedled her way into this house on some pretext or other.’
Taken wholly by surprise at the intended insult, Victoria’s eyes opened wide. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh, it’s airs and graces now, is it?’ she sneered. ‘I saw you just now. I saw you making up to him.’ Having witnessed Laurence kissing her hand, she seethed to think this nobody shared some secret with Laurence. ‘How very touching. You appear to have your feet well and truly under the table, don’t you? But don’t think it will last, because it won’t. Nathan was right to insist that Laurence should make you leave. You have no place here. Do you hear me?’
‘It’s difficult not to. You have a most unladylike habit of shouting.’
‘How dare you accuse me of being unladylike! Don’t think for one minute that Laurence is interested in you. He took you in like he would any stray—because your mother left him with little choice.’
Clara Ellingham was taunting her, but Victoria was determined not to let her get under her skin and arouse her to an expression of her personal feelings. Although she felt like she’d been felled and was frozen to a slender sliver of steel, she merely smiled and lifted her eyebrows in pretended surprise. ‘Your cutting remarks are wasted. They will make no difference to the situation so you might as well save your breath.’
Clara studied her with unhidden scorn, and when she spoke her voice was low and intense. ‘I know Laurence—indeed, we have known each other for many years, Miss Lewis. We are friends—good friends,’ she informed her, placing strong emphasis on the last two words. ‘We have an understanding, so I warn you to have a care. You are an attractive woman, I grant you, and living in such close proximity with each other, I can imagine Laurence might be tempted by you. When he sees something he wants, he takes it with the same dispassionate logic with which he approaches his business transactions. So if he does succumb to temptation, do not imagine for one minute it is you he wants.’
‘I think you are running ahead of yourself, Miss Ellingham—and you insult both me and Lord Rockford. I am not practised in the subtle arts of conniving and scheming the way you are.’
‘Think what you like, but take care. I won’t forget this. You are an outsider, not of Laurence’s class. You will never make yourself acceptable no matter how hard you try. I intend to be his wife and I will not let you stand in my way.’
‘I am not a threat to you, Miss Ellingham. You are seeing things that do not exist.’
Clara smiled thinly. ‘I hope for your sake that is so. Nathan doesn’t want you here. He and Laurence have always been close. Your being at Stonegrave Hall is causing a rift between them that may never heal. What kind of game are you playing to set brother against brother in this way? If you have any conscience at all, you will leave.’
Victoria was more disturbed and disconcerted by their conversation than she cared to admit. She had been demoted abruptly from being Laurence’s friend to being someone who had no business to be with him, no part of his world. ‘Excuse me. You may not be aware of it, but my mother is very ill. I must get back to her.’
‘Yes, go, but when she’s dead make sure you leave here and don’t come back. Be warned. Laurence is mine and I do not take kindly to anyone taking what is mine.’
Victoria merely raised her chin and turned away, refusing to allow this woman to provoke her. ‘Goodbye, Miss Ellingham. I can’t say that it has been a pleasure meeting you again.’
* * *
Despite her hostile encounter with Miss Ellingham, Victoria had left the garden with a warm feeling inside her, strangely affected by what had transpired between her and Lord Rockford and how she was beginning to see him in a different light. But as she sat by her mother’s bed, alone with her thoughts, she realised it was not only an awareness of him that Lord Rockford had awakened in her, but of herself.
She burned with the memory of his lips on her fingers and the brush of his thumb on her mouth. When she closed her eyes, she could still see in every vivid detail his darkly handsome face, and mentally traced its outline with her fingertips.
Recollecting her thoughts, she was half-ashamed and vowed she must try harder to ponder the error of her ways, while struggling against her desire for the bold Lord Rockford. The train of her thoughts had begun to unnerve her. His demonstration in the garden proved he did not lack the power to rob her of her wits and better judgement. So whatever thread of connection had existed between them in the garden, she must sever it. It would be for the best.
* * *
Clara’s visit took Laurence completely by surprise. Living in the same house as his brother and her sister, Clara would know of Nathan’s visit and what had transpired, so Laurence was aware of what had prompted her visit. She directed several snide c
omments about Victoria’s presence at the Hall, but she dared not challenge him outright.
‘Is it not bad enough to have the mother at the Hall without having to tolerate her daughter as well?’ Clara had remarked waspishly.
She eyed him provocatively, but, smiling blandly, he refused to rise to the bait and instead cut her visit short by informing her he had important matters to attend to.
Affronted by his curt dismissal, Clara left.
* * *
Laurence had made it a practice to visit Betty’s room at least once a day. Victoria was always with her and Betty was nearly always asleep. Although he kept their meetings brief and impersonal, he found himself nevertheless looking forward to them. On one such occasion, he observed Victoria, sensitive to her mother’s needs, rise from her chair to comfort her. He looked away—to see such deep connection between a mother and child awoke a particular grief of his own.
Laurence learned the pain of his own mother’s indifference was only lying dormant—suddenly, when he was most unaware, the sight of this closeness between Betty and her daughter would open up the old wound again, piercing his fragile soul.
He slipped out of the room. Raising her head, Victoria saw him leave. Sensing his sadness, she went after him, finding him in the hall where he stood staring into the flames with a preoccupied, brooding look on his face, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets.
She hesitated, for at that moment he looked as remote and forbidding as a rock. He looked so hard and so alone. His expression was closed and guarded, his mouth a firm, unsmiling line. Then he turned and saw her standing there. He stared at her as she approached with cautious steps. As she saw the stony look in his eyes, a small corner of her heart despaired. No matter how hard she tried, she would probably never really reach him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t wish to intrude—but—when you left the room you looked upset.’
‘I’m not upset. Merely beset with memories—being with you and your mother—seeing how close you are.’
‘However it looks now, it hasn’t always been like that. For the first time in my life, my mother needs me.’
‘And your father? Did he need you?’
‘Yes, he did. My parents weren’t always—close,’ she confessed quietly. ‘There were times when my mother was so preoccupied with her private thoughts that he often wondered if he existed for her at all. He pretended not to notice, but I know it hurt him dreadfully. His work and I were his purpose in life and both of us were happy.’
‘He was lucky.’ He turned his head to stare into the flames. ‘He had you.’
Victoria watched him, her heart aching, sensing all had not been well between Lord Rockford and his father. She moved to stand beside him. ‘Your father had you and your brother,’ she said softly. ‘Do you resemble either of your parents?’
Whenever anyone else asked about his parents, Laurence changed the subject, but Victoria asked about them in a manner that didn’t feel like prying. He believed dwelling on the past and revisiting the pain would make his sorrow worse. Today, with Victoria, he wanted to share it.
‘No, I look like my paternal grandfather. Both my parents were fair.’
‘Then your brother must take after them.’
He nudged a log further into the fire with the toe of his boot. ‘He resembled our father. Nathan was a gentle boy. He looked like an angel. No one could resist him.’
‘You said you looked like your grandfather. Are you like him in other ways?’
He shook his head. ‘No, thankfully not. He lived a profligate life—reckless, a gambler and a womaniser. He lived each day of his life as if he were indestructible and accountable to no one. He and my father didn’t get on. Because I looked like him, my father thought I was in danger of turning out like him.’
‘But you haven’t,’ Victoria said quietly.
He shook his head, his face hardening, and his tone when he spoke was bitter. ‘No, and he worked me so damned hard to make sure I didn’t.’
Having no wish to pry into his private thoughts, Victoria excused herself and turned away.
‘Miss Lewis.’ Pausing, she looked back at him. ‘Dine with me tonight,’ he said suddenly.
His invitation took Victoria completely by surprise. ‘Why—I—I don’t think that would be appropriate...’
‘Please. Some company would be nice.’
‘Then—yes, yes, thank you. That is—if I am able to leave my mother.’
Laurence watched her go. He couldn’t ignore her, although he was sorely tempted to try, because she was forcing him to recognise and reflect on all the things he had missed in his life and the things that were going to be lacking for all time.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? And yet who could blame him? There was something about her, a beauty not just of her face, but in her heart and soul. It shone from her and when he looked at her he recognised it. She was completely unaware of it, of her loveliness, of the glow that shone from her and that was what was so special about her.
For the rest of the day Laurence avoided all thoughts of her as he immersed himself in his work, but as his valet laid out his clothes for the evening, he found himself looking forward to dining with his house guest more than he could remember anticipating a meal in a long time.
* * *
Betty’s condition took a turn for the worse. After a particular severe bout of coughing that left her struggling for breath, she opened her eyes and stared at Victoria for a long moment, drawing her into focus.
‘Victoria—there—is something I must tell you...’ She needed to pause frequently for breath. Her speech was halting. Her physical collapse was making everything difficult for her.
‘Not now, Mother,’ Victoria said gently, taking her hand. ‘You are very ill. You must rest.’
‘No, there is something you should know...’ Her head fell back against the pillows, her eyes closed and her lashes glistening with tears. Victoria held her restless hands and stooped to kiss her hot forehead.
‘Does it have something to do with my father?’
She shook her head.
‘Then anything else is not important. Now take your laudanum and sleep.’ She fed her the medicine from a spoon, gently wiping her blood-spattered lips.
‘But I must tell you...’ Betty’s voice was very weak—it pulled from her in a raspy whisper. ‘I—am afraid of what others might tell you. Don’t think bad things of me—I was so in love...’
‘Yes, Mother. I know. And my father loved you dearly.’
Betty’s eyes met her daughter’s. ‘No, Victoria—not with your dear, sweet father—always so patient—so understanding. He deserved better than me. All these years—oh, such a terrible secret.’ She suddenly opened her eyes wide and clutched Victoria with both hands. ‘I have to tell you.’
‘Please don’t do this now.’
‘But—the old master—he—he... He and I...I did the worst thing a woman can do.’
Victoria tilted a brow in confusion. Was her mother yielding to delusions? What had old Lord Rockford to do with her mother? A bad feeling began to stir. ‘Not you, Mother. You are not a bad person.’
Betty took in a deep breath. ‘I never meant to hurt anyone—I never got to say goodbye... I must explain—tell you about him—your...your... You have to know.’ She gasped. Her eyes were wild with fear as she grappled with the reality of leaving this world.
‘Goodbye? What must I know? I don’t understand,’ Victoria said in urgency. Her mother’s eyes seemed to look past her, into the distance, as though she were reliving a memory.
‘Such love and devotion you cannot imagine,’ Betty whispered, desperately trying to get the words out before she ran out of breath. ‘What we had was our grand passion, a doomed affair filled with exquisite joy and destin
ed to end in heartbreak. Until I saw him I had always felt nothing. And then I came alive for the first time in my life.’
Victoria stroked her burning cheek in an attempt to calm her. ‘Mother, you must not worry. When you wake we will talk, but not now. You are exhausted.’
‘But...I must beg your forgiveness.’
‘You do not have to ask for my forgiveness—not for anything. You have it always.’
‘But there is something you should know—that you have a right to know, I—’
‘Later. First you must sleep.’ She placed a finger on her mother’s lips before she could argue. ‘Hush. Later,’ Victoria soothed, seeing the laudanum was beginning to take effect. Her mother winced. ‘Is the pain very bad?’
‘The pain is nothing compared with worrying about you.’ She was half-lucid, half-drifting in and out of sleep. ‘I am sorry, Victoria—it is almost over.’ Her chest rose and fell and, with one last effort, she whispered, ‘I didn’t want you to wear black before you wore white. Lord Rockford is a good man. Listen to him—do as he says. He has promised to look after you...you will be safe and loved... No money... You are clever... Promise me...’ The voice was exhausted, so faint it was scarcely there.
‘Go to sleep,’ Victoria whispered. ‘We will speak of this later.’
Reassured, closing her eyes her mother relaxed and sighed deeply, still holding her daughter’s hand, but with a lighter, less agitated grip.
Victoria looked down at her, feeling mortified as she pressed her mother’s hand to her lips. Her mother had given her a brief insight into a deeply private corner of her life and Victoria wished she had not. From the stories her mother had told her of her years at Stonegrave Hall, she had always accepted there had been a special bond between her and the Rockfords.
Yet had she realised how special?
As she sifted through her racing emotions, she began to realise she had not. That somewhere, in a deep place she never acknowledged, she had always known her mother was close to the Rockfords in a way that could not be explained. Victoria had no knowledge to support the thought. A memory stirred of her mother telling her in a soft voice of the beautiful Lady Rockford and the handsome lord—like a fairy-tale prince, she had said.
The Master of Stonegrave Hall Page 7
