by Iris Gower
‘I’ve told you before, I am not interested,’ Calvin said his voice suddenly lacking emotion. ‘I will not be taken in by a pretty face ever again.’
He moved away from her and the book felt heavy in her hands. Arian felt her anger fade. Calvin had suffered a blow to his pride; he knew what betrayal meant and he was only a man, for all his wealth, a man with feelings which went as deep as her own.
‘I don’t know what garbled tales you have heard about me,’ she said more softly, ‘and it would do no good to explain my life to you. I accept that you are not interested so can we just take each other on face value?’
Her voice trembled and Calvin turned to her at once, his hand outstretched. What he might have said faded on his lips as Arian saw his glance move from her to someone in the hallway.
‘Yes, Mr Simples,’ he said, ‘what can I do for you?’ He was in charge again, Lord Temple, who owned a fine house and a great fortune and was master of his own fate.
Arian bobbed a curtsy and putting the book on the table left the library, passing Simples in the hallway without looking at him.
‘If I may have a word, your lordship,’ she heard him saying, and then she was climbing the stairs to her own room, her cheeks still flushed, her hands clasped together to stop them from trembling.
She sat near the warmth of the fire and tried to examine her feelings. For a moment there, she had felt a kindred spirit with Calvin Temple. He had reached out as though in friendship and she would have valued as a friend a man who was not interested in taking anything from her. A man who, like her, had been hurt. But Gerald Simples had ruined the moment. She was right about him, he was an omen for ill in the new life she was seeking to make for herself.
Gerald Simples stood before Lord Temple and marshalled his thoughts. He had heard only part of the conversation between Arian and his lordship but when she had cried rape, it was undoubtedly the truth. He’d heard about Davies’s escapades of course, but had chosen to stay right away from any activity involving Price. Now he had met Arian, wanted her for himself, he felt only anger when he imagined them together. But Price was dead, and Gerald was alive and he knew well enough that to be locked in a room alone with Arian was enough to tempt any man to madness. She had an aloofness about her, a touch-me-not attitude that would fool any man into believing her chaste.
Price Davies had been a hothead, and Simples should know. He was his cousin. Recklessness ran in the family; hadn’t Simples’s own father caused a scandal with a high-society woman? The resulting child, Gerald, was brought up with careless affection by his aunt, Price Davies’s mother.
Father had married well, a French woman of high quality. He had found it easy to fool all and sundry with the gift of his silver tongue so that others believed he came of good, monied stock.
Gerald had been brought to France some time later and had found himself reaping the benefits of his stepmother’s wealth. He’d had a fine education, and an elegant life-style with no need to lift a finger to work.
When he was sixteen, his stepmother had died and his happy, secure life-style had been snatched away from him. Gerald had disgraced himself by a liaison with some little wench from the lower orders and had been ordered to leave France forthwith.
Gerald, on his return to British shores, had found employment easily enough. Using his stepmother’s name, he had worked for a time in a bank in Cardiff. Occasionally, he visited Swansea, gleaning information about the rich of the area.
Lord Temple was helping himself to a drink, obviously not yet ready to talk to his steward and Gerald’s mind drifted to the past once more.
He had spent almost a year attending to the business affairs of a rich merchant in London. He had left that position in a hurry but with a pocket full of money. At the age of twenty-five, he changed his name to Simples and returned to Wales and now he was safely ensconced in the home of a lord, no less – not bad going for the son of an adventurer.
When he had returned to Swansea, he had been mildly interested in meeting the woman Price had lost his head over, but he had not reckoned on the strong character of Arian Smale. He had thought to amuse himself with her while he handled the household accounts alone. He imagined he’d earn Temple’s trust so that further transactions of a more profitable nature might be made his responsibility.
Still, he thought, he saw what Arian’s little scheme was now; it was to get into his lordship’s bed and thus get a share of his money. She was, he thought with satisfaction, as devious as he was, they would do well together.
He wasn’t fooled for one moment by her claims to honesty and goodness. He had taken the trouble to find out enough of what had gone on up at the farmlands that time when his cousin had died.
A local farmer’s wife, a Mrs O’Conner, had been held for ransom, and so was Arian, but that was all just a cover. They, the Smales and his own cousin Price Davies, had all been in the plan together, a plan that had backfired; a fortuitous enough event for Simples, dead men could not talk.
‘What was it you wanted, Mr Simples? I’m waiting,’ Calvin Temple prompted, bringing Gerald out of his reverie. His lordship sat in his leather chair and smiled with an attitude of tolerance that somehow irritated Gerald.
‘I thought Miss Smale would have told your lordship,’ he said. ‘I have found some discrepancies in the accounts. So far they total to just a guinea but there will be others and I intend to find them, however far I have to search through the books.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Calvin Temple said easily, ‘I looked at the books myself prior to engaging Miss Smale or you. The mistakes are honest ones. Don’t trouble yourself further about the matter.’
Simples bowed, it seemed that Lord Temple was no man’s fool. ‘Very well, your lordship,’ he said, ‘but be sure there will be no mistakes in the future.’
Calvin inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Simples.’ It was a dismissal. Simples retreated and climbed the stairs towards his quarters, his mind racing – he would have to go easily with this man Temple.
‘Oh, Miss Smale. I didn’t see you there.’ She was standing in the doorway to her room and behind her, he could see the glow of the firelight and the soft drape of a robe hanging over a chair. She was a woman who loved to flaunt her femininity. She thought all men could be bought for the price of her favours.
‘Mr Simples,’ she replied, ‘you found it necessary to talk to his lordship about the accounting errors then?’
‘I did,’ he said easily, ‘I never led you to believe I would do anything else.’
‘I hope you didn’t make it sound as though the housekeeper was dishonest.’
‘That was not my intention. I think you might be a little hysterical; I did rather walk in on – what shall we call it – in intimate moment.’
‘Intimate, with the door open? Surely not, Mr Simples,’ Arian said softly.
‘His lordship was just about to respond to your …’ he looked her up and down, ‘not inconsiderable charms. But be not mistaken in me, Miss Smale, I am not a man who is easily fooled by a pretty face.’
He moved on and, entering his room closed the door firmly. Arian Smale might be a fair-looking woman. He would not be above loosening that cloud of hair and burying himself in it, but he was not like his father, a fool to any woman who accommodated him. Oh, no, he had far more self-control and Arian Smale would find that out, to her cost.
Arian looked at the solid wood of the door through which Simples had disappeared and sighed. She closed the door of her own room, returned to the fireside and sank into her chair. So the boundaries were set. She and Mr Simples were declared enemies, he couldn’t have made that any clearer. Strange both he and Calvin Temple had used the expression ‘pretty face’, but while Lord Temple spoke the words with a sense of hurt, Simples’s use of the words implied scorn, contempt even. Gerald Simples was a man who would have to be watched, very carefully indeed.
Calvin lit up a cigar and stared around the large room absently. A discreet ball, the
card had said, and Calvin, expecting an intimate gathering, had decided to accept the invitation given by a man who was little more than an acquaintance. But simple was hardly the way he would have described the lavish entertainment laid on by Stuart Kingston.
Of the people gathered there, he knew only a handful. The banker, Freddie Elson, was one of them and right now, Calvin realized with a dart of dismay, the plump gentleman was descending upon him, a large glass of port clutched in his hand.
‘Calvin, dear chap,’ Freddie leaned forward, slightly off balance and it was clear that his glass had been replenished more times than was good for him. ‘Calvin, you look at a loss and you can’t be alone, not at a party like this. Come along, let me introduce you to a most interesting lady.’
Calvin saw Freddie lift a hand and, as if on cue, a dark, vivacious woman made her way across the room, threading her way through the gathering with complete composure. Her head was high, her soft gown flowing around her perfect figure and Calvin was struck by the way she carried herself like a queen.
‘Daphne, my darling, come and cheer up my old friend.’ The extravagant gesture of Elson’s arm threatened to throw port over everyone near him.
Dark eyes looked into his and Calvin reacted instantly to the sensuousness of the woman. She held out her hand and Calvin took it, touching the softness of her skin with a feeling that he was coming awake after a long sleep.
‘Daphne, this dear man is all alone. Calvin, Lord Temple, is very much in need of cheering and you are just the beauty to do it.’
‘I’m happy to meet you, Lord Temple. You must forgive Freddie Elson. What he lacks in finesse he makes up for in exuberance.’ Daphne’s soft voice held such appeal that Freddie, far from being insulted, smiled and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘There, I just knew you two would hit it off. I will leave you alone but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
He weaved his way towards the butler who was carrying a tray of brimming glasses, and Calvin turned his attention to Daphne who was standing so close that he could, by moving his arm, feel the softness of her breast.
He felt aflame with desire. It seemed so long since he’d had a woman, so long since his wife had betrayed him and much too long since he had felt the need to lie with a woman.
‘Come, let’s sit in the hallway, it’s quieter there.’ Daphne guided him through the door and then they were sitting close together on the chaise longue, her hand resting tantalizingly on his thigh.
‘I have been wanting to meet you for some time, Lord Temple,’ Daphne said. ‘You always seem to me a hugely interesting, if slightly melancholy man. I cannot help but know you’ve been badly burned and are keeping away from fire in case you are hurt again.’
‘You’re a perceptive lady,’ Calvin said.
Daphne looked away from him suddenly. ‘Do you like the poems of Lord Byron?’ Her change of mood startled him and it took Calvin a few moments to gather his thoughts.
‘He is a cynic,’ Daphne said. ‘He believes that a woman’s vows are as worthless as shifting sand. I think you believe that too, Lord Temple.’
‘Calvin, please,’ he said quickly, ‘I hate being called Lord Temple.’
‘Well, Calvin, I understand you have been hurt in love once – would you be willing to try again?’
Calvin leaned forward and touched Daphne’s cheek. ‘Are you incredibly naïve or are you offering yourself to me?’
Daphne laughed, ‘I am not naïve so you will have to assume that I am offering myself to you.’
‘You know nothing of me,’ he said and then longed to bite out his tongue. He wanted this woman. Did her terms matter?
‘I know enough. Indeed, I have admired you from afar, as it were, for some time,’ Daphne said quietly. ‘It was I who inveigled Freddie into getting you here. He persuaded Kingston to invite you to one of his little soirées.’
‘You are a scheming woman,’ Calvin said, ‘and as you know everything about me, you will know I’m not free to take a wife. In any case I don’t want one, not precisely at this moment.’
‘I know what you want, precisely at this moment.’ Daphne looked meaningfully at him and Calvin found himself smiling.
‘What are we going to do about it?’ Calvin said, his gaze drawn to the soft fullness of her breasts, exposed a little as she leaned towards him.
‘Nothing, not right now,’ she said. ‘Right now we rejoin the other guests, enjoy the party, dance, drink a little wine and we will talk. After that, who knows?’
Calvin felt a sense of disappointment and Daphne smiled knowingly.
‘I might not be reticent in saying what I want but neither am I a cherry to be picked at any moment. I choose my time and place – if I continue to be interested.’
Calvin sighed. ‘I thought that it would last for aye when lo she changes in a day,’ he quoted and Daphne’s face lightened.
‘You do like the poetry of Lord Byron then? You are not a philistine.’
He rose and held out his hand. ‘Come along Daphne, let’s enjoy the dance.’
Later, Calvin cornered Freddie and looked down at him thoughtfully. ‘Who is Daphne, where does she live, is she married and given to dalliances with other men, is she a whore, what?’
‘Oh no, there is nothing whorish about our Daphne.’ Freddie protested. ‘She is a widow, has been since she was a mere eighteen years.’ He paused to sup his drink. ‘It’s true that she takes a lover from time to time but she is one hell of a woman, a special woman and most of the chaps here would give their right arm to be in your shoes, old man.’
Freddie wagged a fat forefinger, ‘But you must treat her right, she takes no nonsense from anyone. One peccadillo with another woman while you are with her and you are out on your arse, old man.’
‘She makes great demands for a courtesan,’ Calvin said mildly and Freddie looked at him in horror.
‘You are honoured by her attentions, man,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know that the Prince of Wales has been chasing her skirts for some months now?’
‘What, down here in Swansea?’ Calvin asked, eyebrows raised, his cynicism apparent in every line of his taut mouth.
‘Daphne has only been back from London for a few weeks,’ Freddie said. ‘Good God man, what circles have you been moving in?’
‘And you mean she has not succumbed to the prince?’ Calvin said scathingly.
‘No, she has not.’ The voice coming from behind him was tinged with ice. ‘I choose my lovers, I told you that. It’s obvious you don’t listen very well. I’m disappointed in you, Lord Temple.’
Daphne turned away. ‘Freddie, be a dear and fetch my cloak and call me a cab, will you. I’m going home.’
Calvin watched her leave feeling as if he had been offered a great bargain and had turned it down. On an impulse, he hurried after Daphne and caught her just as she was climbing into her carriage.
‘I apologize,’ he said, sinking into the seat beside her. ‘I am ignorant and I confess it. I’ve been out of circulation as you well know and I thought that Freddie was being his usual facetious self.’
Daphne looked out of the carriage window and in the darkness Calvin, breathing in the scent of her, felt himself desiring her with an urge that was irresistible.
‘I want you, Daphne,’ he said. ‘I want you so much I can’t think straight.’
‘Well you must want,’ Daphne said at last. ‘You must learn that I do not give myself lightly, not to any man. I had a husband once, a husband I did not love, but I respected and honoured him. He died after three short years of marriage. He left me wealthy and independent. I do not need any other man to keep me. I am self-sufficient which enables me to choose my lovers when and as I feel inclined.’
‘I understand,’ he said, though in truth he was surprised. It had begun to seem to him that most women wanted something from him.
‘Since Thomas, there have been only three men whom I have taken seriously. They were fine men and it was I who grew tired of
them so don’t think you are doing me any favours, Calvin, for it’s the other way around.’
He drew her to him and held her close, his mouth against her forehead. ‘I wonder,’ he said softly, ‘might I have the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening?’
She laughed softly. ‘I see you are quick to learn. As for your offer, I would be delighted to accept.’
Most of the time Arian, as befitted her position, ate her meals in her room but occasionally, she ventured into the big warm kitchen to eat with the other servants. Because she had begun life at the manor as a maid of all work, she was accepted by Mrs Bob, welcomed even, especially when, as now, there was an item of momentous news to impart.
‘Come, sit by here,’ Mrs Bob said patting the wooden chair next to her. ‘Help yourself to meat and potatoes and while we have our supper, let’s get down to brass tacks, is it?’
Bella shifted her chair to allow Arian more room and the new maid stared at her with undisguised curiosity.
‘Don’t mind Cynthia,’ Mrs Bob said. ‘She’s young but she can keep her trap shut when needs be.’
‘Have you heard about the master then?’ Mrs Bob asked, her eyes shining like jet beads. ‘Can’t get over it, me, didn’t believe it at first, mind.’
Arian was puzzled, she’d known there was something going on by the strangely knowing smile on Simples’s face whenever his lordship was mentioned. It was almost as if he felt he had one up on her by being in possession of information that Arian wasn’t privy to.
‘No, I don’t know anything about what’s going on,’ Arian said quickly. ‘I realize that something is going on and it’s annoying me to be left out of it.’
Mrs Bob leaned forward on plump elbows. ‘He’s got a woman,’ she said, ‘and him still married to that Eline that went off with a cobbler.’
Suddenly Arian felt as though she had swallowed something cold. ‘Well, it’s only natural that he would want the company of a lady.’ Even as she heard herself saying it, Arian felt a sense of displeasure, almost as though she had been betrayed.
