by Miranda Lee
‘How did he do that?’ Marina was intrigued.
‘You have no idea.’
‘No, I don’t. Tell me. I’m dying to know.’
His glance was drily amused. ‘You have a compulsively curious nature, I think. But you’re also very easy to tell things to, do you know that?’
‘Yes, I’ve been told that before. Children come up to me in droves when I’m on playground duty to tell me their problems. And I’m always getting beseiged by little old ladies in buses and trains, and even supermarket queues. Maybe they’re just lonely and need someone to talk to, but why it’s always me they choose to pour out their hearts to, I have no idea.’
‘It’s your eyes,’ His Lordship said as he looked right into them. ‘You have understanding eyes.’
She flushed slightly under his compliment and his direct gaze. ‘So…er…what did Henry do?’
‘What didn’t he do?’ His Lordship grumbled as he reached out and rang the doorbell. ‘Firstly, he converted my reading room into a gym, into which I was dragged every morning for a work-out. As a man whose only exercise before that had been turning on my computer and moving chess pieces, believe me when I tell you I was in agony for weeks. I nicknamed one particularly diabolical piece of equipment “the rack”.’
‘Well, it seems to have done you good,’ she said. ‘You look very fit.’
‘I’ve suffered for this body, I can tell you.’
Marina thought the suffering well worth it. ‘So what else did he do?’
‘Changed my daily diet to a boring menu of low-cholesterol, low-salt meals. I hardly enjoy eating any more, except when I crack and go to a café and order the fattiest, most cholesterol-ridden pie I can find!’
Marina laughed while His Lordship scowled.
‘But his crowning achievement was to bully me into giving up smoking. God knows how he managed that!’
‘He sounds quite wonderful,’ Marina said.
His Lordship finally smiled a wry smile. ‘Oh, he is. But he took some getting used to on a daily basis. Now I wouldn’t be without him. For one thing he plays a damned good game of chess. Of course, he is getting a little slow on the stairs,’ he added, frowning at the still closed door. ‘He turned seventy-seven last birthday.’
The door opened at that precise moment and Henry stood there, impeccably dressed in a butler’s morning uniform of grey striped trousers, black jacket, white shirt and pale grey tie. He was even wearing white gloves. Marina noticed that his black shoes were polished as only a butler or a sergeant-major would polish them.
He had clearly once been a handsome man. And tall. But his back was not as straight as she imagined it had once been, and his steel-grey hair was thin and receding well back from his high forehead. He still looked a darn sight younger than seventy-seven.
Controlled grey eyes swept over her with a bland but all-encompassing glance which revealed nothing of his impression or his opinion. His coolly unreadable gaze returned to his employer.
‘The plane was on time, My Lord?’ he asked, somewhat starchily.
‘Slightly early, Henry. And this is Miss Marina Spencer.’
Henry inclined towards her with a stiff nod, which could have been rheumatism or just his way. ‘How do you do, Miss Spencer?’
‘She will insist on being called Marina, Henry,’ His Lordship said drily as he ushered her inside, depositing her suitcase by the door. ‘So we might as well get that out of the way up front.’
‘I see. Very well. How do you do, Miss Marina? Welcome to London. I have your coffee perking, My Lord, but have prepared a proper English breakfast for the young lady. You are not one of those impossibly modern young people are you, Miss Marina, who only drinks coffee for breakfast?’ This with a sidewards glance of ill-concealed exasperation at his employer.
Marina only just managed not to laugh helplessly. He was so pompous and prim, he was adorable. ‘Heavens, no, Henry,’ she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching. ‘Where I come from, some of us can eat a horse for breakfast.’
‘I am most relieved,’ he sniffed, and, picking up the heavy suitcase with incredible ease, turned to lead the way.
It was a most gracious way too, Marina noted, following across a spacious black and white tiled foyer where, many metres above, hung a huge chandelier. Ahead curved an elegant staircase, covered in the middle by a wide strip of deep forest-green carpet whose pile was so plush it would be like walking on velvet in your bare feet. Sheer luxury!
Not that she’d expected anything less from a Mayfair apartment owned by an earl. Her eyes darted around as she mounted the steps.
The walls were wood-panelled up to a point, above which lay very English-looking green and gold striped wallpaper. The crystal and brass light fittings were splendid, as were the undoubtedly antique furniture pieces resting in various nooks and crannies.
‘I have put Miss Marina in the Rose Room, My Lord,’ Henry said on their way upstairs.
‘Very good, Henry. Oh, and Henry, William will be along for a bite to eat shortly. Since I know he’ll refuse to eat with Marina and myself, give him something in the kitchen. And make sure he’s taken his medication. His arthritis is very bad this morning, poor devil.’
‘I will see to it, My Lord. Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes in the morning room. I thought Miss Marina might wish to freshen up first after her long flight.’
‘Indeed I would, Henry,’ she agreed, smiling when she realised she was talking like these two now.
‘What’s so amusing?’ His Lordship muttered by her side as they trailed after Henry.
‘Me,’ she said. ‘I think I’m beginning to do what the Romans do.’
‘Not you, Miss Marina,’ he teased drily.
‘Oh, yes, me. Next thing you know I’ll be taking tea in the afternoon and eating cucumber sandwiches.’
‘And what do you usually have in the afternoon?’
‘Just coffee.’
‘I’m a coffee man myself. Especially in the mornings. I drink at least three cups.’
‘So I gathered. What happened to the low-salt, low-cholesterol meals?’
‘I can only tolerate so much of that. And definitely not first thing in the morning.
‘I’ll leave Marina to you now, Henry,’ he said more loudly, once they reached the landing on the first floor. ‘I’ll see you in the morning room in fifteen minutes, Marina. Henry can tell you where it is. And don’t be late or he’ll be after you with a long stick.’
He turned and strode on, up a second but smaller flight of stairs which Marina deduced led to his private domain on the next floor.
‘Very funny, My Lord,’ the valet called after him in a droll tone.
‘Don’t take any notice of him, Miss Marina,’ Henry continued as he led her down a wide hallway lined with massive gilt-framed paintings which looked as if they belonged in the National Art Gallery. ‘His Lordship likes to rag me. It’s a hang-over from his adolescent days when I was butler at Winterborne Hall and Master James alleviated his boredom by playing practical jokes on the staff—mostly on me.’
Marina found such a scenario impossible to imagine. Lord Winterborne surely had never been a boy, let alone a practical joker!
Henry stopped at a cream-painted door on their right. He opened it wide, then stepped back to wait for Marina to go in first.
She couldn’t help it. Her breath caught as she walked through the doorway.
‘Oh, Henry!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is the most beautiful bedroom I have ever seen. Why, it’s fit for a queen!’
Her eyes were wide as they took in the delightfully feminine decor with its rose theme. Roses were everywhere, all of them in shades of pink. Tiny, pretty roses. They covered the wallpaper and matching curtains and bedlinen. They might have been overpowering if the room had been small, but it was immense.
Besides the sleeping arrangements, there was a cosy and intimate sitting area in front of a cream marble fireplace, with cream and gold silk-covered armc
hairs facing it. Fresh roses in pinks and yellows filled an elegant vase on the undoubtedly antique lacquered coffee table. The carpet was a deep cream, and the bed, though not a four-poster, was queen-sized with brass bed-ends.
The dressing table and matching stool in the corner nearest the bed were the epitome of feminine frippery, with their rose-covered throw-overs and exquisite gilt-framed mirrors. Fresh roses again filled an exquisite crystal vase sitting on the right side, while on the left lay a silver and crystal vanity set. In the middle sat three crystal perfume holders.
Marina’s bedroom in her mother’s house back home was very pretty, and mainly pink as well, but nothing compared to this.
Henry carried her suitcase over and placed it carefully on the cream-painted ottoman at the foot of the large bed. ‘I don’t think this room has ever had a real queen stay in it overnight,’ he replied seriously, to her remark. ‘But I do recall a countess or two. And Lady Tiffany always sleeps here when she stays overnight in London.’
‘Lady Tiffany?’ Marina asked innocently enough as she walked over to look through the window down at a small courtyard below.
‘I’m sure you’ll meet Lady Tiffany during your stay, Miss Marina. She comes up to visit Rebecca often. She’s the youngest and only remaining child of the Duke and Duchess of Ravensbrook. His Lordship’s next-door neighbours. Her poor brother, who would have been the next duke, was tragically killed in the Gulf War. He was His Lordship’s best friend. His Lordship is very fond of the Duke and Duchess. And of Lady Tiffany. She’s a dear, sweet girl.’
It finally got through to Marina that she was being told something very deliberately by Henry. When she looked around at him he was standing ramrod-straight at the foot of the bed and his gaze was steely.
‘His Lordship and Lady Tiffany are planning to announce their engagement at Lady Tiffany’s twentyfirst birthday next month,’ he stated, then just waited, as though expecting her to say something.
She found she could not for a few seconds.
Her dismay was out of all proportion to the situation and her feelings—which, after all, were just silly, secret feelings. They weren’t really real. How could a girl like herself entertain real feelings about a man like Lord Winterborne? To do so was to waste both her emotions and her time. He was always going to be matched with someone like this Lady Tiffany.
Marina dredged up a smile even while her heart was not having a bar of her common sense reasonings.
‘That’s wonderful,’ she lied. ‘James is a fine man. And I’m sure Lady Tiffany is as sweet as you say. I must give her my congratulations if and when we meet. Actually, I’m going to be married myself next month, Henry.’
She could not help but see the relief in the valet’s face. It both irritated and puzzled her. What had he been thinking? And why? He’d only known her for a few minutes and had only seen her with His Lordship for the same. What had passed between them which would make this old man think she was a threat to his employer’s marriage or happiness? Had he overheard their light exchange on the staircase and interpreted it as a sign of growing intimacy?
Even if that were the case, did this starchy old gentleman’s gentleman think she was a bold, amoral hussy, who would try to steal another woman’s intended?
Whatever, she felt offended at Henry’s judgement of the situation. She might have entertained the odd fantasy or two about her host in her head, but she would never try to put any of them into action.
Pull the other leg, Marina, that awful voice piped up in her head. His Lordship could get you into bed in no time if he put his mind to it.
Enough! Marina’s conscience intervened. I am not that type of girl!
Maybe, but is he that kind of man? Most men are, you know.
‘That’s good news, Miss Marina,’ Henry was saying while this argument raged in her head. ‘Very good news indeed. I hope you’ll be very happy. Now, I’ll leave you to freshen up. The morning room is on the ground floor. Just take the hallway under the staircase and it’s the first door on the left.’
He bowed stiffly, then withdrew with a slightly self-satisfied smile hovering around his mouth.
Marina glared after him till he shut the door. Then she did the strangest thing. She slumped down on the side of the rose-covered bed and burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘YOU do look tired,’ His Lordship said as he started his third cup of coffee. ‘And you’ve hardly eaten a bite.’
Marina gave him a wan smile across the six-seater circular table which was set as elegantly for breakfast as for a formal dinner party. The white tablecloth was starched linen, the cutlery silver, and the crockery fine white gold-rimmed china.
The whole room was not quite as formal as the rest of the house, however, and looked out onto the courtyard Marina had spotted from upstairs. Painted in creams and yellows, and with the sun shining through the tall windows, it would have been a bright and welcoming room if Marina had been in a bright and welcoming mood.
‘You’re not hungry?’ His Lordship asked.
Marina stared blankly down at the breakfast she herself had selected from the superb sideboard buffet, which offered a huge range of hot food not to mention a choice of cereals plus freshly squeezed orange juice.
She’d sat down with a glass of the orange juice and a plate on which she’d unthinkingly deposited two poached eggs, two strips of bacon, a sausage, one slice of grilled tomato and several mushrooms. So far she’d only managed the orange juice and half a slice of bacon. The four slices of toast which Henry had placed on the table in a silver toast rack remained untouched, and she hadn’t got round to the brewed pot of tea Henry had set before her.
Her appetite had totally deserted her, her earlier bout of irrational weeping leaving her feeling oddly fragile.
‘I do think I need a sleep,’ she admitted. Sleep would mean she could not think. She didn’t want to think any more, about Shane or about this man opposite her. She certainly didn’t want to think about the youthfully sweet and undoubtedly beautiful Lady Tiffany Ravensbrook.
‘Are you sure you’re up to being admitted to the hospital this afternoon?’ His Lordship asked.
‘Yes, of course I am,’ Marina practically snapped. ‘So, please, don’t even think of putting it off. I don’t want any delay in doing this. If I’m still asleep when you get back from the bank after lunch, just wake me up.’
He’d told her when she’d first sat down about his position as vice-president at one of London’s largest merchant banks and how he had to go there after breakfast for a few hours. He also had a lunchtime appointment. ‘Or, better still, have Henry wake me beforehand so I’ll be ready when you come home.’
Marina could see by his frown that he was puzzled by her shortness. She sighed, and tried to remember that none of this was his fault. He’d not let her think by word or deed that he felt anything for her but an understandable admiration and gratitude for what she was doing for his great-niece. She was making a right fool of herself.
As for Henry…he was just a suspicious and dirty-minded old man!
‘I’m sorry, James,’ she said, then blinked her astonishment at herself. ‘Oh—oh, I mean…Your Lordship.’
His grin was lopsided and heartstoppingly charming. ‘So you’ve cracked at last,’ he said, blue eyes glittering with amusement. ‘I wondered how long it would take. From now on it will be James and nothing but James. And I will not take no for an answer.’
She couldn’t help it. She smiled back at him, and melted all over. ‘Very well…James.’
Henry would walk in at that moment, with her smiling with fatuous helplessness at His Lordship. And, worse, James was smiling back at her and looking at her for all the world as though he found her the most desirable, delightful and interesting woman. He then topped off the awkward and easily misunderstood situation by looking up at Henry and saying, ‘Marina’s finally consented to calling me James, Henry. For a minute there I thought I was going to have to put up with
His Lordship for the next ten days or so.’
‘Ten days or so, My Lord?’ Henry echoed stiffly, a frown gathering. ‘I booked Miss Marina’s return flight for next weekend. I was assured by the hospital she would be ready to travel by then.’
‘Yes, yes, no doubt she will be,’ James said as he scraped back his chair and stood up. ‘But I’m going to take her down to Winterborne Hall for a few days before she goes back to Australia. Don’t worry, I’ll have my secretary change the booking.’
Henry frowned some more. ‘Have you forgotten, My Lord?’
‘Forgotten what?’
‘Lady Tiffany will be away in Italy around that time?’
James tossed his linen napkin down on the table. ‘No, Henry,’ he returned, with a sharp edge in his voice. ‘I haven’t forgotten. I am not taking Marina down to Winterborne Hall to visit with neighbours. I am taking her there to show her the countryside and Rebecca’s home.’
Marina’s swift intake of breath heralded her realisation that the Earl of Winterborne had no intention of telling her he was on the verge of becoming engaged, or of letting her path cross with his intended. Her shock was only superseded by exciting flashes of wicked speculation. Was this deliberate on his part? Did Henry know his employer better than she did? Did the Earl of Winterborne have a secret passion for redheads?
Maybe his marriage was to be one of convenience on his part? Marina speculated some more. A merging of money, breeding and titles. Maybe he meant to have women on the side, ones he momentarily fancied, ones he would keep secret from his naive young bride. It wouldn’t be the first time such things had happened in those circles. And what better choice of a passing bed-partner than a woman who would return to a far-off land at the end of the affair—a woman committed to someone else…?
Marina stared up at James and wondered if his acutely observant mind had picked up on her unexpected but quite intense desire for him. Was he already planning her seduction? Plotting to have her while his fiancée was overseas?
