Lord Locke did not put his arms around her and he merely said,
“I think, Zuleika, we are both adult and sensible enough to realise that what one might call the ‘fires of love’ are not so bright as they have been in the past.”
He sounded very sincere as he then continued,
“I can therefore only say how grateful I am for the happiness you have given me and, when I return to London, I will send you a present to express my sincere gratitude.”
Zuleika did not move.
But he felt her sensuous body stiffen against him.
“Are you trying to throw me off?” Zuleika asked. “To commit me to a hopelessness that will make me utterly and completely miserable?”
“I would hope that you will be none of those things,” Lord Locke said.
Zuleika’s eyes looked up at him beseechingly as she purred,
“I waited for you last night.”
“I was tired.”
“I have never before known you tired. Can you really prefer that pallid milk-faced girl to me?”
Then with a change of tone she insisted fiercely,
“How can you be so foolish as to think that you can forget the burning passion we have shared together and the ecstasy we have given each other?”
Her voice rose to a crescendo as she cried,
“No, no! Only I can give you what you need. Only I can make you know the joy of requited desire.”
Now her eyes were flashing and her breasts were heaving.
The words seemed to burst from her red lips as if she could no longer control them.
“Now, listen, Zuleika – ” Lord Locke began.
“I will not listen! You will listen to me. You are mine, do you hear me? Mine, Valiant, and I will allow no stupid country girl to come between us!”
She made a pathetic little sound and held herself closer against him as she almost shouted,
“Marry me! I will make you very happy and be a wife to be proud of.”
“I am sorry, Zuleika,” Lord Locke said, “but as I told you yesterday, I am engaged to Miss Gytha Sullivan and our betrothal is as binding as if we were already married.”
He spoke firmly and with authority.
The men who had served under him in the War had recognised this as final and admitting no argument.
For a moment there was silence.
Then, as Zuleika moved a little away from him, she said,
“Very well then, you and this country bumpkin will suffer for this! I will not be treated in such a manner by any man without avenging myself.”
Her green eyes narrowed.
“Remember that, Valiant! What is more, the day will come when you will return to me, when you know that there is no one else who can arouse in you the passion of desire as I can.”
She seemed to hiss the last words.
It was as if they came from a snake rather than from a woman.
Then she turned and walked slowly from the room. She glided across the carpet in a sinuous manner that seemed to emphasise the threats that she had just uttered.
Lord Locke did not move.
Only when he was alone did he give a sigh of relief and hope that Zuleika would leave without his having to see her again.
Some of the other members of the party, however, did not arrange for their departure until after luncheon.
Lord Locke was having a glass of champagne with them in the salon.
It was then he remembered that thinking he and Perry would be alone, he had invited Gytha both to luncheon and to dinner.
He was just about to tell Bates that he was expecting her when a note arrived.
When it was handed to him on a silver salver he found that it was from Gytha.
He read,
“My Lord,
Please excuse me from accepting your kind invitation for luncheon and dinner today, but Grandpapa is not well and the doctors prescribe that he must be kept very quiet and that the only person to see him is myself.
You will therefore understand that I must be on call all the time if he needs me.
Thank you for coming over yesterday and I should be very grateful if you could manage to call tomorrow.
I remain,
Yours most sincerely,
Gytha.”
Her handwriting, Lord Locke noticed, was very elegant and the letter was well phrased.
He put it into his pocket and then returned to entertaining his guests.
They enjoyed an excellent luncheon and afterwards Lucy Compton and the gentleman she was enamoured with begged to be able to stay for another night. They would return to London early the next morning.
“We are so comfortable here, dearest Valiant,” Lucy Compton smiled, “and it will be such fun to be alone with you and Perry without your turbulent Princess, who casts an evil spell on me every time I talk to you.”
Lord Locke laughed a little ruefully.
“She really does make me feel frightened!” Lucy went on. “So, as we are such old friends, let’s enjoy ourselves.”
As Lady Compton was very witty besides being beautiful, the evening passed very pleasantly.
Only when they went up to bed did Lord Locke realise that it had been an excellent evening of wisecracks and laughter.
It was then that he suddenly began to feel guilty about Gytha.
‘I suppose,’ he told himself, ‘I ought to have written to her and perhaps sent some flowers.’
He made a note in his mind that the following day when he called at Sullivan Hall he would take her some orchids.
He had noticed that they were just coming into bloom in the hothouses.
“When are you going back to London?” Perry asked when they were saying ‘goodnight’.
“As soon as I can tidy up the mess here,” Lord Locke answered. “I cannot leave that poor child to the mercy of her despicable cousins.”
“No, of course not,” Perry agreed, “and, if there is anything I can do to help, you know that I am only too willing. I had a great admiration for her father, in fact, he was one of the nicest men I have ever met.”
“I feel the same,” Lord Locke agreed.
He went to sleep comfortably in his own bed without giving a thought to Zuleika and her threats.
*
He awoke in the morning to find that the curtains had been drawn back and that Walters was calling him at seven o’clock as he had told him to do.
As he came to full wakefulness, Walters said,
“I thought you’d like to know, my Lord, that Sir Robert Sullivan passed away last night.”
Lord Locke sat up in bed.
“He is dead? How do you know this?”
“A lad from the village, my Lord, told us the news this mornin’.”
“I must go over after breakfast to see if there is anything I can do,” Lord Locke said.
He thought as he spoke that at least Gytha’s cousins would be there to make the arrangements for the funeral and they could help her to notify the other Sullivan relations.
He told Perry what had happened.
He said that he would call on Gytha and suggest that she should come to stay at Locke Hall.
At least until suitable arrangements could be made for someone to be with her in the house.
“I will send a note to my aunt who is living in the Dower House,” Lord Locke said. “She is rather a bore, but a kind woman. I know that she will be only too delighted to come to stay here or alternatively to have Gytha there with her.”
“That sounds a better idea,” Perry said, “and then we can go back to London. Don’t forget that you promised the Prince Regent to attend his party next Wednesday.”
“He will certainly be annoyed if I let him down,” Lord Locke replied.
He and Perry rode for quite a long way before breakfast.
And it was getting on to ten o’clock when Lord Locke finally set off across the Park to visit Gytha.
He decided that he would ride through the much-disputed
Monk’s Wood as it would bring him more quickly onto the Sullivan estate.
The path was overgrown, which meant that he had to ride more slowly than he had intended.
He was still trotting when he noticed that a burr from one of the trees had attached itself to the right flank of his horse.
He bent forward to brush it off and in doing so saved his life.
At that very moment there was the crack of a shotgun.
A bullet passed through his top hat, blowing it from his head and his horse reared up.
Lord Locke had been in many situations of great danger in the past and he was aware that the best thing he could do was to get away as quickly as possible.
Otherwise his assailant might take another shot at him.
He therefore bent low on his horse’s back and spurred him quickly down the ride.
In a few seconds they were out onto open ground.
Then he galloped as fast as it was possible towards Sullivan Hall.
As he rode on bare-headed, he could hardly believe that in the quiet of the country such an attempt had been made on his life.
He knew that he was not exaggerating in believing that, if he had not bent forward at that particular moment, the bullet would have entered his head.
And he would at this moment be lying dead in the wood.
It seemed incredible that the Sullivan brothers would dare to commit such a crime.
But he could not think of anybody else who stood to gain anything by his death.
Lord Locke was not so much shocked by what had happened.
He was extremely angry.
Those who had served under him would have known this by the squareness of his chin, the tightness of his lips and the hard expression in his eyes would have told them that he would not treat such an assault lightly.
He rode up to the front door of Sullivan Hall.
He was determined that somebody sooner or later would pay for such a dastardly action.
He handed his gloves and whip to a footman who he thought looked somewhat scared.
He attributed this to his Master’s death.
That the blinds were lowered made the house look even more gloomy and oppressive than usual.
“Where is Miss Gytha?” he asked.
“She be in the study, my Lord.”
“I will find my own way there,” Lord Locke told him.
He was thinking that following her grandfather’s death Gytha must not be further upset.
So he would approach her gently.
Then, as he walked down the passage, he heard a shrill scream.
*
The previous day Gytha had managed to avoid seeing her two cousins.
She had spent her time in her grandfather’s room.
And she had asked the doctor to impress upon Vincent and Jonathan that on no account were they to disturb the old man and to tell them that he would be upset even by their presence.
“Leave everything to me, Miss Gytha,” the doctor, who had known her for many years, said. “As I warned you, your grandfather cannot live long. The only person he has any affection for is yourself.”
“He often has a strange way of showing it,” Gytha replied in a whisper.
“I know that, my dear,” the doctor replied. “At the same time he has never really got over your father’s death.”
Gytha went to her grandfather’s bedside and she realised how sad it was for him that he had lost his only son.
His anger and disagreeableness could all be attributed to the fact that he was railing against Fate. It had left him alive while a younger man died.
When it was bedtime, Dobson told her that she should go to bed to rest.
“I’ll be keepin’ a watch on the Master,” he said.
“You will call me if he wants me?”
“Yes, of course, miss.”
Gytha had therefore gone to bed.
She was still brushing her hair in front of the mirror, when there was a knock on her door.
“You’d better come quick, miss,” Dobson called.
Without saying anything Gytha ran along the corridor to her grandfather’s room.
She saw at once that he was breathing in a strange way.
However, as she sat at his bedside and took his hand in hers, he opened his eyes.
“I am here, Grandpapa,” Gytha said, feeling that he did not recognise her.
For a moment she thought that his fingers tightened on hers.
Then, in a voice that she could hardly hear, he murmured,
“Alex’s – daughter.”
“Yes, that is right. I am Gytha.”
He closed his eyes.
She thought that he had then gone to sleep, but he was still breathing heavily.
Then his lips moved and she could just hear him.
“My – heir,” he murmured.
Then he died.
It was Dobson who took her from the bedroom.
Dobson who sent for the doctor.
Dobson who told Vincent and Jonathan what had happened.
She had lain awake a long time and she knew with a sinking of her heart that now she would have to cope with Vincent and Jonathan ranting at her over her grandfather’s money and will.
She was afraid, even though she knew that Lord Locke was there to protect her.
In the morning, however, she realised that there were a great many things to do.
There were many people to notify and she made a tremendous effort.
She put on a white muslin gown with a black sash and went downstairs.
To her relief there was no sign of either of the brothers.
When she asked rather nervously where they were, she was told that they had both gone out.
“I thinks, miss,” the footman said who had answered her question, “Mr. Vincent were a-goin’ shootin’.”
“Going shooting?” Gytha questioned in surprise.
“’E took a rifle with ’im, miss.”
Gytha thought that this rather strange.
She could not imagine why he would want to take a rifle if he was shooting pigeons or rabbits.
Then she gave a little exclamation of horror.
Perhaps he was shooting the stags in the Park.
Because she had been so much alone and so few visitors had come to the house, the stags had in the past year become tame.
They would eat from her hand and they seldom ran away unless they were chased by a dog.
Her grandfather, at her request, had given strict instructions to the gamekeepers that the stags were not to be shot, although there were far more of them than there should be.
But Gytha loved to see them resting in the shadows of the trees.
‘I cannot believe that Vincent would do anything so cruel as to kill one of them!’ she reassured herself.
But she could not think of any other reason why he should take a rifle from the gun room.
She went to her grandfather’s study and began to make a list of all the relations she must write to and inform them of his death.
She knew that the doctor would come later in the morning with the undertaker and everything appertaining to the funeral could be left in their hands.
‘I certainly must not offend anybody by leaving them out,’ she told herself.
She started a letter to an aged relation who lived in Bath, who was very unlikely to travel so far for the funeral.
Emily, the maid who looked after her, came into the room.
“I forgets to tell you, miss,” she said, “as it slipped me mind, that a Weddin’ present arrived for you last night.”
“A wedding present?” Gytha exclaimed.
“Yes, miss, and it seemed so strange that it should come just when the Master was a-dyin’, so to speak, that I forgets about it till now.”
“How do you know it’s a Wedding present?” Gytha asked.
She was looking at what appeared to be a round basket in Emily’s arms.
“A man bring it
to the door, miss. ’Twere quite late, after you’d gone to bed. He says he’s lost his way, but he’s brought you a Weddin’ present.”
Gytha stared at Emily in astonishment and then thought,
‘If it really is a wedding present, it will have to be sent back when the engagement comes to an end.’
This was something that she had never anticipated.
She could not imagine who would send her a Wedding present.
Her engagement to Lord Locke was still a secret except to Perry and the Princess Zuleika.
Then it struck her that it might be a present from Lord Locke.
It was just the sort of kind thing he would do to try to cheer her up for not being able to dine at Locke Hall.
“Let’s see what it is, Emily,” she suggested. “Open it while I finish this letter.”
Emily put the basket down on the floor.
She began to untie the strings as Gytha continued her letter,
– and I do hope, Cousin Bertha, that you will be able to come to Grandpapa’s funeral and that we shall meet again.
I remain,
Your affectionate cousin,
Gytha.
As she signed her name, Emily opened the basket.
Then she gave a scream of horror.
“Miss – Gytha! Miss – Gytha!” she yelled.
Gytha looked up quickly.
The basket was open, the lid lying back.
She could see curled up in the centre of it something alive and dark.
Then, as she stared, Emily gave another scream.
Scrambling up in an armchair, she stood trembling, holding her skirts round her.
It was a snake, which Gytha recognised as a large poisonous adder.
It slid from the basket onto the carpet.
It moved hissing towards the desk where Gytha was sitting.
She stood up and, as quickly as Emily had done, climbed first onto a chair and then onto the desk itself.
“It’s poisonous! It’ll kill us! Oh, Miss Gytha, what’re we to do?”
As she spoke, the snake turned towards her and she screamed.
Then, as she screamed again, the door opened and Lord Locke stood there.
It took him only a second to assess the situation.
“Stay where you are,” he ordered sharply, “and don’t make a noise!”
Gytha heard him running back towards the hall.
Forced to Marry Page 9
