Adeline’s flush deepened and she averted her eyes. ‘No, of course I’m not.’
Lettie wasn’t at all convinced by her statement. ‘But you can’t admit to a supreme indifference to him, can you?’ she persisted. ‘It’s written all over your face.’
‘Am I really so transparent?’
Lettie smiled with gentle understanding. ‘I’m afraid you are.’
‘I only hope this unpleasant business soon blows over. The last thing I wanted was to involve your brother in my break up with Paul. The gossip will be dreadful.’
Lettie gave her a mocking sideways glance. ‘Grant won’t care two hoots about that. What he will care about is having his offer of marriage turned down. As far as I am aware he has only ever proposed marriage once before, and when the lady married someone else he vowed he would never again offer marriage to any woman.’
‘Was the woman Diana Waverley?’
Lettie nodded. ‘Grant was deeply affected by it. Hardening his heart, he became cold and distant, killing whatever feelings he had for her. He cut her out of his life without a backward glance—until Lord Patrick Waverley, Diana’s husband, died. After that Grant began seeing her again, but he’ll never marry her. Diana burnt her bridges when she rejected Grant for a title. He never gives anyone a second chance.’
Adeline recalled Grant saying the same thing to her. ‘She must have hurt him very badly.’
‘She did—although I think his pride was hurt the most. And, knowing my brother like I do, this latest will have left him seething. Grant is quite awesome when his anger is roused.’
‘Then I shall endeavour to stay out of his way until it’s time for us to leave. After that I doubt we shall see each other again.’
‘Men can be difficult enough without marrying them—and you must remember that no one can force you to marry Paul, Grant or any other man, come to that. Even the smallest steps in a woman’s life are guided by and controlled by the men around her—father, brother and husband—who think women should be passive and inactive except in matters concerning the home.’
Adeline liked Lettie enormously, but she doubted she would ever get used to her candid way of speaking.
‘I can see I shock you. I am a feminist, but I am also a realist. I like having my independence—I also like having a good time. For myself, I want everything: career, husband, or lover—’ her eyes twinkled ‘—which is so much more exciting—and children. My husband must back everything I do, and believe my work to be as important as his.’
‘And do you have a gentleman in mind?’
‘I do have someone—but I will never marry him.’ Sadness clouded Lettie’s eyes and she turned her head away, but too late to hide it from Adeline. ‘I do not see marriage as an element in a love affair. But we’re madly happy, of course.’ She laughed—rather forced, Adeline thought—and, getting up, went to the door. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
As she went in search of her mother, Lettie considered her conversation with Adeline. Although she had told her that her future from now on was her own affair, Lettie thought that perhaps she could make it her affair as well. She knew her brother to be a man of passionate feeling, despite his outward demeanour. Having seen the way he had looked at Adeline in the stableyard, and the unconcealed admiration in his eyes when he had watched her ride hell for leather across the park, she just knew he was attracted to her.
And Adeline had confessed she had feelings for Grant. She was also a young woman who’d had the temerity to stand up to him. That boded well for the future. How wonderful it would be if they could be brought together. She was sure they would make each other happy.
Ten minutes after Adeline had left him—in high dudgeon and frowning like thunder—knowing how concerned his mother would be by Paul’s sudden departure, Grant found her in a small sitting room, away from the guests.
As soon as Grant entered she arose, her face strained with anxiety. She studied her son for a moment, noting his narrowed eyes and the grim set of his mouth. Even to her, it was a little intimidating.
‘Horace has informed me of all that has transpired, Grant. You cannot mean to go through with this? Surely not?’ she said without ceremony.
‘You will be relieved to know Miss Osborne has turned me down,’ he informed her brusquely, pacing up and down in agitation.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘But I should tell you that if she hadn’t, I intended to marry her.’
‘But why?’ Hester demanded. ‘You hardly know the girl—unless what Horace says is true and the two of you have been conducting an affair.’
Grant had the grace to look contrite. ‘Not an affair, exactly.’
‘But the two of you were involved in a relationship of—an intimate nature?’
‘Yes.’
‘While she was engaged to Paul Marlow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, dear!’ Sitting back down, she folded her hands in her lap. ‘Then perhaps you ought to marry her.’
‘I’ve told you, she won’t have me.’
Hester seemed to find his dry comment amusing. Grant sounded outraged—baffled, too—without any comprehension as to why Adeline had turned him down. ‘I can scarce believe it.’
‘Believe it, Mother. It’s true.’
‘Why did you offer to marry her?’
‘Because I felt sorry for her,’ Grant replied with brutal frankness. ‘And, like it or not, I’m also responsible for what has happened. It’s as simple as that.’
Hester frowned. ‘If what I’ve heard is correct, isn’t Paul Marlow equally to blame? Has he or has he not been conducting an affair with Diana Waverley? Your—mistress, I believe, Grant?’ she said, her eyebrows raised with knowing humour.
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to keep his voice calm, while irritated that his mother seemed to take some quiet delight in reminding him of something he preferred not to think about just then.
‘How extraordinary.’ Hester smiled. ‘You do seem to be quite put out. Although I fail to understand why you should be if, as you say, you only asked her because you felt sorry for her. You should be relieved.’
Grant was clearly not amused. ‘I am. Immensely.’
‘In which case there is nothing else to be said on the matter, as I see it, so there is no point in beating yourself up about it.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Paul and Adeline are responsible for the break-up of their engagement, and if Adeline doesn’t want to marry you then so be it. Although I have to say there is something about that young lady that I like. She seems such a serene, steady sort of person.’
‘Appearances aren’t always what they seem.’
‘No—well, where Adeline is concerned you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Hester said, giving him a meaningful glance. ‘I really can’t imagine why she refused you…’ She paused, and her eyes narrowed on Grant. ‘Did you ask her, Grant, or tell her? Which—however much I have come to like Horace—is what he would do. Is that how it was? No doubt that is the reason why she stuck her toes in—so to speak.’ She laughed lightly. ‘Good for her is what I say.’
Grant frowned. He found his mother’s amusement at his expense irritating. ‘I can see you’re enjoying this, but you are supposed to be on my side.’
‘I’m on no one’s side, Grant, but I’m beginning to admire Adeline more and more. She is a young woman who deserves to be courted. You cannot expect her to obey an order to marry you—which is what she must have done when she became engaged to Paul Marlow.’ Lowering her eyes, she said, ‘At least Horace seems to have taken it in his stride.’
‘When I left him he was reconciled to Adeline’s change of husband. How he’ll react when she tells him she doesn’t intend marrying either of us, I have no idea.’
As if the incident in the conservatory had never happened, dinner was a relaxed, convivial affair. Grant fulfilled his role as host with careless elegance, but beneath the polite façade, as Lettie had predicted earlier, he w
as seething. Adeline’s refusal to marry him, when he’d made the gesture against his will and to make things easy for her, had placed her beyond recall.
Later, when she was leaving the drawing room to fetch her book from her room, Adeline watched in astonishment as her father led Mrs Leighton off in the direction of the conservatory. She suddenly realised they had spent a good deal of time together, and that a singular affection was growing between them—which she suspected might have something to do with why her father had decided not to cut their visit short. She saw his hand slide about Mrs Leighton’s waist, saw his head lean towards her upturned laughing face, and Adeline knew that what they felt for each other was in danger of becoming more than friendly regard.
Turning to her right, Adeline saw Grant standing not two yards away from her. He, too, was watching her father and his mother, his whole body tensed into a rigid line of wrath. When he looked at her she could almost feel the effort he was exerting to keep his rage under control.
Moving closer to her, he met her gaze coldly. ‘So that’s the way of things.’
‘And what do you mean by that?’
‘Your father and my mother appear to enjoy each other’s company. It has not escaped my notice that they spend a good deal of time together.’
‘And do you find something wrong with that? They are both adults. If anything were to develop, would you disapprove?’
‘It’s not for me to approve or disapprove—but there’s one thing I do know.’
‘And what is that?’
‘If my mother wants something really badly, she gets it.’
‘Not always. She didn’t get Rosehill.’
‘No?’ Grant looked at her and smiled a wry, conspiratorial smile. ‘Not yet, maybe. But it’s not too late.’
‘We shall see. After tomorrow Father and I will be on our way home—back to reality. You can forget all about us then.’
Grant’s eyes swept contemptuously over her. ‘I intend to. When you leave in the morning we will not see each other again,’ he said scathingly. ‘This unfortunate business is over. Done with. It should never have happened. The proposal was an insane idea, and I regret and curse ever having made it.’
‘Not nearly as much as I do.’
‘You have caused too much disruption to my life, and when you leave I don’t give a damn where you go or whose bed you occupy. You, Miss Osborne, have a highly refined sense of survival, and you’ll land on your feet wherever you go.’
Adeline felt as if he’d slapped her, but her wounded pride forced her chin up. ‘Yes, I will,’ she said with quiet dignity. ‘That is what I intend.’
Without bothering to excuse herself, turning from him, Adeline went up the stairs. Oh, damn you, Grant Leighton, she thought in helpless rage. I never want to see or think of you again. But she knew she would not be able to stop thinking of him. She had no power over her thoughts. She was trapped by her own nature. Tears gathered on her thick lashes and trembled without falling.
The following morning, when they were leaving and everyone was saying their farewells, displaying a calm she didn’t feel, Adeline searched Grant’s hard, sardonic face for some sign that he felt something, anything for her—that he might regret her leaving. But there was nothing. The awful feeling that there was nothing she could do beat her down into a misery too hopeless for tears.
Adeline had been back at Rosehill three weeks when a letter arrived from Lettie, informing her that she was in London, staying with Lord and Lady Stanfield at Stanfield House in Upper Belgrave Street, and that they had invited Adeline to come and stay with them. Adeline was delighted—it was just what she needed at this time, when she seemed to be at an impasse in her life.
Her father was none too pleased at the prospect of her gallivanting off to London. He had always demanded respect and subservience from her as his right as her father, but now, since leaving Oaklands, although there was still respect there was no subservience. Of course she was still piqued at discovering Paul had been carrying on with Lady Waverley. It was natural, he supposed, and therefore he must make allowances, but her own behaviour hadn’t been much better.
When he saw how determined she was to go to London he capitulated. Their relationship had been strained since their return to Rosehill, so perhaps it was for the best. However, he insisted that she stay at their own London home in Eaton Place, where Mrs Kelsall, the housekeeper, would be able to keep an eye on her. Horace spent a great deal of his time in London, so the house was always kept in a state of readiness.
He was acquainted with Lady Stanfield—a strong woman, who followed an exacting campaign of work for the Women’s Movement—and he was concerned that Adeline, with her new-found confidence, drive and determination, might become drawn in. He was worried that she might be led even more astray…
Determined to enjoy her new freedom, accompanied by Emma, Adeline boarded the train for London. She was looking forward to seeing Lettie. To Adeline’s experience, Lettie was the most stimulating woman imaginable, and she felt a mixture of excitement and insecurity at the thought of being with her—certainly life would never be dull.
Chapter Six
The capital was enjoying the last days of summer, while leaves still clung to the trees in the parks and guardsmen sweated in their uniforms along The Mall. Lettie was delighted to see Adeline, although she was disappointed that she wasn’t to stay with her—but since there was no great distance between Eaton Place and Upper Belgrave Street it wouldn’t matter all that much.
As soon as Adeline entered Stanfield House she was greeted with unaffected warmth. She felt this was a house where courtesy and mutual affection ruled in perfect harmony. Lady Stanfield was happily married. She had one daughter, Marjorie, and a bright twenty-year-old son, Anthony, who had recently joined the Foreign Office. He was a keen fencer, and was looking forward to testing his skill against Adeline’s.
Marjorie Stanfield was a small, rather plump twenty-two-year-old brunette, with bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks, whose quiet, unhurried ways were in agreeable contrast to the forceful whirlwind of Lettie. She was not the type to go out looking for experience, but just waited for it to happen. She was deeply in love with a young man called Nicholas Henderson, the eldest son of Lord and Lady Henderson of Woking in Surrey, and there was much excitement in the house over their forthcoming engagement party, which was to take place a month hence.
Determined that the first thing to be done was to get Adeline out of her dull, dark clothes and turn her into an elegant, fashionable young woman, Lettie adopted an air of critical superiority that neither surprised nor annoyed Adeline. She was prepared to accept Lettie as more adult and proficient in worldly matters than herself, and so Lettie and Marjorie whisked her off to the shops. The three of them could be seen almost every afternoon in and out of the fashionable shops along Regent Street, and when Lettie was too busy Adeline went with Emma.
Her father had always given her a generous allowance to spend as she wished, but, having had no interest in self-adornment until now, she had left most of the money gathering interest in the bank. Suddenly shopping became a whole new and exciting experience, and for the first time in her life—urged on by Lettie and Marjorie—she bought hats, gloves and evening purses, and had fittings for riding habits and dresses that were the very height of fashion, colourful and feminine, frivolous and completely impractical.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, adorned in one such gorgeous concoction and with her glossy hair arranged in an elegant chignon, Adeline no longer saw the plain young woman who wore reading spectacles and faded into the background.
‘You look so beautiful,’ Marjorie enthused breathlessly. Her eyes, dreamy and full of admiration, suddenly became rueful. ‘And so tall. How I wish I were as tall and as slender as you, Adeline.’
Adeline could not believe that silks and satins in pastel shades adorned with ribbons and frothing lace could bring about such a change. Yes, she thought, with her colouring, her high ch
eekbones and her green eyes, she really did look quite wonderful.
Stanfield House was a veritable hive of activity, with people coming and going all the time. It was an exciting time for Adeline. She had been to London often, but now she saw it with different eyes. Suddenly it offered an active social life without the restrictions laid down by her father. The intensity of her enjoyment was no doubt due to the feeling of release which had come with her sudden emancipation from the frustrations of her life before her break-up with Paul. It was as though she had been born anew as a result of some new process of gestation.
She went to the opera or the theatre twice a week, walked in the pleasure gardens during the day, fed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, rode side-saddle in a high silk hat between the elms along Rotten Row, and journeyed across the river to a concert at the Crystal Palace in Sydenham.
She attended parties at the homes of several people who were prominent in the Women’s Movement, and even went to one of the Suffragist meetings, which she found interesting, listening to both Emily Davis and Millicent Garrett Fawcett—two extremely important women who made a deep impression on her.
She met writers, political and religious figures, and people she had read about in the society columns. They all came to drink tea in Lady Stanfield’s elegant high-ceilinged drawing room with its watered silk walls. There they had the freedom to speak as openly as they wished on whatever subject they wished—from higher education for women, better employment opportunities for women, right down to the sexual persecution of women—unencumbered by most of the prevailing notions of female propriety.
Much as Adeline liked and respected the women she met, and the work they did, she had decided from the beginning not to become one of them—at least not for the time being.
Wicked Pleasures Page 11
