The Earl Plays With Fire Read online

  ‘Did your sister travel all the way to Dover just to put an end to this journey?’ he continued his train of thought aloud.

  ‘Like I said. Brought Stebbings with her, too. He gave me a jobation as well. That’s the trouble with servants who’ve known you all your life.’

  ‘So Miss Tallis travelled a long distance, alone apart from her groom, to find you both and bring Domino back.’

  Richard was slowly trying to make sense of what had happened. If Christabel had braved that journey for him, it meant that she’d wanted to protect him, wanted to save him from the hurt of another betrayal. She must still care for him! Beyond the physical hunger he’d deliberately set out to nurture and with a deep and tender love. He knew himself to be wholly undeserving, but the idea flooded him with its spreading warmth.

  Conscious of Benedict eyeing him askance, he blocked these dangerous thoughts and made every effort to continue the conversation.

  ‘I would say you were extremely lucky that your sister intervened when she did. You might well have found yourself in difficulties once you were the other side of the Channel and without friendly help to hand.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I’m glad to be out of it. I was a bit blue devilled at first, but not any more. I miss the fun of being in London, but not the family’s constant carping. And now all this fuss over Sophia’s wedding—that’s beyond enough. The more I think about it, the better I’m pleased to be at Lamorna.’

  Richard stared at him. ‘Sophia is getting married? But surely…’

  ‘Turn up for the books, eh? Sir Julian decided that she was a safer bet! He must want his head examined.’

  ‘Are you saying that Christy is no longer to marry him?’ He felt the world shifting beneath his feet and inadvertently used his pet name for her.

  ‘That’s right. Bethrothal off. Then betrothal on—but different sister.’

  Surely Sir Julian could not have taken such serious exception to his fiancee’s rescue mission. It had after all been an attempt to avoid scandal in the family. His conduct was inexplicable.

  ‘Do you know why the engagement to Miss Tallis was called off?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘They’re puffing it off that they no longer feel suited to one another, whatever that means. Never thought they did suit, if you ask me. But no one ever does—ask me, I mean.’

  ‘It seems to have taken them both some time to come to that conclusion.’

  ‘Between you and me, Rick, and I know you won’t spread this around, there’s more to it than that. Bel was crazy enough to kiss another man and Julian saw her. That was enough to send him fleeing to the hills. Very straight, very proper, Sir Julian.’

  Richard felt an iron bar descend on his chest. Without a doubt he was that other man. Sir Julian Edgerton had seen him kiss Christabel on the balcony and decided that she was not a fit wife for him. The popinjay! The self-righteous popinjay, to reject a woman like Christabel and to turn instead to that screeching harridan of a sister! He was pretty sure that Sophia was responsible in some way for Christabel’s downfall; the girl was by nature underhand. Sir Julian would soon realise his ghastly mistake, and there would be no going back on this one. He deserved everything he got, Richard thought bitterly.

  They rode on in silence, Benedict aware that somehow he’d upset his companion, but unsure just what he’d said that had been so disturbing. At the old mill post Richard broke the unnatural calm to bid him goodbye.

  ‘I have an appointment with my bailiff, Benedict,’ he said with a faint smile, ‘and regret I must leave you here. Enjoy the rest of your ride.’

  ‘I will. Perhaps we can ride out tomorrow,’ he said eagerly, hoping to put right whatever ill he’d unwittingly committed.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Richard said vaguely. ‘But there is a great deal of work to be done in the estate office and I can’t afford to play truant too often.’

  ‘Surely you can spare an hour or two,’ the younger man protested.

  ‘I would hope so, but I fear that my business affairs are likely to take me away again very soon.’

  And with that he wheeled his horse around and cantered off towards the Abbey, leaving Benedict puzzled and slightly alarmed at this sudden turn of events.

  Richard did not fulfil his promise to go to the estate office, but instead left the stable lad to rub down his sweating horse while he strode towards his study. Flinging his gloves to one side, he wrenched off his boots and sat down in an easy chair to consider what he’d just learned. If Benedict’s news was correct, and he could see no reason why the boy would make up such a story, then Christabel was now a free woman. How was she feeling? How deeply would Sir Julian’s rejection bite? He’d never been convinced that she loved the man, but in the end he’d accepted that she had the right to find happiness with him if she could. But now? Her whole life had been overturned and his kiss had been the catalyst. Marriage to Sir Julian was no longer on offer and as a woman who’d provoked two broken engagements, she was perilously close to social ruin.

  And how must she feel losing the man to that sister of hers? What was wrong with Edgerton! How could he prefer Sophia, an ill-dressed, ill-tempered young woman? Christabel was just too much for him—that was the truth. She was too beautiful, too intelligent, too passionate. Edgerton was scared that he would not be able to live up to her or keep her satisfied. When he’d seen the way she’d kissed another man, he’d realised the well of passion within her, a passion that he could not begin to evoke or fulfil. Sophia was far less daunting a prospect, Richard could see. But if Sir Julian could not live up to Christabel, he knew a man who could. His love for her had made a chaos of his life. It had not let him go for an instant, even when he was denying its very existence. It had always been there and now finally it might have a chance to flourish.

  He would post back to London, tell Christy his true feelings, beg her forgiveness once more and ask her to marry him. Again. But this time it would work. His mother would understand his renewed absence when she knew why he was returning to London. She would be overjoyed finally to have the daughter-in-law of whom she’d always dreamed.

  In truth, Lady Veryan did not share her son’s enthusiasm. She had never wholly forgiven Christabel for the heartbreak she had caused. The catastrophic events six years ago had almost wrecked the deep friendship between their two families and here was Richard intending to ask the girl to marry him once more. Even worse, she had received a letter only last week from Harriet Tallis conveying the welcome news that her eldest daughter was to be married at last to a delightful and highly respected man. Anne would love Sir Julian Edgerton on sight, her friend had enthused. And now here was Richard telling her that this very betrothal, only a few weeks old, was ended. It seemed that Christabel was still adept at breaking her word.

  She made no attempt, however, to dissuade her son—she could see that he was determined on his course. Six years of fending for himself in pioneer country had turned him into a decisive and forceful man and she recognised that it was useless to try to change his mind.

  Happily unaware of his mother’s misgivings, Richard made the tedious journey back to the capital in the best of spirits. He’d been foolish ever to imagine that he could excise Christabel from his heart and even more stupid to embark on a campaign to free himself from her powerful enchantment. Now that her betrothal to Sir Julian was at an end, a future together was within their grasp and he was going to make sure that they seized it. Rather than putting up at Brown’s again, he decided he would go straight to the family’s London home despite its dilapidated state. It was time to open Grosvenor Square after all these years and make it habitable for Christabel. Everything he did from now on would be with her in mind; for the first time in his life he was absolutely sure of what he wanted and what he had to do to get it.

  Nevertheless the condition of the house shocked him when he was shown around by a nervous housekeeper. The family had not occupied it since those dreadful events six years ago, his parents having lost
any taste for London life. They could not bring themselves to return to a house which had seen such sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry about the state of things, my lord,’ Mrs Moffat apologised anxiously as she accompanied him on a dismal tour, ‘but there’s only me and Mr Moffat here and ‘tis a large place to keep perfect.’

  Perfect it was not. The furniture was shrouded in holland covers, layers of dust coated every visible surface and in the darkest corners of each room cobwebs hung undisturbed. Richard’s spirits sank a little as he contemplated the mournful sight; the contrast with the house’s former glory was painful. So, too, were the images from the past which now rushed back at him: Christabel excited and happy, displaying her latest purchases; kicking off her shoes and curling up on the chesterfield ready to chat; descending the staircase on her way to yet another ball, heartbreakingly beautiful. How young they had been then, how untried and untested. He shook his head in an effort to dislodge such memories and strode to the window to pull back the long brocade curtains. Clouds of dust mounted towards the ceiling and the window panes beyond were grimy and streaked. But the sun was high in the sky, its beams catching at the carved architraves and the marble fireplace, and bringing the tired room to life.

  He turned to the housekeeper. ‘I realise what an impossible task you’ve had.’ Mrs Moffat bobbed a curtsy at this reassurance. ‘However,’ he went on, ‘could you bring the house back to something like its former condition—with extra help, of course?’

  ‘It depends on how much more help there was,’ the housekeeper offered cautiously.

  ‘As much as you need. Hire however many people you think necessary. My only stipulation is that the house should be restored within a few days.’

  The woman looked stunned at this demand, but the thought of employing an army of helpers to scrub, clean and launder a house that for years she’d watched fall into disrepair infused her with a new energy.

  ‘A few days? At that rate, we’ll be working morning and night. If I may ask, my lord, is there a particular reason for the haste?’

  ‘There is. By the end of the week this house must be fit to welcome the most beautiful woman in the world!’

  The housekeeper was alight with curiosity but thought better of questioning her master further. Instead she said with renewed determination, ‘It will be, sir. I’ll get Moffat on to the hiring straight away. Meantime I’ll begin in the basement—we’ll be using the family kitchen again and it’s certain to need a deal of work before it’s straight.’

  Richard took a last look at the once beautiful salon and smiled easily. He was leaving behind the old tale of misery and betrayal for a new and happier story. Mrs Moffat and her helpers would bring the house back to life and make it a home fit for the woman he loved. In time there would be renovation and refurbishment, but that was for the future. That could await Christabel’s choosing—once she became Lady Veryan.

  As she came down the stairs at Mount Street, Christabel heard laughter coming from the hall below. Sophia had returned from yet another shopping trip, but this time accompanied by Sir Julian. Her transformation from the sulky and petulant girl of a few weeks ago to the smiling and agreeable young woman of today had been truly astonishing. Christabel rejoiced that both participants to this frankly odd marriage appeared happy. Nevertheless there was a twinge of resentment; it rankled that Sir Julian should have found it quite so easy to transfer his affections. But it proved what she’d always thought—that he was in love with the dream of Christabel and not with the woman herself. He had never truly known her. She smiled wryly—if he had but witnessed half of her shameful conduct while Richard was in town! Those fevered interludes were ample proof that she was an unsuitable bride for such a model of rectitude as Sir Julian. Sophia, for all her moods, was a pattern of conformity and unlikely ever to transgress.

  But Christabel had always been what her father called ‘hot to handle’. She had slept away these last six years until awoken by Richard’s touch. His return had signalled a release of feelings she had denied for so long. From the night he’d danced with her at Almack’s, the passionate, unruly girl had risen into being and the cool, clear-headed Christabel gradually sank without trace. She ached for him. If she closed her eyes, she could see him plainly, their bodies a whisper away as he bid her goodbye: his grey eyes silver in the moonlight, the dark hair falling carelessly across his forehead, the feel of him, the smell of him, the sheer physical joy of him.

  She had always loved his energy, his sense of adventure, the way he took his pleasures so intensely. In comparison Sir Julian’s were muted; the two men she had promised to marry could not be more different. She almost laughed aloud as she remembered that swim long ago in the cove at Lamorna—the scattered clothes, the mad dash to the sea, the cleaving of their bodies together in the cool water. Sir Julian would have been scandalised. Far better then that he’d changed his mind and escaped a life of vexation. Thankfully only a few people had been aware of their betrothal and though there might be a little gossip, Sophia would soon be married. There would always be doubt in the minds of the scandalmongers as to whether there had ever been an engagement between the elder Miss Tallis and Sir Julian Edgerton or whether rumour had simply fixed on the wrong sister.

  ‘Look what we’ve bought, Bel!’

  Her sister’s tone was a little defiant, a little smug. Sophia had not yet managed to accustom herself entirely to the change in her circumstances and was unsure that she liked her sister to be so accepting of the new dispensation.

  ‘Good afternoon, Sophia, Sir Julian,’ Christabel said in her musical voice. ‘I see you’ve both been very busy. Come into the drawing room and show me what bargains you’ve managed to secure.’

  Sir Julian beamed. Of all of them, he had felt most discomfort with the alterations to his marriage plans. He still could not quite believe how quickly he had changed his mind over such a momentous decision. His sister, Lady Russell, had scolded him roundly and told him he was a fool. If his feelings were so lightweight, she snorted, he should forget the whole business of getting married. But he had not and had daily been surprised at how comfortable Sophia and he were going on together. She was never out of temper these days, he reflected, and she seemed genuinely interested in the details of his charity work. Even her choice of raiment seemed to have undergone modification. Today she was wearing a soft lilac muslin with cream lace, a modest and becoming creation. Christabel, also wearing a simple muslin dress, eclipsed her and always would.

  Her ethereal beauty outshone every woman he knew, but ethereal could have its problems, he decided.

  And he was not convinced that Richard Veryan had finally disappeared from the scene. Sad to acknowledge, Christabel was just a trifle unsteady. Lady Russell had probably been correct all along. Miss Tallis was not the right bride for him. No further proof was needed than the way she had abandoned all delicacy at her sister’s come-out ball, kissing another man in public and in such a fashion. He felt himself grow hot at the thought of it. She was smiling at him now, holding open the door, and he followed her swiftly into the drawing room. On the whole, he thought he preferred her as a sister-in-law.

  The front-door knocker sounded loudly just as Sophia had begun to unpack her first parcel. Christabel had little time to consider who could be calling in the middle of the afternoon before a footman was at her side with the message that Lord Veryan wished to speak with her privately.

  There was a sudden stunned silence among the little gathering until she recalled herself and said as naturally as possible, ‘Please show Lord Veryan into the library, James.’

  She turned to her companions with a winning smile, ‘I must leave you for a moment but I won’t be long,’ she promised.

  ‘Well!’ breathed Sophia as her sister went out of the door.

  ‘Well indeed!’ echoed Sir Julian.

  She was astonished by Richard’s appearance at Mount Street. She had imagined him well and truly settled at his beloved Madron, acquainting his
mother with the news of his betrothal and making preparations for Domino to join him. Why he had returned to town was a complete mystery. His first words did little to enlighten her.

  ‘How can you bear to see that charade?’ he flung the question at her, gesturing in the general direction of the drawing room. He’d arrived in a celebratory mood, but the brief glimpse he’d had of Sophia’s gloating face had roused him to an angry defence of the woman he loved.

  ‘If you mean my sister and Sir Julian,’ Christabel replied coolly, ‘I’m delighted they have found happiness with each other.’

  ‘Delighted? Delighted to be rejected for an ill-favoured, ill-tempered vixen?’

  She did not reply to the calumny against her sister. His agitation was obvious as he paced up and down the library floor.

  ‘For God’s sake, whatever’s the matter with the fellow?’ he exploded as he came to rest in front of her. The thought was torturing him that he was responsible for the humiliation she must now be suffering.

  ‘As far as I am aware, nothing ails Sir Julian. We simply found that we were not suited to one another,’ she replied composedly. ‘It was you, after all, who took pleasure in pointing that out.’

  ‘I take no pleasure in what has happened to you,’ he growled.

  She acknowledged this with a small bow of her head, but then looked directly into his stormy gaze. ‘Why are you here, Richard?’

  ‘I met Benedict out riding and he told me the news. I came immediately.’

  ‘But why?’ she repeated.

  ‘I have come to ask you to marry me,’ he stated baldly.

  He’d not meant to make such a stark declaration, but all his rehearsed speeches had simply melted away. She stared at him, dumbstruck.