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Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер
Читать онлайн.Название Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474014281
Автор произведения Кэрол Мортимер
Жанр Исторические любовные романы
Серия Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Издательство HarperCollins
* * *
When the carriage turned into the gates of Elmwood Lodge sometime later it was immediately apparent that the news of their arrival had been received with enthusiasm. The open gates were decorated with ribbons and as they bowled up to the entrance an elderly couple appeared, the man hurriedly buttoning his livery. Gideon recognised Chiswick, the butler and man of all work, and the woman following him in her snowy apron and cap was his wife and housekeeper of the lodge.
‘Oh, lord,’ Gideon muttered as the door was wrenched open. ‘We are properly for it now.’
‘Welcome, sir, madam! We are delighted you have come to Elmwood Lodge.’ Mrs Chiswick almost hustled her husband out of the way as she greeted them with an effusion of smiles. ‘If you would care to come into the parlour, you will find cakes and wine set out there, and a roaring fire. If we’d had more notice then the rest of the rooms would be ready for you, too, but they may take a while yet, although I have sent for Alice from the village to come and help me.’
Gideon jumped down and turned back to help his bride to alight. She did so silently, looking pale and dazed. He pulled her hand on to his sleeve and followed the still-chattering housekeeper into the house. The large, panelled hall had been hastily decorated with boughs of evergreens and spring flowers. Gideon’s heart sank: the couple were clearly overjoyed to be entertaining a pair of newlyweds. He felt the fingers on his arm tremble and absently put his hand up to give them a reassuring squeeze.
More early spring flowers adorned the wainscotted parlour where a cheerful fire burned in the hearth and refreshments were set out on the table. Gideon waited until his garrulous hostess paused for breath, then said firmly, ‘Thank you, Mrs Chiswick. We will serve ourselves.’
‘Very well, sir. And...’ She turned to look out of the window. ‘Do your servants follow you?’
‘No, we are quite alone.’
‘Ah, of course.’
Her understanding smile brought a flush to Gideon’s cheek and he dared not look at his companion to see the effect upon her, but as soon as they were alone he said, ‘I beg your pardon. When Max told me your servant was remaining at Martlesham to look after your mother I thought it best to leave my man behind, too. Now I see that it has given rise to the very worst sort of speculation.’
‘Very natural speculation, given the circumstances.’
Her calm response relieved his mind of one worry: she was not going to fall into hysterics. Yet he should not have been surprised. She could have no proper feeling to have lent herself to this madness in the first place.
He retorted coldly, ‘These circumstances, as you describe them, are very much your own fault.’
‘I am well aware of that.’
She took off her hat and gloves and untied the strings of her cloak. When he put his hands on her shoulders to take it from her she tensed, but did not shrug him off. He was standing so close behind her that he could smell her perfume, a subtle hint of lily of the valley that made him want to drop his head closer still, perhaps even to bend and place a kiss upon the slender white neck exposed to his view.
Shocked at his reaction, he drew back. This woman was nothing to him—how could he even contemplate making love to her? But the idea lingered and it disturbed him.
Gideon threw her cloak over a chair with his own greatcoat, placing his hat and gloves next to hers on the small side table. His temper was cooling and he was all too aware of their predicament. Perhaps it was not too late to remedy that. He dashed out of the room. He found the butler crossing the hallway and called to him as he ran to the main door.
‘Has the coach gone? Quickly, man!’
‘Y-yes, sir! As soon as you was set down. We took off the baggage and they was away, wanting to get somewhere near home before nightfall, there being no moon tonight.’
Gideon yanked open the door and looked out at the empty drive.
‘But that was only minutes ago. We must fetch it back. There must be a horse in the stables you can send after it.’
Startled, the butler shook his head.
‘I’m afraid not, sir. There’s only Bessie, the cob, but she pulls the carts and has never worn a saddle in her life. I suppose old Adam could harness her up to the gig...’
Staring into the gathering darkness, Gideon realised it would be impossible for them to call back the carriage now.
‘How far is it to the nearest town, or even the nearest inn?’
The butler looked at him with astonishment and Gideon thought grimly how it must look, the bridegroom wanting to run away before his wedding night! However, the truth would be even more unpalatable, so he remained silent while the man pondered his question.
‘There ain’t an inn, sir,’ he said at last. ‘Not one as would suit you, at any rate. And it’s all of seven miles to Swaffham, but you wouldn’t be wanting to set out tonight, not without a moon.’
‘No, of course not.’ With a shake of his head Gideon stepped back from the entrance, leaving Chiswick to close the door while he made his way back to the parlour. He could hardly complain. After all, he himself had hired the post-chaise and his instructions had been quite clear: it would not be required again for two weeks. He had fully intended to enjoy his honeymoon with his bewitching bride. Now he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with a young woman he had never met before today. And a respectable young woman at that, despite her part in this charade. Damn Max and his practical jokes!
Gideon returned to find the lady in question pacing up and down the parlour. He said as calmly as he could, ‘It seems we are stuck here, at least until the morning.’
‘Was that not your intention?’
Her glance scorched him and he frowned.
‘No, I had not thought it out. I was angry.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I realise that it would have been better if we had remained at the Abbey.’ He paused. ‘We are in the devil of a coil.’
She sighed. ‘I know.’
His eyes fell on the table.
‘Shall we sit down?’ He held a chair for her, thinking that they were like two cats, warily circling each other. When they were both seated he filled two glasses and pushed one towards her. ‘Why did you agree to Max’s outlandish scheme? You do not look like the sort to indulge in practical jokes of your own accord.’
‘No.’ She put a small cake on to her plate and broke it into little pieces.
‘Did he offer you money?’
‘Something of that sort.’
‘But you are his cousin.’
‘An impoverished cousin. My mother brought me to England ten years ago, seeking refuge with her brother, the earl—Max’s father. When Max inherited Martlesham he also inherited us. We have been living off charity ever since. A few months ago Max set us up in a cottage in Martlesham village.’ Her fingers played with the crumbs on her plate. ‘He promised... If I agreed to take part in his scheme, he would sign the property over to my mother and give her a pension for the rest of her life.’
‘And for this you would marry a stranger.’
Her head came up at that. She said angrily, ‘Do you know what it is like to be someone’s pensioner? To know that everything you have, every penny you spend, comes from someone else?’
‘As a matter of fact I do, since I am a younger son. For many years I was dependent upon an allowance from my father.’