Historical Romance March 2017 Book 1-4 - Louise Allen Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

Скачать книгу

I promise. Wear something cotton, the kind of thing you would put on at home in the country to go into the garden to gather flowers. Something that doesn’t matter if you get salt splashes or sand on it. And no stockings, just some old, sensible leather shoes.’

      ‘No stockings?’ Marguerite looked mildly shocked.

      ‘It is far less immodest to walk across the road with no stockings on than it is to take them off on the beach. We will be getting our feet wet.’

      ‘Oh!’ She sounded dubious, then seemed to make up her mind. ‘I expect I have something. I won’t be long.’

      * * *

      The tide was ebbing as Sara led the way across the beach to the foot of the cliffs where the retreating sea exposed firm, flat sand. ‘If we go around the little headland then we are into Bell Bay, which is quite small and secluded. There is some talk in the town about creating a path over the headland and making that the ladies’ bathing beach with no men allowed until after noon on the sands or the part of the headland that overlooks it. It would mean room for some more bathing machines and the shyer ladies might feel more comfortable.’

      She kept talking, chatting casually about trivial town affairs until they were around the headland, then she perched on a low rock and pulled off her shoes. ‘You do the same and then we can leave them on top of the rock. There, isn’t that pleasant? And walking on the sand smooths the feet beautifully.’

      Marguerite grimaced at the feel of the cool, wet sand, then smiled, the first really wide, uninhibited, smile Sara had seen on her face. ‘It is lovely. Ooh—if I wriggle my toes I start to sink.’

      ‘There are no quicksands in this bay, we are quite safe. Now, if we walk across to those rocks over there we can explore the rock pools.’

      * * *

      It took no more than half an hour of splashing along the surf line and picking up shells and driftwood for Marguerite to relax. She finally came to rest on top of a smooth rock to catch her breath while Sara dipped glass jars into the rock pools under the cliff.

      ‘What does Sarisa mean?’ she asked after a while. ‘Is it Indian?’

      ‘It means charming.’ Sara straightened up and held out a jar to Marguerite. ‘See? A little crab. I’ll put him back in a moment. Papa said I was a perfect charmer, right from the beginning, so that is what they called me.’ She tipped the crab back into the pool and watched it scuttle under a fringe of weed. ‘Marguerite means daisy, doesn’t it?’

      There was silence, then a wrenching sob. Appalled, Sara dropped the jar into the water and took Marguerite in her arms. ‘I am so sorry, what did I say?’

      ‘That’s what he called me. Gregory called me his... Dai... Daisy.’

      Sara gave her a handkerchief, sat down on the rock beside her and held her until the storm subsided into sniffles. ‘Do you want to tell me about it? I guessed about the baby. And Gregory is the father?’

      ‘Oh!’ Wide, tear-drenched hazel eyes gazed into hers. ‘Did Lucian say anything? I think he believes it is better that I lost her, but he doesn’t say that, of course.’

      ‘I told him that I had guessed and asked if I could help you. I’m sure he would never wish that you had lost the baby, although probably he would prefer that she never existed in the first place.’

      ‘I am certain he does.’ Marguerite blew her nose defiantly and sat up. ‘I am sorry to be such a watering pot. I try to be brave, but I worry so.’

      ‘About Gregory, your lover?’

      ‘He was only my lover because Lucian wouldn’t let him marry me. I know he is still alive, I feel it in my bones. And I know he would never leave me, so something horrible must have happened to him and he is lying in a pauper hospital in France, or he has been press-ganged or something dreadful.’

      ‘Would it help to talk about him?’

       Chapter Six

      It seemed it would help Marguerite to talk. The story poured out, essentially the same as the account Lucian had given, but with one vital difference. ‘I seduced him,’ Marguerite said defiantly. ‘He wouldn’t do more than kiss me, he said we must wait until we were married. But when Lucian was so horrible and refused even a long engagement I went to Gregory’s room when he was asleep and got into bed with him with no nightgown on.’

      ‘Ah. I suppose matters were already out of hand before he was properly awake.’

      Poor man! So much for Lucian’s illusions about his innocent little sister. Doubtless she had been untouched, but she knew exactly what she was about when she got between those sheets.

      ‘Yes. It was clever of me, I thought, because Lucian couldn’t blame Gregory. But Gregory was upset and he felt guilty anyway and he wouldn’t let me go and tell Lucian that I had seduced him.’

      Despite the seriousness of the story Sara had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She could just imagine poor Gregory, his masculine pride crushed as it was explained to the infuriated Marquess that he was the one who had been taken advantage of. No wonder he refused point-blank to allow Marguerite to tell her brother. Marguerite might know how to seduce a man, but she had no idea how their minds worked.

      ‘And then I discovered that I was pregnant.’

      That reminder chased away all inclination to smile. ‘Didn’t you think your brother would let you marry then, even if he disapproved?’

      ‘No.’ Marguerite shook her head vehemently. ‘He would have whisked me away to one of my horrible aunts in the country and I’d have had my baby and they would have taken her away from me and Lucian would have called Gregory out and killed him.’

      It was difficult to argue against that, Sara thought. It sounded exactly the kind of solution Lucian would have come up with, especially the calling-out. ‘So you decided to run away together?’

      ‘Yes, Gregory said we must marry as soon as possible. We thought if we went to the Continent then he might be able to find work as a secretary over there and there would be English clergy—but all the ones we found were so difficult because of my age. They could tell I wasn’t a servant or a tradesman’s daughter so they thought there would be a scandal and they would be in trouble if they helped us.’

      ‘Lucian thinks Gregory left you because of the baby and not having any money?’ Sara risked the question and was rewarded with an indignant denial.

      ‘No! Gregory was going to find work, any work at all, in Lyons. He would have dug ditches for me, but he had heard of a merchant who needed someone who could speak English because he wanted to export fans and small luxury items to England. Gregory was going to see him after he had spoken to the clergyman we had been told about. We hoped if we were married then the merchant might let us have a room in his house.’

      It all seemed perfectly reasonable to Sara. ‘Did you tell Lucian this?’

      ‘When he found me I was too ill and it was almost a week before I realised that Gregory had vanished. I thought Lucian had killed him at first, but he swore not and he wouldn’t listen when I told him about the clergyman and the merchant. He said Gregory had been hoping to extort money from him and I was just an innocent, gullible child who had fallen in love with a handsome face.’ She blew her nose again with a defiant, inelegant snort.

      ‘And so I did—I fell for a man who was as lovely inside as he was outside. Gregory wouldn’t have asked Lucian for money, he was far too honourable and proud. He explained to me before we ran away that we would have to live very modestly on what he could earn and that if I didn’t think I could bear that, then it was best to go and confess all to Lucian.’ She gave Sara a sideways look from under her lashes. ‘I suppose you think I am wicked and silly and gullible, too.’

      ‘No. I think

Скачать книгу