A Most Unseemly Summer. Juliet Landon

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СКАЧАТЬ into his thick hair, holding it off his forehead as if to see her better. ‘Did you need them urgently?’ he said, disarmingly.

      ‘That is not the point. They were mine.’

      ‘Yours, were they? Ah, and I thought they belonged to Deventer.’

      ‘Don’t mince words, Sir Leon. I needed them for my return to Sonning. You knew that.’

      ‘Then you have a short memory, my lady, since we are not mincing words. I’ve already told you that you’ll be staying here at Wheatley, and therefore the waggons and horses will be required by Deventer for his own use. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our understanding already.’

      ‘There is no understanding, Sir Leon. There never will be any understanding between us, not on any subject. And I want my waggons back. You have taken over my stables and my carters; do you intend to take over my kitchens next, by any chance?’

      Languidly, he came to stand before her, easing her back again on to the window-seat, resting his hands on the panelling to prevent her escape. ‘Not to mince words, my lady, I can take over the entire Abbot’s House any time I choose, as I intended to do to clear the guesthouse for renovation. Would you prefer it if I did that sooner instead of later? We could pack in there quite cosily, eh?’ He lowered his head to hers.

      She gulped, her chest tightening at the new threat which she knew he was quite capable of carrying out, even at his own expense. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But…’

      ‘But what?’

      ‘I…I did not agree to stay here. I cannot stay…in the…in the…’

      ‘In the circumstances?’

      She breathed out, slowly. ‘Yes.’

      ‘You are referring to our first meeting?’

      She nodded, looking down at her lap and feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping up towards her ears.

      ‘Which you find painful to recall?’

      He was baiting her. ‘Yes,’ she flared, ‘you know I do or you’d not insist on dragging it into every argument.’

      His face came closer until he needed only to whisper. ‘Then why, if it’s so very painful, did you return to the garden last night, lady? To relive it, just a little? Eh?’

      She looked into his eyes for a hint of laughter but there was none to be seen, only a grey and steady seriousness that gave nothing of either enjoyment or sympathy for her chagrin.

      ‘Well?’ he said.

      ‘How do you know that?’

      ‘I was there. I saw you.’

      ‘The hounds…?’

      ‘I sent them back to you.’

      ‘I went to…to look at the wall. You had it repaired.’

      ‘In the dark? Come now, lass, don’t take me for a fool. You couldn’t keep away, could you? You had to go to remind yourself or to chastise yourself. Which? Do you even know which?’

      Goaded beyond caution, she broke the barrier of his arm and pushed past to stand well beyond his reach, panting with rage and humiliation. ‘Yes, Sir Leon, I do know exactly why I returned, but never in a thousand years would you be able to understand. Of course,’ she scoffed, ‘you believe it was for your sake, naturally, being so full of yourself and all. But it was not, sir, I assure you. It was not. Did you believe you’re the first man who’s ever kissed me?’

      She noticed the slight shake of his head before he answered. ‘On the contrary, lady. I am quite convinced that I am not the one who lit the fire that rages inside you, and I also know that you are feeding it on some resentment that threatens to burn you up. Which is yet another reason why you’ll be better down here at Wheatley doing what Deventer expects of you rather than moping about up in Sonning with little to do except think. Or are you so eager to continue wallowing in your problems unaided?’

      ‘My problems, as you call them, are not your concern, Sir Leon, nor do I need anyone’s aid either to wallow or work. And I’m stuck here with no transport, thanks to your interference, so what choice do I have now but to stay?’

      ‘Less than you had before, which was what I intended.’

      ‘You are insufferable, sir.’

      ‘Nevertheless, you will suffer me, and I will tame you. Now you can go.’

      ‘Thank you. I was going anyway.’ She stalked away, fuming.

      That prediction at least was true, though she missed the smile in his eyes that followed her first into a dark cupboard and then into a carpenter’s bench and a pile of wood-shavings.

      ‘Where the devil am I?’ she turned and yelled at him, furiously.

      His smile broke as he set off towards her.

      ‘Come,’ he said, laughing.

       Chapter Three

       A lthough the notion had taken root in Felice’s mind that she might have to stay at Wheatley Abbey after all, Sir Leon’s high-handed tactics hardly bore the hallmarks of subtle persuasion. Added to their disastrous introduction, it was this that made her almost wild with anger and humiliation to be so brazenly manipulated first by Lord Deventer and then by his surveyor. It was almost as if they saw it as some kind of game in which her wishes were totally irrelevant. As for his talk about taming her, well, that was ludicrous. Men’s talk.

      ‘Tamed, indeed!’ she spat. ‘You’ve bitten off more than you can comfortably chew, sir!’ She threw a fistful of bread scraps to the gaggling ducks, scowling approvingly at their rowdiness.

      Her companion on the afternoon stroll was Mistress Lydia Waterman, whose insight was heart-warming. ‘Take no notice, love,’ she called from further along the river’s edge. ‘You know what they’re like. They have to be given a sense of purpose. We could do worse, though, than be stranded in a place like this, and at least you have plenty to do. Just look at it; it must have been swarming with monks twenty years ago.’

      To one side of them the river cut a tight curve that enclosed the abbey on two sides before disappearing beyond the mill into woodland. Where the grass and meadowsweet had recovered from the builders’ feet, creamy-white elder blossom drooped over ducks, geese and swans that jostled for food. They launched themselves into the water in dignified droves as Felice’s two deerhounds pranced towards them.

      Wheatley Abbey had been left in ruins for twenty years after the English monasteries were closed and their wealth taken by the present queen’s father, Henry VIII. But the villagers had won permission to keep the church for their own use while the rest of the abbey buildings had been bought by Lord Deventer whose programme of rebuilding had already lasted two years. During that time, his talented thirty-year-old surveyor had restored and converted first the Abbot’s House and then the New House, which had once been the monks’ refectory, dormitory and cellarium. The enclosed cloister still awaited attention, and the guesthouse, which at present stood apart from the other buildings, was being used as Sir Leon’s offices and some of the masons’ accommodation. СКАЧАТЬ