Rumours that Ruined a Lady. Marguerite Kaye

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      ‘Well, that is one thing we now have in common then,’ Caro said after a short, uncomfortable silence. ‘I used to think that my father was simply not the affectionate type. I was sure he loved me, even though he never gave any sign that he did. Then Bella had James, and Papa haunted the nursery, and it was the same with Henry and George and Freddie. He was never like that with us girls.’

      ‘Caro, I’m sure...’

      ‘No. No, there is no point in pretending. If he loved me he would not cast me off. He did not even ask if any of it was true. He took my husband at his word. They went to the same school, you know, though Papa is a good twenty years older.’

      He was tempted to ask her for her side of the story, but refrained, telling himself that he did not care, that it was nothing to do with him, that her being here was merely transitory. Her attempt to smile was admirable. Though every word she said was true, he could not doubt the pain which lay behind her acceptance of such unpleasant facts, for he knew how much it had meant to her, to try to please the man. ‘You seem very philosophical about it all,’ he said.

      ‘That is what happens when you come close to death. It rather gives you a perspective on your life,’ Caro replied drily. ‘Sebastian, why do you keep the house shut up like this?’

      He threw his unused napkin onto the table. ‘Dammit, can’t you leave it?’

      ‘If you were to open it up, to invite your neighbours to tea...’

      ‘Tea! Do you honestly think they’d allow their wives and daughters to take tea with the Heartless Heartbreaker?’

      She chuckled. ‘I expect most of their wives and daughters would readily take anything you were prepared to offer them.’

      Her eyes were alight with humour. She had a mouth made for smiling, though he was willing to bet she hadn’t done much of that recently. And for kissing. It caught him unawares, the memory of her lips on his, the sweet floral scent of her, the silken softness of her glorious hair. He realised he was staring at her, and poured himself another cup of cold and unwanted coffee. She had changed, he thought. She was right, he didn’t really know her at all.

      ‘My sisters and I used to call your papa the Marquis of Ardhellow,’ Caro said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘We used to speculate about what the house was like. We were desperate to see inside. It is ironic that it took an overdose of opium for me to be granted my wish. From the little I have seen of the place, Crag Hall would live up to every one of the terrible tales we used to spin. It is quite Gothic in its state of neglect.’

      She always did have a way of turning things on their head. That much had not changed. Sebastian pushed his full coffee cup out of reach. ‘The Marquis of Ardhellow. I suppose you think the title fits me even better than it did my father.’

      She pursed her lips. ‘What I suppose is that you would like it to be so. You seem almost to relish your poor reputation.’

      ‘Why not? It was hard-earned.’

      Caro looked at him appraisingly. ‘What a strange thing to say. And I suppose my being here can only help your cause. So, you really do intend to walk in your father’s shoes after all?’

      ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Shut up here, never seeing anyone. Just as he did.’

      ‘I see people every day.’

      ‘Tenants. Villagers. Stable hands. Your bailiff. Servants. But you don’t have any friends to dinner. You don’t call on your neighbours.’

      ‘There is the small matter of your presence here. And the fact that my nearest neighbours happen to be your family.’

      ‘Sebastian, do not be obtuse. How could you have guests call on you here, in this room which is smaller than some of your tenants’ parlours? You don’t even employ a cook. Such a beautiful place this is, and so obviously unloved, it is a shame.’

      ‘I am not the one who neglected this damned pile.

      ‘Perhaps your father stopped caring because he knew you did not.’

      Sebastian pushed his chair back angrily. ‘If I had known you would be so damned inquisitive about matters which do not concern you I would have...’

      ‘Left me to die.’

      ‘No! Caro, I did not mean that.’

      ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I did not mean to poke my nose into your affairs. It is simply that—oh, you will think I am being melodramatic, but you saved my life. I wanted to help save yours.’

      ‘Thank you, but I do not require saving.’ She looked as if he had slapped her. He felt as if he had. Dammit, he would not let her get under his skin. ‘You will excuse me now, but I have important matters to attend to,’ Sebastian said. ‘My father may have neglected both me and the house but he never shirked his duty when it came to the estate, and nor shall I. Last year’s harvest was poor, and this year’s looks likely to be no better. Despite my lack of experience, I am very much aware of the impact this will have on the labourers.’ In fact, it was a problem which kept him awake at night, for the resulting unrest threatened to turn very nasty indeed. Sebastian was determined to do all he could to alleviate any suffering, but his lack of experience made it a difficult business, giving him ample cause to regret the ignorance he had so deliberately cultivated. ‘Like it or not, I am the Marquis of Ardhallow now.’ Nodding curtly, he left the room.

      * * *

      Alone at the table, Caro dropped her head into her hands. All the brightness of the new day seemed to have disappeared. The dark clouds which had enveloped her of late loomed large. She sat up, squaring her shoulders. She had problems enough of her own without trying to solve Sebastian’s. In fact, it was probably a desire to avoid thinking about her own problems which had made her turn on him as she had done.

      She got to her feet and began to tidy the breakfast things. It was the least she could do, since Mrs Keith was so short-handed. Two years ago, he had finally destroyed her silly notion that she was in love with him. Two years ago, he had destroyed the last of her illusions about him. She had always laughed at the notion of his being the Heartless Heartbreaker, but perhaps after all that was exactly how it was. Like the Hall, Sebastian’s feelings on the subject were locked away and shuttered. His heart was as cold and empty as the house he inhabited.

      Picking up a stack of plates, she made her way carefully across the untidy room. The problem was, if he really had wanted to live up to his name, he would surely have left her to die. What was it he’d called them? Two renegades. She smiled to herself, finding that she liked the idea very much. They had always been thus, back then. Cocking a snook at the world. That night at Crockford’s for example...

      London—1824

      A week had passed since Sebastian had left Caro outside her father’s house at Cavendish Square following the séance. A week, during which time he’d almost convinced himself that she would see sense and change her mind, until her note had arrived that morning. It had been terse and to the point. Her father was still abroad, her stepmother was temporarily confined to bed, her aunt was unavailable to act as duenna, Cressie had of a sudden come down with a head cold and was also confined to bed, and so Caro was free tonight to accompany Sebastian to Crockford’s. If this in any way inconveniences my lord, then be assured СКАЧАТЬ