When Marrying a Duke.... Helen Dickson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ doubt it,’ she admitted bluntly. ‘To be honest, I don’t know if I would want to.’

      ‘So a betrothal to the opium-smoking young man I found you with in the native quarter the other day is not to be considered?’

      ‘Oh, no,’ she replied. A frown marred her smooth forehead at the idea that she and Oliver might be linked together. ‘Even though my father is unaware of Oliver’s partiality for a particular narcotic, he would not encourage a match between us.’

      ‘He doesn’t like Mr Schofield?’

      ‘Oh, no, that isn’t the reason. In fact, Father would have no reservations about Oliver making me an excellent husband. It’s just that he would have serious reservations about my life with my prospective mother-in-law.’

      Max chuckled softly. ‘Having encountered Mrs Schofield on several occasions, I can see his point. She’s a tiresome busybody and worse than a washerwoman for the pleasure she takes in idle gossip and malicious talk.’

      ‘Exactly. Besides, I believe she thinks I have a disruptive influence on her precious Oliver.’

      He arched a brow. ‘And have you?’

      ‘I don’t think so, but perhaps the fact that I love having fun and don’t always listen to the dictates of my father has crystallised all my sins in her mind.’

      At the tragic note in her voice, humour softened Max’s features and his firm, sensual lips quirked in a smile. ‘Poor you. What a truly miserable time you are having, Miss Westwood. Still, I applaud your honesty. It’s a rare virtue in one so young.’

      ‘My father says I’m unconventional and I suppose I am, which is why all the old tabbies on the island are always complaining to him about me and giving him advice on the best way to deal with a wayward daughter. But he likes me the way I am and wouldn’t like it if I were to change.’

      ‘Your father is quite right. You are what you are. You can’t please everybody. One’s true character springs from the heart and dwells in the eyes. Unconventionality is an invitation to disaster in the world we inhabit.’

      She stared at him. ‘My word, how very profound.’

      Gazing into his unfathomable eyes, she saw cynicism lurking in their depths. There was something primitive and dangerous about Lord Trevellyan. She had the uneasy feeling that his elegant attire and indolent stance were nothing but disguises meant to lull the unwary into believing he was civilised, when he wasn’t civilised at all. He looked like the sort of man who had seen and done all sorts of things, terrible and forbidden things, things that had hardened him and made him cold. A chill crept up her spine as she wondered what dark secrets lay hidden in his past. Surely there must be many to have made him so cynical and unapproachable.

      ‘I don’t mean to pry, but are you happy, Lord Trevellyan? What I mean is, do you get the very best out of your life?’

      He looked irritated by her question, but he answered it. ‘I don’t suppose so, but then, who does?’

      ‘There you are, you see.’ She lifted her face up to the star-strewn sky, her entire being radiant with optimism, innocence and hope. ‘I love life, even when things happen to me and my friends are deserting me. I can’t stop loving life.’

      Transfixed, Max stared at her. Marietta Westwood was unspoiled, without artifice or pretence, young and naïve and realistic. Her irresistible smile doused his momentary irritation and brought an answering smile to his lips. ‘Long may you continue to do so.’

      Marietta turned and looked at him. In his late twenties, Lord Trevellyan’s potent attraction to women was a topic of much scintillating feminine gossip among the ladies, young and old, in the colony, and as Marietta gazed into those cynical grey eyes, she suddenly felt herself drawn to him as if by some overwhelming magnetic force. Understanding was in his eyes, along with a touch of humour. It was these things, as well as his dark good looks and blatant virility, that impelled women towards him, even though their attentions went unrewarded, for he ignored them all. He was so worldly, so experienced, that he clearly understood them. He understood her, and although it was obvious he didn’t approve of her, he accepted her for what she was, with all her faults.

      ‘Are you going to return to your wife?’ she asked. ‘She might want you to dance with her.’ A strange expression crossed his face, as if he were struggling to master some emotion—anger, she thought.

      ‘Not yet.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because, Miss Inquisitive Westwood, she’s dancing with someone else.’

      ‘I know—Teddy—my father’s business partner.’

      His smile disappeared and his face darkened. ‘I am aware of that.’

      Marietta tilted her head to one side and considered him quizzically. ‘Do you mind?’

      ‘Should I mind?’

      ‘Since it’s the custom to dance with different partners when one attends a ball, then I don’t think you should.’

      ‘Then I don’t.’

      Unaware of his sudden change in attitude, Marietta proceeded to delight Lord Trevellyan with a wickedly humorous description of some of the events she’d attended on the island and some funny stories acquainted with the people she knew. She told him of how, on one of her trips to Kowloon on one of her father’s boats, Teddy, who was leaning comfortably against the side of the boat and made soporific by the warmth of the sun and the lulling of the waves, had fallen into a doze and slipped overboard.

      ‘You managed to pull him back aboard, I see,’ Lord Trevellyan remarked somewhat drily.

      ‘But of course. He was most indignant about it and was sure someone must have pushed him in.’

      Inexperienced and unsophisticated as she was, Max was fascinated by her clever tongue, by her sharp mind and the fount of knowledge she stored about others as she went on to relate other tales, her olive-green eyes shining into his.

      Marietta smiled at him impudently, surprising him with her next question. ‘Why don’t you want to dance with your wife?’

      He drew back. ‘Because I’m not in the mood.’

      They both turned to look at the dancers twirling around the polished dance floor. As if on cue and within three yards of the darkening veranda, his wife and Teddy waltzed by. Lady Trevellyan’s eyes were raised to his, as though answering some question he had asked, and he was gazing at her intently. She wore a white gardenia in her hair and from where they stood Max and Marietta could almost smell its perfume. Her every movement was feline, containing the same elastic mixture of confidence and sophistication that masked an underlying interest in her partner. They saw the rise and fall of her bosom and the languor in her eyes, her parted lips and a look on her face Marietta thought quite strange, for it was a look a woman usually bestowed on her husband.

      Lady Trevellyan peered over Teddy’s shoulder before they disappeared from view. There was a sudden glint in her eyes now as she fixed them on her husband, a glint in which there was no sympathy at all, but only pleasure sharpened with a trace of something very much like spite. There was no perceptible movement of muscle or vein, no change in colour, СКАЧАТЬ