The Virtuous Cyprian. Nicola Cornick

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СКАЧАТЬ encouragingly. ‘I’ll show you to your room. Everything will look better in the morning!’

      Chapter Two

      ‘Miss Kellaway.’ The voice was soft and smooth as warm honey. It spoke in Lucille’s ear.

      Lucille had been at Cookes for ten days and thought that she had stumbled into paradise. The house, converted from a charming jumble of medieval cottages, was crammed full of books, treatises and journals enough to keep her occupied for weeks. Her previous reading had been restricted to the books available from Miss Pym’s limited collection and from the Oakham subscription library. At Cookes she could read until the print blurred and her head ached. And then there was the garden—a wilderness where one could wander for hours amidst the rioting roses, or sit in the cool shade of the orchard. It had all been like a blissful dream, a thousand miles away from the petty cares of the school regime and uninterrupted by callers from the outside world.

      Lucille’s conscience, originally troubled by the impersonation of Susanna, had grown quiescent as nobody disturbed her peace. The memory of that dreadful night in the inn at Felixstowe had faded away. She now thought it quite possible that she had misheard the snatches of conversation that had led her to believe that the Earl of Seagrave would be in Dillingham, and mistakenly believed him to be the gentleman who had offered her his help. Certainly she had seen neither hide nor hair of him since her arrival.

      The other legacy of that evening had been the slow realisation of what an impersonation of Susanna might mean—the memory of the landlady’s prurient scorn and Sir Edwin’s lustful advances still made her shiver. That someone might think she was Susanna, and as such was fair game for such treatment, made her feel ill. In her innocence she had not even considered it before—ignorance, not innocence, she now chided herself bitterly. But while nobody called and she had no wish to go out, it was a matter that could be put to one side, if not ignored.

      The warm, southern aspect of Cookes’s drawing-room, with its delightful views across the lawn to the fishpond, had lulled Lucille into a sleepy state of relaxation that afternoon. Her copy of Walter Scott’s Waverley had slid from her hand as her head rested against the panelling and her eyes closed irresistibly in the sunshine. She had removed her reading glasses, which rested on the window-seat beside her, and had drifted into a light doze.

      The voice spoke again, this time with an inflection of impatience.

      ‘Miss Kellaway?’

      Lucille opened her eyes slowly, and thought that she was probably still dreaming. Eyes of the darkest bitter chocolate flecked with gold were about three inches away from her own. His face was all planes and angles, she thought, bemused, except for his mouth which, though firm, was sensuously curved and quite delicious…Her gaze lingered, transfixed, and then one of the pins holding her unaccustomed Grecian knot dug into her head painfully, and she realised she was awake.

      With growing horror, Lucille removed her gaze hastily from the man’s mouth and met the distinctly speculative look in those dark eyes. They were not friendly but piercingly appraising. He had been leaning on the seat beside her and now straightened up, moving away from her, and Lucille found to her relief that she could breathe again. She struggled upright, aware that the charming gown of rose pink crêpe—one of Susanna’s more restrained dresses—had slipped off her shoulder as she dozed, and was revealing the upper curves of her breasts in a manner to which she was completely unaccustomed. The gentleman, on the other hand, was clearly the sort of man who was used to seeing women in déshabillé. Certainly he was not in the least embarrassed by her obvious discomposure and his gaze lingered with blatant consideration in a way she found completely disconcerting.

      ‘Miss Kellaway?’ he said for a third time, with the same deceptive gentleness. ‘We have met before, but may I perhaps remind you? I am Nicholas, Earl of Seagrave and as such—’ his voice became heavily ironic ‘—your landlord.’

      Lucille already knew. She had recognised him almost at once. He was just as she remembered, only more so. He had a tall, athletic figure, immaculately clad in buff pantaloons and a coat of blue superfine, and the sort of brooding dark good looks that immediately made her feel completely out of her depth. It was the same voice that she remembered, mellow and distinctive. Fortunately he did not appear to have recognised her, but then, he thought she was her sister…Lucille jumped visibly. Oh Lord, Seagrave thought she was Susanna! The scorching heat which had suffused her body when she had first seen him faded abruptly to leave her feeling cold and shaken. She had to tell him at once! For a moment she wavered, within an inch of revealing her true identity. But he looked so authoritative, so forbidding, that her courage failed her. Surely, if she could just get rid of him quickly, he would not call again…

      She sat up straighter with what she hoped was a fair imitation of her sister’s elegance and tried to pull herself together. No doubt he already thought her a lackwit, first staring, then silent!

      ‘Lord Seagrave! Excuse me, I was not attending! How kind of you to call, sir. May I offer you some refreshment, perhaps? A glass of wine?’ Her attempt at Susanna’s husky drawl came out a little strangely. She sounded as though she had a sore throat.

      Seagrave’s gaze, coolly assessing, remained focused on her with disconcerting intentness. ‘No, thank you. This is not a social call, Miss Kellaway.’ He strode over to the fireplace and turned back to face her, awesomely in control.

      ‘When I first heard that you had moved into Dillingham I thought my informant must be in jest,’ he said conversationally. ‘You are hardly renowned for your interest in country living, are you, Miss Kellaway? I cannot see what conceivable attraction a house like this could hold for you. Why, it is not as though you even own it! Your position is tenuous, to say the least! You know, of course, that I can terminate the lease at any time?’

      Lucille did not know. Susanna’s brief instructions to her sister had not included any information on the lease on Cookes. Marshalling her scattered thoughts in the face of this sudden and unwelcome attack, Lucille tried desperately to work out how Susanna would deal with this situation. She plumped for a certainty.

      ‘Lud, is that so?’ She managed to sound quite careless. ‘You’ll understand, my lord, that I leave such matters to my man of business. But surely you are not about to evict me?’ She attempted a melting look at him through her eyelashes. Seagrave seemed totally unmoved. Evidently, Lucille thought, the business of flirtation was more difficult than she had imagined.

      ‘I prefer,’ Seagrave said, with scrupulous politeness, ‘that you see the error of your ways of your own accord, Miss Kellaway. I feel sure that when you have considered the matter, you will see that the country is not really the place for you. This house can hardly be to your taste, and the village…well, you will find it an uncomfortable place to live.’ There was no hint of a threat in his tone, but Lucille felt a shiver go through her. She knew he was trying to intimidate her. There was something powerfully compelling about that tall figure dominating her shabby drawing-room.

      She arched her eyebrows in delicate enquiry. ‘Whatever can you mean, my lord?’ Her tone was provocatively innocent. ‘This house is delightful and Dillingham appears to be a charming village!’

      Seagrave’s dark eyes narrowed momentarily. He had betrayed no temper or even irritation during their exchange, yet Lucille had the unnerving feeling that that was only because he was holding himself on a tight rein. Now he thrust his hands into his jacket pockets as if to restrain himself further, but his voice remained level.

      ‘It is indeed a delightful place, Miss Kellaway, but I doubt that you will find it so. Like many villages it can be insular and intolerant. You will find that the arrival of such a gaudy bird of paradise as yourself amongst СКАЧАТЬ