The Disgraced Marchioness. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ he came to her she was ready, standing before the long window, composed, confident, a glossy layer of sophistication. She would hold this interview on her own terms as Marchioness of Burford.

      He closed the door softly, advanced and stood for a moment. They might have been strangers, distant acquaintances at the most, except that at least then he might have put himself out to be sociable. As it was he looked at her with apparent indifference in his cold grey eyes and the stern set of his mouth.

      And surveyed her in a detailed assessment from head to foot with an arrogance that chilled her blood.

      How right Nicholas had been, he thought. The Marchioness was not pretty. He had forgotten how very beautiful she was. Heart-stoppingly so. All that glossy brown hair with its autumnal tints, caught up in fashionable ringlets. Any red-blooded man would dream of unpinning it, of allowing it to curl in his hands or against his lips. He remembered exactly how it had felt. Her perfect oval face with straight nose and sculpted lips was lovely indeed. Calm and translucent as a Renaissance Ma-donna—until he looked at her eyes. Amethyst fire, fringed with dark lashes, and at this moment blazing with temper and wilful determination. Here was no simpering miss, he acknowledged. The pretty and naïve debutante of his memory had vanished for ever. She was tall. Taller than he had remembered, the crown of her head reaching well past his shoulder. And the black gown, extravagantly fashionable, complimented her elegant figure and the natural cream of her complexion. Assured and polished, she had grown into her new status since he had known her as Miss Eleanor Stamford. His brother had indeed shown excellent taste in his choice of bride.

      Eleanor found herself flushing under the sustained regard. It had the whip of an insult and she raised her chin against it but she would not retaliate. She would not!

      The silence between them had lasted too long for social correctness. But when the lady almost felt compelled to break it, it was he who did so.

      ‘My Lady Burford. I believe that you deserve my congratulations as well as my condolences.’ He bowed with cold grace. Another calculated insult. ‘At least I now know the answer to one of the many unsolved mysteries of this world! I have clearly been lacking in my understanding of the driving ambition of some of the members of your sex. I realise that with any real understanding of human nature, I should have been able to work it out for myself.’

      ‘My lord?’

      ‘You look surprised, my dear Eleanor.’ Lord Henry’s smile was an essay in contempt. ‘It is simply that I now find it perfectly plain why you chose not to respond to my offer of marriage, in spite of your previous … shall I say, encouragement of my suit. You had your sights set on a far bigger and more important fish in your small pond. And a far richer one.’ The slick of disdain could not quite disguise the underlying pain, but the words had the bite of a lash. ‘I could obviously offer you nothing in comparison. I am sorry that my brother’s death has caused all your planning to go awry, my lady! As widow of the Marquis of Burford, your social position will be far less glamorous than you had plotted and planned for—if my brother had had the consideration to live.’

      Eleanor found herself unexpectedly speechless.

      Whatever she had expected him to say, whatever tone she had expected him to use towards her, it was certainly not this.

      ‘I do not understand. You will have to speak more plainly, my lord.’ Eleanor managed with an effort of will to keep her response cool, with none of the confused bewilderment that resulted from his words.

      ‘I admire your composure,’ he continued in the same conversational tone, ‘but of course you must have anticipated that we would meet again at some point, given the family connection. Unlike myself, who had no notion of what you had achieved in my absence. Did you perhaps expect me to have the supreme good manners not to mention our past dealings? To behave as if nothing untoward had occurred?’

      Eleanor reconstructed her thoughts with a little shake of her head, trying to ignore the heavy sarcasm.

      ‘An offer of marriage, you say? You promised marriage, certainly. And I believed you. But I never received such an offer. It appeared that you had changed your mind.’ She held him in that clear gaze, willing him to deny her challenge. ‘I could wish that you had been sensitive enough to inform me of it. Instead you left me, left the country. No word, no explanation. Nothing. I was forced to learn of your departure from elsewhere. I admit, my lord, I had expected better treatment at your hands.’

      ‘You have a short memory, my lady.’ He was implacable in his response.

      ‘I have an excellent memory, my lord! I expected to hear from you. You promised that you would write when you had arranged your passage.’ Eleanor could hear her voice rising as the past flooded back and she fought hard to keep it controlled. ‘And then I was left to learn that you had sailed. To America. With no intention to return in the near future. You obviously had no thought for me at all.’

      ‘I sent you a letter. Telling you when I would sail. Asking you to join me as we had discussed. I gave you time and place.’ Lord Henry turned from her to stand before the fireplace, the distance between them a little greater. She was so lovely with the sun gilding her hair in an iconic halo. It would be so easy to believe her. And so disastrous if he allowed himself to do so. Besides, he knew that she lied. He clenched his jaw. ‘Don’t deny it. I know the message was delivered to your home. The groom I paid to do it confirmed the delivery.’

      ‘I received no such letter.’

      ‘It would certainly be more comfortable for you to hold to that fact, would it not, dear Eleanor?’ Lord Henry struggled to keep his tone flat, conversational even. ‘I would be the first to agree that such problems arise. It is quite possible for letters to go astray, as I discovered only a few hours ago. After all, I had absolutely no knowledge of Thomas’s marriage to you until Nicholas broke the news in the gun room. And yet Thomas had certainly written to inform me of the happy event.’ He picked up a fragile porcelain figure of a shepherdess and lamb from the mantelpiece, contemplated for the barest second smashing it on the hearth, replaced it gently with the utmost control in exactly the same spot. ‘But I know without any shadow of doubt that my letter was delivered to you, allowing you all the time you would need to join me at the vessel. My messenger was most reliable, as you could imagine for so important a delivery.’

      ‘Such a letter, if it ever existed, never reached my hands.’ She could find nothing other to say in her own defence.

      Lord Henry shrugged, a gesture of cynical disbelief. ‘If you insist on holding to that, my lady … Tell me. Did you know my brother before I left, or did you wait until I had gone before you put yourself in his way?’

      ‘I …’ She could not believe that he had actually said that—that he could think so little of her!

      ‘It would not be very difficult to lure Thomas into marriage,’ he continued to taunt her. ‘You have a beautiful face, as I know to my cost. And my brother found it easy to trust those he liked.’

      ‘I never lured Thomas!’ How could the man whom she had once loved more than life itself be so deliberately vindictive?

      ‘No? But he offered you marriage.’

      ‘Yes. He did.’

      ‘I expect your lady mother was delighted. Your family might be respectable enough, but you had hardly been groomed for the role of Marchioness.’ He lifted a hand to sweep the room in an expansive gesture. ‘And here you are, mistress of Burford Hall, a town house in the most fashionable part of London and a hunting lodge in Leicestershire. СКАЧАТЬ