know.’ Sophia’s tone was getting dangerous. ‘Bet you didn’t know that the odds are mounting on his marrying the girl within the year. Can’t be any earlier—he’s in mourning—bad ton.’
‘What do you know of bad ton?’
‘It might surprise you, Miss Superior, just how much I do know. Anyway a lot of money was changing hands last night, betting on the marriage. Lucky old Rick, eh? Comes back from some outlandish place and walks straight into a title and now a fortune.’
His sisters looked blankly at him.
‘Loaded,’ he said succinctly. ‘That’s the word. Full of juice and a good looker too. What more could a man ask? I talked to her myself last night. Introduced by the grande dame, Mrs Drummond-Burrell. I think she thought Domino—what a name—was in need of younger company.’
‘She certainly got it with you,’ Sophia said derisively.
‘And she enjoyed it, may I say.’ He ruminated for a while, chewing thoughtfully on the last kidney. ‘Taking little thing, I thought, though she never quite mastered the steps of the cotillion.’
‘And you, of course, are the supreme exponent of the dance.’
Christabel got up swiftly, unable to bear her siblings’ bickering a minute longer. Benedict’s words had washed away her earlier resolve. How could she possibly keep an impassive countenance when she knew for sure that Richard was planning to marry?
She would make her excuses. The family must go without her.
‘What’s the matter, Christabel?’ It was Sophia stopping her at the door. ‘Can’t face seeing your old beau getting wed? Why should it matter to you? After all, aren’t you marrying Sir Julian?’
Benedict gaped. He knew little of the events of six years ago, having been away at school, and had not realised the effect his news might have. But it was Sophia’s words that cut Christabel most deeply. In her spite, her sister had arrowed straight to the question which was causing her such agitation. Why did it matter so much to her that Richard was to marry? She must prove that it did not. She must prove Sophia wrong. There would be no evasions—she would go to the picnic.
It seemed that the Wivenhoes could not have chosen a better day for their alfresco party. An almost cloudless sky and an unusually warm April sun enabled their guests to view the beauty of the park from open carriages. Herds of red and fallow deer grazed undisturbed in a pastoral landscape of rolling hills, grassy slopes and woodland gardens. The fresh untouched green of springtime already clad most of the ancient trees and beneath their light shade shimmered daffodil gold. The company drove leisurely through this sylvan setting before arriving at a central pagoda where they were to be served refreshments.
Christabel, her mother and sister were soon ensconced on its terrace, sitting comfortably on a padded chaise and gratefully sipping tea. Servants bustled to and fro, some bringing additional cushions and blankets for the older members of the group, and others plates of dainty sandwiches and small iced cakes. Sophia made ready to plunder the dish of madeleines left temptingly on their table.
‘What a beautiful place,’ her mother murmured to her hostess as she passed by. ‘And such a wonderful day!’
‘Indeed—it seems that summer is already with us!’ Lady Wivenhoe happily mingled among the knot of people gathered on the terrace.
Christabel hardly heard them. The cream muslin gown she wore, trimmed with delicate chartreuse lace, might pay homage to the season, but her spirits remained locked in winter. She felt frozen in time, yet her mind was never still, never at peace. She thought she might be going mad. For the hundredth time she tried to understand why in that faraway summer she’d acted as she had. Richard had meant so much to her and yet, with hardly a thought, it seemed, she’d returned his ring and thrown herself at a man who even then she’d suspected was not to be trusted. Why, oh, why had she done that? Only the intoxication of first sexual awakening could explain the wilful breaking into pieces of the jigsaw of her life. But it was not quite the first awakening, was it? There was that evening in Cornwall when she and Richard had thrown themselves into the sea together. They’d been just a little crazy and the swim had sparked something deep and elemental between them, or so she’d thought. But almost immediately he’d turned away. He’d not wanted that intimate bond and she’d been left bewildered, ashamed of the physical ache that had taken hold of her. And then the trip to London with all its glamour, all its glories, had pushed everything else out of her mind. Joshua had swum into her presence, a man who was more than willing to set her body alight. She had loved him dreadfully. No, she corrected herself, she had lusted for him dreadfully. And lust had its own shameful penance. She thought she’d paid that price, but now, it seemed, she must continue to pay.
In the distance she could see Domino laughing and prattling with Richard. On occasions he responded in a similar vein, but there was a serious expression on his face which seemed at odds with the frolicking of his younger companion. At length the girl seemed to grow tired of entertaining him and turned to Benedict, who had just then emerged at her side and was making ready to reintroduce himself. When the two young people began to stroll together across the greensward towards King Henry’s mound, the highest point of the park, Christabel thought that Richard looked almost relieved. How strange. But she’d probably imagined it.
Sophia, meanwhile, was maintaining a critical commentary on her fellow guests as they strolled along the intersecting pathways which met at the pagoda.
As each new costume passed beneath the balcony, it duly received the full force of her disapproval. Her own ensemble had attracted a mixed response and she was still smarting from some of the remarks she’d overheard. Her mother, anxious to restore her to good spirits, extended a comforting arm but in doing so caught her hand in the intricate pattern of the lace tablecloth and spilled the contents of her teacup on to the disputed outfit.
‘Mama, just look what you’ve done—how clumsy!’
‘I am sorry for the accident, Sophia, but your rudeness does you no credit,’ her mother reproved.
For once Sophia looked abashed. Her nerves were on end. She had dreamed of making her mark in ton society, but so far society had shown an entire lack of interest. This morning she had tried particularly hard with her toilette, but it appeared that this effort was still not enough. To add to her misery her elder sister sat next to her, seemingly serene and unruffled, but looking effortlessly lovely and attracting frequent glances of open admiration from the other guests.
‘Come with me,’ Lady Tallis urged, making for the small cloakroom at the rear of the pagoda, ‘we must sponge your dress immediately.’
Sophia trailed miserably behind her and Christabel was left alone with her thoughts. But not for long.
The sound of firm footsteps on the stairway leading to the balcony made her look up.
‘I trust I see you well, Miss Tallis.’
‘Thank you, Lord Veryan, I am most well,’ she answered curtly.
‘And how are you enjoying Richmond Park?’ he pursued.
‘It is very beautiful.’
‘You have seen it only by carriage? It is even better viewed at close quarters.’
She nodded briefly, but said nothing, averting her glance. His shapely legs
