you would care to take a stroll, I would be happy to escort you.’ He was smiling and for once the grey eyes smiled with him.
‘Thank you, but I have already walked a distance around the park,’ she lied.
‘Then you are before me.’ A slight flush crept into his lean cheek as he recognised the snub.
‘It would appear so.’
He had been studying her from a distance, seen the sadness in her face and felt his determination waver. But her flagrant rejection of courtesies hardened his heart again and spurred him once more into attack.
‘I’m surprised by your energy. I would have thought you had little left after last night’s magnificent display of dancing.’
‘I am not such a poor creature.’ And the flash in the emerald eyes was unmistakable. He remembered well that indomitable spirit and once more his heart softened a little.
‘You were never a poor creature, Miss Tallis,’ he said quietly. ‘Far from it, as I recall. I still have the scars to prove it!’
She looked at him, surprised.
‘I spent my childhood following you,’ he offered. ‘Jumping rocks, climbing trees, hacking my way through woods. It was a tough training.’
Her face broke into the shadow of a smile, the troubles of the present for the moment cast aside.
‘And were you always the follower?’
‘Always. I rarely saw more than a tangle of red curls in the distance.’
Her smile broadened. ‘I was always that far ahead?’
He looked quizzically at her. ‘There were times when I got to see the back of two skinny brown legs, but never much more.’
‘Why did you follow me if it meant suffering scars?’
‘Why wouldn’t I? Life was a daily adventure and the scars were simple ones. Childhood was the easy part. It was growing up that was difficult.’
Her smile vanished. ‘How sad it is that we cannot stay children,’ she almost blurted out.
‘Unfortunately we cannot. Nor can we undo life.’
‘But surely we can start again.’ Their reminiscence had emboldened her and her voice now held a definite plea.
‘I fear not,’ he said sternly. ‘We are prisoners of the life we make and we must live with that knowledge.’ His face had entirely lost its earlier warmth.
‘I cannot agree,’ she said vehemently. ‘That would be to underestimate the human spirit and its capacity for change.’
‘I have never underestimated you, Miss Tallis.’
His words were oblique, but she knew well their meaning. Nothing had altered and she felt sick to her stomach. He was still her implacable enemy.
‘Nor I you, Lord Veryan,’ she managed at last.
‘It seems that we are agreed on one thing at least.’
‘It matters not to me whether we agree or disagree. If you will excuse me …’
And with that she rose in one fluid movement, pushed back her chair and was tripping down the steps before he realised her intention. The breeze caught her mane of red curls and tangled them wildly into a fiery haze. He felt a momentary madness to rush after her and take hold of that hair, smooth it, caress it, cover it in kisses. It deserved to be worshipped.
‘Richard? I thought it must be you. I am very pleased to see you again. You were at Almack’s last night, I believe, but there was no opportunity to speak to you.’
Lady Tallis had appeared from the rear of the pagoda and was now standing beside him looking, despite her words, not at all pleased. She had glimpsed the figure of Christabel in the distance walking rapidly away towards the lake and drawn her own conclusions. In her short absence the sky had begun to cloud alarmingly.
‘Lady Harriet! How good to see such an old friend.’ Richard felt genuine pleasure at meeting the woman who for much of his life had been a second mother to him.
‘I have to admit some surprise at seeing you in London,’ Lady Tallis returned. ‘I had no idea you were in the country.’ Her tone verged on reproof. ‘But naturally I am delighted that you have returned safely. I make no doubt that the voyage was a testing one. Your mother must be overjoyed.’
He looked a little self-conscious, but felt there was no point in dissembling.
‘She will have learned only recently that I landed safely.’
Lady Tallis raised her eyebrows. ‘Forgive me, but should you not have apprised her of that fact immediately?’
‘I’ve been a little delayed in London, but intend to leave for Cornwall within the week. By now she will have had my letter telling her to expect me shortly.’
‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully, though in truth she did not. Whatever could have kept him in London? She had heard gossip about a young woman from Buenos Aires, someone he had supposedly escorted to England, but that surely would not have prevented him making for home as soon as he was able.
She fixed him with a severe expression. ‘Anne will be waiting in some anxiety for you.’
She felt strongly that he should be with his mother in Cornwall and almost as strongly that he should not be in London upsetting Christabel. Particularly not at this delicate moment when she was poised to accept Sir Julian.
A sudden clap of thunder shook the pagoda roof and in seconds shattered the gentleness of the April morning. A moment later shards of rain were beating on the woodwork and bouncing off the grass. The party on the balcony hastily decamped to the back of the pagoda for shelter, but Lady Tallis bethought herself of Christabel, under the open skies and without protection.
Richard was before her. He grabbed one of the umbrellas presciently provided by Lady Wivenhoe for her guests and ran down the steps, striding rapidly in the direction he had last seen Christabel heading. On the way he passed a furious Benedict and a joyful Domino. The rain had obliterated Benedict’s carefully crafted hair style à la Brutus to the huge amusement of his companion. Despite being severely buffeted by the sudden tempest, her peals of laughter rang out across the park.
Richard ignored the noisy pair and hurried on. He found Christabel in minutes, standing motionless by the waters of the storm-tossed lake. She was drenched, her skin translucent and gleaming beneath the downpour, and the curves of her lithe figure apparent through the sodden muslin of the once-beautiful dress. She turned at that moment and her face wore such a look of unhappiness that he wanted to take her into his arms there and then and put a stop to the nonsense he had started. But he knew well that beyond the fragility lay pure steel. The deep-green eyes flashed anger at him and bade him keep his distance just as surely as if she had spoken.
Mutely he offered the shelter of the umbrella. Even she had to smile at that ineffectual gesture. She could not become any wetter.
‘Thank you for the thought, Lord Veryan. I fear,
