have not heard my doctor say so. Life is for living, sir, and I mean to enjoy what little time I have left.’
‘I cannot fault that philosophy, Sir Benjamin.’ Nick grinned and carried both glasses over to the decanter. ‘Miss Shawcross seems a little agitated,’ he remarked. ‘I do hope my visit is not inopportune…’
Sir Benjamin chuckled. ‘Her feathers are ruffled because I omitted to tell her you were coming.’
‘I gathered that much.’ Nick smiled to himself as he recalled his first meeting with Evelina Shawcross. ‘I am afraid I might have ruffled her feathers even more.’
‘No matter, she’ll come round.’ Sir Benjamin sipped his brandy. ‘She’s a good gel, my granddaughter. Levelheaded and with as sweet a nature as any man could wish. She’s not the flighty sort, never shown any desire to go off exploring.’ The old man sighed a little. ‘Her mother was quite the opposite. Never happier than when she was travelling the world. Took my son off all over the place when they was married. But Eve’s different, a quiet gel. She needs a husband who can give her all the comforts she has enjoyed here at Makerham. A man who will look after her properly. Can you do that, Captain?’
Nick suddenly found himself fixed with a fierce stare from those faded eyes. He returned the look steadily.
‘You know my circumstances, Sir Benjamin. I believe I can keep a wife in tolerable comfort.’
‘Yes, yes, but will you make her happy?’
Nick fought down a smile.
‘I have never had any complaints yet, sir.’
‘That’s what worries me, a good-looking dog like you. I saw the women at Tunbridge making eyes at you, throwing out lures—and some of ’em old enough to know better!’
‘But what you didn’t see was my responding to any of their—er—lures,’ replied Nick evenly. ‘Let us be clear, Sir Benjamin. I am not a monk; there have been plenty of women in my life, but none of ’em more than a flirtation. If I take a wife, she will have nothing to fear on that score.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Well, sir, if you are wishful to marry my granddaughter, then go to it. But mind you; it must be her decision. I’ll not have her coerced into anything.’
Nick raised his glass.
‘From the little I have seen of the lady, sir, I think she will make up her own mind.’
When Eve went to her room to change for dinner, her maid Martha was laying out her new gown.
‘My blue silk?’ she exclaimed. ‘Is that not a little grand for a family dinner?’
‘We must make you look your best for your visitor, miss.’
‘I am not sure the occasion warrants such a display,’ Eve objected mildly, but Martha was not to be deterred.
‘Captain Wylder is a fine gentleman, miss. Son of an earl, his man says.’
‘I know that, Martha.’
‘Ah, but did you also know that he is a hero? In the Americas he was, fighting the rebels. Captain Wyldfire they called him.’ She spread out the petticoats for Eve to step into them.
‘Martha, what have I told you about repeating servants’ gossip?’
‘This is not gossip, miss,’ Martha corrected her; ‘It is information. He was a bold and fearless captain, Mr Granby told me, always to be found where the fighting was thickest. That’s where he got the name Wyldfire, they say, because he blazed his way through the enemy lines.’
‘And who says so? His own servants, I don’t doubt.’
‘Aye, well, Mr Granby told me some of it, but William the coachman also had it from his groom, who has been with the family for ever.’
Eve gave a little huff of disbelief. ‘I believe they are all besotted with their master. I shall write to my old school-friend Maria Scott—Lady Gryfford as she is now. Her letters are always full of society gossip so I am sure she will be able to furnish me with a true account of our guest.’
‘I am sure she will, miss,’ replied Martha comfortably. ‘And I am sure it will bear out all that has been said. Well, you only have to look at him, so tall and handsome as he is. A real hero, is Captain Wyldfire.’
‘Well there will be no need for him to be a hero in this house,’ retorted Eve crossly. She glanced at the red leather box on the dressing table. ‘What is that?’
‘Your sainted mother’s sapphires.’ replied Martha. ‘Sir Benjamin ordered them to be sent up to you. He wants you to wear them tonight.’
Eve put a hand up to her bare neck. ‘G-Grandpapa sent them?’
‘Why, yes, miss. Most insistent he was.’
She stared at the box. At last she said quietly, ‘Then, of course, I must wear them.’
Nick stood by the fireplace in the little parlour and looked down at the flames leaping merrily in the hearth. One of the logs had fallen forward; he resisted the temptation to push it back into place with his toe. Richard had worked hard to coax him into his dark blue frock-coat and the knee breeches that were the required mode of evening dress for a formal dinner and he knew his trusty servant would think his efforts wasted if he was to end up with wood ash on his soft leather shoes or, even worse, spattered on his white silk stockings. Instead he picked up the tongs and rearranged the logs until the flames were licking hungrily around them. He straightened as the door opened and Miss Shawcross entered. After their encounter on the drive he thought he had himself well under control, but it was an effort to prevent his jaw from dropping as he looked at her. She was a vision in cobalt blue and silver lace, her glorious hair piled on her head and one glossy black curl falling on to her shoulder. Nick smiled to himself; he had come to Makerham determined to court Evelina Shawcross, even if she had been hunchbacked and with a squint. This glorious creature was like a gift from the gods. She aroused in him all that was good—and bad! There was a troubled look on her face as she came into the room and he said hurriedly,
‘I understood this is where you meet before dinner…’
‘You are perfectly correct, sir. I am only sorry that there was no one here to greet you.’
He smiled.
‘You are here now, that is all that matters.’ He walked forwards to give her his arm. The sapphires around her neck twinkled, enhancing the beauty of that slender column. He longed to put up a hand and touch the creamy skin, but she was like a wild animal, tense and ready for flight. He must go carefully.
‘Miss Shawcross, you are not happy with me here.’
‘Oh—no, I—’
Her hand fluttered on his arm and he covered her fingers with his own. She was trembling.
‘Please,’ he murmured, ‘while we are alone let me say this. If you would prefer me to leave, I will make my excuses to Sir Benjamin—’
She
