the donkey to transport her goods to the local market, but on no account must my property be sold without my written consent.’
How exceedingly kind and considerate he was! Robina decided, as they rejoined the post road and she caught sight of her ladyship’s carriage in the distance. He had been generous to three perfect strangers and no less generous towards her.
By demanding only friendship, he had now made it possible for her to enjoy the weeks ahead without fear that at the end of her stay she would be asked for recompense.
So why then, she wondered, a frown of puzzlement creasing her brow, wasn’t she feeling deliriously happy at this precise moment? Furthermore, why had she suddenly developed this peculiar hollow feeling deep inside?
Chapter Three
Robina, still very much enjoying the novel experience of having her hair expertly dressed each day by Lady Exmouth’s skilful abigail, sat quietly before the dressing-table mirror, contemplating yet again how much her life had changed since she had left rural Northamptonshire behind her on that cold day in early March.
For a simple country girl, accustomed to comfort rather than luxury, and to lengthy periods of solitude, given to quiet reflection, or the pursuit of some useful occupation whereby she might be of some benefit to her fellow man, it was quite surprising the ease with which she had conformed to a hectic and purely social life, where the pursuit of personal pleasure was the only thing that need concern her to any degree. Her mother’s presence, understandably, had been a steadying influence during those heady weeks in London. Since her arrival in Brighton no restrictions had been placed upon her whatsoever. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, she was being thoroughly spoilt by the darling Dowager and her no less considerate son. And she was shamefully loving every moment of it!
‘It’s simply no good at all. It must stop!’ she announced, with as much determination as she could muster, and without really realising that she had spoken her guilty thoughts aloud until she happened to glance up and noticed the middle-aged abigail’s slightly puzzled expression in the dressing-table mirror.
‘What’s the matter, miss? Don’t you care for this style any longer? We can always try something different if you’d prefer.’
‘I have no fault to find with the way you dress my hair, Pinner,’ Robina hurriedly assured her.
‘Well, that’s a blessing, miss!’ One could almost sense that the highly skilled and conscientious servant was suppressing a sigh of relief. ‘For one dreadful moment there I thought you were going to ask me to cut it. And that I would never willingly do,’ she announced, easing the brush almost reverently through the long shiny dark strands. ‘Beautiful, it is, and a sheer delight to dress, miss, just like the rest of you. There aren’t too many blessed with such a perfect figure as yours. You’re an abigail’s dream, Miss Robina, so you are! You’d look wonderfully turned out in a scullery-maid’s apron!’
‘You’re the one who deserves the credit, not I,’ Robina countered, desperately striving not to allow this fulsome praise go to her head.
As her father, the Reverend William Perceval, had always considered vanity amongst the very worst of sins, compliments were rarely uttered back at the vicarage in Abbot Quincey, and yet Robina, who had been taught to consider inner beauty far more meaningful than any shallow outward trappings, could not help but feel gratified by the compliment.
‘It is no good, Pinner,’ she announced, rising to her feet when the last curls had been carefully pinned into place. ‘I must face the fact that, unless I begin to exert a deal of self-control, I stand in the gravest danger of becoming thoroughly corrupted whilst I continue to reside under this roof. Why, I shall be of no earthly use to man or beast when the time comes for me to return to Abbot Quincey! I never used to think twice about mending a tear in a gown, or dressing my own hair. Now I wouldn’t even contemplate doing such a thing, and am more than content to sit back and allow others to do everything for me. Thoroughly indulged, I am, and loving it! What would dear Papa say?’
It was all very well to make light of it, Robina decided, as the bedchamber resounded with Pinner’s highly amused chuckles, but really it was no laughing matter. She had adapted to this life of ease, this life of pure self-indulgence, as though she had been born to it, which of course was far from the truth. Although life at the vicarage could never have been described as one of drudgery, she had been expected to undertake a variety of light duties, which had included a certain amount of time given to the entertainment of her three younger sisters, ensuring that they didn’t get into mischief by setting a good example herself.
And a fine example she would set for them now! she mused, unable to suppress a rueful half-smile. There was no denying that the highly complaisant and faintly indolent Dowager was an appalling influence. To be fair, though, she ought to accept the lion’s share of the blame herself for not displaying more strength of character and halting her meteoric descent into that wicked pit of dissipation. On the other hand, it had to be said in her own defence that she had been battling against tremendous odds during these past days. Why, even his lordship had actively encouraged her to do precisely as she wished!
Although Daniel had made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear at the outset by announcing that friendship was all he demanded from her at this present moment in time, since their arrival in Brighton he had been unfailingly thoughtful, touchingly attentive to her every possible need.
She paused as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and stared thoughtfully in the direction of the breakfast-parlour door, unaware that her expression had been softened by a quite spontaneous, tender little smile.
She found it hard to believe now, but it was true none the less that, although she had readily agreed to the suggestion when it had first been made, she had, surprisingly, not found it easy to look upon Daniel merely as a friend. Which was all the more curious because she had never found it in the least daunting to converse with him, not even when they had first met in London.
Her father’s particular calling had ensured that throughout her life she had, on a fairly regular basis, come into contact with people who had suffered recent bereavement. Consequently she had known precisely what to say to Daniel from the first, and had never experienced the least awkwardness in his presence. A slightly closer relationship had initially, she was forced to own, proved a different matter entirely, however.
Not having been blessed with any brothers had, she supposed, substantially limited her experience of the opposite sex, and although her Perceval cousins, Hugo and Lowell, had been frequent visitors to the vicarage, she had acquired precious little knowledge of the workings of the male mind from either of them. During childhood she had been inclined to look upon Hugo, some ten years her senior, as a most superior being, sophisticated, charming, and slightly unapproachable; Lowell, being some six years his brother’s junior, had always seemed to her, and still did for that matter, little more than an endearing scamp, always ripe for any lark. Consequently, living under the same roof as Lord Exmouth had turned out to be something of a revelation.
Daniel, she had swiftly discovered, possessed the most wonderful sense of humour. He certainly appeared to enjoy indulging in bouts of light-hearted banter, and the frequent exchange of the swift repartee, but there was nothing of the mischievous schoolboy in his nature. Far from it, in fact! He was every inch the fashionable gentleman, accomplished and refined, and yet not remotely high in the instep. This was perhaps why she had managed eventually to dispense with those last barriers of reserve, and had come to feel so completely relaxed in his company, more so, surprisingly, than in her own father’s.
No one would have supposed for a moment that Robina held her new-found
