they are the only reason I would even consider marrying, any wife of mine will have to accept them. John was my brother and his children are now my responsibility. There’s no alternative.’
‘Well, if you do wish to hold on to them you must find a decent, well-bred young woman and marry her! That is far more important than any house.’
‘How the devil can I ask anyone to marry me when I haven’t a home to offer her? What should I say to her? “Madam, you can have my heart, my name and two orphaned children, but, alas, we shall have to live in a field!” I can’t see any sensible woman accepting such an offer, can you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, William! Of course she wouldn’t. But now I come to think of it, there’s a very pretty Dower House at Charlwood. Is it included in the sale?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then, you and your family could live there until the main house is ready. I know it’s a little small—’
‘Extremely so. That was why I have almost decided not to consider it.’
‘Is it as much of a ruin as the main house?’
‘No, a few months’ work would put it in order.’
‘It could surely house you all till Charlwood itself is ready to receive you.’
‘I suppose it could—if it could be made ready in time…’
‘Reggie and I are going up north at the end of October, but you could all stay with us till then if it wasn’t quite ready for you. There, that’s settled. Here comes Reggie. We shall go in to dinner.’
Later that evening Lady Deardon returned to the question of a suitable wife for her godson. ‘I’ve been thinking over dinner how to set about finding you a wife, William. It is essential you find one before long. I don’t imagine a débutante would suit you?’
‘Not at all! The ones I’ve met since coming back to England seem to me to be remarkably silly. They don’t appear to understand what I’m talking about half the time.’
‘As I thought—you need someone older.’
‘Preferably intelligent. And, if possible, with a sense of humour.’
‘Aren’t you being a little too particular for a man in such desperate straits? I suppose you’ll tell me next that you’re looking for a woman with a fortune, too!’
‘The very thing!’ exclaimed her godson with a grin. ‘A rich widow would be best of all! Putting Charlwood in order will cost a mint of money, and now there’s the additional expense of the Dower House. I shall certainly need a rich wife!’
‘My dear boy, you may not find it so easy. Rich young women who are looking for a husband do not grow on trees.’
William was visited by a sudden vision of the young woman he had found in a tree. Warm, responsive, breathtakingly passionate… Rich or poor, in her teens or in her thirties, he was most unlikely to find anyone among the ladies of polite society nearly as exciting as his wild girl of the tree…
‘William!’
With an effort he put the girl firmly out of his mind and said cheerfully, ‘I shan’t give up hope yet. There must be someone somewhere.’
‘You talk as if any woman would do! Have you no feelings in the matter? No heart?’
‘Any heart I had was battered out of me years ago, ma’am. No, I want someone whose company I find tolerable and who will care for the children. Affairs of the heart have nothing to do with marriage. A congenial partner is what I want, and if she is rich, so much the better.’
‘You are trying to shock me again. You always were a tease.’
‘I meant every word. Meanwhile, I shall have another look at Charlwood.’
Chapter Three
William’s casual air was deceptive. Before another day was over he had inspected Charlwood again and made up his mind. Underneath its ruinous appearance was a spacious, beautifully proportioned house which could in time be made into just the sort of family home he was looking for. Meanwhile, with a few alterations, the Dower House could house them all quite adequately. He set about buying the estate with the energy and efficiency which had served him well in South America. It was an odd coincidence that, soon after the negotiations were complete, William’s lawyers were approached by another buyer, who was apparently equally eager to possess Charlwood, and was offering more than William had paid for it. But William refused the offer without hesitation. Charlwood was to be his—it was the perfect place for him and his family.
One evening Lady Deardon told him that she had met a certain Mrs Gosworth when visiting an acquaintance. ‘She lives nearby in a small village called Stoke Shearings. Have you come across it?’
‘I spent a night at the inn there not long ago.’ William smiled reminiscently, visited once again by the memory of a woman with silver-grey eyes and tumbling hair, long, bare legs and slender ankles. She had looked like a gipsy, and had behaved like one, too. As he remembered the passion he had aroused in her, his blood stirred again… A wanton, a tease, she might be, but he still hadn’t forgotten her.
‘William…William, why do you keep going off into a trance when I am speaking to you? Don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?’
He returned to the present. ‘Forgive me, I was thinking…thinking of…of something else.’
‘Well, whatever it is, forget it for the moment. This is more important. After talking to Mrs Gosworth, I think I’ve found a possible wife for you! There!’ Lady Deardon looked so complacent that William felt impelled to say solemnly,
‘I’ve heard of the lady. She’s in her sixties, and a harridan to boot. You’re very kind, but I don’t think she would do for me.’
Lady Deardon gave a laugh. ‘Don’t be such a tease, Will. Of course I don’t mean her! I thought she was a most unpleasant woman. But she talked of someone who sounds perfect. A Miss Winbolt. Not in her first youth, and unhappy at the change in her circumstances. She lives with her brother and his wife in the big house in Stoke Shearings. It belongs to the Winbolt family. You didn’t happen to call on them when you were in the area, did you?’
‘No, that was the day I got lost, and when I got back to the inn that evening it was too late for a social call.’
‘Shearings itself is a beautiful place, apparently. It has some superb gardens. From what Mrs Gosworth says, Miss Winbolt kept house for her brother for years, but last January he married a rather unsuitable woman and brought her home to Shearings.’
‘Unsuitable? What did she mean by unsuitable?’
‘Rosa Winbolt had been married before. Her husband apparently belonged to a raffish lot in London, and died in suspicious circumstances.’
William shook his head at his hostess. ‘My dear ma’am, I hope you haven’t been paying too much attention to Mrs Gosworth. The new Mrs Winbolt may have once lived in London, but she comes from a highly respected local family and is very well liked in the neighbourhood. I’ve heard nothing but
