The Master of Stonegrave Hall. Helen Dickson
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of his eyes. ‘That bad?’
‘Worse. You are also insufferably arrogant.’
He looked at her with condescending amusement. ‘And you, Miss Lewis, with a tongue on you that would put a viper to shame, can hardly be called a paragon of perfection.’
Victoria raised her head and gave him a haughty look. ‘Then that makes two of us, Lord Rockford.’
‘I realise that you have been inconvenienced by all this, Miss Lewis, but taking everything into account, you must see that I have been more inconvenienced than you.’
‘In which case I shall do us both a favour and remove myself from your house. I shall come here every day and sit with my mother—if that is agreeable to you—but I will not sleep under this roof another night. Not only is being under it abhorrent to me, I have no wish to be the cause of contention between you and your brother.’
‘You’re not.’
‘You could have fooled me.’
Laurence’s dark brows rose in sardonic amusement. ‘And what will you tell the villagers of Ashcomb? That the master of Stonegrave Hall has turned you out?’
‘No. I am not one to tittle-tattle.’ She stopped what she was doing and looked at him squarely. ‘Your brother is clearly deeply upset about my mother being here. In fact, I would go so far as to say he is positively hostile towards her. Why is that?’
‘It’s of no consequence.’
‘Not to you, maybe, but it is to me. What’s the matter? Do you think it would tax my poor female brain too much to be told the truth? What aren’t you telling me?’
Laurence’s eyes gave nothing away. Guilt and fear made him turn away from her questing look. Cursing silently, he realised that no matter what he told her now, she was going to feel duped if—when—the truth came out. Between that and the fact that he’d kept it from her because of his promise to Nathan not to reveal the true facts that had led to Betty leaving Stonegrave Hall, she was going to hate him thoroughly when this was over.
But not as much as he hated himself.
‘Nathan cannot understand why a woman who once worked for my mother has been brought here to be taken care of in her final days. The explanation is simple. My mother was extremely fond of Betty and left clear instructions that she should be taken care of should she find herself in the situation she is now in.’
‘I don’t believe you. It is more than that. I know it. Your brother’s bitterness—and I would even go so far as to say hatred of my mother—was evident. I heard him tell you that he will not set foot in this house until she has left—which gives me reason to believe it is a serious matter indeed. He said something about exposing your sordid and most intimate family linen to scrutiny and that to avoid a public scandal my mother must leave this house. Which leads me to ask how a woman who is knocking on death’s door can possibly pose such a dire threat to your family.’
‘My brother was angry. He exaggerates.’
‘I don’t think so. I know there is something you are not telling me and I swear to you, Lord Rockford, that I will find out. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to leave so I can finish packing my bag.’
‘Forget it,’ he said coldly. ‘You are going nowhere.’
‘I do not remember asking your permission,’ Victoria retorted defiantly.
Laurence stared hard at her. He was unaccustomed to being challenged by grown men, yet here was this slip of a girl doing exactly that. At any other time he would have laughed outright at her courage, but his annoyance and irritation caused by his encounter with his brother was still too raw.
Suppressing the unprecedented urge to gentle his words, he said curtly, ‘It wouldn’t make any difference. I refuse to give it.’
‘Then please leave me alone. I wish I’d never come here and met you. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t ask for it. It has been thrust on me against my will.’ She breathed as if she couldn’t inhale enough air. ‘Don’t you understand that I don’t like you?’
Laurence looked at the proud young beauty who was glaring at him like an enraged angel of retribution and realised that she was on the brink of tears. He felt a twinge of conscience, which he quickly thrust away. ‘I know you don’t,’ he said coldly. ‘And you will dislike me a good deal more before I am through.’ He turned from her. In the doorway, he stopped and looked back at her, his angry gaze pinning her to the spot. ‘I mean it. You are to remain here. If your mother’s condition should take a turn for the worse during the night, you’ll put me to the trouble of sending for you. And you might be too late. Have you not thought of that?’
On that harsh note he went out, leaving Victoria feeling wretched and thoroughly deflated. Of course he was right. The hard facts were that her mother was too ill to be moved and, if she, Victoria, were to leave the Hall, there was every chance that her mother would take a turn for the worse and she would not be with her at the end.
Sinking down on to the bed, she knew she could not leave and cursed Lord Rockford with all her might for being right. She stared blindly at the closed door for a long time, her heart palpitating with frustration. A whole array of confusing emotions washed over her: anger, humiliation and a piercing, agonising loneliness she had not felt before.
Somehow, all in one day, life had become so much more serious. After just twenty-four hours of not knowing what was happening to her, of what was expected of her, she seemed to have no choice but to live and wait passively in a stranger’s house for this time to be over.
* * *
Over the following days Victoria didn’t come into contact with Lord Rockford. She suspected he was not a man who let down his guard or allowed anyone behind the professionally polite screen he projected to keep everyone at a distance. Everyone around him treated him with cautiousness—like a beautiful, healthy predator, something to be admired and feared, equally.
She realised her presence at Stonegrave Hall was the subject of a good deal of gossip and speculation in the servants’ hall—and she seemed to trip over a servant round every corner, there were so many. No one seemed to know how to treat her. She was neither a guest nor family, but the daughter of an old employee. But she had been educated at some posh school in York, so that made her different. However, when they realised she would be taking her meals in the kitchen or her room, and that Mrs Hughs and Jenkins were kindly disposed towards her, they accepted her presence in the house and got on with their work.
* * *
Craving some fresh air, Victoria escaped the confines of her mother’s sickroom for a little while. The scent of flowers assaulted her and she drew a deep breath. She paused in a secluded area of the garden. Taking an orange out of her pocket, she sat on a stone bench and began to remove the peel, putting it into her pocket to be disposed of later. She began dividing it into segments.
The sight of her stopped Laurence in mid-stride as he came round a bird topiary and his eyes warmed with fascination as he gazed at her. Seated on the bench, Miss Victoria Lewis presented a very fetching picture. Her head was bent slightly as she concentrated on the task before her, providing him with a delightful view of her patrician profile with its elegant cheekbones and delicate little nose. Sunlight glinted on her rich brown hair, picking out the golden lights, turning it into a shimmering rich waterfall that tumbled over her shoulders. Long curly eyelashes cast shadows on her smooth cheeks as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, dividing her orange.
Victoria was about to bite into one of the juicy segments when she saw Lord Rockford strolling towards her. It was the first time she had seen him since his brother’s visit and, recalling the angry words they had exchanged, she wondered how he would treat her. She watched him come closer, suddenly on her guard. Stealing a glance at his chiselled profile, she marvelled at the strength and pride carved into every feature on that starkly handsome face.
Standing before her, he looked down into her upturned face.