The Housemaid’s Scandalous Secret. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
felt a cool tingle slither down her spine and the touch of his blue gaze on the sensitive skin on her nape.
As she walked, Ross thought she did so with the grace and presence of a dancer. As she had told him of her circumstances, he had been taken aback when her look became one of nervous apprehension. How different she’d suddenly appeared from the girl who had stepped in front of his horse, when her proud, self-possession had raised his interest. At first, not knowing what was the matter, he had thought that perhaps she was ill, but then he’d realised that she was afraid. Though her assurance and confidence had aroused him, that glimpse of vulnerability had drawn forth emotions he had only felt once before—in India—with a girl and a raging river … A girl who had also moved like a dancer.
Emerging from the river and seeing her small footprints in the mud, assured that she had survived the night, he had determined to banish the native girl from his mind. But all the way to Bombay he had not stopped looking for the girl in the pink, star-spangled sari and thick, black oiled plait hanging to her waist. The memory of that night and the girl had stayed with him, the way the hot heat of a candle flame stared at for a few moments would burn behind closed eyelids.
Those same emotions made him want to protect this girl, to keep her from harm. His fancy took flight and he imagined himself as her champion, secretly carrying her colours beneath his armour next to his heart, watching that proud smile on her face turn inward to a sweet, imploring look of appeal. Before his imagination could propel him to even more exquisitely poignant pangs of desire, Blackstock told him he would make the necessary arrangements for his baggage to be sent on to Lady Mannering’s house in Bloomsbury.
Ross immediately mounted his restive horse and nosed him away from the dock, the clip-clopping of the horse’s shoes ringing sharp and clear in the bright morning air. But he had made a mental note of where Miss Napier could be located, tucking the information into a corner of his mind to be resurrected when he so desired.
Light streaming through the long windows fell in bright shafts upon the black-and-white marble floor. Ross felt a warm glow. The house belonged to his widowed maternal aunt, Lady Grace Mannering. In his absence the house had lost neither its old appeal nor its very special associations with those happy years he had spent as a boy in London with his sister, Araminta.
Drawn by the bittersweet memories stirred by hearing lilting strains of a merry tune being played on the piano, he strode across the hall to the door of the music room and pushed it open to find Araminta seated at the instrument.
She stopped playing and turned towards the door and the man who stood there. Joyous disbelief held her immobilised for a split second, then she shouted, ‘Ross!’ and amid squeals of laughter and ecstatic shrieks, she bounced off the stool and burst into an unladylike run. Almost knocking him over she flung her arms around his neck in a fierce hug, laughing with joy and nearly choking him in her enthusiasm. Embracing her in return, a full moment passed before Araminta relaxed her stranglehold.
‘Oh, Ross, dear brother, is it really you? You look wonderful. I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your letters,’ she gushed, hugging him again.
Pulling him down onto the sofa, his legs disappearing amid a flurry of skirts, all at once she launched into a torrent of questions ranging from where he had been, what he had been doing and how long was he going to stay, hardly giving him time to reply.
When he had the chance he studied her closely. Five years had gone by since he had last seen her and the girl he had known had been replaced by a lovely young woman. Her shining light brown hair was a tumble of rebellious curls and her eyes as deeply blue as his own.
‘I’m happy to see you looking so well, Araminta,’ he said, realising just how much he had missed his only sibling. ‘I hardly recognised you. Why, you must have grown taller by half a head in the time I’ve been gone. You look so mature.’
‘And you are very handsome, Ross,’ Araminta declared breathlessly, ‘and so distinguished in your military uniform. You are a colonel now?’
He nodded. ‘I was promoted just before I left India.’
‘Will you go back there?’
‘Of course. I’m home on extended leave—for how long depends on what I find when I get to Castonbury Park.’
Learning of her nephew’s arrival Lady Mannering entered. Her small, rotund figure was encased in deep rose silk and a widow’s cap was atop her sprightly brown hair liberally streaked with grey. As she went to greet her nephew, her eyes were bright with intelligence, set in a soft, lined face.
After greeting his aunt affectionately, Ross sat across from her and looked at her homely face and the light blue eyes that had scolded and teased him and Araminta and loved them so well. His look became sombre.
‘Cousin Giles wrote and told me about young Edward.’
Grace’s eyes filled with sadness. ‘Yes, it was quite dreadful when we heard he’d been killed. There was great relief when Giles came back. As you will remember Edward was so attached to his older brother, but now Giles has resigned his commission. What happened to Edward has affected him rather badly, I’m afraid. And if that weren’t bad enough Jamie is still missing.’
Ross stared at her in stunned disbelief. His cousin Jamie Montague, heir to the magnificent Castonbury Park in Derbyshire, had been listed as missing in Spain a year before Waterloo. ‘Good heavens! I was hoping he’d been found by now. Is there still no word?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘No body has been found?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s thought that he was washed away when crossing a swollen river before the push for Toulouse.’
‘Then Giles stands next in line. Knowing of his love for the military life, he will be a reluctant heir.’
‘He was in London recently. It would have been good for you to have seen him before he left for Castonbury. Still, I suppose you’ve been fighting your own battles in India.’
‘I’ll catch up with him there. Castonbury is still my home and I am eager to see my uncle. Giles must be feeling pretty wretched right now. With Edward dead and Jamie missing—and of course Harry busy with his work here in London, he’s going to need someone close.’
‘Family support is always a good thing at a time like this, Ross. All things considered, the Montagues aren’t as invincible as they thought.’
Having been raised with the Montague children, Ross had come to look on the six siblings as his brothers and sisters, and his concern over the disappearance of one and the death of another affected him deeply. Added to this was the financial crisis that had hit the family following the Napoleonic wars. Although the Montagues courted danger, they were his family, to be defended to the death.
‘On top of Jamie’s disappearance, Edward’s death will have affected my uncle very badly.’
‘I’m afraid it has. Everyone is quite worried about him. The letters that Phaedra writes to Araminta tell of his declining health and that his mind is not what it was, that at times he seems to be a little … unhinged I believe was the term she used. Which reminds me. A letter has been delivered from Castonbury Park. It’s from Giles. Would you like to read it now?’
‘I’ll do that when I go and change.’ Ross frowned with concern. ‘I shall not delay in leaving for Castonbury. But first I shall have to visit my tailor—which I shall do first thing tomorrow. After that I shall be free to go.’
‘The Season is almost over. Araminta can go with you.’
‘Are you to accompany us too, Aunt?’
‘You know how I prefer to be in town. However, I will give you the loan of my travelling chaise to take you to Castonbury. It could do with an outing and it will give the grooms something to do. Do you require a valet, Ross?’
‘I’ve brought my own man with me, Blackstock, a young subaltern in my regiment.