Beneath the Major's Scars (17 page)

Yesterday Dominic had asked her to cry friends with him. What
sort of friend was it that kept secrets? She squared her shoulders. What was it
her father had always said? Tell the truth and shame the devil. If Dominic was
to learn the truth about her, then she would tell him herself.

She ran down the stairs and made her way to the great hall,
where the riding party was milling around, chattering and laughing. As she
hoped, no one spared a second glance for the dowdy little figure in her grey
gown and linen apron hovering in the doorway of the yellow salon, but she
managed to catch Dominic’s eye. With a word here, a smile there, he left his
guests and made his way across the hall. It occurred to her that he looked very
much at home amongst his friends. He was no longer the surly recluse she had
first met. Surely she could take some credit for that? The thought gave her
courage as he approached, even though his eyes were as hard and cold as the
stone on the moor.

‘If I might beg a word with you, Major?’

He did not disappoint her. With a slight nod he led her to his
study.

‘Well?’ He closed the door, shutting out the laughing,
chattering crowd. ‘I perceive it must be important for you to come down from
your eyrie to seek me out.’

‘It is.’ She dared not stop to think of the consequences
now.

‘Then will you not sit down?’

He gestured to the armchair beside the empty fireplace and once
she was seated he pulled up a chair to face her. She would have preferred him to
keep his distance, to stand over her, looking down in judgement like some
omnipotent deity.

‘You said this morning that you would not countenance a
scandal.’ She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. ‘Before I sit at your
table for dinner tonight there is something you should know about me.’ She
stopped. How would he react? Would he have her escorted from the house
immediately? ‘I wanted to tell you about myself, before you heard it from anyone
else.’

He sat back in his chair. ‘Then tell me.’ His expression was
cold, his tone indifferent. Her courage faltered. He said brusquely, ‘Go
on.’

Zelah’s hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles went white.
There was no going back now.

‘There was a man, in Cardinham. He called himself a gentleman.
He was handsome and so very, very charming. I suppose I was flattered by his
attentions.’ She screwed up her courage to continue. ‘When he said he would
marry me I believed him. I allowed him to...to bed me. It happened only once,
but that was enough to get me with child.’

‘And then I suppose he disowned you.’

His dispassionate tone made it easier for her to continue.

‘Yes. My parents were deeply hurt, but they refused to abandon
me, even though I would not tell them who the father was. I thought it best that
everyone should think it was a stranger, a traveller from the annual fair that
passed through our town each summer. I wanted no repercussions. It was my
mistake and I would suffer the consequences. I was sent away to live with an
aunt until my confinement.’

She stopped. She felt physically sick, but there would be no
relief until she had finished her story.

‘The baby was stillborn—a just punishment for my wickedness, I
suppose. After a period of recuperation I returned to Cardinham. Everyone was
told I had gone away for my health, but you know what villages are, I doubt if
anyone really believed that. There were sly glances, whispers. No possibility of
finding work with any local family.’ She risked a quick glance at him. He had
not moved, his face remained inscrutable. ‘Reginald met Maria while she was on a
visit to Bath two years ago and married her immediately. He knows
my...unfortunate history, but he is very good and agreed to my coming to live
with them for a short while. I hoped I would be able to make a new life for
myself. I thought I could be respectable.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I
am
respectable. That is why, when you kissed me
yesterday, I could not let it go on.’

The silence that followed was unnerving. She dared not look up
again, but threaded her handkerchief through her fingers, over and over.

‘And why are you telling me this now? Ah, but you said, did you
not, someone else is likely to tell me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Lerryn.’

‘Yes.’

‘He was your lover.’

She flinched. ‘How did you know?’

‘From what you told me this morning, and what I observed
yesterday. He has threatened to expose you, I suppose?’

She flushed. He made it sound so sordid. ‘Yes.’

He rose and paced the room once, twice. Zelah remained in her
seat, her head bowed. He said abruptly, ‘Do you still love him?’

‘No. I doubt if I ever did. It was a foolish infatuation. I was
very young and he was very...experienced.’

‘What does he want for his silence?’

‘My...co-operation.’

His angry snort told her he knew just what that would
involve.

‘Damnation, if I had known I would not have invited him to come
here this evening.’

She raised her head. ‘Why
did
you
invite him?’

He scowled. ‘Your sister wants you to marry, and I, too,
consider it would be the best thing for you,’ he said bluntly. ‘I
thought...Lerryn seemed to be keen to fix his interest with you. I did not know
yesterday that he was married!’

Zelah stared at him. ‘So you thought to promote his suit?’

‘And why not? He is a squire’s son.’

A cold hand wrapped itself around her heart. She jumped to her
feet. ‘Oh, why is everyone so keen to marry me off?’

‘Because it would be a better future for you than a governess.
Good God, there is no knowing what might befall you. Believe me, I know this
world. There are many men, outwardly respectable, who would not hesitate to
seduce a servant. If you marry a man of means you will have the protection of
his name, servants, a carriage. A family.’

‘No.’ She shook her head, tears starting to her eyes.

He caught her arms. ‘So you have been hurt once and lost a
baby, but that need not be the end. There are other men than Lerryn. Good men.’
His grip tightened.

She closed her eyes, but the tears squeezed out and made hot
tracks down her cheeks. She heard him sigh. He put one arm about her shoulders,
holding her to him while he pulled a clean white handkerchief from his
pocket.

‘You should not be anyone’s drudge, Zelah.’ He wiped her cheeks
gently. ‘You should be respected, loved.’

He put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at
him. His grey eyes were no longer hard rock, but something hotter, darker. Her
head was thrown back against his arm, he had only to lower his head and their
lips would meet. Her heart was beating such a heavy tattoo she thought he must
hear it. Her breasts had tightened and ached for his touch. She placed her hand
on his chest and felt the powerful thud of his own heart against her palm. With
sudden, startling clarity she knew she wanted him to kiss her, more than
anything in the world.

‘No.’ The heat faded from his eyes. Gently he released her.

Unable to speak, she watched him walk away from her, his
shoulders straight, his back rigidly upright as he continued. ‘You need not fear
Lerryn. I will not turn him away tonight, that would give rise to the type of
gossip we are trying to avoid, but I will make sure he does not trouble you.
Now, I have detained you long enough. It wants but a few hours to dinner, so I
suggest you finish your work. I have given orders that the library is to be
opened to my guests tonight, so perhaps you will make sure it is looking its
best before you go off to change your gown.’

He turned back, smiling, urbane, his face shuttered. She was
dismissed.

Chapter Twelve

Z
elah made her
way back to the library. She kept her head up as
she passed through the salon where an army of servants were fitting fresh
candles to the chandeliers and polishing the mirrors. The carpet had already
been rolled away and the floor cleared for dancing. The double doors to the
library would be thrown open once the ball commenced, but now she closed them,
preferring to be alone with her thoughts. Not that they were very coherent.
Dominic would protect her from Timothy Lerryn’s threats, she was sure, but he
had made it plain that he had no interest in her. She had known that all along,
of course. He liked her, he respected her work and he was anxious for her
happiness, which he thought would be best achieved by marriage. To someone else.
In all likelihood he was right, but this foolish heart of hers had decided
otherwise, and Zelah knew that if she could not have Dominic Coale she would
have no one.

‘Well, you had your plans, you were determined to earn your own
living.’ She spoke aloud as she walked around the empty library. ‘You should be
happy. Nothing has changed.’

But in her heart Zelah knew that nothing could ever be the same
again.

A burst of laughter from the salon reminded her of the servants
next door. She hurried off to the tower room, where she made a few last entries
into the ledger and began gathering together the books to be returned to the
library. She was soon joined by a harassed-looking Hannah bearing a tray.

‘Mrs Graddon thought you might like some lemonade, miss, seeing
as how she has made plenty for this evening.’ She wiped her hand across her
brow. ‘My, ’tis hot, miss. I’ve opened the windows in the library, to let in
some air.’

‘Thank you, this is very welcome.’ Zelah took the lemonade and
sipped it. ‘This must be a great upheaval for you, after living so quietly.’

‘Aye, it’s all at sixes and sevens. We have hired more girls
from the village, though, the master insisting that Mrs Graddon should have all
the help she needs, as well as the grand French chef who is come down from
Lunnon to take over the kitchen. But ’tis good to see the master taking his
rightful place,’ Hannah continued. ‘And I hear that Master Nicky is coming to
stay and his little brother, too, so I hopes I might be allowed to wait on them,
dear little mites.’

She bustled away, leaving Zelah feeling slightly more cheerful.
There was a definite buzz of excitement around Rooks Tower. The old house had
come alive with so many people in residence.

Zelah took her empty glass back to the kitchens and begged a
piece of lemon to clean the ink from her fingers. Once she had done that she
checked the clock. There was a good hour yet before she needed to disappear and
transform herself from employee to house guest and there were still a dozen or
more books in the tower room that needed to be returned to the library. She ran
to fetch them. She found it was still possible to lose herself in her work,
matching up books, wondering if Ehret’s botanical prints should be placed beside
the works of philosophy and science rather than with the book entitled
Modern Voyages and Travels.
As she straightened the
volumes of
Vitruvius Britannicus
she remembered the
paper she had found and wondered if it would prove useful to the villagers in
fighting Sir Oswald Evanshaw’s claims.

Sir Oswald would be at the ball that evening. Zelah had been
present when Sally and Dominic had discussed it. Zelah remembered how flattered
she had been when Dominic asked her what she thought. She had agreed with Sally
that it would be impolitic to exclude him.

Now, standing alone in the library, a little flush of pleasure
nudged through her depression. Dominic valued her opinion. Despite everything,
he clearly wanted her to be present at the ball, so perhaps he would dance with
her as he had at the assembly. The thought cheered her immensely and, determined
to remain cheerful, she began to sing as she placed the last few books on the
shelves.

‘Well now. Minerva, in her element.’

The deep, warm voice held a laugh and she swung around, smiling
when she saw Dominic. He was sitting astride the open window, his back against
the jamb with one booted foot upon the sill. Her smile wavered. It
was
Dominic, and yet...he looked slightly more modish
than usual. The top-boots seemed to fit more snugly, the buckskins were a shade
lighter. His riding jacket was just as tightly fitting, but the buttons were
larger and his neckcloth was a froth of white folds. His dark hair glowed like a
raven’s wing in the sunlight, but it had obviously been cut by a master. The
eyes were a shade lighter, more blue than grey, and his face, that beautiful
face with its smooth planes and lean jawline, was just too perfect. On both
sides. Her hands flew to her mouth.

‘You must be Lord Markham.’

With a laugh he swung himself into the room and came towards
her, tossing his hat, gloves and crop on to a chair. ‘How do you do—no, no, none
of that.’ He reached out and caught her hand, pulling her up as she sank into a
curtsy. ‘I should be saluting
you
, fair
Minerva!’

He bowed over her hand and she chuckled, even as he placed a
kiss upon her fingers.

‘I am merely the librarian, my lord.’

‘You are not merely anything. You are important enough to be
invited to the ball.’ His eyes were laughing at her, joyous, carefree, with none
of the sadness she detected in his brother. He continued. ‘You are Miss
Pentewan, are you not? My sister told me all about you when she wrote.’

Her cheeks grew hot. ‘There is nothing to tell.’

‘No?’

It was impossible not to warm to the viscount. His likeness to
Dominic would have endeared him to her in any event, but she found his charm
irresistible and she responded, quite at her ease, ‘No. I am merely going about
my business here.’

‘That in itself is unusual. A female in the library.’

‘I am very grateful to Major Coale for the opportunity.’

‘Sal speaks very highly of you.’

‘She is most kind.’

She could think of nothing more to say, and with a little smile
of apology she went back to tidying away the books.

‘I hear my brother is improved a great deal.’

‘You have not seen him yet?’

‘No. I have only just arrived and was taking a look around the
house when I heard you singing.’

‘Then I beg your pardon for distracting you.’

‘I was not distracted, I was enchanted.’

The compliment came easily to his lips and she giggled. ‘I
think you are trying to charm me, my lord.’

‘Would you object to that?’

She considered the question. ‘That depends upon your reason for
doing so. If it is purely to put me at my ease, then, no, but if your intention
is more mischievous then I do object, most strongly.’

His brows lifted. ‘Straight talking, madam.’

‘But necessary, sir. I may be an employee, but I am not to be
imposed upon. I would not want to fall out with you.’

He laughed. ‘Nor I with you, Miss Pentewan. I shall treat you
with the utmost respect.’

Her lips twitched. ‘Very well, my lord, then I beg you will
leave me to finish tidying this library.’

‘Oho, am I to be dismissed summarily?’

Zelah could not suppress a smile. She was beginning to enjoy
herself. ‘You are indeed, sir. You said yourself you have only this minute
arrived. You should make your presence known to Major Coale. You will find your
way lies through those doors, which lead to the salon and then to the great
hall.’

He was laughing down at her, not at all offended by her
dismissal. She was struck again by the similarity between the brothers, both
tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, and although there was more laughter in
the viscount’s eyes she was reminded of Dominic every time she looked at him.
Perhaps that was why she felt so little restraint with the viscount. He gave a
little bow.

‘Very well, Miss Pentewan, I shall leave you to your
books.’

He sauntered off, whistling, and Zelah went back to work, her
spirits lifted even further.

* * *

When the party from West Barton arrived Zelah made her
way to the suite of rooms set aside for her sister and brother-in-law, where she
received a warm welcome. A footman was despatched to the tower with the small
trunk containing Zelah’s evening clothes, but she did not immediately follow and
instead asked Reginald about the charter.

‘I think it proves the case for the villagers, but I don’t plan
to tell anyone about it until we get to the hearing next week. Sir Oswald’s
lawyer is as cunning as a fox.’ He frowned. ‘I understand Evanshaw is expected
here tonight. I don’t deny it goes against the grain to meet the fellow on
friendly terms.’

‘Well, I don’t know how I shall look at the man,’ exclaimed
Maria, ‘when I think how roughly he has treated anyone wandering into Prickett
Wood, even catching Nicky—’

‘That was his bailiff, Mama, and I came to no harm.’ Nicky came
running in at that moment and threw his arms around Zelah, who hugged him
back.

‘No, because your aunt and the major were on hand to rescue
you,’ retorted Maria, who could not bear the thought of any danger to her
child.

‘Now, now, my love, if Evanshaw thinks people are trespassing
he is perfectly entitled to put a stop to it,’ said Reginald mildly. ‘I admit I
cannot like the man, but I do agree with Coale, it does not do to fall out with
a neighbour if it can be avoided.’

Zelah could not listen to more because Nicky demanded that she
come and look at the room that had been allocated to him and his baby
brother.

‘Major Coale says I can watch the dancing from the landing,’ he
told her. ‘And he is going to send up supper for me.’

‘The major has been very kind,’ declared Maria. ‘Having this
apartment means I will be able to slip away and feed the baby and then return
for the dancing.’

‘Will there be ices, do you think?’ asked Nicky, his eyes
wide.

‘Alas, no,’ laughed Zelah. ‘However, there will be little
pastries and definitely lemonade, because I have already had some.’

‘So you will have a little party all of your own,’ said Maria,
scooping up Nicky and kissing him soundly. ‘Now we must not keep Zelah, she has
to change. I have already sent Bess to your room, my love. She will help you get
ready.’

Zelah protested, but only half-heartedly. She wanted to look
her best tonight and she knew that Bess would be able to dress her hair far
better than she would be able to manage alone.

* * *

By the time she arrived back at the tower room the maid
had emptied the trunk and laid out everything upon the bed.

‘Oh.’ Zelah stopped. ‘That is not my dress.’

Bess curtsied. ‘The mistress bought it for you, miss. She said
this ball is the biggest event of the summer and she wanted you to have
something new. It’s Indian muslin,’ she added, helping Zelah out of her grey
gown. ‘And madam thought the green bodice would suit your colouring. I hope you
aren’t displeased?’

‘How could I be?’ She fingered the filmy skirts, then, looking
up, her eyes fell upon a little cup full of rosebuds on the desk. ‘Oh!’

‘The mistress picked them from the garden today,’ explained
Bess. ‘She sent them over specially for me to put in amongst your curls.’

Zelah wondered if she should protest at such frivolity. After
all, if she was going to be a governess should she not put herself above such
worldly considerations? But her doubts were quickly suppressed. Her work at
Rooks Tower was coming to an end and this might be her last opportunity to
dance. And besides, she wanted to see if she would win a look of warm admiration
from a pair of sombre grey eyes.

She looked at her maid and allowed a smile to burst forth.
‘Well, Bess, will you help me to get ready?’

* * *

The chiming of a distant clock reminded Zelah that it
was time for the dinner guests to meet in the drawing room. She left her
temporary bedchamber and made her way downstairs. Her route lay through the
empty salon and she could not avoid seeing her reflection in the mirrors as she
crossed the room. She stopped and moved closer to one of the mirrors. There was
no hint of the bookish librarian in the elegant stranger she saw there, with her
hair piled up and white rosebuds nestling amongst the curls. Her neck and
shoulders rose gracefully from a short green velvet bodice that was ornamented
at the neck and wrist with twisted white-and-gold braid. The low neckline fell
to a point at the centre of the bosom and the braid continued down the front of
the muslin skirts. It gave the illusion of height and she smiled to herself. She
looked almost as willowy as the elegant models on the fashionplates. She flicked
open her new spangled fan and held it before her, experimenting with different
poses. When she held it across the lower part of her face her eyes appeared to
sparkle invitingly.

The sound of the door opening made her jump and a guilty flush
heated her cheeks.

‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to startle you.’ Dominic
stood in the doorway.

‘I—there is no mirror in the tower room....’ Her words trailed
off. She knew she must sound very conceited.

‘You look very well.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Everyone else is
in the drawing room. I was merely coming to check that the salon and the library
were in order. The orchestra will be setting up in here while we are at
dinner.’

He seemed ill at ease, whereas Zelah’s fine new clothes gave
her an added confidence.

‘I have just come through the library, Major, and I can assure
you there is not a book out of place.’

‘No, of course.’ He seemed to battle with himself for a moment
before meeting her eyes. ‘Very well, then, shall we join the others?’

He held out his arm to her. Zelah placed her fingers on his
sleeve. She could feel the ribbing of the wool-and-silk fabric through her
glove. Expensive. Everything about his coat—the sheen of the material, the fit,
the exquisite cut—it all shouted quality. Tonight he was every inch a viscount’s
son.