Cinders & Sapphires (22 page)

“Somerton!” exclaimed Sebastian as he drove round the corner of the lane, and through a dip in the hedgerows, saw the familiar honey-colored stone of Somerton Court rising before him. “At last.”

Oliver did not reply. Sebastian cast him an anxious glance. He had done everything he could to make up for his behavior now that the fear of exposure was lifted from him. But Oliver remained distant and cold.

He made up his mind. They had to have it out, there and then.

He pulled the motorcar over into the lee of the hedges. As the engine sputtered to a halt, he looked over at Oliver. They were quite alone; only the distant bleating of spring lambs and the close birdsong in the hedges disturbed them.

Oliver stared straight ahead, his face expressionless as only a professional valet’s could be. Sebastian sighed. “I know you are angry with me, and I’m sorry,” he began. “I was thoughtless and unkind, but I—I didn’t mean to be. There were reasons. I have had a lot on my mind.”

“Really, sir?” Oliver did not look at him. “Can you tell me what?”

Sebastian hesitated. He was ashamed of his relationship with Simon. He was ashamed he had allowed himself to be fooled, and more, to be seduced by someone so vulgar. It had been a passionate but brief affair, for he had soon realized that they had nothing in common. He did not want Oliver to think him a fool, and he did not want him to think that he made a habit of his valets.

“I can’t,” he said, aware of a strange hot sensation in his face. To his shock and almost amusement, he was blushing. Surely that had not happened since he was sixteen. “But please believe me. Things will be different from now on.”

“Very different, if the picture in
The Illustrated
is anything to go by,” said Oliver dryly.

Sebastian wilted inside. Of course. Of course Oliver would have seen the wretched picture. It was the talk of Oxford, why had he imagined his valet would be the only person not to have seen it?

“There was a reason for that,” he said. “I had to kiss that girl.”

“But you can’t explain why.”

“I—well—no.”

Oliver nodded, and looked at him for the first time. There was something steely in his blue eyes. Sebastian found himself not just abashed but a little frightened. He began to realize that Oliver was strong inside, stronger than he was, perhaps.

“You don’t have to apologize, sir. We all make mistakes.”

Sebastian sighed in relief, but Oliver went on.

“I understand that gentlemen sometimes like to…experiment with their valets, before realizing that is not their nature. But I am not accustomed to being treated as an experiment.” A muscle jumped in his jaw, the only sign of the intensity of his anger. “In the circumstances, I feel it would be inappropriate to continue in your service.”

Sebastian stared at him for a moment before realizing what he meant.

“Oliver, no! You can’t leave me!” It tore out of him before he could stop it.

“I will stay until you are suited with another valet, of course, sir.” Oliver looked away. The conversation was clearly closed.

“Please think this over,” Sebastian begged.

“Thank you sir, but my mind is quite made up. I regret that I can have no further conversation on this topic.”

Sebastian bit his lip. How had it come to this?

Ada walked across the lawn, her parasol held loosely in her hand. She had hoped to distract herself, but it had not worked. She could think of nothing but Rose and Mrs. Cliffe, and the cloud of sadness and shame that once again hung over the house. Her father’s name had just been cleared in her mind, but she didn’t see a way to get around these new accusations. He had gone out walking very early and was not yet back. Fiona had not appeared in the dining room since the scene the other day, nor had Charlotte. Georgiana seemed to be taking it particularly badly, poor thing. This morning at breakfast Ada had noticed that she was tired and her eyes were red with weeping. Even Michael was subdued. Not sulky, but more serious than she had ever known him before.

“May I speak to you?”

Ada started and looked up. Lord Fintan was coming toward her. She managed a smile, though her heart sank. With everything that had happened, she had almost forgotten about his proposal.

“Of course.” She smiled politely. He looked at her with serious, genuine concern.

“I feel, that to be perfectly discreet, I should have left at once. But I did not like to leave you here, knowing how you must feel.”

Ada’s smile was warmer this time. Whatever her own feelings toward him, he did care for her. Of that she was sure.

“You’re very kind.”

“I also did not wish to leave abruptly and leave you to fear I would spread the story.”

“I never feared that,” Ada said with complete honesty. “I know you are too much of a gentleman.”

“I hoped you would say that.” He hesitated. “I want you to know that I do not regret my words the other day.”

“Oh…” Ada felt she should show more enthusiasm. It seemed almost unreasonable of her not to. Lord Fintan was handsome, a gentleman, and he believed in women’s education just as she did. In every way, he was a perfect husband, and she knew that many men would have run in horror at the breath of scandal that had touched their household. But he had stayed.

And yet he was not Ravi.

“I feel that Lady Westlake is perhaps making more of this than need be,” he went on. “I understand the outrage to her feelings, of course. But I do not think it should come between her and her husband.”

“I can understand it must be painful for her,” Ada said, thinking of her own mother. Had she known, or guessed, that her husband did not love her?

“Certainly. But it seems the connection was over long before he wed Fiona—”

“You believe that, then?” Ada was so relieved that she interrupted him.

“Yes, I do. I think your father acted unwisely in the eyes of the world, in choosing such an indiscreet way to support Mrs. Cliffe and their child; but I understand why he did it. Old affections are not so easily put aside.”

“No,” said Ada, thinking of Ravi.

“And a gentleman has certain moral responsibilities, even if the law does not acknowledge them.”

“I am glad you see it that way.” She looked at him in relief, wishing that they could continue their friendship without the awkward question of marriage coming between them.

“The truth is that I understand your father’s actions,” he said thoughtfully.

“You understand that he took a mistress while married to my mother?”

“Don’t mistake me. I don’t think it was right. But marriages, in our class, are rarely entered into purely out of love. And that is as it should be, for too much is at stake”—he gestured around to indicate Somerton Court and the Averley lands—“for love to be the only consideration. But a marriage without love is a very hard thing to live through. And men are easily tempted.”

Ada sighed. Again, she was thinking of Ravi. Would he be tempted to forget her? She could not imagine that he would stay single all his life. There would come a time when she would be forgotten. The thought tore at her heart. Surely she would never forget him.

“In my case, the temptation has already happened,” he went on. “I understand that you must be offended by my connection with Miss Templeton, but it is over entirely, the illusion is gone. I now know that I do love you. And in all other respects it would be such a desirable marriage—”

But I do not love you,
thought Ada. She was sure of it. He did not make her heart beat as Ravi did. She was not overcome by passion when she was near him. And he was right, a loveless marriage was a prison sentence. And prisoners such as her father did desperate things to survive, things that hurt other people. She could see in the example of Rose and her mother, how the innocent were hurt when people gave into temptation. Was she strong enough to resist temptation? No, because she had fallen to Ravi. Would she be more likely to resist it when she was Lady Fintan? No. And the result would be—again—the innocent hurt, and the guilty left with remorse for the rest of their lives.

“Lord Fintan, I have thought about your proposal,” she began. “It truly is a great honor. I—well, I wish that my answer could have been different. But I must—”

He touched a finger to her lips. Startled by the sudden contact, she fell silent. “Please,” he said, gently. “I understand that you are very upset because of what has happened. May I beg you not to speak too hastily? I am more than prepared to wait for an answer.”

Ada hesitated. It was true that she was not in complete control of her emotions. It was too soon after breaking with Ravi. And if the choice were between Lord Fintan and a man such as Douglas Varley…

“I…”

“There is really no need to say more. I understand that your feelings are confused, and that you have many other things to concern you now. It was an unfortunate moment to propose.”

She managed a smile. “Yes, sadly.”

“I will await your answer,” he said. “But for now, I think you would prefer it if I left.”

Ada sighed. “I don’t wish you to feel driven away, but the household is in such confusion….”

“I understand perfectly. I am happy now that I have some hope.” He smiled at her and she returned the smile, though not without the niggles of a guilty conscience. Was it fair to let him hope when her heart was still given to Ravi?

There was the sound of a motorcar coming up the drive. Ada turned in surprise and dismay.

“Oh dear, who can that be? We were not expecting visitors…oh, goodness, Sebastian!”

Lord Fintan turned back. “Sebastian Templeton?”

“Yes!” Ada put her hands to her face, unsure if she were glad or sorry that Sebastian was here. “What a time to pay a surprise visit. I expect his room is not ready—excuse me, I must give Cooper instructions.”

She fled toward the house. As she went into the hall, she saw her father. He was entering the library. With him was a plump, black-clad man who at first she thought was a stranger. A second later she remembered who he was. It was her father’s solicitor, Mr. Hobbes.

“But, my lord,” she heard him saying as they went into the library, “are you entirely sure—”

The closing door cut off the rest of his words and her father’s reply.

At any other time Ada might not have paid much attention. But today, with the shocking news still ringing in her ears, she froze. What was her father planning?

But there was no time to wonder what was going on. Cooper was opening the door, and Sebastian, looking as elegant and debonair as ever, was smiling at her.

“Sebastian!” She went toward him, her hand out to greet her stepbrother. Her face was flushed and her smile felt forced. “I’m so sorry. We have had a slight difficulty—the housekeeper was…forced to leave for family reasons, and so nothing is in order, not even your room. We’ll have it ready as soon as possible, but meanwhile won’t you come into the drawing room?”

“Mrs. Cliffe? She left suddenly?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “It seems very unlike her.”

“Yes…” Ada was blushing. Sebastian glanced at her sharply, and said no more. Ada was grateful for his tact.

Lord Fintan followed them into the house. Sebastian stopped dead as he saw him.

“Ah, Sebastian!” Lord Fintan gave him a friendly smile. “How are you? I was sorry not to be able to meet you that evening in London.”

Ada wondered what was wrong with Sebastian. He seemed stunned. He shook Lord Fintan’s outstretched hand, but she could tell from the tense look on his face that there was something very wrong. Sebastian hid it well, but he had been shocked to his core to see Lord Fintan there.

Oliver went down to the kitchen.

“Hello, what’s all this I hear about Mrs. Cliffe leaving?” He greeted James, who was coming toward him down the corridor, carrying a tray of silver cutlery. “Is it some kind of joke?”

James didn’t smile as he shouldered open the door of the butler’s pantry. “No joking matter.”

Oliver, startled, went on to the kitchen. Inside, he saw Cook at the range. Mary was plucking her way through a chicken at the open door, feathers flying, and Martha was flirting with a sulky-looking fellow in an unfamiliar livery, who sat at the table, doodling on a corner of last week’s newspaper.

Oliver nodded to the stranger and greeted the others.

“Oh, Oliver!” Cook turned from the range, her face hot and flustered. “That means Master Sebastian’s here, I suppose. One more room to get ready and one more for dinner.” She groaned.

“Sorry, Cook.” Oliver got out of the way by sitting down at the table. He decided the news of his resignation was best left until later. The household seemed in enough trouble already.

The strange man startled him by exclaiming: “Sebastian Templeton, here?”

Oliver looked at him with dislike. There was something too familiar in his voice.

“Mr. Templeton to you,” he said. “Whoever you are.”

The man stared at him and grinned slowly. “Name’s Simon. Valet to Lord Fintan.”

Oliver held out his hand, but the other ignored it and went on, eyes never breaking contact with Oliver: “And I think Mr. Templeton and I know each other well enough to be on first name terms.”