Fated Folly (5 page)

‘
I never said there was any quarrel with Ashendon,' he interrupted.

‘
Well, the—the love that is not lost between you, then,' Clare amended. She glared at him. ‘Don't try to distract me. You cannot affirm that what you said to Papa is not my affair, or that I should not notice it.'

‘
I suppose not,' he said on a note of regret.

‘
Well, then. The least you can do is tell me why you even thought of suggesting you might—Papa might—' She faltered to a stop, unable to put into words the idea of his actually thinking of marrying her. Crossly, she finished, ‘You know perfectly well what I am talking about.'

He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,' he said gently, ‘but I fear my reason may be less flattering than you might wish.'

‘
I don't look for—for flattery,' Clare told him gruffly. ‘Not from you.'

‘
Then I shall explain simply that I said it to illustrate a point. Or rather, to demonstrate to your—if you will forgive me?—somewhat misguided father, that my disapproval was not as unreasonable as he supposed.'

‘
Well, I don't think you succeeded,' Clare stated flatly. ‘And Justin was as cross as crabs.'

She gave him a speculative look, and Rupert eyed her warily. ‘Miss Carradale, don't ask me!'

‘
How do you know what I was going to ask you?'

‘
I don't. But my limited experience of you suggests you are about to be embarrassingly outspoken.'

She gurgled, the mischievous twinkle running riot. ‘I was only going to ask if you truly thought the idea preposterous, for I do not.'

He could not help smiling. ‘But then you are only seventeen.' He reached out unthinkingly, caressing her cheek with one finger. ‘Building castles in the air is a dangerous pastime, minx. You could get hurt.'

The smile wavered but her gaze did not leave his. Just as on the first occasion they had met, both lips and eyes mirrored all the uncertainty of her thoughts, the smile quivering, the irrepressible twinkle banished but briefly, only to return and then disappear again.

Rupert silently cursed himself, and wished that he had held his tongue. Fortunately, for he could think of nothing to say that was not utterly impossible to say, Clare broke the brief silence. But what she said was quite unexpected.

‘
Papa thinks you are a very odd sort of a man.'

He was surprised into a laugh. ‘Perhaps I am.'

‘
You are nothing of the sort.' Her indignation amused him, but then she flushed, stammering, ‘I—I mean—I think you—well, not odd.' Then she appeared to recover herself, and the smile she gave him was deliciously pert. ‘Ogreish, yes.'

‘
Alas!' he lamented, smiling. He had embarrassed the child. Now she could not speak of him as she chose. He tried for a teasing note. ‘What can I have done in the short time we have been acquainted to give you this ogreish notion of me?'

Clare's face softened into an expression of such tenderness that he was both startled and touched.

‘
I don't have any notion of the kind,' she said, in a voice that was unnaturally high, and a trifle husky.

It struck a chord in his memory all at once, and he frowned, staring at her in some perplexity.

‘
What is it?' she asked, apparently aware of the change.

He shook his head slightly. ‘Nothing. For a moment I thought—no, it was nothing.'

She was looking at him in a way that made him recollect their isolated situation, for they were almost alone together in the saloon, in a close proximity into which an undesirable intimacy might well be read. Moreover, her appearance—demure, but almost fairylike in a spangled gauze gown—was so youthful that it disturbed him.

Glancing round in some discomfort, he noticed all at once a large matron pausing in her way through the saloon, her gaze riveted upon the couple. Hell and the devil! Young Nateby's mother. The woman was a notorious gossip. He moved back, nodding in greeting, and the stout dame, acknowledging this with a flutter of her fan and a knowing smirk, passed on.

‘
You should go and seek company of your own age, you know,' he suggested, turning back to Clare.

‘
Oh, drat. Do you mean to go all stuffy on me again?'

‘
I beg your pardon,' he said, but with an ironic inflexion that threw Clare on the defensive.

‘
It is too bad. There is to be dancing later, and I was going to ask if you would stand up with me, but—'

‘
Miss Carradale,' he interrupted, ‘I cannot believe that your mama has been so remiss as not to teach you that it is the gentleman's part to make such a request.'

‘
Oh, I know all that,' Clare said impatiently. ‘But I am perfectly aware that you would never ask me, and so I am obliged to throw decorum to the winds.' She paused, eyeing him uncertainly.‘You don't object to it, do you?'

‘
To your lack of decorum, or to dancing?'

‘
Both.'

‘
No, to either. But I shall not dance.'

‘
Oh!' She looked deflated. ‘That is horrid of you. Why won't you?'

‘
I am past the age of dancing,' he said austerely. ‘Besides, under the circumstances, it would look extremely particular.'

‘
You mean to old tabbies like Mrs Nateby, I dare say.'

‘
Oh, you noticed that, did you? “Old tabbies” can be very stuffy—like me.'

She twinkled. ‘The penalty of middle age.'

His lips twitched. ‘Undoubtedly.'

‘
Well, they're not interested in me.'

‘
They soon will be if you flout convention.'

‘
By dancing with you? Surely not. Oh, I suppose you must mean because of Justin and Pippa. Drat them both.' Miss Carradale groaned comically, but almost immediately the mischief was back in her face. ‘I take that back. Had it not been for them and their romance, I should never have met you as I did.'

Again, Rupert was obliged to smile, but he said severely, ‘You are incorrigible. I am acutely sympathetic, let me tell you, to your future husband, whoever he may be.'

‘
Why?'

‘
Unlike myself, the poor fellow will have no choice. For you, Miss Minx, will undoubtedly lead him a dance.'

She broke into giggles. ‘Well for you, then, that Papa did not take you at your “preposterous” word.'

‘
Believe me, Clare, I have been thanking Providence for that.'

He was hardly aware of using her given name as he shared her amusement, but their laughter was interrupted.

‘
Clare!'

Rupert fell back as her brother broke rudely in between them.

Clare turned, the merriment subsiding. ‘What is it, Justin?'

‘
Mama wants you,' he said, making no attempt to conceal his obvious annoyance. Rupert noted the curt bow he received.

‘
Your pardon, sir.'

He eyed the flush on Justin's cheeks with interest. Then he nodded to Clare.

‘
I have kept you too long, Miss Carradale.'

She flashed him a smile as she took Justin's proffered arm. But she glanced back and winked naughtily as her brother bore her off. Rupert heard a threatening mutter from the boy as they headed for the door, and just caught Clare's muted response, ‘But I like him!'

Something gave in Rupert's chest, but he ignored it, suppressing the feeling of warmth that succeeded it. He suspected she had formed some sort of
tendre
for him. Indeed, he was sure of it. Girls did, at that age. Last year, Pippa had exhibited just such symptoms over a colleague of his who had come to stay—one reason why he was suspicious of her vaunted love for Justin Carradale. It would not last with Clare either, of that he was in no doubt.

For him she was but an amusing child, nothing more. There could be nothing more. God, where was there a servant? He badly needed a brandy.

***

 

Voices coming from the old nursery gave Clare pause as she passed by on her way downstairs, a few mornings after the St Merryn party. Was that Pippa? Surely not. She tapped on the door and entered without waiting for permission.

Three guilty faces turned towards the door. Justin, an ugly scowl at once marring his comely countenance at sight of his sister; Pippa, hastily snatching her hand out of Justin's; and by the fireplace, immaculate as ever, Lord Ashendon. He relaxed back on seeing Clare, and reached into his waistcoat pocket, bringing out his snuff box.

Suspicion leapt into Clare's breast. ‘Heavens, what in the world are you three at?'

‘
Mind your own business,' growled her brother.

‘
Hush, Justin,' begged Pippa, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

Clare closed the door and advanced into the room, looking from one to the other. ‘This is most improper conduct, you know.'

Her brother glared. ‘You can talk. Traitress!'

Astonished, Clare stared at him, but before she could speak, Ashendon intervened.

‘
Oh, tut.' He raised his fingers to his nostrils and took snuff. ‘He is overwrought, Miss Carradale.'

The smile he gave did nothing to recommend him to Clare, for she thought it false, but Pippa was at her side.

‘
You must not mind him, Clare. Justin, don't be unkind.'

‘
Unkind? And what of her conduct, pray? Consorting with the enemy!'

Was that all? Relief flooded Clare and she had to laugh. ‘Justin, don't be so silly. You sound quite like some play-actor from the stage.'

His ire did not abate. ‘And if I do, what is so surprising about it? I am living in a very tragedy, am I not?'

‘
Stuff,' scoffed Clare. ‘Anyone would suppose Sir Rupert had forbidden you even to speak to Pippa.'

‘
He has made precious sure I don't get the chance.'

‘
You seem to be doing so now.' She glanced from Pippa to Ashendon and back again to Justin. ‘I think you should at least repair to the morning-room downstairs. There can be no objection to Lord Ashendon bringing Pippa to visit me. But to hide away up here must give rise to the most undesirable implications.'

Ashendon replaced his snuff box in his pocket and stepped forward, even as Justin opened his mouth to argue. ‘Your sister is in the right of it, Carradale. You do not want to appear to be meeting my cousin clandestinely.'

‘
Exactly,' Clare agreed. She tucked a hand in Pippa's arm and drew her towards the door, whispering, ‘You must not let Justin persuade you to do these things.'

‘
You don't understand, Clare,' Pippa uttered despairingly, her tone low. ‘We are in love.'

‘
Yes, I know, but—'

‘
My uncle will never consent. I know him. I believe he means me to marry Ash, and he will do anything to bring it about.'

They had begun to descend the stairs, and Clare, glancing back, was satisfied to note her brother and Ashendon still outside the nursery door, apparently engaged in intense conversation.

‘
Pippa,' she said earnestly, turning back to her friend, ‘I think you must be mistaken. Your uncle does not even like Ashendon. How should he wish you to marry him?'

‘
If you knew his relationship to Lord St Merryn you would not question it,' Pippa responded. ‘Uncle Rupert and Cousin Will are so close. Not just because their grandfathers were brothers.'

‘
You are all Wolverleys then?' Clare asked with interest.

‘
Oh yes. And Ash is also William, for all we never call him that. But Cousin Will has always said how he wishes Uncle Rupert had a son who might marry Kitty. So it is not to be wondered at if my uncle sought to oblige him by giving me to Ash instead.'

‘
Who is Kitty?' Clare demanded, unravelling the thread of Pippa's argument with some difficulty.

‘
My cousin, Ash's sister. She is almost my age, you know, and should have come out this year. But she could not bear to leave Cousin Will just yet, and so Lady St Merryn gave it up.'

Quite bewildered, but nevertheless intrigued by this glimpse into the ramifications of Sir Rupert's family, Clare would have demanded further enlightenment, except that they had by now arrived in the downstairs hall and the young gentlemen had almost caught them up.

As they entered the morning-room, Ashendon came up. He smiled at Clare, and, to her chagrin, gently grasped her elbow, moving her willy-nilly away from Pippa. She allowed herself to be shifted, but turned her head in time to see Ashendon glance towards Justin and jerk his head. About to demand what he meant by it, she paused, noting that her brother and Pippa drifted together towards the window embrasure. What in the world did this mean?

‘
Miss Carradale, I must applaud your common sense,' Ashendon said in a lowered tone. ‘I can't think why we didn't enlist your services at the outset.'