Shades of the Past (6 page)

The ball continued, but many interested eyes were upon the silent drama between the host and the startling newcomer. It was a scene that would have made Miles hug himself with glee, Laura thought. Blair, the man he despised so much, had been visibly stunned by his first glimpse of ‘Mrs. Reynolds’.

At last Blair and Marianna approached, and Laura’s pulse raced more with each step. She couldn’t look away, and was spellbound by the almost palpable force of his eyes.

As they halted, Stephen inclined his head. “Blair.”

Blair’s glance flickered to him. “It’s been too long since we last met, Stephen.”

“Er, yes.” Stephen looked at Marianna, whose dark brown eyes rested on him with barely concealed longing. He managed a bow. “Miss Deveril,” he murmured, marveling that this adorable creature loved him as he loved her.

“Mr. Woodville,” she murmured, glancing at Laura.

Stephen hastened to do the honors. “Allow me to present Mrs. Reynolds, the lady my aunt recommends.”

Laura curtsied. “Sir Blair. Miss Deveril.”

Blair’s reluctance was noticeable, but he raised her hand fleetingly toward his lips without kissing it. .“Mrs. Reynolds,” he said softly.

They were glove to glove, but she felt only his physical warmth, which did not reach his eyes. His naked image hovered before her eyes, and she felt hot color rushing into her cheeks. She couldn’t meet his gaze, and resorted to her fan in a vain attempt to appear collected.

Marianna turned to her brother. “Mrs. Reynolds is inordinately like Celina, is she not?” she observed candidly.

Her directness startled Laura. It seemed that while Marianna Deveril could hold her tongue when it came to herself, she was also capable of a devastating candor that showed scant regard for the feelings of others, even her brother. It wasn’t malicious, just artless.

For a moment Blair couldn’t hide his pain, but then nodded. “Yes, she is.”

Stephen played his allotted part to the full. “Oh, Lord, Blair, I—I had no idea...” he said uncomfortably, abhorring his duplicity.

“Why should you? You didn’t know Celina,” Blair replied.

“Yes, but even so...”

“Think no more of it.”

Laura disliked herself too as she glanced inquiringly from one to the other. “Celina?” she repeated innocently, as if the name were new to her.

Blair looked away, but Marianna remained painfully forthright. “Celina was my brother’s wife, Mrs. Reynolds. She died in a riding accident about two years ago.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Blair turned to Stephen and coolly changed the subject. “How is that felon Lowestoft? I’m told you’re often in his company now.”

“Well, not often exactly, but I know him,” Stephen admitted, caught a little off guard by the sudden reference to Miles.

“Have a care, for he can’t be trusted,” Blair warned.

Stephen gave an uneasy grin. “He speaks highly of you, too,” he replied.

“I’m sure he does.”

Marianna smiled at Laura, and then turned to her brother. “Blair, I think Lady Tangwood is right, Mrs. Reynolds is everything you could wish for in a chaperone for me,” she declared.

Blair raised an eyebrow. “And how can you decide that when you’ve barely been introduced?”

“I just know. She’ll be perfect to accompany me around London for the Season, and to help me until the awful day.” The oblique reference to her marriage indicated obvious dislike.

“That will do,” Blair reproved. “Marianna, you are
not
to be disparaging. Until this New Year you’d been content enough to like the prospect of being Countess of Sivintree. I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind, because you won’t tell me, and I am not prepared to break a legally binding contract without undeniable reason.”

Laura saw how surreptitiously Marianna glanced at Stephen, who kept his eyes upon something in the middle distance. Marianna hesitated, and for a moment Laura thought she was about to blurt the truth. So did Stephen, who looked faint, but he need not have worried, for Blair’s incorrigible sister underwent a lightning change of mood. Her lips formed an ‘o’ of realization. “Good heavens, we’ll be leaving for London in two weeks, or thereabouts! I had quite overlooked how time has been flying. I’ve been so excited about the ball that everything else has taken second place.”

Blair was discouraging. “Marianna, now is hardly the time or the place for such a conversation.”

Laura felt acutely embarrassed, rightly guessing that it wasn’t the time because
she
was present. Had Miles made a monumental miscalculation after all? Would Blair, as she herself suspected, reject her precisely
because
she looked like Celina? Her secret feelings were mixed. Part of her longed for Miles’ plan to fail, but at the same time she ached to get closer to the fascinating Sir Blair Deveril, whom she found so irresistibly exciting.

Marianna seemed to sense her brother’s real reason as well. “Oh, Blair, it isn’t fair, you know. It’s hardly Mrs. Reynolds’ fault that—”

“That’s enough, Marianna!”

But she carried on. “It’s my birthday, Blair, so you must grant me one wish.”

He drew a long breath, not caring to draw further attention to their small group. “I’ll compromise. If Mrs. Reynolds presents herself here at noon tomorrow, I’ll interview her properly. Will that do?”

Marianna hesitated, but then gave in. “Oh, I suppose so.”

Laura couldn’t help but be conscious of his resentment. He didn’t want to have anything to do with his sister’s prospective chaperone. Nor, in all honesty, could said prospective chaperone blame him.

Marianna’s youth didn’t prevent her from eventually realizing it was time to leave well alone, so having achieved part of what she wanted, and as a waltz was announced, she deftly changed the subject again. “I believe you have claimed this dance, Mr.
Woodville?” she prompted.

Stephen smiled and offered her his arm, and as they stepped onto the rapidly filling floor, Blair gave Laura a faint smile. “Would you care to dance, Mrs. Reynolds?” he asked reluctantly, for not to have suggested such a thing would indeed have looked odd to any onlooker.

Somehow she managed to smile and accept, for she could hardly decline. “Thank you, sir.”

He set her glass aside, and as his fingers closed over hers, their gloves might not have been, for it was as if their skin touched. She moved in a dream as he led her onto the floor and put a hand to her waist. The waltz began. The music was sweet and rhythmic, seductive almost, and she felt weightless as they moved around the floor. The ballroom passed in a blur, and she could hear her heart thumping. He affected her far more than was comfortable, for she hadn’t foreseen exactly how attractive she’d find him. It was glaringly clear now, however. She found Sir Blair Deveril more sensually stimulating than any man she’d known before.

Oh, God, she’d never experienced such a charge of electricity that her whole body seemed alive with latent emotions. The thought of making love with him was almost intoxicating. Her breasts felt taut and excited, and there was an aching deep inside her. It was desire, urgent and uncompromising, but when she looked into his dark gaze, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. How easy it would be to move a little closer and stretch up to put her lips to his…

Beyond the music she could still hear the whispering. Once or twice she thought she heard Celina’s name again, and knew everyone was thinking exactly what Sir Miles Lowestoft wished them to think—that Sir Blair Deveril had found his wife again.

When the orchestra played the final chord and she sank into a curtsy, Blair’s gloved fingers suddenly tightened almost roughly over hers. Startled, she looked up at him. “Sir?”

“Mrs. Reynolds, I will be blunt with you. You are definitely not my choice as my sister’s chaperone.”

She straightened, and drew her hand away from his. “It would be hard not to realize that, sir.”

He went on. “But since Lady Tangwood speaks so highly of you, and Marianna has set her heart on it, I still wish you to come here tomorrow. You have my word that I will interview you fairly.”

“I’m sure you will, sir.”

“Are you staying at the King’s Head in Cirencester?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll send my carriage at two. Is that convenient?”

“Yes.”

He conducted her to an empty sofa at the side of the floor, bowed, and then walked away. She sat there in embarrassment, conscious that she, not Marianna, was the ball’s center of attention. It wasn’t an agreeable feeling, especially for the part of her that was modern Laura, and it wasn’t long before she got up to hurry up from the ballroom to the open doors at the top of the main staircase.
Please let me return to my own time!

She rushed through the doorway, and to her unutterable relief found herself back in the quiet darkness of her hotel bedroom. The doors vanished from the wall behind her, and she heard the January rain dashing on the modern window.

Chapter Five

Sleep didn’t come easily to Laura after that. The night’s incredible events kept going around in her head, and she was still wide awake when the hotel began the new day.

After crossing her fingers that Alun would not be as badly injured as was feared, she lay looking up at the powder-blue canopy. Could she still pretend it was all the result of an overactive imagination? Possibly. She might have daydreamed what happened in the green room. She could have recalled the scenes in the mirror and over the field gate from some explicit movie or other. Her thoughts might conceivably have wandered in Cirencester, and she might even have read a romantic novel with a chapter about a ball. But what about the engraving, which was definitely real? She’d seen the original Deveril House from the field gate
before
coming upon the engraving. How?

Still striving to be commonsensical and rational, she supposed it was possible she’d seen the engraving somewhere before, but even if she
had
, would she really subconsciously recall it in such intricate detail? She thought not. A photographic memory was not one of her attributes; in fact, she had trouble enough learning her lines, let alone absorbing every particular of a complicated old engraving!

Whatever the truth of it all, there was no sign of the doors to the past now, or even a tiny clue that they’d ever existed. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Fitzgerald’s discreet tap at the door. “Are you awake, Laura dear?”

Laura sat up. “Yes, please come in,” she called, praying the new day had brought good news from France.

Her prayer seemed answered when Jenny’s mother entered smiling, and looking relieved. “I forgot to ask if you wanted morning tea, so I’ve brought you a cup anyway. I hope that’s all right?”

The smile was reassuring. “It’s great, thank you. Have you heard anything from Jenny?”

Mrs. Fitzgerald nodded as she put the tea down. “Yes, and it’s good news. Alun’s injuries aren’t so serious after all, and he’ll be permitted to leave the hospital to travel home in a week, maybe less.”

“Oh, I’m
so
pleased to hear it.” Laura breathed out gladly.

“The thing is, my husband is coming home in a day or so, but Jenny, understandably, wants to stay with Alun, which means you’ll still have to fend for yourself.”

“I don’t mind, provided you don’t.”

“My dear, it’s a pleasure, and at least the weather’s being kind today.”

Laura saw bright sunlight around the bedroom curtains. It was indeed a beautiful day out there.

Mrs. Fitzgerald went to the bedroom door. “Anyway, I won’t disturb you anymore. Enjoy the tea. Just pop down to the dining room when you’re ready. We do gargantuan breakfasts, mind, so be warned. Bye for now.”

Alone again, Laura picked up the tea with a smile. Thank heaven Alun would be all right.

About an hour later, wearing jeans and a favorite ruby chenille sweater, her hair brushed loose, she went down to breakfast. On the way she studied the engraving again.

The receptionist smiled. “Good morning. Miss Reynolds.”

“Good morning.” Laura glanced at her. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the internal layout of the original house?”

The woman came closer. “Well, I only know a little. For instance, the present main staircase didn’t exist when the house was built. There was another staircase leading up from a second hall here, where the dining room is now,” She put a beautifully manicured fingernail on the engraving.

“Oh?” Laura’s mind raced, for the dining room was below her bedroom at the end of the present building. When she’d gone back in time last night, she and Stephen had just come up the original staircase and were waiting in line at the entrance to the ballroom.

The receptionist went on, “I’m told the original grand staircase certainly deserved the title. It led up to a sort of huge landing, from where one got to the main rooms, including the then drawing room, the library, and a grand ballroom. If you want to find out more about the old house, Mr. Harcourt’s the one to ask. He told me everything I’ve just told you.”

Laura decided she would, for Gulliver Harcourt appeared to be the local oracle. “Is there a plan of the original house?” she asked suddenly, thinking there must be for anyone to have knowledge of the internal layout.

“I don’t think so,” the receptionist replied.

“Then how does Mr. Harcourt know what it was like inside?”

The woman’s lips parted. “That’s a point. I’m afraid I really haven’t a clue. You must ask him.”

Laura went into the dining room, where the chimes of an impressive grandfather clock drifted pleasantly on the warm air. She selected a table by a window that enjoyed the same view as her apartment on the floor above, but it was the interior of the room that interested her. She tried to picture exactly where the original staircase had been. The wall paneling seemed not to have been tampered with since first put up, and so did the ceiling plasterwork. Was Gulliver Harcourt wrong?

After a while she looked out of the window instead. The Cotswold scenery was bathed in sunshine, and she couldn’t help thinking it was a world away from London. And another world again from the heartbreak of Kyle McKenna.