The Virtuous Cyprian Page 22

  Lucille was starting to feel very nervous. She sat on the edge of her chair, looking up at him. He turned away.

  ‘You should know that I have had Cookes under surveillance ever since you told me of the curious occurrences there,’ he began, without preamble. ‘That was why I wanted you all out of the house and installed here at the Court, but as usual, your damnable independence—’ He broke off, glaring at her, and ran a hand through his ruffled dark hair. ‘I had already received intelligence that the Fen Tigers intended a strike in this neighbourhood, the fenland becoming too hot for them. Walter Mutch’s name was mentioned. Your cousin, I am sorry to say, is a young man who has been involved in various dubious enterprises over the years.’

  Seagrave’s dark eyes searched Lucille’s pale face thoughtfully. ‘The Kellaway wildness runs deep in him, they say. Walter had anticipated that Cookes would be his before Susanna’s unexpected claim overset his plans. He had already begun to use the house as a base for his activities.’ Seagrave shrugged. ‘A little smuggling, perhaps; storage of stolen goods, certainly…In addition, he had been accustomed to helping himself to the contents of the house during your father’s prolonged absences abroad. He is always fathoms deep in debt, for he is an extravagant gambler, and he found it useful to take the odd item here and there to settle his bills. I believe the house to be so cluttered with artefacts that no one would have noticed.’

  Lucille nodded tiredly. ‘No, I am sure no one would have realised…Oh, dear! And then Susanna upset his plans by moving in! I suppose that it was Walter that Hetty saw that night?’

  Seagrave nodded. ‘Yes. I imagine he was hoping to scare you all away, since he seems to have deliberately set out to frighten Miss Markham. I had heard that Walter is partial to snuff—it is one of his extravagances—which was one of the reasons I suspected him when Mrs Appleton found the snuff dropped by the fireplace. I imagine he must have slipped out in the confusion after Miss Markham screamed and before you all came running. As he knew the house, it would not be difficult for him to slip away unnoticed. Certainly your presence at Cookes was very unwelcome, especially with Walter’s connection with the Fen Tigers. He had a quantity of arms hidden in one of the outhouses—I have been over there tonight after the insurrection at the farm was put down—and I imagine that he was on tenterhooks lest you discovered his secret.’

  Lucille was momentarily distracted. ‘The farm! I almost forgot! Whatever happened?’

  Seagrave smiled for the first time. ‘Very little, Miss Kellaway! These mob outings are usually characterised by a lot of shouting and swearing but very little real violence! When I reached Martock, Jem had already warned the farmer and the place was barricaded. The rabble were milling about threatening to burn the place down. Then the farmer doused them all with buckets of water which he had thoughtfully filled in advance in case of fire, the yeomanry arrived, and the whole thing degenerated into an ignominious retreat!’

  His smile faded. ‘Walter Mutch was taken by the yeomanry. I understand that he has…acknowledged the error of his ways, and decided that a future in America might possibly be for the best!’

  Lucille considered him with misgiving. ‘You mean that you have persuaded him! Oh, poor Mrs Mutch! How dreadful for her!’

  ‘Better to have a son emigrate than have a son denounced as a rabble-rouser and a thief!’ Seagrave said strongly. ‘I imagine that you would not have wished to press charges and cause trouble in the family, Miss Kellaway, but the contents of Cookes actually belong to your sister, who may not be so forgiving!’

  Lucille hesitated, certain that he was right. Were Susanna to return and consider herself defrauded, no consideration of family feeling would be likely to sway her. An idea occurred to her. ‘Perhaps I could settle his debts,’ she said eagerly. ‘After all, now that I have a fortune at my disposal—’

  She stopped as Seagrave held up a hand, a look of amused resignation on his face. ‘You are most generous, ma’am, but I have to tell you that I have already instructed Mutch to seek settlement of his debts through Mr Josselyn, and have included, in addition, a sum to speed him on his way abroad!’

  Lucille’s heart sank. Was there no end to the responsibilities that her family would lay at his door? She got to her feet. ‘Then you must let me repay—’

  ‘Certainly not.’ Seagrave was standing over her, awesomely authoritative. ‘You will not argue with me, Miss Kellaway.’ The gold-flecked eyes scrutinised Lucille’s pale face with a hard look. ‘The matter is closed. But I infinitely regret that there is a more important issue which I need to discuss with you.’ Lucille sensed something in his manner—tension? Anger? She was not sure, but her nerves tightened in response.

  ‘That day at the beach, I asked you if you were hiding something from me,’ Seagrave was saying. ‘I wondered if you had, in fact, discovered Walter’s cache of arms, and were too afraid to say anything, but I thought it unlikely.’ He was taking from his jacket pocket what looked like an envelope, a white envelope with black writing. ‘And now,’ Seagrave said grimly, holding the letter out to her, ‘I realise just what it was you were omitting to tell me, Miss Kellaway.’

  ‘Oh!’ Lucille recoiled in horrified remembrance. She had left the last anonymous letter carelessly discarded on a table in Cookes drawing-room and had forgotten about it completely. And Seagrave had said that he had been to Cookes that evening, and must have gone inside, into the drawing-room, where he would have seen the letter…She remembered what was written there, and the colour flooded into her face.

  ‘Well might you look so!’ Seagrave said, with soft vehemence. He was very close, his physical presence, trapping her, intimidating her completely. ‘Why did you not tell me, Miss Kellaway?’

  Lucille tried to speak calmly though her heart was hammering. Those furious gold-flecked eyes were only inches from her own.

  ‘Oh, because such letters are best ignored, my lord! They were spiteful and malicious, and I did not care to take them seriously! And I was embarrassed—I admit it!’ She met his eyes defiantly. ‘I did not wish you to see what was written there!’

  Seagrave moved slightly away from her, although his angry gaze never left her for a moment. ‘How many letters have there been, Miss Kellaway?’

  ‘I don’t know…five…six, maybe. I threw them away!’ Lucille was horrified to find that she was nearly in tears, more upset by his anger than she had ever been by the hurtful accusations of the anonymous writer. The lamplight blurred into puddles of gold as she felt her tears spill over and she dashed them away.

  ‘Forgive me for pressing you on this, but I must know—’ There was constraint in Seagrave’s voice now. ‘Were they all like this? Did they all suggest that there was an…illicit relationship between the two of us?’

  Lucille looked miserably down at the carpet. ‘No. The first two were purely personal attacks on me—on Susanna. It was only after I…resumed my real identity that the letters suggested that I—that we…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘I see.’ Seagrave sounded quite expressionless. He came across to her once again. She sensed that he was standing close to her, but she could not look up into his face. ‘Miss Kellaway—’ his voice was very gentle ‘—I understand that aversion to such poisonous malice as this might make you wish to destroy the letters; pretend, perhaps, that they never existed. Unfortunately, in a small place such as Dillingham it is not so easy to escape such spite. Although country society appears to have taken you to its heart, below the surface, not everyone is so generous! A word here or there, and a reputation dies. Your reputation, Miss Kellaway.’ He tapped the letter. ‘There are plenty of people who would be willing to believe this libel.’

  Lucille looked up at him then, her eyes very bright. ‘But I am going away soon—it does not matter!’

  Seagrave was shaking his head. ‘Such malevolence travels, Miss Kellaway. By devious means it will work its way back to the school, back to the parents of the children in your care…They will hear that Miss Luc
ille Kellaway is not a fit person to take charge of their offspring, that she is a woman of shady morality, perhaps.’ He sighed regretfully. ‘Or suppose that you decide to use some of your fortune to settle in some comfortable town, a seaside resort, perhaps. How long would it be before someone hears a rumour, a tantalising tale of a lady and a nobleman…scandalous details…Miss Lucille Kellaway is, after all, the sister of a notorious Cyprian. How piquant, that the respectable sister should, after all, be proved as licentious as the courtesan…You will never be free of it, Miss Kellaway!’

  He looked down into her face and gave a short laugh. ‘You look horrified, Miss Kellaway! Had it never occurred to you that this might be the natural outcome of your masquerade? I see it had not!’

  ‘No, sir.’ Lucille’s voice came out as a shaken thread of sound. ‘I had never thought that my good name would be compromised…not my own name…I know I pretended to be Susanna, but I always intended to resume my life as before, and no one had ever questioned my own integrity…’

  Seagrave took her hand and pulled her round to face him. ‘Nor mine, Miss Kellaway. This touches my honour. But fortunately the solution is easy to hand. You will marry me.’

  Lucille withdrew her hand hastily. ‘Oh, no, sir! I could not possibly allow—’

  ‘I was not asking you, Miss Kellaway,’ Seagrave said, with a hint of humour, ‘I was telling you. The only way I can protect your reputation—and restore my own—is for us to wed. So perhaps we can dispose of your objections relatively quickly?’

  He took the chair opposite hers and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Lucille sat down a little abruptly. Her mind was spinning. To be Countess of Seagrave—it was all that she had wanted; all that she had dreamed of. But not like this! This quixotic proposal, borne out of necessity…

  ‘I am very sensible of the honour that you do me, my lord…’

  ‘But? Do, please, be frank, Miss Kellaway. If you have any objections to me personally—’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Lucille was struggling already. ‘But I am a schoolteacher, sir—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And as such must be a most unsuitable person to become a Countess.’

  Seagrave waved a hand. ‘A trifling objection, Miss Kellaway! I cannot regard it! Your family is an old and respected one in this County. What could be more suitable?’

  ‘But I do not fit into County society—it bores me.’

  ‘It bores me too,’ Seagrave agreed affably. ‘We shall not mix with our neighbours if we do not wish!’

  Lucille was thinking of Louise Elliott’s cruel words. ‘And my sister is a Cyprian, sir! A barque of frailty, a—’

  ‘Say no more, Miss Kellaway!’ Seagrave was actually grinning. ‘I understand you perfectly! But I think you misjudge your sister!’ He lips twitched again. ‘The next time you see her, I confidently predict that she will be Lady Bolt, and as such above reproach!’

  ‘And I deceived you, sir!’ Lucille finished tragically. ‘I pretended to be the Cyprian!’

  To her amazement, Seagrave still had that wicked grin on his face. ‘Yes, I own that I shall be very interested to see how you intend to further your impersonation in the marriage bed!’

  The hot colour flooded Lucille’s face. ‘But—’

  ‘Lucille,’ the Earl said, suddenly losing patience, ‘if you have no more substantive points to make, I suggest that you accept!’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Lucille said, slowly. ‘It does seem to be for the best…’

  ‘A little more enthusiasm might not go amiss,’ Seagrave said humorously. He got up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Before I let you go, perhaps we should seal our bargain…’

  It was impossible, Lucille thought, to resist that dizzying, demanding spiral of desire that overcame her at his lightest touch. But she was remembering the words he had spoken only that night when he had told her that he could never care deeply for anyone ever again…He had told her he wanted her and the urgent claim of his hands and his mouth was now making that very clear. But love? When she loved him so much, was it not the ultimate folly to accept this compromise and marry him? For she would always be striving to make him love her, making herself unhappy when it was obvious that he did not feel as she did. The subtle, sensuous touch of his tongue parting her lips distracted her thoughts for a moment and she struggled to free herself.

  ‘My lord—’

  ‘Yes, Lucille? I really think that you should call me Nicholas now.’ Seagrave’s lips were just grazing the soft skin beneath her ear, sending ripples of feeling along all her nerve endings. His mouth moved, brushing her neck, to pause at the base of her throat and slip even further to the hollow between her breasts. Lucille gasped.

  ‘My lord…Nicholas…an intense physical awareness is not a good basis for a marriage…’

  ‘True, my clever little Lucille—’ Seagrave’s words were barely above a whisper ‘—but it is intensely pleasurable, is it not?’ He raised his head and looked down at her, his eyes brilliant with desire. ‘I like to tease my cool, practical Miss Kellaway…’ His mouth was doing precisely that, following the marauding hands that were sliding the lace edging of her bodice aside.

  ‘Nicholas…’ Lucille tried again, although she was finding it almost impossible to remember what she was trying to say. His thumb was skimming the tip of one breast whilst his tongue savoured the delicate curves he had uncovered.

  ‘If I am not to take you here and now, I must let you go,’ Seagrave was saying huskily, regretfully, his glance lingering on her flushed face and feverishly sparkling eyes. He gave her one last, deliciously leisurely kiss. ‘But we shall be married very soon! On that you may depend!’

  ‘Oh, Lady B., what am I to do!’ Lucille put down her cup of chocolate and fixed her visitor with anxious blue eyes.

  Lady Bellingham, awesome in puce velvet with matching turban, raised her eyebrows. ‘Do? I do not immediately perceive your problem, my dear!’ A humorous light entered her dark eyes. ‘You are an heiress who is to be married to one of the County’s most eligible bachelors in less than a sen’night! What could be more suitable? Why do you have to do anything?’

  ‘I am wondering,’ Lucille said slowly, ‘whether I should cry off from the marriage!’

  When Lady Bellingham’s huge coach had lumbered through the gates of Dillingham Court that morning, Lucille had been both surprised and very glad. She had been intending to call at The House of Tides, but had never seemed to have a moment to herself from the time the engagement had been announced.

  Good news had travelled fast. The morning after her passage of arms with Seagrave had taken place, the maid who brought Lucille’s hot chocolate dropped a respectful curtsy and told her how pleased all the staff were that she was to be Lady Seagrave. Five minutes later, the Dowager Countess, in a dashing negligee of lace and gauze, had swept into the room and enfolded Lucille in her warm embrace.

  ‘My love! I am so happy!’ She had paused to look indulgently at her future daughter-in-law. ‘I knew you were just right for Nicholas the moment I met you! Oh, this has all worked out so much better than I dared to hope!’

  Hetty had been no less ecstatic. ‘Now we shall be sisters twice over!’ she had declared, hugging Lucille tightly.

  Peter and Hetty were to be married the following spring in St George’s Church, Hanover Square. Seagrave, however, had decreed that he had no intention of making a fashionable spectacle out of his wedding, and had declared that the service would take place in two weeks’ time in the Dillingham village church. This announcement had thrown his mother into a frenzy of preparation. She had sent to London for her own dressmaker, and Lucille had then undergone what seemed to be endless fittings for her wedding dress and talk of nothing but trousseaux. And in less than a week…

  Recalled to where she was, Lucille looked up to see Lady Bellingham watching her with the same humour still lurking in her gaze.

  ‘A change of heart?’ she mused. ‘But what are the alternatives? A country cottage and a co
untry companion? Or perhaps a home by the sea, with your books? And yet I could swear that you were in love with him!’

  The words, delivered in the best tradition of melodrama, caused Lucille to start and look round nervously, but they were alone in the library.

  ‘That is the problem,’ she acknowledged baldly. ‘I am in love with him—but he does not love me, Lady Bellingham!’

  Lady Bellingham helped herself to another cup of chocolate from the silver pot, and took two of the bonbons which Lady Seagrave’s housekeeper had thoughtfully provided.

  ‘You are in the habit of thinking too much, Lucille,’ she observed equably after she had munched her way through the sweets. ‘You should, in common parlance, let nature take its course. Seagrave is much attracted to you—furthermore, he finds you interesting.’ She wrinkled up her nose thoughtfully. ‘On the day he escorted you to The House of Tides, I noticed that he scarcely took his eyes from you the whole time! Men can be notoriously foolish when it comes to discovering their feelings—I fear you will just have to give him time.’

  ‘Will you come to the wedding?’ Lucille asked eagerly.

  Lady Bellingham’s eyes twinkled. ‘My child, I would not miss it for the world! To be Received and Recognised—’ she rolled her ‘Rs’ impressively ‘—in the County! It is beyond my wildest dreams!’

  Lucille viewed her with misgiving. ‘Now, Lady B., you are not going to be naughty, are you? I doubt Mrs Ditton would be able to cope with it!’

  Lady Bellingham opened her eyes to their widest extent. ‘You may rely on me, my dear! But what a pity your sister cannot be present! Lord, I would give a monkey to see Mrs Ditton’s face were the Cyprian to make an entrance!’ She stood up and pulled on her gloves. ‘I have it in mind to go travelling again,’ she added. ‘I leave next week. Mayhap I shall see your sister whilst I am abroad!’ She presented her cheek to Lucille to kiss. ‘I shall give her the new Countess of Seagrave’s greetings!’