She was
his past. Until he had returned to England, Nash had made damn sure
he’d had no knowledge of Rachel’s life. Then he’d
returned.
And everything
had changed.
‘It is like fate has conspired against me,’ he marvelled.
‘It is as if it is determined to test me. Who would have thought
that Adam, damn his eyes, would fall in love with Rachel’s sister?’
Nash hadn’t even known she had
had
a sister.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and scowled at the
dancing flames in the hearth. Would it look extraordinarily
peculiar if he stole out of the place
this very night and fled? Find the
stables, put a saddle on his horse and ride hell for leather to the
nearest inn where he could hole up until morning? He could make his
escape back to London in the morning and pretend that the whole
trip had never taken place. If he were really clever, he’d jump the
next boat to Calais and return to all that was safe and familiar. A
life that could not possibly contain Rachel, where no mention of
her name would ever reach his ears, where he could reasonably
expect to spend another three and a half years in blissful
ignorance of anything he did not wish to know about.
Except
that he couldn’t. A retreat from Thorncroft would look more
than peculiar. He could not do that to Adam, who had asked him in
all sincerity if he had any objection to meeting Rachel Sheridan
again. Nash had sworn that he did not, thinking at the time that he
was speaking no more than the truth. Nor could he remove himself
from England once again, now that he had returned. If nothing else,
his return had reminded him of his obligations to his estate. He
had work to do here. Much as he might try and forget the fact,
he
was
the 9
th
Earl of Worsley and that meant responsibilities he could
not ignore.
Unfortunately
it seemed that remaining in England also meant Rachel Sheridan,
even if it was in the most roundabout way.
‘And you
thought you were safe from the past! You’re an arrogant man, Nash
Guthrie,’ he whispered. ‘And a damned fool to boot.’
Not that this new found insight helped him in any way. He
was trapped at Thorncroft with a woman who had managed to
shatter
his
carefully constructed calm into a thousand empty pieces within
scant hours of his arrival. He had insulted her, probably beyond
any hope of redemption (should he be inclined to look for it, he
was ambivalent about doing any such thing) and had no plan to deal
with the situation as yet. And dinner was yet to come. There was no
doubt about it, he was well and truly scuppered. For five, long
days he would be forced to break bread with this delightful family.
He might be able to whittle that down to four – or even three days
– if he were adroit enough to come up with a reasonable excuse to
leave early, but no matter how long he remained at Thorncroft, it
was still too long.
One disconcerting minute
– the one where he had sighted that lovely
face again – had convinced him of that.
He would
stay, if he must, but he knew two things with complete
certainty.
The first was that
he would do his utmost not to speak to Rachel
again in anything other than the most cursory of ways. He would
take care to not let his guard down for a minute when he was in her
company. She had shattered him once and he was quietly terrified
that she still had the power to do so again.
And the second was that he must guard against his own
ridiculous heart. He did not think that he would allow himself to
fall back into the maudlin sentiments that used to plague
him
, but he
had to be careful. His outburst had been unexpected. He had not
thought that he would speak to her but something, some demon
within, had compelled him. He was in the presence of a creature who
had once brought him to a complete standstill and he would not be
so bold as to think himself safe from her. Not that she had enticed
him. On the contrary, she had been circumspection
itself.
It was not Rachel’s behavior that was
the issue. It was his own and
the folly of remembering lost dreams and how very much he had
wanted her.
H
is
course of action was perfectly clear; he would steer clear of the
creature who had once caused him so much anguish, the better to
guard against his own inclinations.
Five days was
not a lifetime, although he had a feeling it would feel like one,
by the time it came for him to take his leave.
A soft knock
came at the door, closely followed by his valet slipping through
the door.
‘
My lord,’ Hartley murmured, giving his employer an appraising
look. He had, after all, been the one person who had been at Nash’s
side for all the time he was away. None knew better than his valet
how much he had gone through after he had quit England. ‘You have
not rung for me. If we do not hurry, you will be late for
dinner.’
‘
Dinner,’ Nash repeated, rising to his feet. Another three
hours of intense discomfort to be endured. ‘Yes of course. Well
let’s have at it, then.’
Some
things, it seemed, must simply be endured.
Chapter
Five
On the
penultimate day before her sister’s wedding, Rachel woke to
thoughts of Nash Guthrie, Earl of Worsley, and a snow-covered
landscape. Sitting up in bed and pushing aside a tendril of pale
hair that had escaped its nightly braid, she looked towards the
newly opened curtains and found the pristine cover of snow was a
pleasant surprise. The manner in which her thoughts immediately
went to Worsley – his verbal attack the previous evening and the
dinner that followed – was not nearly so clear cut.
The previous evening had found her still seething with
anger and she had descended for dinner with her composure barely
intact. There was no doubt that his lordship’s words had been true;
she was, indeed, a fallen woman, shunned by Society but, under the
circumstances, it was hardly polite to remind her of the situation
when he was in her father’s house. She had lived with her shame
every day since that dreadful night when Papa and her brother
George had recovered her from the far from respectable inn Salinger
had taken her to in Coventry. But it was the height of bad manners
to bring up such a sordid topic, knowing as he must, how it would
have thrown her into mortified confusion. Rachel had still been
fulminating as she sat through the endless meal with the
earl
and
her poisonous sister-in-law; two creatures whose obvious
distaste for her could only increase her annoyance. Happily,
Charity had been positioned as far away from her as possible, no
doubt thanks to the artful machinations of her mother.
Unfortunately, Worsley had been directly opposite her at the table
and looking at him only exacerbated her anger. By the time dessert
was served, Rachel was positively incandescent with frustrated
fury, although she was forced to conceal her anger as best as she
could, lest her family deduce that something was amiss.
She must have been successful
, for after the meal, Charlotte took her
aside for a quiet word, congratulating her on shedding her reserve.
‘My love, you look as if you are glowing tonight! It is so nice to
see some color in your cheeks.’
Rachel had been startled by the observation, but had smiled
reluctantly at the unconscious irony of her sister’s words.
Apparently righteous
wrath agreed with her.
Having delivered his unpleasant observations, Worsley
had
apparently decided to utterly ignore her during the meal,
which only served to stir her further. He was subtle about it and
it was not obviously done. Instead he was an excellent guest,
devoting himself assiduously to Lydia, who was on his left or to
Liza, who was on his right. Charity always deplored the fact that a
nine year old was allowed to sit at table with her elders, but the
Sheridans were a relaxed household and, as it was an intimate
family dinner, the inclusion of the youngest Miss Sheridan had
never been in doubt. For all of her natural exuberance, Liza knew
how to behave at such gatherings and her conversation, while
eclectic, could never be considered dull. Even so, Rachel found the
earl’s apparent absorption in Liza’s animated recounting of the
extraction of her favorite terrier out of a rabbit hole to be
altogether too much of a good thing. Perhaps there were fleeting
glances whilst Rachel chatted to those who flanked her, but she
never caught so much as a hurried look in her direction.
Apparently, having said what he had obviously been bursting to say,
he wanted nothing more to do with her. The knowledge had hardly
soothed her already frayed sensibilities.
By the
end of the meal, her fury had been edged with exasperation. Surely
the wretched man had to feel her molten stare upon him? He must
have had a will of iron to ignore the hostility that radiated in
his direction. Perversely she had found that, the more he had
ignored her, the greater was her desire to goad him into some kind
of response. As the courses unfolded she had focused on his averted
face more and more, so that by the time the sweetbreads had been
set out upon the table she had taken to frankly staring at him. She
was positive he must feel her regard but was simply refusing to
meet her eyes. Hardly surprising, considering his harsh
pronouncement of her situation earlier.
I would not be able to look at me either, after such a
scathing attack. Perhaps he feels chastened
by his rudeness and is
embarrassed? But he does not look embarrassed. One would have
thought he would make some attempt to apologize for such behavior,
but no, he continues on as if he has done nothing wrong.
What a wretch he was, Rachel thought crossly.
Apparently Worsley
had appointed himself Society’s moral guardian and had deemed her
unworthy. Rather extraordinary, when he had been out of the country
– apparently it was perfectly acceptable to ignore
his
responsibilities –
and completely ignorant of the events that had occurred.
Not that
she had not erred shockingly. But she did not need a man to tell
her of that fact, so many years after the event.
When
it came time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room,
she had found herself determined to force some kind of
acknowledgement of her presence out of him, for his relentless
determination to ignore her – at a social gathering in her
parents’
house, for heaven’s
sake – was ridiculous. Was he really going to snub her for five
days? He had made it clear that he found her behavior beyond the
pale, so perhaps he was going to simply pretend she was not here,
expecting her to drift about like a ghost at a feast. Such behavior
would surely be noticed, unless he was exceedingly clever. Whilst
being overlooked had been Rachel’s greatest desire before anybody
had arrived, perversely, she found that she had a sudden desire
to
make
him notice her. He had condemned her without knowing
anything of what had taken place. He might have had good reason to
do so – she was sure he had been given a very colorful recounting
of her sins – but nevertheless, she resented his assumption that he
could judge her so harshly. Perhaps he was being so judgemental
because she had hurt him when he had made her an offer?
H
urt
or not, I never gave him reason to believe that I was partial to
his suit. Indeed, I am sure that I did not treat him any
differently than any of the other gentlemen that expressed an
interest.
She had
examined her dealings with the earl in the past and was sure that
she had not intimated a partiality that she did not feel. She had
always been careful not to give any of her suitors false hope.
Until that disastrous first encounter with Dorian Salinger, Rachel
had been careful not to settle her affections anywhere. She had
wished to enjoy her first London Season, to experience a wider
world than the one she had known. With its galleries and theatres
and shops and endless round of entertainments, London had lived up
to her expectations and her world had been trouble free and
entirely enjoyable for some months after her arrival.
How carefree she had been, in those early
days
. How…
oblivious of the fate that would befall her. Rachel had always
considered herself careful when it came to masculine attention,
having been feted by the opposite sex since she had emerged from
the schoolroom. With four siblings to keep her head from
disappearing into the clouds, she had remained mercifully sensible
about the attention her looks received – at least she hoped she had
– and had not thought herself at all inclined to fits of
romanticism. Of course, that had not meant that her continued
common sense was assured. She had certainly abandoned it with
devastating speed when she had met Mr. Salinger – so much so that
she wondered now if it had been a kind of madness. It must have
been for, when she now thought of the man who had once dominated
her every waking thought, she could not generate even a smidgeon of
her former adoration. Once the thought of his rather melodramatic
good looks and intense, compelling personality had filled her body
with a maelstrom of emotion; desire, yearning, an aching need to
touch her beloved. Afterwards she had wondered where those feelings
had gone. Had they been extinguished so completely by his betrayal?
Rachel could recall
how
she had felt, but not
why
she had felt that way and her failure to behave with
circumspection in regards to Dorian Salinger left her doubting her
judgement in every other aspect of her life.