Gail Whitiker (4 page)

Surprisingly, her head was bare, revealing a cluster of dark gleaming curls that were somehow all the more striking against the creamy perfection of her skin. Her eyes were the clear, sparkling blue of the sky on a summer’s day, and her lashes were long.

Ridiculously long, Robert thought uncharitably, as he looked up at her. The damn things all but cast shadows on her cheeks.

‘Did you have…a good journey?’ Hannah enquired, stumbling a little in the face of his unwelcoming silence.

‘Yes, thank you, I did.’ He slowly climbed the stairs and, glancing past her, saw Mrs Jenkins, the house
keeper, and Mr Mudd, the butler, awaiting him just inside the door. ‘But it was unnecessary for you to wait upon my arrival.’

‘Nevertheless, it was something I wished to do. It has been a long time, Robert.’

There was no recrimination in her voice, and Robert found himself in the unfamiliar position of having nothing to say. Hannah, mistaking his silence for impatience, turned and walked into the house. Robert followed her, feeling uncomfortably as if he’d just kicked a puppy.

On the threshold, he hesitated again, glancing around at the spacious contours of the hall. How strange his being here felt. For years, he had come to this house as a visitor. Now, he was master of it. Where was the pleasure he had expected to feel? The pleasure he surely ought to feel upon walking into his own home?

He took off his hat and handed it to the butler. ‘Mr Mudd.’

‘Welcome home, my lord. And on behalf of all the staff, may I say how deeply sorry we are for your loss. The Viscountess was a fine lady, and we all miss her very much.’

‘Thank you.’ Robert pulled off his soft leather gloves. ‘Have the necessary preparations been made for the funeral?’

It was a question that should have been addressed to Hannah, but if the butler was surprised at hearing it directed towards him, he was too well trained to show it. ‘They have, my lord.’

‘I hope you don’t mind, Robert, but I took the liberty of placing Mama’s casket in the blue salon,’ Hannah said, her tone again indicating no awareness of a slight. ‘It was always her favourite room and I thought it would be more appropriate than the formal parlour.’

‘I have no objection at all,’ Robert said, turning to look at her. ‘I’m not about to pretend a greater knowledge of my mother’s likes and dislikes than you, Hannah, therefore, it is only right that you be the one to make such decisions.’

Robert hadn’t intended his voice to sound so stiff. Indeed, he wished he might have softened it so that it came out sounding natural and at ease, but it was more than he was able to do. Master of Gillingdon Park he might be, but intruder was more the role he saw himself in. Or was it simply the presence of Hannah in this new and unexpected guise that was throwing him so completely off stride?

‘Have my usual rooms been prepared?’ he asked brusquely. At his sister’s nod, he finally managed a smile. ‘Good. I would like a few minutes to freshen up. Then perhaps you could have Cook send up a tray—’

‘Actually, I was hoping you might like to join me for dinner in the small dining-room,’ Hannah said hesitantly. ‘I thought it might give us an opportunity to talk.’

Robert stared at her in surprise. ‘You have not yet dined? But it is nearly six.’

‘Yes, but we do not keep country hours here. Mama preferred to dine at the later time, and I saw no reason to change that, especially today. I thought you would be hungry after your journey, and might wish for something more substantial than a light repast.’

Her unexpected consideration shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. ‘Thank you. Yes, I will join you. There is, as you say, much we need to talk about.’

Hannah did not seem daunted by the prospect, but merely bowed her head. ‘Then I shall see you at dinner.’ With that, she turned and walked slowly towards the stairs.

Robert followed her with his eyes, struck as much by his sister’s new-found air of maturity as he was by her physical appearance. There had been no clumsiness in her speech, no uncertainty in her manner when she had addressed him. She had conducted herself with all the grace and refinement of a well-bred young lady. But then, she
was
a well-bred young lady, Robert reminded himself. She had been raised at his mother’s knee to be exactly what she appeared. She had simply not been exposed to society—though he could well imagine what would happen when she was. Hannah might be his sister, but there was no denying that she was also a remarkably beautiful woman.

Suddenly realising that the butler was waiting for his instructions, Robert abruptly turned his attention back to the matters at hand. There would be time enough to deal with his sister over the next few days. Hannah wasn’t going anywhere. Yet.

Sitting in the green drawing-room in the aftermath of her meeting with Robert, Hannah tried to make some sense of what had just taken place. To say that she was disheartened would have been putting it mildly.

Older, and even more reserved than he’d been on his last visit, Robert had been cold, distant, and abrupt, almost to the point of rudeness. There had been no shared condolences on their loss, no expressions of sympathy or concern as to how she was bearing up. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to address a question regarding the funeral arrangements to her, as he should have done.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t only Robert’s manners and attitude that bothered her, Hannah admitted now. There was something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She suspected it might have had something
to do with his physical appearance, though she was at a loss to understand why.

After all, he was a gentleman in every other way. His clothes bore the stamp of London’s finest tailors, and his boots the mark of a discerning valet. But for all his outward appearance of respectability, there was a darker side to Robert. A smouldering passionate side that would have been indiscernible to a girl of thirteen.

A side a woman of nearly one-and-twenty couldn’t help but notice.

Hannah quickly gave herself a shake. No, it wasn’t seemly to be thinking about her brother in such a manner. And perhaps had she been more like a sister to him, she wouldn’t have viewed his appearance in quite that way. But the reality of their situation made him
seem
more like a stranger than a well-loved brother, and there was no denying that the wavy black hair, the dark, intensely probing eyes, and the full-lipped, sensual mouth would have generated feelings of breathlessness in
any
woman.

Still, stranger or not, Robert
was
her brother, and now that she was over the initial shock of seeing him, Hannah knew she would be able to deal with him on those terms. And in light of his brisk, impersonal manner, she was very glad she had made sure that his rooms were prepared, and that Gillingdon Park was looking its best. She didn’t want him thinking she was incapable of looking after the house. It was one of the reasons she had asked the staff to give the place an extra dust and polish. It hadn’t needed it, but the servants had been grateful for something to do. Everyone was feeling the loss of the Viscountess, particularly the older servants who had been with her for such a long time.

As for herself, Hannah could scarce believe that her
mother was really gone. She kept expecting to look up and see her walking down the stairs, her familiar laughter preceding her into the room. Perhaps it was always that way when a child lost a parent, but theirs had been such a special relationship, Hannah reflected, and she was feeling the loss most keenly. While most girls her age were married and raising children of their own, she was still living at home.

Her social world too was very narrow, confined to assemblies at the local hall, and to soirées held at neighbouring houses. It was certainly a far narrower world than the one in which her brother moved. And yet, Hannah had never been unhappy in it. She knew that her mother had loved her, and there had been so many wonderful moments in their lives, so much laughter, and joy, that she could not find anything in her heart to be regretful for.

Except that it had all come to such an abrupt end.

And now, she had no idea
what
to expect. The house she had lived in her whole life now belonged to Robert. If he wished to turn her out, he was perfectly within his rights to do so. If he wished to marry and bring his wife here, no one had the right to tell him he could not. The fact that Gillingdon Park had been
her
home for the past twenty years would have no legal bearing on the situation. Only time would tell if it had a moral one.

Breathing a heavy sigh, Hannah glanced up at a painting on the wall, a portrait of her brother at the age of eight. It had long been one of her mother’s favourites. She had refused to hang it in the long gallery with the rest of the family portraits, but had brought it down here where she might see it every day. She’d said it reminded her of Robert at a time when he had laughed often and loved easily.

Hannah’s mouth curved in a sad smile. It was hard to associate that bright, beautiful boy with the cold-eyed man she had just left. They might have been two entirely different people. But it gave her some comfort to know that if she had been uneasy at seeing him, Robert had been just as startled by his first sight of her. The look of astonishment on his face, fleeting as it had been, had appeared entirely genuine.

He had not been expecting an elegant young lady to greet him at the door. He had been expecting the thirteen-year-old girl he’d left behind.

But why would he be so surprised by the change? Hannah wondered. It was only natural she would have grown up. Perhaps he simply hadn’t been prepared for the ways in which she had grown, Hannah reflected as she got up and moved slowly around the room. After all, even she knew that she bore little resemblance to the awkward girl she’d been the last time Robert had visited Gillingdon. That reality had come home to her a few months ago, when she and her mother had attended a soirée at the home of Mrs Branksmuir.

Hannah had been wearing one of her new gowns, a lovely concoction of buttery yellow muslin trimmed with deep bands of lace, and she’d had her hair dressed in a completely different style. Something more becoming to her age, her mother had said as Sarah had swept the dark tresses up and skilfully arranged them with a jewelled comb.

Certainly the young men in attendance had been startled by Hannah’s new appearance. They had stumbled over themselves, blushing and stuttering when they had asked her to dance, falling all over each other in an attempt to bring her refreshments. Even poor Mr Twickenham, who had just announced his engagement
to Miss Branksmuir, had seemed awkward and ill at ease.

Her mother, however, had only smiled at their confusion, telling Hannah that for the first time in their lives they were seeing her as an elegant young lady rather than the gauche and inexperienced girl with whom they had grown up.

Hannah had simply put it down to their being silly. After all, she really hadn’t changed all that much. Yes, the dancing and deportment lessons had lent her movements an added grace and fluidity, and certainly her new gown and hairstyle were most becoming to her features, but she was still the same person underneath. She really did not think there was
that
much of a difference—until she’d caught sight of her reflection in a glass later that evening and barely recognised herself! Even to her own eyes, she’d no longer looked like a blushing schoolroom miss.

Hannah breathed another sigh as she stared up at her brother’s portrait.
That
was the change Robert had seen when he had arrived tonight, and was no doubt the reason he’d been so stiff and formal. And while she wished she could say that she was flattered by his regard, it was pointless to deceive herself in such a way.

After all, how could she be flattered when she knew he didn’t like her any better now than he had in the past?

It might be a strange feeling for a sister to have about her brother, but Hannah knew it was the truth. Robert had never said so in as many words, but she knew he held her in dislike. There was a distance between them, a coldness, as though he disapproved of her in some way. Indeed, they were more like strangers than they were siblings.

But perhaps that was only to be expected. After all,
what had they in common? She was twelve years his junior, and had grown up in an entirely different world. They had not even seen each other more than a dozen times in their lives.

Still, he
was
her brother. Surely he owed her some small degree of affection and respect, if for no other reason than that!

In the elegant blue salon, Robert approached the coffin where his mother lay and steeled himself for the feelings of anger and disdain his first sight of her would surely engender. To his surprise, all he felt upon looking at her was sorrow and regret.

When had she become this tiny, withered person? She had always seemed so strong to him. So resilient. When he’d been a child, she had played with him, swinging him up in her arms, or throwing a ball for him to catch. Now, as he brushed her face with his fingers, feeling it cold and lifeless to his touch, he wondered when she had become this fragile shell with white skin and closed eyes.

Still, she looked peaceful in death, Robert acknowledged. Was she happy at finally being released from this mortal prison? Was she up in heaven with his father? Or had her soul been sent to hell for deceiving the man she’d once loved, and for breaking her marriage vows?

Looking down at her, Robert did not wish to think of her suffering in such a way. He knew as well as any man how weak were the ways of the flesh. Perhaps he had been wrong to castigate her for her conduct. Perhaps, in his father’s dying days, he had encouraged his beautiful wife to seek a lover. Perhaps in loving her as much as he had, his father had not wished to be selfish, but had turned a blind eye to anything she might have
done, if it allowed her a brief moment of happiness. If that was the case, who was he to condemn her?