Beneath the Major's Scars(38)

The silence that followed was unnerving. She dared not look up     again, but threaded her handkerchief through her fingers, over and over.

‘And why are you telling me this now? Ah, but you said, did you     not, someone else is likely to tell me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Lerryn.’

‘Yes.’

‘He was your lover.’

She flinched. ‘How did you know?’

‘From what you told me this morning, and what I observed     yesterday. He has threatened to expose you, I suppose?’

She flushed. He made it sound so sordid. ‘Yes.’

He rose and paced the room once, twice. Zelah remained in her     seat, her head bowed. He said abruptly, ‘Do you still love him?’

‘No. I doubt if I ever did. It was a foolish infatuation. I was     very young and he was very...experienced.’

‘What does he want for his silence?’

‘My...co-operation.’

His angry snort told her he knew just what that would     involve.

‘Damnation, if I had known I would not have invited him to come     here this evening.’

She raised her head. ‘Why did you     invite him?’

He scowled. ‘Your sister wants you to marry, and I, too,     consider it would be the best thing for you,’ he said bluntly. ‘I     thought...Lerryn seemed to be keen to fix his interest with you. I did not know     yesterday that he was married!’

Zelah stared at him. ‘So you thought to promote his suit?’

‘And why not? He is a squire’s son.’

A cold hand wrapped itself around her heart. She jumped to her     feet. ‘Oh, why is everyone so keen to marry me off?’

‘Because it would be a better future for you than a governess.     Good God, there is no knowing what might befall you. Believe me, I know this     world. There are many men, outwardly respectable, who would not hesitate to     seduce a servant. If you marry a man of means you will have the protection of     his name, servants, a carriage. A family.’

‘No.’ She shook her head, tears starting to her eyes.

He caught her arms. ‘So you have been hurt once and lost a     baby, but that need not be the end. There are other men than Lerryn. Good men.’     His grip tightened.

She closed her eyes, but the tears squeezed out and made hot     tracks down her cheeks. She heard him sigh. He put one arm about her shoulders,     holding her to him while he pulled a clean white handkerchief from his     pocket.

‘You should not be anyone’s drudge, Zelah.’ He wiped her cheeks     gently. ‘You should be respected, loved.’

He put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at     him. His grey eyes were no longer hard rock, but something hotter, darker. Her     head was thrown back against his arm, he had only to lower his head and their     lips would meet. Her heart was beating such a heavy tattoo she thought he must     hear it. Her breasts had tightened and ached for his touch. She placed her hand     on his chest and felt the powerful thud of his own heart against her palm. With     sudden, startling clarity she knew she wanted him to kiss her, more than     anything in the world.

‘No.’ The heat faded from his eyes. Gently he released her.

Unable to speak, she watched him walk away from her, his     shoulders straight, his back rigidly upright as he continued. ‘You need not fear     Lerryn. I will not turn him away tonight, that would give rise to the type of     gossip we are trying to avoid, but I will make sure he does not trouble you.     Now, I have detained you long enough. It wants but a few hours to dinner, so I     suggest you finish your work. I have given orders that the library is to be     opened to my guests tonight, so perhaps you will make sure it is looking its     best before you go off to change your gown.’

He turned back, smiling, urbane, his face shuttered. She was     dismissed.





Chapter Twelve

Zelah made her way back to the library. She kept her head up as     she passed through the salon where an army of servants were fitting fresh     candles to the chandeliers and polishing the mirrors. The carpet had already     been rolled away and the floor cleared for dancing. The double doors to the     library would be thrown open once the ball commenced, but now she closed them,     preferring to be alone with her thoughts. Not that they were very coherent.     Dominic would protect her from Timothy Lerryn’s threats, she was sure, but he     had made it plain that he had no interest in her. She had known that all along,     of course. He liked her, he respected her work and he was anxious for her     happiness, which he thought would be best achieved by marriage. To someone else.     In all likelihood he was right, but this foolish heart of hers had decided     otherwise, and Zelah knew that if she could not have Dominic Coale she would     have no one.

‘Well, you had your plans, you were determined to earn your own     living.’ She spoke aloud as she walked around the empty library. ‘You should be     happy. Nothing has changed.’

But in her heart Zelah knew that nothing could ever be the same     again.

A burst of laughter from the salon reminded her of the servants     next door. She hurried off to the tower room, where she made a few last entries     into the ledger and began gathering together the books to be returned to the     library. She was soon joined by a harassed-looking Hannah bearing a tray.

‘Mrs Graddon thought you might like some lemonade, miss, seeing     as how she has made plenty for this evening.’ She wiped her hand across her     brow. ‘My, ’tis hot, miss. I’ve opened the windows in the library, to let in     some air.’

‘Thank you, this is very welcome.’ Zelah took the lemonade and     sipped it. ‘This must be a great upheaval for you, after living so quietly.’

‘Aye, it’s all at sixes and sevens. We have hired more girls     from the village, though, the master insisting that Mrs Graddon should have all     the help she needs, as well as the grand French chef who is come down from     Lunnon to take over the kitchen. But ’tis good to see the master taking his     rightful place,’ Hannah continued. ‘And I hear that Master Nicky is coming to     stay and his little brother, too, so I hopes I might be allowed to wait on them,     dear little mites.’

She bustled away, leaving Zelah feeling slightly more cheerful.     There was a definite buzz of excitement around Rooks Tower. The old house had     come alive with so many people in residence.

Zelah took her empty glass back to the kitchens and begged a     piece of lemon to clean the ink from her fingers. Once she had done that she     checked the clock. There was a good hour yet before she needed to disappear and     transform herself from employee to house guest and there were still a dozen or     more books in the tower room that needed to be returned to the library. She ran     to fetch them. She found it was still possible to lose herself in her work,     matching up books, wondering if Ehret’s botanical prints should be placed beside     the works of philosophy and science rather than with the book entitled Modern Voyages and Travels. As she straightened the     volumes of Vitruvius Britannicus she remembered the     paper she had found and wondered if it would prove useful to the villagers in     fighting Sir Oswald Evanshaw’s claims.

Sir Oswald would be at the ball that evening. Zelah had been     present when Sally and Dominic had discussed it. Zelah remembered how flattered     she had been when Dominic asked her what she thought. She had agreed with Sally     that it would be impolitic to exclude him.

Now, standing alone in the library, a little flush of pleasure     nudged through her depression. Dominic valued her opinion. Despite everything,     he clearly wanted her to be present at the ball, so perhaps he would dance with     her as he had at the assembly. The thought cheered her immensely and, determined     to remain cheerful, she began to sing as she placed the last few books on the     shelves.

‘Well now. Minerva, in her element.’

The deep, warm voice held a laugh and she swung around, smiling     when she saw Dominic. He was sitting astride the open window, his back against     the jamb with one booted foot upon the sill. Her smile wavered. It was Dominic, and yet...he looked slightly more modish     than usual. The top-boots seemed to fit more snugly, the buckskins were a shade     lighter. His riding jacket was just as tightly fitting, but the buttons were     larger and his neckcloth was a froth of white folds. His dark hair glowed like a     raven’s wing in the sunlight, but it had obviously been cut by a master. The     eyes were a shade lighter, more blue than grey, and his face, that beautiful     face with its smooth planes and lean jawline, was just too perfect. On both     sides. Her hands flew to her mouth.