Bought for Revenge(16)

'Anyone can buy a ticket, all we ask is that the gentlemen have a good  coat and the ladies a suitable gown.' She looked up at him suddenly.  'You will find several people here who work for you-Elias Greenwood, for  example. I hope that does not make you uncomfortable?'                       
       
           



       

'Not in the least, why should it?'

'I am not sure. I do not feel you are at ease here.'

His brows rose, as if she had caught him out, then he smiled and that disturbing look disappeared.

'I beg your pardon. My thoughts were elsewhere, which was most impolite of me. Now I am completely at your service.'

The musicians struck up the first notes and the dancing commenced.

'I-we,' she corrected herself quickly. 'We have not seen you for a few weeks, Mr Monserrat.'

'I have been very busy at the Manor.'

'I thought as much,' she said, relieved. 'Is all going well?'

'Very well, but slowly. Much of the old building is unsafe and needs to  be pulled down before we can rebuild. I do not see the house being  finished before the spring.'

That did not surprise her. The Manor was in a parlous state. When the  dance brought them back together she asked him if he intended to remain  at the Red Lion.

'No, I have other plans.'

She saw again that harsh look descend, but could not think that she had  said anything untoward. They finished the movement in silence and she  had nothing to do but to concentrate upon her steps. Her partner was an  elegant dancer, light on his feet for such a powerful man, and she  enjoyed dancing with him, acutely aware of the light clasp of his hand,  gently but expertly guiding her through the figures. He was smiling, but  it was a society smile, it did not reach his eyes. She thought perhaps  she had offended him in some way, although she had no idea how. Her  pleasure in the dance was diminished.

They made their final salute and he led her in silence from the dance  floor. She spotted her father and Dr Bennett at the side of the room and  drew her partner's attention to the fact. He escorted her to them and  bowed politely when her father introduced him to the aged doctor.

'Monserrat, Monserrat,' mused Dr Bennett. 'Not a local name, that.'

'No, sir.'

'Pity, thought I knew you from somewhere.' The doctor stared up at him  short-sightedly. 'You look familiar, though. Remind me of someone … '

'I do not think so.' Lucas gave a tight little smile and with a nod he moved off.

Doctor Bennett waved a hand at his departing back.

'Can't quite put my finger on it. Ah well, it will come to me  eventually, it usually does. I remember the same thing happening at  Knaresborough last year.'

'Ah, Knaresborough,' declared her father. 'Such a lively place. Haven't  been there for years. Where did you stay, the George? That used to be  the most fashionable hotel … '

Annabelle left her father and his elderly companion to their  reminiscences. As she wandered through the ballroom she thought about  her dance with Lucas. It seemed at the end that he could not wait to get  away from her. Perhaps it was those wicked rumours, after all.

A young man begged her to partner him for the last dance before the  interval and she gladly accepted. As they took their places she noted  that Lucas was leading out Lizzie Scanlon, whose pale beauty was  enhanced by her partner's dark colouring. Quickly she looked away,  shaken by a stab of jealousy. He was free to dance with whomsoever he  wished and with the current rumours she thought bleakly that she was  fortunate he had sought her hand for even one dance.

Later Annabelle made her way to the refreshment table and found Mr  Keighley there, helping himself to a glass of punch. He looked startled  when he saw her. Like a trapped rabbit, she thought angrily, convinced  now that he had been avoiding her. She marched up to the table, allowing  him no escape, and he was obliged to acknowledge her.

She smiled and held out her glass to be filled.

'We have not seen you at Oakenroyd recently, Mr Keighley. My father has missed your visits.'

'Ah.' His eyes darted swiftly around the room. He looked anywhere rather  than directly at her. 'I have been busy of late. But I should be  delighted to keep him company at any time, if you are engaged  elsewhere.'

The implication was all too clear. Annabelle drew herself up.

'You do not need to avoid me, sir,' she said quietly. 'Let me assure you  that you have aroused no expectations of anything other than friendship  between us.'

He relaxed visibly at that and the hunted expression was replaced by a smile.

'I am heartily relieved to hear you say so, Miss Havenham. It was never  my intention to do so, but I was afraid you may have thought … '

She remembered the way he had sought her out, how he had hinted at a  union    . To see him struggling thus to disclaim was embarrassing and  deeply insulting. But if he thought she was penniless she could  understand his reluctance to ally himself to her. Now she lifted her  chin.                       
       
           



       

'You need say no more, Mr Keighley. I understand perfectly. But please  feel free to call upon my father at any time. He would appreciate your  company.' After the slightest pause she ended, 'You have my word I shall  not embarrass you.'

'My dear Miss Havenham, I never meant-'

She turned and walked off before he could embarrass her or himself  further. With dismay she felt the angry tears rising and blinked them  away. She would have to find a quiet corner to compose herself.

The Red Lion was an old hostelry and had been altered and extended many  times over the years, so there were numerous shadowed alcoves and hidden  nooks in the twisting corridors. Annabelle slipped out of the ballroom  and made her way to one such alcove on the far side of the stairs. It  was mercifully empty at present, for the assembly was well underway and  everyone was either in the ballroom, at supper or playing cards. She  sank down on the bench at the back of the recess, where she was screened  from the view of anyone passing to or from the main rooms.

Annabelle stripped off her gloves and took out her handkerchief. A rogue  tear had rolled on to her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. She was  not upset at having lost a suitor. After all, she had never really  wanted to marry Mr Keighley, but the manner of his going hurt her pride.  She chided herself upon her sensibility. This snub was not important,  she must regain her composure and return to the ballroom before her  father missed her. Poor Papa, she hoped he would never learn of these  malicious rumours.

She was wiping her eyes and did not notice the shadow fall across the  alcove, was not aware of anyone's presence until she heard Lucas's deep  voice.

'I saw you leave the ballroom. Are you unwell, Miss Havenham?'

'No, no. I w-wanted a little air.'

To her consternation he sat down beside her.

'I do not believe that is all.' His keen eyes searched her face. 'You have been crying.'

'No.'

'Yes.' He gently cupped her chin and turned her face towards him. 'Your  eyes are even now full of tears. Tell me what has upset you.'

She freed herself. His sympathy would indeed make her weep if she did not look away.

'I am merely being foolish,' she said, threading her handkerchief  through her restless fingers. 'There have been rumours.' Her glance slid  back towards him. He was silent, waiting for her to continue. She ran  her tongue around her lips, suddenly nervous. 'Rumours that we-that my  father-cannot meet his obligations.' She frowned. 'Who would start such a  report?'

He did not reply, merely continued to look at her, his harsh face inscrutable.

'Several persons this evening have distanced themselves from us because  of such talk.' She looked down and added quietly, 'I wondered if that  was why you had kept away from … from me.'

'Would it matter to you, if that was the reason?'

She raised her head and met his eyes, determined to be honest.

'Yes. I thought better of you than that.'

'And Keighley? I saw you talking to him. I thought he might have upset you.'

'He was avoiding me tonight. It was all the more noticeable because he  had been growing very particular in his attentions. I cannot deny I am  disappointed in him, not for myself but for my father, who will miss his  company if he cannot bring himself to visit Oakenroyd. It is very  lowering to know one's only suitor is so easily discouraged.'

She tried to sound light-hearted, but even to her own ears these last  words sounded sadly flat. To her dismay the tears spilled over. Her  handkerchief was too damp to be of use so she lifted her gloves to wipe  her face, but Lucas stopped her.

'No, satin will not do it. Allow me.'

Again he used his fingers to tilt her face up towards him and applied his own fine linen handkerchief to her cheeks.

'There.' He smiled into her eyes, his face only inches from her own. He said softly, 'You should not cry, Belle.'

'I am not normally so lachrymose,' she managed, unable to look away. 'I-'