He saw the colour leave her cheeks and was sorry for it, but it was only right that she should know the truth. She clasped and unclasped her hands for a moment, mulling over his words.
‘You said as much before,’ she said at last. ‘Do—do you think Lord Whittlewood would rather I did not marry William?’
‘I fear so.’
‘And is that the reason the family was not in London when we arrived? The viscount hoped I might not continue the journey?’
Drew was convinced of it, but he did not say so. Instead he watched the play of emotions over her face. Eventually he said gently, ‘Elyse, are you sure you want to marry young Reverson?’
‘But of course,’ she replied immediately. ‘And he wants to marry me. I have his letters. He loves me.’
‘You have not seen each other for three years.’
‘And we have neither of us wavered,’ she said simply. ‘It proves the strength of our affections, does it not?’
Drew regarded her in silence, debating whether to suggest it proved nothing of the sort, but as Mrs Parfitt came in at that moment with his breakfast he decided to keep his own counsel. After all, Harry had arranged this match, and he was merely carrying out his friend’s wishes. It really was none of his business. But as he settled down to enjoy his first meal in days Drew was aware of a little worm of unease gnawing away at his conscience.
Chapter Six
A visit from Dr Hall confirmed that Drew’s recovery was well under way. He was allowed to leave his bed for a few hours that day and the following morning he announced his intention of joining Elyse and his father for dinner. He refused to let Elyse help him with his clothes, pointing out that since his father’s valet came in every morning to shave him he could dress him, too. Stinchcombe surprised Drew by putting up no resistance to the suggestion and even admitted that Sir Edward had ordered him to offer any assistance he could.
Thus, late in the afternoon, Drew eventually left his bedchamber. Mrs Parfitt had cleaned his coat as best she could and stitched up the bullet hole, but the bandaging on Drew’s arm was too thick to allow him to wear it, so he appeared in his waistcoat and the borrowed shirt Stinchcombe had found for him, his injured arm resting in a sling. Since this was his first outing the valet insisted upon accompanying him to the parlour. Sir Edward was already there, seated on one side of the fire. Drew entered and heard the soft click as Stinchcombe shut the door behind him. He was alone with his father.
‘So you are on your feet at last.’
A cold greeting, but no more than Drew expected.
‘Yes. And in a few more days I shall be out of your house.’
The old man said nothing. He got up and walked to the sideboard and poured wine into two glasses.
‘I will arrange a carriage for you, but nothing more.’
‘I expect nothing more from you. Once I am in Bath I shall be able to draw on my own funds.’ He added bitterly, ‘Don’t worry, my bankers know me by the name of Bastion, there is no risk of anyone knowing my connection to you.’
‘That is none of my concern.’
He handed Drew a glass of wine and returned to his seat, staring moodily into the fire. Drew watched him for a few moments, then shook his head.
‘Oh, what the devil!’ He raised his glass. ‘I wish you good health, sir.’
The old man stared at him. ‘Do you expect me to reciprocate?’
‘No. But I am grateful for your hospitality.’
The old man scowled into his glass.
‘You cost me dear,’ he muttered. ‘The fines, the confiscated lands, the disgrace to the family. Even your mother’s death.’
‘Do you not think I know it?’ Drew retorted, regret, bitter as gall, filling his gut.
‘She never forgave herself for sending you to stay with her brother. She was convinced it was all his doing, that he persuaded you, but I know differently. You were always the wild one.’
‘I was fifteen. Wild, yes, but still a boy, Father.’
Sir Edward turned on him with a snarl.
‘Do not call me that! I will not recognise you as my son.’
Drew’s lips thinned as the words cut deep. After a moment he said quietly, ‘I am very sorry for it.’
Sir Edward hunched a shoulder and turned back towards the fire, and thus they sat in silence until the door opened again and Elyse appeared in a rustle of silk. The two men rose immediately, but Drew’s first glance turned into an outright stare. Gone was the olive-green travelling gown; she was wearing an open robe of jonquil satin over a white skirt of quilted Marseille work and she looked quite breathtaking.
‘You are wondering how I come to have another gown, when the carriage and all our baggage was stolen,’ she said, correctly interpreting his curious look. ‘Sir Edward gave permission for Mrs Parfitt to look out a gown of your mama’s for me to wear.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Altering it to fit gave me something to occupy my time while I was at your bedside.’
‘It becomes you very well,’ replied Drew, hoping his face did not betray the desire he felt for the beautiful creature he saw before him.
She wore no kerchief about her shoulders but a demure flounce of blond lace edged the low neckline. The candlelight gleamed on her dusky curls and one wayward ringlet hung down to her shoulder, accentuating the flawless creamy skin. The embroidered stomacher drew his eye to her dainty waist and he imagined himself putting his hands around it and drawing her close. She would laugh up at him and he would bend to steal a kiss from those cherry-red lips. He had tasted them before and remembered how sweet they would be…
Quickly suppressing the thought he turned to his father.
‘I can now make up for my previous lack of manners and formally introduce you. Sir, may I present Miss Elyse Salforde to you? Miss Salforde is the daughter of a good friend of mine. When he died he left her to my care.’
Elyse sank into a graceful curtsy, deep and respectful.
‘I hope, Sir Edward, that you will forgive me for withholding my name from you for so long.’
‘You had your reasons, I am sure,’ he said shortly. He set a chair for her and the three of them sat around the fire in an awkward silence. Sir Edward cleared his throat. ‘Did you enjoy your walk this morning, Miss Salforde?’
‘I did, sir, thank you.’
‘The pleasure gardens are very overgrown now. That was my wife’s domain and I have not bothered with them since her demise. There has been no money for such luxuries’
His angry glance flickered to Drew, who felt its sting and could not resist raising a grievance of his own.
‘Why did you not inform me of Simon’s death?’
‘I did not think it concerned you.’
‘Concerned me? For Gad, he was my brother!’
‘Aye, pity you didn’t think of that before you turned traitor and put his inheritance at risk.’
Drew clamped his jaws together, determined not to respond and into the breach stepped Elyse. She turned in her seat and addressed Sir Edward.
‘You must miss him greatly, sir. Mrs Parfitt said it was a riding accident.’
Drew braced himself, ready to fly to her defence if his father should snap at her, but it was not necessary.
‘Yes, it was,’ Sir Edward replied. ‘It happened two years ago, at this very season. Simon had bought a new horse, handsome brute but with a vicious streak.’ He glanced at Drew. ‘He never did have your way with horses. He thought to school the animal, but he rushed it, took him out too soon to follow the hounds. The horse threw him at the first fence. Broke his neck.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Elyse said softly. ‘And you have lived here alone since then?’
The old man looked up, saying defiantly, ‘I am content with my own company.’ He rose. ‘Dinner should be ready by now. Let us go in.’
The atmosphere in the dining room was distinctly chilly, but it had nothing to do with the weather, which was very mild, even balmy, and Elyse had no need of the shawl she had brought with her. The windows were thrown wide to allow in the late September sunshine and she was thankful to hear the cheerful birdsong from the gardens, for it gave her something to think of other than the strained silence. When the meal was over she rose to leave the gentlemen but Drew stood, too and suggested they might take a turn about the gardens together. Elyse was surprised, but pleased to accept. As they crossed the hall he disclosed his reasons for his invitation.
‘I will not endure his disapproval another moment,’ he muttered. ‘He has not mellowed one jot. I have no doubt he would put Simon’s accident at my door, an he could.’ He stopped and rubbed his eyes. ‘Forgive me, Elyse. I will not inflict my ill humour on you, but I needed an excuse to leave him to his own devices. I will retire—’
‘No.’ She caught his good arm. ‘It is not late and it will do you good to step outside for a little while. Do come with me, we can watch the sunset from the gardens.’
She thought at first he would refuse, but with a shrug he went outside with her. The shrubbery was so overgrown that it was impossible to walk there, but Elyse followed the route she had taken earlier in the day, descending the terrace steps to a series of wide gravel walks that were not yet impassable. They strolled together, not touching, but Elyse was very conscious of the man at her side. She could almost feel the tension in him, his anger ready to boil over.