Lady Knightley's Secret

‘My dear, there was never any question of that. Evadne might have liked him very well, but she was ambitious, and had set her sights high. She wouldn’t have settled for less than a title, and Richard, you must remember, was a younger son…Which reminds me. I must offer my condolences. His brother’s death was—must have come as a bitter blow. They were very close.’

She rose from the bed. ‘And now I really must leave you, otherwise that very doting husband of yours will quite rightly take me roundly to task for keeping you from your sleep,’ and, without giving her friend the chance to argue, whisked herself from the room.

Completely satisfied now that there had been no ulterior motive in Richard’s invitation to this house, Elizabeth smiled to herself as she moved almost soundlessly along the red-carpeted passageway in the direction of her own room. She ought to have known that the darling Viscountess would never do anything so underhanded, nor indeed anything which might cause her old school-friend embarrassment. But this didn’t alter the fact, Elizabeth reminded herself, that she must remain on her mettle throughout the time Richard was here, for just one unguarded look, just one ill-chosen word, might alert the far-from-obtuse Viscountess to the true state of her friend’s rather foolish heart.

Rounding the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks and only just managed to prevent a gasp escaping as her eyes focused on the tall figure standing in the shadows only yards ahead. Her robe had fallen open and she didn’t realise that, with the candles behind her, the nightgown which modestly covered almost every inch of her became virtually transparent. But Richard was instantly aware of the fact.

The gentlemanly thing to do, of course, was to bid a swift good night and retire to his bedchamber. He swiftly discovered, however, that he was first and foremost a man, and couldn’t prevent his eyes from wandering over one of the most perfectly proportioned figures he had ever been privileged to see, dwelling with intense pleasure on the softly rounded curves and, oh, so tantalising shadows before forcing his eyes up to a sweetly curved mouth just begging to be kissed.

Only iron self-control kept him firmly rooted to the spot, but he was powerless to prevent that telltale husky note of desire from creeping into his voice as he said, ‘Miss Beresford, I thought you’d retired long since. I’m sorry if I startled you.’

‘Not at all, sir. It’s entirely my own fault for wandering about the place at this time of night.’ He watched a tentative little smile briefly curl up the corners of that delectable mouth as she glided towards the door leading to the bedchamber almost directly opposite his own. ‘I shall bid you good night, Sir Richard. I dare say we’ll see each other again in the morning.’

‘Oh, yes, Miss Beresford,’ he murmured as she disappeared into the room without another word, ‘you can be very sure of that…very, very sure.’

Chapter Three

Casting a far from appreciative eye round his allotted bedchamber, Richard rose wearily from the bed and went across to the bell-pull. He felt decidedly unrefreshed, but was only too well aware that he couldn’t blame his singular lack of sleep on unfamiliar surroundings, or on the four-poster bed which had proved both comfortable and roomy. Oh, no, the sole culprit for his insomnia lay not in this elegantly appointed room, but in the bedchamber almost directly opposite. And wasn’t that damnably frustrating in itself?

Unable to suppress a crooked half-smile, he seated himself at the dressing-table. Even now, he still found it difficult to accept that the elegantly poised young woman who had introduced herself the evening before, with all the calm self-assurance of some Grand Duchess, was the same Elizabeth Beresford he had known years ago.

Mother Nature, he mused, had wrought nothing short of a miracle there. In the space of a few short years she had transformed an unappealing nonentity into something quite out of the common way. To say that Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman he had ever clapped eyes on would be a gross exaggeration, he knew, but there was no denying that she was quite captivatingly lovely, both face and figure a delightful vista to any gentleman of superior tastes.

He experienced yet again the stirring of desire as his mind’s eye, for perhaps the hundredth time, visualised her as she had rounded the corner of the passageway the night before, seeming to float, not walk, towards him, like some enchanted, ethereal creature well above his touch. But this ought not to be the case, he reminded himself. By rights he ought to be able to touch that young woman whenever he desired; by rights she ought at this point in time to belong to him, body and soul; and he experienced a sense of acute disappointment, not to say resentment, that this was not the case.

Running slightly impatient fingers through his sleep-tousled dark brown hair, he cast his mind back over the years, trying to remember the last time he had set eyes on the young girl whom both his father and godfather had wished him to marry. His memory was hazy, but he vaguely recalled having glimpsed her at Henry Beresford’s funeral, a forlorn and solitary little figure standing quite apart from her mother and vivacious elder sister.

It must have been a year or, maybe, two later, when he had been out in the Peninsula fighting for his country, that he had received that one and only letter from her. She had considered that they were no longer obliged to comply with the wishes of their deceased fathers, and had released him completely from any obligation he might still have been harbouring to marry her.

Honesty prompted him to admit that he had experienced immense relief after reading that missive. After all, what man in his right mind was wishful to tie himself for life to a rather drab and plump female who had seemed incapable of stringing more than half a dozen words together at any one time? Of course he had felt duty-bound to write back suggesting that they wait a year or two before finally coming to a decision. He had received no further communication from her and, truth to tell, he hadn’t given Elizabeth Beresford a single thought during the intervening years…No, not one, until he had unexpectedly come face to face with her again the previous evening.

The bedchamber door opened and his valet entered, breaking into his far from satisfying reflections, and Richard managed with a modicum of success to put thoughts of Elizabeth aside. This relative peace of mind was destined not to last very long, however, for the first person he set eyes on when entering the breakfast parlour a short while later was none other than the sweet torment who had deprived him of so much sleep throughout the night.

As he seated himself at the table he experienced a rather irrational stab of irritation. He wasn’t quite certain whether this stemmed from the fact that Elizabeth, bright-eyed and cheerful, betrayed all too clearly that she hadn’t suffered from lack of sleep, or that she appeared on remarkably friendly terms with their host, who was still looking highly amused at something she had just said.

‘I trust you slept well?’ Brin enquired after a servant had supplied Richard’s needs.

‘Very,’ he lied. ‘You have a remarkably comfortable home here. It was a pleasure to sleep in a bedchamber where the fire didn’t billow out smoke every five minutes. I really must attend to the chimneys at Knightley Hall. Several of the fireplaces there are quite shocking.’

‘I recall a similar problem at my parents’ home,’ Elizabeth remarked, ‘especially when there was an east wind. Thankfully, I’m not plagued by such a nuisance at my home near Bristol.’

Richard frowned slightly at this. He had assumed, quite wrongly it seemed, that she still resided in her childhood home in Wiltshire, although he vaguely recalled learning of her mother’s demise a few years ago.

‘I wasn’t aware that you no longer resided in Wiltshire, Miss Beresford. Do you live with a relative?’

‘I did reside with my maternal grandmother. Sadly, she died last autumn.’ A veil of unhappiness clouded her eyes as she looked directly across the table at him. ‘And may I offer you my belated condolences. Some time ago I learned of your brother’s death. Such a terrible tragedy!’

Offering him no time in which to respond, Elizabeth rose to her feet and transferred her attention to their host, that spontaneous, sweet smile which had won his regard so quickly touching her lips. ‘I shall pay a visit to Verity’s room first. So, shall we meet in the stable yard—say, in half an hour’s time?’

Watching her leave the room, Brin experienced, yet again, amazement at her continued unmarried state, and shook his head in complete bewilderment. ‘I still find it difficult to understand why that lovely creature isn’t married.’

The hand raising the fork to Richard’s mouth checked for a moment. Yes, he ruminated, she most certainly ought to be. And if it wasn’t for the fact that the contrary little madam had suddenly taken it into her head to go against her deceased father’s expressed wishes, she would now be married to me!

Suddenly finding his appetite had deserted him, he pushed his plate aside and turned to his host as a thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Am I right in thinking that Miss Beresford’s sister resides not too far from here?’

‘Yes, about three miles away.’

In that case, why hadn’t Elizabeth chosen to stay with her? Richard wondered. She could quite easily have visited her friend the Viscountess whenever she wished. Evadne must surely feel affronted knowing that her sister had preferred to stay here. Why, it was tantamount to a direct snub!

‘I hope Verity has remembered to warn Elizabeth that Lady Chiltham is not an infrequent visitor,’ Brin continued, and failed to notice his friend’s rather puzzled expression. ‘Apparently the sisters don’t get along too well. But, then, you’d know all about that, I dare say, your being a friend of the family.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ Richard freely admitted, and was rather intrigued by this snippet of information. ‘Up until yesterday evening I hadn’t set eyes on either of them since the day of their father’s funeral.’

‘Well, no doubt you’ll be given ample opportunity to renew your acquaintanceship with Lady Chiltham during your stay with us. As I’ve already mentioned, she’s not an infrequent caller,’ Brin responded, his tone betraying clearly enough that he could wish it were quite otherwise.

Not offering his friend the opportunity to enquire further into the reason behind the sisters’ antipathy, Brin rose to his feet. ‘I’m an appalling host, deserting you like this on your first morning here, but if I don’t hurry and change, Elizabeth will be kept waiting.’ He made to leave, then checked as a most obvious solution occurred to him. ‘Why not join us? I’m taking Elizabeth on a tour round the estate.’

Richard needed no second prompting. Grand though it undoubtedly was, the estate was of precious little interest to him; Elizabeth Beresford, on the other hand, most definitely was. So he wasted no time in returning to his room to change into his riding gear, and accompanied Brin outside to the stables a short while later to discover Elizabeth, becomingly attired in a bottle-green habit, which seemed to emphasise those gorgeous red tones in her hair, already mounted on her ladyship’s chestnut filly.

‘You are a rare female, indeed,’ her host remarked approvingly, ‘One of the few I’ve ever known who can be on time!’ He glanced briefly in Richard’s direction, watched him mount the handsome bay, and then turned back to Elizabeth with a conspiratorial wink. ‘You do realise that we’re going to be made to look a pair of veritable whipsters in the company of the man who was reputed to be the finest horseman in Wellington’s army.’

Elizabeth couldn’t prevent a chuckle at Richard’s pained expression. ‘I am well aware of his prowess, sir. My father was not infrequently heard to remark that his godson could ride before he could walk.’

‘A gross exaggeration!’ Richard put in before either of them could utter any further absurdities at his expense. ‘This is a fine animal you have here, Brin,’ he went on, quickly changing the subject and giving the bay’s neck a fond pat.

‘I acquired him a couple of months ago. Yes, I’m rather pleased with him myself,’ he admitted as they all trotted out of the stable yard. ‘Do you still possess that brute you had with you in Spain?’

‘Sultan…? Sadly, no. The poor old fellow was shot from beneath me at Waterloo.’ Richard saw Elizabeth pale visibly, and cursed himself for an insensitive clod. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Beresford. We seasoned campaigners tend to reminisce at the drop of a hat and frequently forget we’re in mixed company.’

‘My fault entirely,’ Brin interposed, feeling extremely guilty for raising the subject in the first place. ‘Dashed thoughtless thing for me to have said, considering your own experiences in Brussels last year.’

‘You do me too much honour, sir,’ Elizabeth countered with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Like so many other faint-hearted souls, my one and only desire after hearing that first distant rumble of cannon fire was to make a bolt for the nearest port.’

Brin didn’t know which shocked him more: Elizabeth’s frivolous, and far from truthful, response, or Richard’s openly contemptuous smirk in reaction to it. He was about to set his friend straight on the matter when his thoughts suddenly turned in an entirely different direction as he spotted his steward, in the company of one of his tenants, approaching them.

‘It looks as if my presence is required elsewhere.’ He cast them an apologetic smile. ‘Would you be good enough to accompany Elizabeth, Richard? Hopefully, I shouldn’t be too long and shall catch up with you both later.’

Although he was far from content to remain for long in the company of a female whom, with a complete turnabout of his former opinion, he now suspected of being quite light-minded, he politely agreed, but Elizabeth swiftly began to rise in his estimation again when she proved herself to be a very competent horsewoman. She handled the far-from-docile filly with praiseworthy ease, her light hands, deceptively, in full control.

‘I cannot recall ever seeing you ride before, Miss Beresford,’ he remarked as they headed towards the western boundary of the estate.

At this, her lips curled into the strangest little smile. ‘No, I don’t suppose for a moment that you can, sir. But, then, I doubt there’s very much you do remember about me.’

Although she had spoken lightly enough, without so much as a hint of pique in her soft and very pleasant voice, he seriously suspected that he had just received a reprimand and didn’t know whether to feel amused or annoyed by it.

After a moment’s deliberation he chose to be diverted. ‘Ungallant though it is of me to confess to it but, no, I don’t recall very much about you, ma’am. But, then, in my defence, I had little contact with you when you were a child, and it has been several years since we last met.’

‘Seven, to be exact.’