The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret (9 page)

He raised the stakes higher.

‘There is nothing wrong in sharing a kiss,’ he stated, now in a more assured tone. ‘A mere kiss,’ he said, his voice sounding low and husky, ‘can be far more tempting than you realise. In fact, I think we might get to know each other better, Miss Napier. So long as we resolve to be discreet,’ he said, having no wish to create a scandal by forming a relationship with his sister’s maid. ‘I don’t think either of us would enjoy all the attention we would receive at Castonbury Park.’

Lisette stared at him in disbelief at what he was suggesting. Though her stomach clenched with fear she slowly smiled, for she could not deny to herself that she liked the way he touched her. But to become closer would be a dangerous game to play, one that she would not willingly choose to become involved in, not because it would be distasteful—for she found Ross Montague desirable in every way—but because she could never be anything to him other than his mistress, and she had too much self-respect for that.

‘I think that what you are suggesting is an illicit attachment, sir—in which I shall be judged to be a scheming hoyden. I would despise myself—and you. I have done nothing to invite your attentions or encourage the feelings that have taken root.’ She stepped away and turned from him. ‘Excuse me. I must go back.’

Ross’s burst of laughter halted the flow of words abruptly and Lisette spun round, her eyes flashing with indignant sparks.

‘How quickly you rebuke me, as if you’re sorely in the wrong. And there you are, all soft and tempting. And then you chasten me for looking at you and kissing you. Fickle woman,’ he teased.

‘You deserve to be rebuked,’ she was quick to add.

‘You think so?’ Ross took her in his arms once more. He knew he was playing with fire, but it was the risk that made a game exciting. He did not want to give up the tormenting delight of being alone with her. It was like an addiction, an addiction to the game of testing his desire for her against his resolve.

And so he kissed her again—her hair, her cheek, caressing her lips with his own. He pressed her back against a tree, and his mouth travelled downward to where her neck disappeared into the collar of her dress. Lisette held her breath, and the fires of passion and wild, wanton sensations again began to flare within. A touch, a kiss, a look, and he could rouse her. What madness.

‘Your heart beats much too quickly for you to claim disinterest, Miss Lisette Napier.’

Her lips trembled as he claimed them fiercely with his own. For a long moment his hungering mouth searched the sweetness of hers. Then she pulled back. ‘Please let me go,’ she said, her soft lips still throbbing from the demand of his. ‘I have been away long enough. I must go back. Miss Araminta might have need of me,’ she announced abruptly, embarrassed by her own musings.

Gleaming whiteness flashed as Ross grinned down at her. He took her hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. His skin was warm to the touch and somehow reassuring. But he seemed too much of a man, too knowing and strong, too able to bend her to his will. She was dizzy with conflicting emotions and the turmoil made her momentarily speechless. She wanted to tell him to go away, and at the same time wanted him to lean closer and kiss her again.

Ross smiled and for a moment looked wickedly mischievous. ‘I believe there is a danger of you stealing my heart, Miss Napier. If you do I pray you will be gentle with it.’ He kissed both her hands and then released them.

Something in their exchange pulled Lisette back from the brink of dangerous recklessness, and she remembered the deference due to the man before her. No matter how much he desired her, she was his servant. She depended on him for almost everything, and he had indeed been generous to her.

‘Colonel Montague, I—I beg you not to do this. You have been good to me. I...am in your debt. But I am maid to your sister. I can never be more to you than that.’

Her speech was halting. His eyes held hers as he said, ‘We shall see. I find what is called fate often has the workings of most worldly hands. Sometimes a whim or a fancy, a base desire, can deny the best-laid plans.’

Ross did not try to detain her further. When she turned away he followed along in her wake, appreciatively watching her hips as they swayed with a natural graceful provocativeness. She turned languidly and looked back, smiling to herself when she saw how he strode after her with that slowly deliberate saunter that reminded her so much of a hunting animal.

It wasn’t until she got back to the inn and went to the ladies’ room to put on her stockings that she realised she had lost herself and all sense of propriety. She was quite horrified by her behaviour. Colonel Montague would think her forward and impertinent. Shame swept over her like a fever, washing her face in colour. He was her employer and she must see that nothing like that happened again.

After that, whenever she saw him ride by or join them in the coach she could hardly bring herself to look at him, knowing that if she did she would begin to tremble. He had a particular gift. He possessed a unique ability to compel and captivate with his words, and this, combined with his handsome features, meant there was no woman he could not persuade.

Over the following days that episode would stay with her. She did what was expected of her and tried to smother those feelings to which her heart had succumbed. But her pulse would leap at the sight of him or the mention of his name, and she could not quench the forbidden spark that smouldered in her heart.

* * *

Accompanied by Blackstock, Ross felt an odd sensation of unreality as he rode through the wrought iron gates of Castonbury Park.

The drive wound through the neatly tended deer park to the upper lake. Here a beautiful cascade spanned by a three-arched bridge separated the upper and middle lakes, the bridge providing a splendid view of the grand and impressive sprawling mansion with its Palladian central facade embellished with Georgian lavishness, the immense stone steps rising on either side to the marble hall behind the portico. Linked by curved corridors, at each end of this splendid building were the family apartments on the left, and to the right the usual range of domestic buildings—kitchen, stables and workshops, and at the back, almost hugging the house, stood the old chapel.

Being home again made Ross feel uncharacteristically nostalgic. It was five years since he had been to Castonbury but of his welcome he had not a doubt. His uncle, Crispin Montague, the Duke of Rothermere, was well-bred and well set up, and he presided over the gargantuan Castonbury Park.

Drawing Bengal to a halt in front of the house, before he’d had time to dismount at the basement door, which was the everyday entrance to the central block, it was already being opened by Lumsden, clad in his usual black. Lumsden had been the butler at Castonbury Park from time immemorial and had always possessed uncanny timing. Leaving Blackstock to attend to the horses, Ross looked at this old retainer and smiled. It was Lumsden who’d found him sampling a bottle of his uncle’s French brandy when he’d been nine years old. It was also Lumsden—who was not averse to sampling a drop of His Lordship’s liquor himself—who took the blame for the missing bottle, explaining that he’d accidentally dropped it.

At the moment Lumsden’s eyes were passing fondly over Ross’s face. ‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ he intoned formally. ‘And may I say how good it is to have you home at Castonbury.’

‘Good afternoon, Lumsden. It’s good to be back. It’s been a long time and sadly much has changed in my absence.’

‘Indeed it has, my lord,’ Lumsden replied gravely. ‘Everyone is deeply saddened by the deaths of Lord Jamie and Lord Edward.’

‘Yes, I am sure they are. My sister will be here shortly. I rode on ahead in order to get a clear view of the place.’

‘You will see the fabric of Castonbury is as it was before you left—although in this present financial climate, you will observe unavoidable signs of wear and tear here and there.’

‘I think we have the wars to blame for that, Lumsden.’ Ross entered the large hall. It was an impressive room with sixteen columns supporting the weight of those in the magnificent marble hall immediately above. A small army of footmen and housemaids seemed to be lurking about, ostensibly going about their work. As Ross looked around him they stole long, lingering looks at him, then turned to exchange swift, gratified smiles. With his mind on getting cleaned up before his meeting with his uncle, Ross was oblivious to the searching scrutiny he was receiving, but he was dimly aware as he walked through the hall that a few servants were hastily dabbing at their eyes and noses with handkerchiefs.

Seeing a tall man with dark hair coming towards him he quickened his stride. It was his cousin Giles. They were the same age and of a similar height. Smiling, he held out his hand and the two hugged each other warmly. So much had happened to them both and the family as a whole since their parting five years earlier.

‘Giles! It’s good to see you.’

‘You too, Ross. Damn good, in fact.’

Ross stood back, anxiously studying the deeply etched lines of strain at his cousin’s eyes and mouth, but he looked better than he’d expected. ‘You look like hell.’

‘Thank you, Cousin,’ Giles said drily. ‘I’m delighted to see you too.’

Ross laughed and slapped his back good-humouredly. ‘And I you. You have no idea how much—but I would like to see you looking better.’

‘You can put it down to hard work. It’s backbreaking work running an estate the size of Castonbury—and don’t think that now you’re back you’re going to be allowed to escape,’ Giles threatened light-heartedly. ‘I’ll have you hard at it first thing.’

‘I’ll be glad to be of help in any way I can.’ Ross laughed. Dismissing the subject with a casual wave of his hand, he drew him towards the stairs off to the right. ‘Let’s go up to the library. You can pour me a drink before I go and change. Five years is a long time and we have a lot of catching up to do.’

Entering the library on the first floor of the house, that was the moment when Ross really did feel that he had come home. He had spent many industrious yet happy hours in this room poring over books. His gaze was drawn to the painted plaster busts of Greek and Roman worthies and he smiled when he recalled his uncle Crispin telling him they were intended to encourage studiousness.

The cousins sat in companionable silence on opposite sides of a log fire, its light shining on the steel fender. They each held a glass of brandy from which they sipped appreciatively. There was a slight similarity of features between the two, and like Ross, Giles was not very good at showing his emotions.

‘How is my uncle?’ Ross enquired. ‘I understand he isn’t well.’

Giles grimaced. ‘No, he is far from it. He has good days and bad days and there is an inconsistency in his behaviour. His mind wanders and he sits staring at nothing for long periods. It came as a blow to him when Jamie was listed as missing during the push for Toulouse, and when young Edward was killed he seemed to retreat inside himself.’

‘Is there still no news about Jamie?’

Giles shook his head, a shadow passing over his grey eyes. ‘Nothing. You know I resigned my commission after Waterloo.’

‘I was sorry to hear it. Did you have to do that? I know how much your career meant to you.’

‘Duty demanded it. When Edward was killed and with Jamie missing, Father summoned me back home. I was in London at the time. He pointed out most forcibly that now, as his heir, my place is at Castonbury. I never envied Jamie being the heir—the responsibilities. When I got back here, knowing that in all probability it would one day be mine, they became like jewels too heavy to carry, too valuable to neglect and too enormous to ignore. I believed it had all come down to me—or so I thought until we got Alicia’s letter. If it turns out that she
is
Jamie’s wife and her child his son, then if Harry can discover irrefutably that Jamie is dead, the child, Crispin, is the heir. It’s all such a mess. You saw her in London?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘What did you make of her? Is she genuine do you think? Is she telling the truth?’

‘I honestly don’t know the answer to that, Giles. She was convincing—though nervous, I thought. She has all the necessary papers.’

‘Then we’ll just have to see what turns up.’ He took a long drink of his brandy. ‘Coming home kept me sane enough to deal with the broken man who is my father, to deal with those who came to pay their respects and to hold together the frayed strings of the household. Although Aunt Wilhelmina does a sterling job of keeping things shipshape and the household in order. She is out at present visiting Lady Hesketh in Hatherton. She is expected back before dinner.’

‘And cousin Kate?’

‘My sister is off on one of her travels—the Lake District, I believe, but Phaedra is here. She will be glad Araminta is back from London. She spends most of her time with her precious horses but I think she’s missing Kate. I cannot guarantee what kind of reception you’ll get from father. As I said, you’ll find him much changed.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘And you’ll have to get past Smithins first.’

‘Smithins!’ Ross exclaimed, recalling that rigidly superior gentleman’s gentleman, who rarely deigned to speak to anyone but his uncle, the duke. ‘Good Lord, is he still here? I’d forgotten about him.’

‘Come now, no one forgets Smithins. A legion of soldiers couldn’t do a better job of guarding my father than he does. Even I have to get past Smithins to see him.’ He laughed, beginning to sound more like his old self. ‘Goodness, I’m glad you’re home, Ross. There’s a definite sense of the military about you. God, how I miss it. Your presence will bring back some normality to the house. And how is the adorable Araminta?’

‘Still adorable and very well, considering her broken engagement. She’ll be here any time. I rode on ahead. She is in transports over coming back to Castonbury. When the time is appropriate, she has planned parties and goodness knows what so I doubt you’ll have a moment’s peace and quiet.’

‘I shall welcome it,’ Giles said, getting up and walking over to the side table and pouring himself another liberal glass of brandy. ‘It’s just what this house needs to shake it out of the doldrums. Although be warned. Whatever activities she is planning, she will have to gain Aunt Wilhelmina’s approval first. She hasn’t changed.’