Trondelaine Castle (12 page)

Setting down her pen, she turned to see Tony
looking over her shoulder. “Yes?” she asked coldly.

“So you actually are a translator,” he said with mock
surprise. “May I ask why you needed to work here at
Trondelaine? I hadn’t realized Richard had such an
unusual collection of Spanish literature.”

Wendy sighed, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you
manners?”

“No,” he said agreeably.

She shrugged. “Well, I don’t intend to answer any
questions, so you needn’t waste any more time here.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and moved away from her
desk. He pretended to look through the bookshelves
and select a book. Smiling mockingly in Wendy’s
direction, he chose the seat next to her desk to pretend
to read it. Actually, he was watching her. Not
surprisingly, she found it difficult to work under these
conditions. In exasperation, after half an hour, she set
down her pen again and looked at Tony. Smiling lazily,
he met her eyes.

“All right,” she said, “why are you so interested in
me?”

“I told you,” he replied seriously, “Sylvia is my
friend.”

“So? Pardon my skepticism, but I don’t find that a
sufficient excuse,” Wendy said coolly.

His eyes flashed briefly, but Tony’s voice was calm as
he said, “Why? Is friendship so shallow in the circles
you move in? Never mind, I’ll explain if you insist. I’ve
known Sylvia a long time. As I said last night, I really
don’t belong in the circles I move in. It wasn’t easy for
me in the schools I went to. But Syl accepted me from
the beginning and understood how I felt. She gave me
the stamp of approval, often insisting that if I was not
invited to some affair, she would not attend. And, at
times, when I was very depressed, she would talk with
me. She’s a very special person.”

He held up a hand. “I know. You see her as a
wealthy, spoiled, catty woman. One who seems rather
hard. But I know she’s not just that; she’s also sensitive.
Or hasn’t it ever occurred to you that many people hide
their vulnerability with a hard shell?”

Wendy bit her lip. At that moment, she had an
inexplicable urge to put her hand on his arm and
explain. She wanted to tell him she did understand and
that she really wasn’t after Lord Richard. That, in fact,
he disliked and distrusted her. But she hesitated too
long and Tony stood, looking down at her.

His voice was bitter. “Never mind. I don’t expect you
to know what I’m talking about!” He strode to the
library door where he paused to add, “But I warn you. I
intend to interfere with your little scheme. I gather
Richard is blind at the moment. But I intend to see that
doesn’t last long.”

Then he was gone and Wendy was left trying to
control her temper. Her recent resolutions crumbled
and, in their place, she determined to be as provocative
as possible.

The next few days were as uncomfortable as Wendy had feared. As Lord Richard grew increasingly
irritated by Sylvia’s jealousy, he reacted by feeding it.
After the third evening that Wendy wore the plum
dress, he told her to wear the velvet the next night and
the chiffon the night after. She disobeyed, of course,
and when she appeared in the James Room, he
informed her that if she did not change, she could
expect not to eat that evening.

It seemed easier to change than to argue. And after
all, Wendy told herself, what difference did it make if
Lady Sylvia became jealous? It was none of her affair.
Returning to the James Room a few minutes later, she
found Tony and Sylvia with the Earl. The reactions
were swift and emphatic. “Damn him!” Sylvia
muttered, and whirled to confront Richard.

The Earl ignored her and, smiling at Wendy, asked,
“Ali, good evening, my dear. Care for some sherry?”

As Wendy nodded in confusion, she felt Tony’s eyes
on her and his voice softly saying, “Rather better than
your first effort. You’re quite good at this business,
aren’t you?”

Flushing, Wendy ignored him and quickly sat in a
chair, far from the others, as though she were trying to
hide. There was that in Lord Richard’s eyes, as he
handed her the sherry, that made her uneasy. And it
was with relief that she saw the servant appear to
announce dinner. Dinner. Somehow she managed to
survive the meal. But she did not follow Sylvia to the
music room afterward. Instead, she fled to her own
room. A moment after she closed the door, there was a
knock. “Yes?” she said in a voice that tried to sound
calm.

Sylvia slipped into the room without asking
permission, and moved to a seat near Wendy. “Do you
mind if I smoke?” Wendy shook her head. After a moment, Sylvia said coolly, “All right, Miss Pratt.
What are you after?”

“Not Lord Richard,” she replied wearily.

“My dear, every woman is after Richard! Or his
money. What do you want? Money? Title? Romance?”

“Romance. But not with Lord Richard. I happen to
be engaged to a young man in London,” Wendy said
quietly but forcefully.

Lady Sylvia paused, as though considering this. She
almost seemed satisfied. “Then why are you here?” she
asked more calmly. “I can’t believe your publishers
really sent you down here.”

Wendy hesitated, wanting badly to tell her the truth.
But she had promised Lord Richard she would not.
And she honestly could not tell if the truth would make
Lady Sylvia any happier. After all, Lord Richard knew
her well.

“Lady Sylvia,” she said, “I know it sounds strange.
But truthfully, I did not ask to stay here. Nor did Lord
Richard ask me to come to the castle. Why don’t you
ask him if you have any doubts?”

“Because he won’t talk about it!” she burst out.
Then, stubbing out her cigarette and lighting another,
she made an effort to be calm. “All he says is that it’s
none of my affair! And that I have nothing to be jealous
about! But why, damn it, has he given you those
dresses? And why is he always watching you?”

Wendy leaned back in her chair, regarding the
elegant young woman. Emerald earrings and a
matching bracelet caught the light, flickering. Sylvia
wore a swirling green dress, sleeveless, with a deep
neck-a soft yet sophisticated dress. It was unquestionably from Paris. Why should this woman fear or resent
her?

“Lady Sylvia,” she said gently, “I suppose he lent me the dresses because I was too ignorant to bring any with
me. And it offended Lord Richard’s sense of aesthetics
to see me dressed inappropriately. Does it matter so
much?”

“Only that he lied! Look, Miss Pratt, you are either
innocent or very clever. I don’t know which. But I warn
you, I don’t intend to give up Richard!” Sylvia paused.
“What have you said to Tony? He claims you’re
harmless, but I can see he doesn’t really believe it.”

Wendy slowly turned bright red. “I-1-he was-very
rude to me,” she faltered, “and-and made some
absurd accusations. I was angry, so I began baiting
him, implying that the accusations were true-and that
I was proud of them.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a quick temper,” Wendy said with
some embarrassment. “I suppose it was childish of me,
but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to infuriate Tony as
much as he had infuriated me.”

Sylvia’s laughter was soft. “Well, my dear, you
certainly succeeded in doing that. I’ll even admit you
may have had provocation. Tony is a wonderful fellow,
but he does tend to be rather belligerent at times.” She
stubbed out the second cigarette. “All right, Miss Pratt.
Good night. I’m not sure whether or not I believe what
you’ve told me. But I’ll consider it.”

Wendy merely nodded and watched as Sylvia left the
room. For a while, she sat deep in thought. She knew
Lord Richard was not interested in her, but, for the
first time, she considered the possibility he was using
her against Sylvia. Was he gowing tired of his old girl
friend? Had they perhaps never been as close as Sylvia
wanted to believe? Was he pretending an interest in her
to drive Sylvia away?

And if so, was there any way to stop him from using her? Should she, even if she could? Not for the first
time, Wendy found herself contemplating Lord
Richard with dislike. Did he ever think of anyone
except himself? At last, with a sigh, she reached for a
book and began to read. Then she needn’t worry about
such things.

The next few days were somewhat easier. Lady
Sylvia was still suspicious, but less openly so. In the
same degree, Tony was less sarcastic, less mocking with
Wendy. He would still visit the library every day and
watch her working. But Wendy had grown used to him
and could work even when his enigmatic gaze rested on
her. The Earl grew more gracious as tensions eased.

But then a clash came on Friday afternoon.
Harassed, as always, preparing for the tour group, the
servants were slow in their service. None of the others
minded, but Lady Sylvia found her irritation growing.
She was looking for Lord Richard when she passed the
library door. The doctor was rewrapping Wendy’s foot
and saying, “Not to worry. It probably means nothing
and you’ll be right again quite soon. But I’ll want more
X-rays. And how is the dragon, by the way? Have you
charmed Richard yet?”

Wendy’s voice was somewhat soft. “He’s been too
busy with guests to bother much about me. Someone
named Tony and a woman named Sylvia. I’m afraid
she’s suspicious of me.”

Now the Doctor’s voice was clear. “I’m not
surprised! Did Richard tell her why you’re here?”
Wendy’s reply was too soft for Sylvia to hear. “That
was stupid!” the doctor said. “Though I admit the truth
would be awkward.” There was a murmuring of voices,
then clearly, “Lord! I’m surprised she hasn’t scratched
your eyes out. Are you sure he just happened to give you those dresses? I admit I’d expect him to find you
attractive. What else has Richard given you?”

Sylvia turned away from the library door as she
heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Richard and he
greeted her casually. “Hello, Syl. Is Wendy in the
library?”

“Darling, how should I know where the girl is?” she
replied coolly.

He frowned, but said nothing as he pushed past her
into the library. With growing curiosity and anger,
Sylvia followed. “Oh, hello, Roger,” the Earl said with
some surprise. “How is the patient?”

Roger hesitated. “Coming along nicely, I think. But
frankly, I want to take a few more X-rays. Something
feels odd.”

“Serious?”

Biting his lip, the doctor answered, “Unlikely there’s
any problem at all. But if there is, it could be very
serious. It would mean I’d missed something first time
around and I’m two weeks late treating it.”

“When do you want to take the X-rays.” Richard
asked quietly.

“As soon as possible.”

Richard nodded and buzzed the servants’ quarters.
A few minutes later, Charles appeared. “Charles, I
have to go over to the clinic and I’m not sure when I will
return. If I’m not back by eight, you’ll have to escort the
group.”

“Very well, sir.” The face was impassive.

As soon as the servant had left, Sylvia’s voice cut
across everyone’s thoughts. “What do you mean
Richard? Why do you have to go?”

“Sylvia, it is not your affair!” His voice was curt. “I’ll
come in the BMW, Roger. If she’s all right, I can bring her back. If not, and it’s necessary, I can drive her to the
hospital.”

The doctor gave a brief nod. Feeling rather helpless,
Wendy stared at each of them in turn. At Roger’s
signal, she rose and hobbled after him. Behind them,
Sylvia’s voice and Richard’s rose in argument. The last
thing Wendy heard was Sylvia’s plaintive, “Is she more
important than I am? I warn you, darling, if you go
with her, I won’t be here when you return!”

The door to the great hall closed on Richard’s reply.
But Wendy had little time to brood on the matter, for
soon Roger picked her up and began to carry her. “I
won’t chance a mishap on the stairs,” he explained.
“And not to worry about Richard. He knows very well
what he wants to do, and he does it.”

They waited until the BMW appeared. Then Roger
put the engine in gear and they left. Once at the clinic, it
was the Earl who insisted on carrying Wendy. Roger
strode ahead, calling to the nurse to set up the
necessary equipment. As they waited for the pictures to
be developed, Richard paced. To her own surprise,
Wendy was quite calm, ready to accept whatever Dr.
Witler told her. In fact, she felt more concerned about
Lady Sylvia. After what seemed to Richard to be an
interminable length of time, Roger joined them.

“Well?” the Earl snapped.

Roger ran a hand through his hair and smiled
slightly. “False alarm.”

The Earl gave a sigh of relief. “Certain?”

“Quite. Sorry to alarm you, but one mustn’t take
unnecessary risks.” The smile disappeared. “I gather
I’ve caused you some trouble, Richard. I’m sorry.”

The Earl shook his head impatiently. “Not your
fault. It would have happened soon enough, anyway.”

“Good. Well, I must attend to my other patients. I
shall see you in about a week,” the doctor said
cheerfully.

The drive back to the castle was a silent one and
Wendy felt some trepidation. But all was peaceful as
they mounted the steps. Charles greeted them with
evident relief. “Lord Richard, the other two guests
have left. I felt it would be best, however, to leave those
two chambers as they are until tomorrow. Unless
additional guests are anticipated?”

“Very good, Charles. Tea?”

“It will be ready quite shortly, sir. Shall I have it
served in the Regency Room?”

“Good Heavens, no! I can barely tolerate the room
when we have guests!” Richard said emphatically.
“Serve it in the library. Did Lady Sylvia or Mr.
Wellscourt leave any messages?”

“Yes, sir. You will find them on your desk.”

“Thank you, Charles. That will be all.” As Richard
started down the hall, Wendy following, he said, “I
hope you don’t intend to work this afternoon. I should
much prefer a game of chess.”