Trondelaine Castle (13 page)

“All right,” Wendy agreed, with a sense of unreality.
“Frankly, I would enjoy the change from translating.”

As they entered the library, he waved her into a seat
as he picked up Sylvia’s note. At first, as he read,
Richard seemed amused. But toward the end, his
eyebrows drew close together and he frowned. In a
puzzled voice, he said to Wendy, “Did you find an
emerald bracelet in your room?” At her look of
amazement, he smiled slightly. “It seems Lady Sylvia
lost her bracelet somewhere in the castle and thinks it
may have been in your room. Something about
…when she had a talk with you there?”

“I remember the discussion,” Wendy said wryly, “and even that she was wearing an emerald bracelet.
But I haven’t seen it since-either in my room or
elsewhere.”

The Earl nodded as though satisfied. “She’s rather
careless at times, and it could be anywhere. I’ll warn the
maids to look for it when they do her room tomorrow.”

He left the library, returning shortly with the chess
table. A moment later, Gwen brought the tea tray. As
she poured, Wendy considered the strange man sitting
opposite her. He seemed not at all disturbed by Lady
Sylvia’s disappearance. Perhaps even relieved. Was
that possible? It seemed out of character for him to
sit here and play chess with her and Wendy began to
wonder whether it boded good or bad for her. It just
wasn’t natural.

The chess game stretched to two, and afterward they
continued to talk quietly until it was time for Wendy to
take dinner in her room. Alone, she pondered Lord
Richard’s strange behavior again. In some ways he
seemed a little like Kevin and she wondered if Kevin
would have accepted her disappearance as quietly as
Richard accepted Sylvia’s. But he had, hadn’t he?
There had been one letter from Kevin. Why only one?
She had written him twice since then. Was he angry?
Busy? Uncaring? The last possibility disturbed her
most of all. With Kevin one was never quite certain
where one stood, despite all his protestations.

For a brief moment, Wendy considered the possibility someone was intercepting Kevin’s letters. Then she
dismissed the notion as absurd. Lord Richard might
steam them open and read them, but he would have no
reason not to pass them on to her afterward.

Wendy started another letter to Kevin, but she kept
stopping again and again. Eventually, however, the task was done. It was a gentle, reassuring letter, one
calculated to remind Kevin of his protective instincts.
She was about to prepare for bed when there was a
knock at the door. “Come in!” she called.

It was Lord Richard. He seemed hesitant. “I came to
say good evening. And also to tell you not to mind
Lady Sylvia. She’s rather spoiled, I’m afraid.”

Wendy smiled wryly. “I’m only sorry if I caused
trouble for you. But I’m glad you’ve decided I’m
harmless, after all.”

That was a mistake. Richard’s face hardened and his
voice was curt. “Don’t deceive yourself, Miss Pratt. I
still am not convinced you are what you claim to be.
Good night.”

Then he was gone before she could reply. Nor, in
truth, could she have thought of anything to say if he
had stayed. Slowly, miserably, she undressed. When
she could finally sleep, her dreams were chaotic and
disturbing. She was with Kevin and he was holding her.
Then, suddenly, he was laughing at her. The face
blurred and became Lord Richard. He laughed louder
and then, inexplicably, he reached out and pulled her
to him. Just as he kissed her, Wendy woke, bathed in
sweat.

Shivering, Wendy reached for the light and switched
it on. As she closed her eyes and gripped the sheet, she
wished she had a cigarette to smoke. Maybe that would
have calmed her. Wasn’t that what women always did
in novels when they were nervous? In an effort to calm
herself, Wendy tried to analyze just why the dream had
upset her so much. Part of it was easy. She had come to
look upon Kevin as secure and loving and representing
all the things her own home life had never been. It was
at least partly an illusion, of course. She’d always known that. But it was disturbing to have it so
graphically portrayed in a dream. And yet, she had to
admit to herself, that part of it disturbed her less than
Lord Richard’s mocking laughter-or his kiss.

Breakfast was on time again in the morning, and
Wendy gave Gwen a grateful smile. Gwen returned it,
saying, “Well, Miss, things are certainly quieter now
that the other guests have gone. Not that we don’t
always like to see his lordship’s friends,” she added
hastily.

Gwen glanced at Wendy oddly, and for a moment
the American girl wondered how much gossip there
had been over Lady Sylvia’s departure

Soon after, Wendy approached the library. Lord
Richard was already at his desk. He glanced up as she
entered, and nodded curtly, saying, “I haven’t accomplished any work in the last week and now I’ve got to
cope with it all. So please work quietly.”

Wendy dared not speak, but simply nodded and sat at her desk. Without Tony’s disturbing presence, she
found it very easy to slip into her work. It was a
particularly interesting portion of the text and she was
oblivious to time-and to the Earl’s gaze as it
occasionally rested on her.

It was sometime that afternoon, long after lunch,
that Wendy realized he was gone. She set down her
pen, suddenly restless, and clumsily got to her feet. On
one wall hung a hand-drawn map of the estate. Not for
the first time, Wendy studied it. The sketch showed the
castle and the ruined tower and the chapel, as well as
the orchards and stables and forests. And scattered
about the estate were more ruins. There were also
gardens, some of which she was certain no longer
existed. But then, this map looked rather old.

Peering at one corner, she was able to read the
initials R. P. and the date: 1836. Next to this was a floor
plan of the house showing the ground floor, first floor,
and garret. To her surprise, Wendy realized that the
marking indicated that dormitory rooms had been set
up in the attic for the servants. The ceiling must be
higher than it looks from the outside, she thought. She
turned back to the map of the estate. She wondered
what it would feel like to be master of such a
magnificent holding. Or mistress. It all sounded
romantic and wonderful. Particularly if one were
married to a handsome earl. Wendy could picture the
ladies of bygone days in their silks and satins and
velvets dancing in the great hall, entertaining in the
drawing rooms. But somehow, she was skeptical. It all
seemed too perfect and Wendy distrusted perfection.

With a sigh, she turned back to her desk only to find
Lord Richard watching her. He nodded toward the
map behind her. “Yes, there have been a few changes
since then. Though none as significant as the hallways
that were added not long before the plan was drawn.”

“Water? Electricity?” Wendy suggested.

He hesitated. “As important, yes. But in terms of
labor involved, the hallways were a greater change.
And, frankly, there are still sections of this castle
lacking the modern conveniences. And as it is, in winter
we generally freeze as the central heating isn’t worth a
tinker’s damn. When I’m here, I always have fires in
every room I use, as well as the heating. Then it’s
bearable. What my ancestors did, I’ve no notion. They
must have been hardier souls than we are today.”

Wendy smiled inwardly, hearing her father’s mother
say the same words, only talking about pioneers. The
woman had always disapproved of aristocracy, but
somehow Wendy felt she might have understood Lord
Richard. Despite his words, he did not seem the type to
be done in by a harsh winter. He would always survive
somehow.

She spoke seriously. “But all along, compared to
everyone else, the Earls were better off-better clothed,
better sheltered, better fed.”

Richard laughed. “True. But I never said I wanted to
be a peasant, either.”

They were interrupted by the phone. Lord Richard
answered it. “Hello. Who? Yes, just a moment. For
you,” he said, holding out the phone to Wendy.

He made no move to leave, so taking the phone, she
resolutely turned her back on him. “Hello? Kevin,
darling! How are you?”

“Fine, luv,” was the casual reply. “But a little
impatient. When do I see you again?”

Conscious of a steady gaze from behind, Wendy
replied, a little breathlessly, “I-I’m not sure, Kevin.
Probably in about two weeks. Maybe less.”

There was a pause, then, “Don’t you want to come
home, luv?”

“Of course I do, Kevin, but-”

Another pause. “I know. You have to consider the
Earl, don’t you? And he is rather handsome-enough
to make you not mind staying.”

Wendy’s reply was brusque. “You’re being very
obnoxious, Kevin. You know nothing about it. Or the
Earl.”

The voice was soft. “Yes, I do, luv. I saw him last
night. I took the tour you were on. In fact, I’m calling
from a little inn near-”

Involuntarily, Wendy glanced back at Lord Richard. He was still there, arms folded, watching her
grimly. She flushed and turned quickly away, catching
Kevin’s voice asking, “Are you still there, luv?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here.” Anger flashed over her. “Kevin,
why did you come down to spy on me?”

“Luv, you know me. I was only concerned about
you. Frankly, this Earl has a bit of a reputation, you
know.”

Wendy visibly relaxed, but was cross as she said,
“Well, all right. But I am okay. All I need are some
letters from you to cheer me up until I see you again in
London.”

“Right-o, luv, if that’s your wish. Just hurry back. I
miss you.”

Slowly, Wendy replaced the receiver. Lord Richard
cleared his throat. “I surmise that your-er-fiance has
been prowling around the castle?”

Her chin came up. “No, he was not! He simply took
the tour that includes this castle. He’s also interested in
historical buildings.”

The Earl’s grin was sardonic. “So very interested
that he wouldn’t accompany you on the tour, but now
he takes it alone?”

Wendy lowered her eyes. “Well, he was worried
about me.”

With a mocking glance, Richard walked to the door
of the library. “You also worry me!” he said, then was
gone.

Wendy’s fist came down on the desk. How she
wished she could be off somewhere, alone, away from
all men! Why hadn’t she simply told each the truth? She
smiled wryly. Because it wouldn’t have accomplished
anything except to make them angrier. And it would
have been embarrassing for her.

Matters did not improve Sunday, or even Monday.
Lord Richard continued his mocking manner, but he
often seemed absentminded as well. Wendy found
herself growing irritable. There was, of course, no letter
from Kevin, or even another phone call. In fact, the
only letter had been from her boss reminding her that
while Lord Pellen had explained she could not return
to London yet, she was to remember she was not on
vacation. By the time she did return, in a week or two,
she was to have finished a certain number of pages of
translating. And because she was behind, Wendy grew
more irritable. Not at her boss, because Jim was
generally pretty understanding. But at whoever, higher
up, was pushing Jim.

Tuesday, Wendy was late reaching the library and
Lord Richard did not even look up as she entered. As
quietly as she could, she hobbled to her desk and sat
down. It was some time later that Lord Richard’s voice
cut across her thoughts. “Very well, Miss Pratt! If you
can’t work more quietly, I suppose I shall have to go
somewhere else!”

“Please don’t bother. I can’t work at the moment,
anyway. I’ll leave you in peace.”

Under his silent, angry, startled gaze, she reached for
her crutches. She did not stop when she reached her room, but went past it, through the door to the lawn. It
was absurd to be so upset by the Earl! He was rude and
ill-bred. But she was upset. She started toward the
garden and changed her mind. The servants would see
her from the kitchen if she went there. Wendy turned
the other way. A few minutes later, she found herself
standing at the base of the ruined tower. She sat down
on one of the large stones there. Somehow, on a sunny
morning, it didn’t look at all sinister. “Troublemaker!”
she said softly.

Not for the first time, Wendy indulged in fantasies of
where she would be right now if she hadn’t climbed
those stairs. She imagined herself in various places. In
most of them she was accompanied by Kevin. And no
bad-tempered earls. How on earth was she going to get
her work done, anyway? After he went to sleep at
night? In her room? Perhaps Gwen could help her carry
everything to her room. Unfortunately, then she would
be unable to use Lord Richard’s dictionary. Still, Kevin
had sent hers and it would have to do.

“You seem very serious,” a nearby voice said.

She looked up, startled. “Tony!” Then, gloomily,
she said, “I was wishing I were back in London!”