doing nothing to lift her sudden melancholy. Her long slender fingers began sliding agitatedly over the slippery polished banister while she attempted to quell a tightening in her chest. Horrified, she realised that she might cry.
That absurd notion prompted her to instead stop a laugh behind an unsteady hand.
How could she feel lonely with her family and- friends close by? she impatiently rebuked herself. She had every reason to feel elated. Her best friend was enceinte and in love, and her dear sister June would soon be married to the nicest gentleman of anyone's acquaintance. The hurting lump in her throat seemed undiminished by thus bolstering her spirits. Blinking her eyes, she swallowed, gripped the handrail and took a determined step up.
After two more she felt better, recovered enough to part her damp lashes.
There was no shame in entering a room unaccompanied by friend or relative.
It was only an odd circumstance that she should be on her own. She drew a shivery, steadying breath, bravely shaking back her hair that gleamed beneath a thousand flames like spun gold, and looked up.
The ensuing gasp was involuntary and quite audible. Dismay held her momentarily spellbound; then, with a clumsy bob, she was sidling sideways on the damson carpet to grab at the opposite banister. Gripping it as though it might save her life, she again began to mount the stairs whilst, with blurred eyes, she minutely examined William's ancestors, marching off up the wall.
Peripheral vision kept her aware that a pair of muscular black-clad legs, a step or two above her, were keeping pace with her escape. Then, as though irritated with climbing stairs backwards, he crossed the tread. He came so close she stopped, desperately smearing away tears with her fingers while studying an especially fearsome-looking warrior glowering at her from beneath a visor.
'Shall we get this over with?'
'I beg your pardon.'
'I said...shall we get this over with?'
'I heard the words, sir, it's the meaning that escapes me.'
Realising that speaking to a gilt-framed portrait might seem strange, she abruptly spun about on the wide stair, and rested her back against the banister. She looked Boldly, challengingly at him through spiky wet lashes.
He was handsome, she had to admit. And very imposing. Quite frighteningly so. She didn't recall, six years ago, ever having felt intimidated by him. Now she did. Or perhaps she just felt stupid...for crying for no reason. But then she wouldn't cry now. Not in front of him. He wouldn't know, any way... it didn't show...
A corner of his mouth tilted her a smile, while his very blue eyes lingered on her face. He was still watching her when his head flicked, indicating the top of the stairs. There are above a hundred people here tonight who are anxious for an incident to gossip over tomorrow. They'd like it to concern you and me.'
'Well, they shall have to settle for a gossip over you and your...your friend who sings very well, I'm told. I should like to listen to her,' Rachel announced briskly and, gathering her skirt in one hand, she renewed her flight up the stairs. Before she'd achieved three steps, her way was barred by a dark arm fastening on the polished mahogany a mere inch in front of her bosom. She seemed to sway dangerously backwards on the spot.
'Be sensible, Miss Meredith. It need take only five or ten minutes; a little polite conversation, a smile or two.. .perhaps we might even manage to dance together and really confound them.'
Rachel swallowed, then pivoted back to face him. It was sensible advice.
Even in her agitation she knew that. They would never be left alone; speculation as to the one's high or low regard for the other would always prevail until the matter was finally laid to rest by a display of indifference.
What had she to lose by making an appearance of casually chatting to this man she had once callously jilted on the eve of their wedding? She moistened her full soft lips. 'I believe my
That absurd notion prompted her to instead stop a laugh behind an unsteady hand.
How could she feel lonely with her family and- friends close by? she impatiently rebuked herself. She had every reason to feel elated. Her best friend was enceinte and in love, and her dear sister June would soon be married to the nicest gentleman of anyone's acquaintance. The hurting lump in her throat seemed undiminished by thus bolstering her spirits. Blinking her eyes, she swallowed, gripped the handrail and took a determined step up.
After two more she felt better, recovered enough to part her damp lashes.
There was no shame in entering a room unaccompanied by friend or relative.
It was only an odd circumstance that she should be on her own. She drew a shivery, steadying breath, bravely shaking back her hair that gleamed beneath a thousand flames like spun gold, and looked up.
The ensuing gasp was involuntary and quite audible. Dismay held her momentarily spellbound; then, with a clumsy bob, she was sidling sideways on the damson carpet to grab at the opposite banister. Gripping it as though it might save her life, she again began to mount the stairs whilst, with blurred eyes, she minutely examined William's ancestors, marching off up the wall.
Peripheral vision kept her aware that a pair of muscular black-clad legs, a step or two above her, were keeping pace with her escape. Then, as though irritated with climbing stairs backwards, he crossed the tread. He came so close she stopped, desperately smearing away tears with her fingers while studying an especially fearsome-looking warrior glowering at her from beneath a visor.
'Shall we get this over with?'
'I beg your pardon.'
'I said...shall we get this over with?'
'I heard the words, sir, it's the meaning that escapes me.'
Realising that speaking to a gilt-framed portrait might seem strange, she abruptly spun about on the wide stair, and rested her back against the banister. She looked Boldly, challengingly at him through spiky wet lashes.
He was handsome, she had to admit. And very imposing. Quite frighteningly so. She didn't recall, six years ago, ever having felt intimidated by him. Now she did. Or perhaps she just felt stupid...for crying for no reason. But then she wouldn't cry now. Not in front of him. He wouldn't know, any way... it didn't show...
A corner of his mouth tilted her a smile, while his very blue eyes lingered on her face. He was still watching her when his head flicked, indicating the top of the stairs. There are above a hundred people here tonight who are anxious for an incident to gossip over tomorrow. They'd like it to concern you and me.'
'Well, they shall have to settle for a gossip over you and your...your friend who sings very well, I'm told. I should like to listen to her,' Rachel announced briskly and, gathering her skirt in one hand, she renewed her flight up the stairs. Before she'd achieved three steps, her way was barred by a dark arm fastening on the polished mahogany a mere inch in front of her bosom. She seemed to sway dangerously backwards on the spot.
'Be sensible, Miss Meredith. It need take only five or ten minutes; a little polite conversation, a smile or two.. .perhaps we might even manage to dance together and really confound them.'
Rachel swallowed, then pivoted back to face him. It was sensible advice.
Even in her agitation she knew that. They would never be left alone; speculation as to the one's high or low regard for the other would always prevail until the matter was finally laid to rest by a display of indifference.
What had she to lose by making an appearance of casually chatting to this man she had once callously jilted on the eve of their wedding? She moistened her full soft lips. 'I believe my
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