True to his word, Hugo arrived on time and greeted the girls courteously, gently refusing Mrs Grayson’s offer of wine and instead exchanging pleasantries about the weather. Kitty was not quite ready, Nell having mislaid one of her evening gloves, and in spite of being silent, Charlotte was at least not looking as cross as she had done the last time they’d met. His cool gaze swept over her as they exchanged polite bows and he took in her exquisite bare shoulders, rising from the rounded neckline of her evening dress. She was dressed in a gown of palest eau-de-Nil silk, simply styled almost to the point of plainness, yet which flattered her beautiful body to perfection. It was decorated very simply with Bruges lace at the hem and her satin dancing slippers had been dyed to match it exactly. Charlotte Grayson, he reflected, would be able to wear a cotton duster on her head and still look superb, but this evening, her glorious hair was fastened up in a Grecian style, with grey-green ribbons, matching her magnificent eyes exactly. He noticed that the front of her hair had been cut much shorter and encouraged into soft feathery curls, which framed her brow so enticingly that he looked away so as not to be thought staring. He had a sudden mental picture of her, angry and dishevelled, that day when they’d first met. Even with her muddy dress and a smudge on her pretty nose, she had looked wholly beautiful, he thought, and was obliged to smile to himself as he moved towards a seat near the window.
Charlotte noticed his attractive smile and she was determined not to react to him, but even she was startled at how handsome and charismatic he looked. She’d never seen him quite so grandly dressed before and the impact of his splendid appearance was obvious as he moved across the room. His black evening coat fitted perfectly over his pale brocade waistcoat, as though moulded to his muscular body. His shirt points were fashionably high without being ridiculously so and his cravat was a masterpiece of the sartorial art. His breeches and stockings seemed designed on purpose to show off his powerful thighs and Charlotte’s heart gave an unaccountable sudden lurch as he rose to greet Kitty, who was now quite ready. He escorted Jane to the waiting carriage and then returned and offered an arm to each of the girls. Kitty smiled sweetly up at him but Charlotte was determined to reject any of his overtures. She shot him a look that was almost angry as well as unfriendly as she took his proffered arm. Hugo could hardly hold back a smile as he walked them to the carriage. Plenty of women would be delighted to take his arm and be escorted to the betrothal party in such a smart carriage. Charlotte Grayson looked positively murderous. She was a very unusual lady, quite outside his experience of women, Hugo thought, but he had to admit to himself that she attracted him and the novelty of her outright rejection intrigued him. Between the fine cloth of his expensive evening coat and the exquisite fabric of Charlotte Grayson’s white evening glove, there was no real physical contact at all. Not like their visit to Mrs Baker’s cottage when her bare arm had brushed so softly and seductively against his cheek. At the vivid memory of that encounter, Hugo felt a sudden rush of heat which had nothing to do with the mildness of the summer weather. He handed both girls into the carriage and as Charlotte raised the hem of her gown slightly to negotiate the step, he was treated to the sight of a trim ankle and a gracefully arched foot encased in a satin slipper, and had a repeat of that unaccountable rush of warmth. Impatient with himself, he cursed inwardly. Confound it. He was in control here, not the rebellious Charlotte Grayson. He settled himself opposite to her and the coachman folded up the steps and they were off.
Charlotte studiously avoided his gaze and instead looked about her. Papa, in spite of his affluence, had abhorred all worldly wealth and show and it was some time since she’d been in such an elegantly appointed vehicle. The scent of the soft leather upholstery and the smell of oiled mahogany impressed her with their luxury and opulence. She felt like a princess on the verge of an exciting adventure and she was obliged to give a wry grin at the thought that the rather mundane conversation in the carriage did not at all reflect these feelings, in spite of the fact that this evening, Mr Hugo Westbury had all the appearance of the handsome prince in a fairy tale.
Her mother, meanwhile, was chatting seamlessly to Hugo and not even attempting to coax her daughters to join in the conversation. Both she and Hugo had noticed Charlotte’s half smile and both of them had chosen to disregard it.
‘And how are the funeral arrangements progressing?’ her mother asked in a gentle voice.
‘As well as can be expected, given the particular circumstances of my grandfather’s death,’ he answered sombrely.
He found he liked Jane Grayson. She was sympathetic but not maudlin in her interest and he wondered if his own mama would have been like her, had she lived. He wondered what the two women would have talked about if his dear mama had been going to the party with them. He still had some childhood memories of his mother’s beautiful face and elegant clothes, her soft voice and that American way she had of almost drawling her words.
Jane interrupted his reverie very gently.
‘Will there be many of the Westbury family able to attend?’
‘George, the other brother of Sir Benjamin, is also dead, but he has a grandson, Alfred Westbury, who has been informed of the discovery of my grandfather’s remains. My American relatives would be hard pushed to attend, even if I were able to get in touch with them. Most of the mourners will be friends and business contacts of my Great-Uncle Benjamin.
Jane thought of the lonely little ten-year-old boy spending all his school holidays in Westbury Hall and sighed.
Aloud, she said comfortably, ‘I am sure there will be many of your neighbours and estate workers who will also wish to pay their respects.’
There was a silence after this and seeing the number of carriages lined up to discharge their passengers at the front door of Wycliffe House, Charlotte reluctantly admitted to herself that she was pleased that her mama had accepted Hugo’s offer. No one of any consequence would have arrived at the party in a hired vehicle. As it was, the fact that they were seen to be escorted by Mr Hugo Westbury, in Sir Benjamin’s carriage, must lend them some social distinction. She recognized grudgingly that it was good of him to be so thoughtful when his mind must be distracted by the funeral and other considerations.
She glanced at him from under her eyelashes, obliged to admit that she admired what she saw. It was unbelievable that she should be so conscious of his attractiveness, almost impossible to think that she should actually begin to like him… .
There were now only three carriages in front of them and Hugo said to her, ‘It is bound to be a sad crush, Miss Grayson, but may I be allowed to have the pleasure of a dance with you?’
Charlotte knew that her mama and sister were pretending not to hear what was being said and she felt herself colouring a little. Common courtesy decreed that she should accept, especially after the way he had considered their comfort and convenience.
She swallowed and said politely, ‘Yes, sir. I should be pleased to dance with you.’
Hugo smiled, trying to disguise the triumph that he felt. He would solicit the hand of the most beautiful woman there and dance with her in full view of all the hopeful young virgins and their ambitious mamas who were gathered at Ann West’s party. He now saw the conquest of Charlotte Grayson as something of a challenge. His own affections were not engaged, of course, but it would amuse him to see if he could make her fall in love with him. She might be stubborn and difficult but he knew she was not unaware of the impact that their arrival would have on the other guests. She would see it as a triumph that so notable a person as Sir Benjamin Westbury had put his opulent coach at their disposal, and not only that but had made his very eligible heir available as their escort. Without any undue conceit, he knew he was attractive to women and could make her fall for him. Perhaps this would settle Charlotte Grayson’s arrogant confidence once for all. By just becoming a fool in love she might learn some humility, he thought grimly.
He escorted the three Grayson ladies up the gracious staircase of Wycliffe House and they passed along the line of the West family, who were waiting to greet their guests, before proceeding to the reception room where liveried flunkeys circulated with wine and light refreshments. In no time at all, Hugo was surrounded by admirers, male as well as female, and the Grayson women were soon on the edge of this group, with only old faithfuls and the immature young friends of the prospective bridegroom to entertain them. Partly to escape the crush in the great hall and partly to secure an eligible partner, guests were now entering the ballroom, where there was a dais at one end for the musicians. The famous chandeliers of Wycliffe were ablaze with myriads of candles and there were small gilded chairs surrounding the dance floor.
‘For the old dowds,’ Jane said laughingly, as she excused herself from the girls and went to greet one of the elderly ladies from the church.
Charlotte looked about her. Andrew Preston was chatting to a group of ladies who seemed to be hanging on his every word. People were grouping and regrouping as they greeted each other. The musicians now began to strike up and the first country dance was announced. Hugo Westbury was squiring a hopeful young female on to the dance floor and she noticed that Uncle Bertram had arrived, looking extremely elegant in his formal evening clothes. She watched curiously as, not looking to either right or left, he made a beeline for Miss Aurelia Casterton and bent over her hand, obviously requesting the pleasure of a dance. Not letting the grass grow under his feet, Charlotte thought. So far, neither Matthew, Lavinia nor Adam had arrived, and one of the prospective bridegroom’s friends asked Kitty to dance and she smilingly acquiesced, so Charlotte was left alone. She watched the dancers and saw that as Aurelia’s dance with Uncle Bertram ended, Aurelia immediately accepted Hugo Westbury in the next one. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Hugo. He had such a distinguished air of almost careless grace as he danced with Ann West’s best friend, and she was angry with herself for feeling a little envious of Aurelia, who was obviously enjoying being his partner. She saw the flash of his white teeth as he smiled politely at the rather stodgy young woman, who looked as if she were too dazzled to answer him. She noticed the glossy sheen of his dark hair, highlighted by the brightness of the chandeliers, and the confidence with which he moved to the measures of the dance. Charlotte was more than a little envious, she acknowledged to herself; she was suddenly, fiercely and quite irrationally jealous of the young woman whom he had chosen to partner. She watched as the dance ended and Hugo escorted Aurelia from the floor, then she deliberately looked away from them and concentrated instead on the intricate design of flowers and songbirds on her fan.
‘Good evening. May I have the pleasure of the next dance?’
It was Matthew’s calm and quiet voice and Charlotte smiled up at him, pleased to see him.
‘Better late than never,’ he said. ‘Adam and my dear aunt are still paying their respects to the happy couple, so we may take to the floor without them.’
She put her hand on his and allowed him to lead her into a cotillion. She looked up at him and thought that he seemed somewhat strained.
‘Ann’s parents have put on a wonderful party for her, have they not?’
‘Yes. Quite so,’ Matthew answered, seemingly uninterested. ‘Where is Kitty this evening?’
‘Oh, dancing with various young friends of Robert Thorpe,’ she said, somewhat surprised at his question. ‘No doubt we shall see her at the supper interval.’
‘I hope so,’ he said. Then he exclaimed, ‘Oh, is that Kitty now, standing up with that absurd Andrew Preston?’
‘I am sure I have no idea who Kitty is standing up with,’ she said with some asperity. What was the matter with him, she wondered?
Matthew’s hand tightened on hers and she looked at him crossly.
‘What is it, Charlotte?’ he asked quietly. ‘You are usually such good friends with your sister.’
She began to feel as though this situation was unreal. She was almost dizzy with conflicting emotions as though a chasm had unexpectedly opened at her feet. One half of her knew that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to dance with the charismatic Hugo Westbury and instead was being partnered by the rather dull Matthew King. Quite irrationally, she longed suddenly to provoke Matthew, to shake him out of his calm acceptance of their prolonged courtship and to anger him as much as he angered her with his persistent attentions to her younger sister. ‘If you are so concerned, why not seek Kitty out yourself?’ she said tightly. ‘I am sure she would appreciate it.’
Matthew’s gentle expression hardened. ‘Can it be that you are jealous of Kitty, Charlotte?’ he challenged her. ‘I thought you were the best of friends.’
Charlotte was appalled at herself. She didn’t know what to say and they were both silent for a few minutes. It was a silence which seemed full of the tension of what they had said, but also of what they had not said, until Matthew drew a deep breath and broke the silence by saying with an undertone of anger in his deep voice, ‘To please you, I suppose I must not pay any attention to your sister, but at the same time, I must remain oblivious to the attentions you are receiving from Hugo Westbury.’
‘That is unfair, Matthew. He has no interest in me whatsoever.’
‘You are mistaken!’
They had both kept their voices quiet during this exchange, but now Charlotte’s anger welled up inside her and her voice rose without her even being aware of it. She was somewhat disconcerted to realize that the music had now stopped and people were looking askance at her. She could tell that the normally mild-mannered Matthew was furious. Wordlessly, he escorted her to the edge of the dance floor. She could feel his anger and tension as she rested her hand on his arm and she herself felt hurt and frustrated by their sharp and painful exchange. She had no opportunity to mend the rift between them because Hugo Westbury was now approaching with Aurelia Casterton on his arm.
‘Why, Miss Grayson,’ Aurelia said with feigned sweetness. ‘I have not seen you since we visited the Bakers’ cottage. How are you?’ She didn’t wait for a reply but continued, ‘How fortunate to have met you. Perhaps dear Mr King would agree to us changing partners. Mrs West has decided not to have dance cards, so I hope you do not think it amiss if I solicit Mr King in the next country dance. You two are such old friends, I am sure you could spare him, dear Miss Grayson.’
Charlotte glanced quickly at Hugo Westbury and saw the same mocking smile that she had noticed before when they’d encountered Aurelia Casterton. She struggled to contain her temper, but before she could think of a polite reply, Matthew smiled at Aurelia and said, ‘Of course you may solicit my hand in the next dance. I should be honoured, Miss Casterton. Miss Grayson and I are indeed such old friends she will hardly miss me. Your servant, Mr Westbury.’ He bowed to Charlotte and Hugo and, offering his arm to Aurelia, he led her away.
Charlotte stood rooted to the spot, absolutely outraged at Matthew’s uncharacteristic behaviour. She was still aware of Hugo’s quizzical gaze as she beat down the anger which was welling up in her and fought for control.
‘Should you care to dance, Miss Grayson?’ he asked gently. ‘Or should you prefer to walk on the terrace for a few minutes. It seems very warm in here.’
Charlotte watched Matthew attending Aurelia so solicitously and allowed Hugo to lead her into the dance. Their conversation was of necessity rather stilted and lacking in continuity as they parted for the different figures in the dance and then met with different partners, only to return once again to their set places.
At the end of it, by mutual consent, they moved over to the open doors where the light summer breeze cooled the air somewhat. The terrace was at that moment almost deserted as the musicians took a rest and guests drifted towards the supper room.
Hugo was aware of the tension about her and guessed that it had to do with her friendship for Matthew. He noted her shaking hands clasped tightly round the delicately painted fan and on an impulse he covered her hands with his own. He felt her instinctive resistance but at least she didn’t move away from him. Hugo Westbury was skilled in the art of seduction and knew how gently he had to proceed. He studied the shapely finger tips emerging so delicately from her evening gloves and he waited patiently for her to regain her calm.
Once, trading with some Portuguese merchants in Goa, Hugo had wandered down to the beach and had gazed at the myriad of seashells washed up on to the sands. The ones in particular which had caught his eye were of an opalescent pink, edged with pearly white. So like the perfectly formed nails on the ends of Miss Grayson’s elegant slim fingers, he thought. For all their delicacy, they were not weak or useless hands, but expressive and purposeful. He thought of the way she had so tenderly held the Bakers’ baby and of her gentleness with Lucy Baker. Very carefully, he parted each finger in turn and kissed it lightly. Then he raised his eyes to look into hers. ‘You have very beautiful hands, Miss Grayson,’ he said softly.
Suddenly, his gentle seduction was shattered when Charlotte snatched her hands from his. ‘How dare you, sir?’ she gasped.
He smiled slightly. He’d never imagined even the spirited Miss Grayson would be so indignant over such a trifle. So she wasn’t impervious to him after all. He stepped back a little and bowed politely.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Grayson,’ he said. ‘I should not have taken such a liberty. Would you like to go into supper?’
He could feel that the hand she placed on his arm was still trembling, but his face remained blandly impassive as he escorted her silently to her mother and Kitty. Once they were in the supper room, he bowed and went across to greet Robert Thorpe and offer his felicitations on the betrothal. Charlotte had eaten very little dinner before coming out and had thought that she was more than prepared to do justice to the superb supper. Now, suddenly everything seemed to be turning to dust and ashes in her mouth. There was no sign of Matthew; she could only suppose that he was in the card room. She glanced covertly across at Hugo, who seemed to be laughingly trying to resist all solicitations from Robert Thorpe to join himself and Miss West at their table. There was still no sign of Matthew; perhaps he was no longer on speaking terms with her.
‘It would be a mistake,’ Hugo was saying disarmingly, ‘for a grumpy, confirmed bachelor such as myself to play the gooseberry on the eve of your betrothal celebration.’
Both young people laughed and insisted, so eventually Hugo subsided gracefully into one of the vacant chairs, still smiling and protesting. It did not escape either Charlotte or her mama’s notice that Aurelia Casterton appeared suddenly, as if from nowhere, and slipped into one of the remaining chairs at Hugo’s side. Just as if it had been reserved for her, Charlotte thought bitterly, and pointedly ignored her. Almost immediately afterwards, Uncle Bertram, who had escorted Aurelia into the supper room but had paused to greet one of his friends, joined her. From time to time Charlotte caught Hugo’s eyes on her and refused to look away, but returned his regard steadily. It was obvious, she thought bitterly, that Aurelia Casterton was setting her cap at Hugo Westbury. Perhaps she was using Uncle Bertram to try to make Hugo jealous.
And then, as though with deliberate insult, Hugo turned to Aurelia and gave her his devastatingly attractive smile and she, quite dazzled, gazed back at him adoringly. Charlotte and her mother both watched with interest as Aurelia fluttered her eyelashes and smiled demurely in response to all Hugo’s polite conversational overtures. Uncle Bertram appeared not to notice and instead engaged Ann West in conversation, but Charlotte was incensed at Hugo’s flirting.
What a reprobate, she thought angrily and quite lost her appetite. Once the covers were removed and the hothouse fruits were produced, she merely toyed with a luscious peach and sipped her wine, furious with herself at letting the unpleasant Hugo Westbury affect her emotions like this.
Robert Thorpe’s cousin, Richard, begged to be allowed to join Mrs Grayson and her daughters and then Charlotte was able to exact some revenge on Hugo Westbury by flirting openly with a young man who was obviously already smitten by her beauty and eager to dance attendance on her, fetching her chilled champagne cup, selecting dishes of sweetmeats, for her and begging earnestly for the pleasure of a dance with her after the interval. Charlotte was inclined to be gracious, bowing her beautiful head gracefully in acknowledgement of his admiration and thanking him prettily for every attention he paid her. Glancing under her lashes at Hugo Westbury, she was gratified to see that he had noticed her young admirer and the encouragement that she had given him and had forgotten his assumed pleasant, smiling expression, allowing a black scowl to dominate his handsome face. Flirting was not so difficult after all, she reflected, and it had certainly seemed to halt for the moment the effortless smiles that Mr Hugo Westbury had been bestowing on Miss Aurelia Casterton. Uncle Bertram now seized his opportunity and whisked Aurelia off for another dance. Charlotte accepted Richard Thorpe’s arm and they moved back to the ballroom. The musicians struck up and suddenly, feeling refreshed, the guests were ready to dance again and came out of the supper room in groups to take their places.
‘Would you care to dance, Miss Grayson?’ Richard asked humbly.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Charlotte said.
He was stiff with youthful nerves and embarrassment, but had been well schooled in the dance steps and didn’t hesitate or stumble. She smiled encouragingly at him and he seemed a little more at ease. As the dance progressed, they changed partners and to her surprise, she found herself taking Matthew’s hand as she moved down the set for the next figure.
He still seemed at odds with her, but as his fingers closed firmly around hers, he gave her his familiar open smile. ‘Well, Charlotte. I trust you’re feeling in a better humour now that you have had supper.’
‘Yes, Matthew. I … I am sorry I was so ungracious earlier.’
‘And I am sorry that I was not able to escort you to the party in person,’ he said.
And so they seemed to have patched up their disagreement, Charlotte thought, as they parted once more and the dance ended. Uncle Bertram begged for the pleasure of a dance with her and Charlotte was pleasantly surprised at how less pompous he was now that they were out on a social occasion. She’d noticed the attentions he’d been paying to Aurelia and it had given her food for thought. Although it is difficult to think of an uncle objectively, he was, she reflected, a good-looking man and not too old for matrimony. He was also very well dressed and an accomplished dancer. No wonder Mrs Casterton had been keen to have him on her guest list.
‘Shall you be staying to the end, Uncle Bertram?’ she asked, wondering if so countrified an entertainment as Ann’s betrothal ball would interest someone as sophisticated as he.
‘Of course,’ he replied heartily. As though reading the thoughts behind her question, he went on, ‘One can become very jaded with city life, my dear. The pleasures of one’s youth do not always satisfy a man’s deepest desires.’
‘Deepest desires, Uncle Bertram?’
‘Yes, Charlotte. There comes a time in a man’s life when the frivolous pleasures enjoyed by the ton begin to pall. A man wants substance. A settled home life … an established family… .’
‘A family, sir?’
‘Yes. Do not look so askance, Charlotte. You are still young. You still crave excitement. Balls. Pretty clothes. Romance, perhaps. But when you get to my age… .’
‘What then, Uncle?’
He laughed. ‘Stop encouraging me to speak like some old dodderer, niece. When you get to my age, even you will have calmed that fiery temper of yours, Charlotte, and you may long for the quiet haven of a happy marriage.’
‘Marriage, Uncle Bertram?’ And she gave him a mocking smile. ‘I shall only marry, sir, when I am too old to do anything else and am at my last prayers.’
‘We shall see,’ was all he said, as the dance ended.
She noticed that Hugo Westbury did not seem so enamoured of Aurelia Casterton that he could allow her to distract him from his interest in the card table. Mrs West had set up several card tables in a separate room, mainly for mature or married gentlemen, hoping that the younger and more eligible bachelors would offer their attentions to the young ladies. Hugo was aware of this, but had decided to avoid the opportunity to converse or socialize with any single young women, especially Charlotte Grayson. He had to admit to himself that he found her very attractive and was determined to keep up his cool manner with her. He set out to win as much of the modest stakes as he could and emerged from the card room an hour later, feeling pleased with himself, being several guineas in profit. He felt unaccountably furious to observe Miss Grayson in close embrace with Richard Thorpe, dancing the waltz, and turned away to address some civil remarks to Kitty, who was nervous of being asked by Andrew Preston and was sitting out this particular dance.
Hugo was not the only one to observe Charlotte and her partner. Matthew was also aware of her lively conversation and graceful movements. He sighed and sought out Kitty. In spite of her avoidance of the young curate, Kitty had not lacked for partners among the young men of the neighbourhood, who were only too willing to ask her for the pleasure of a dance. She was so sweet, so charming, her eyes so soft and gentle, and Matthew thought that the curves of her girlish figure were shown to advantage in her modest white gown. She was a good dancer, always keeping to the correct rhythm of the dance and never attempting to lead her partner, and as she placed her hand in his, Matthew was conscious of a feeling of satisfaction and the rightness of the two of them together as a couple. Soon, he completely forgot his disagreement with Charlotte in the pleasure of dancing with her sister.
*
It was half past midnight before the carriages were called and Hugo escorted the Grayson ladies from Mrs West’s triumphant soirée, Bertram having decided to make his own way home. Everyone agreed that it had been a great success and the whole occasion would be food for the gossips for weeks to come. After courteously handing the ladies in, Hugo remained sunk into his own corner of the carriage. Even Jane Grayson was silent and as for Charlotte, she was determined to press herself back into her own corner, resolving to offer no conversation, no intimacy towards a man who, she thought, found Aurelia Casterton’s person and her fortune so irresistibly attractive.
The truth was that Hugo was afraid to move too freely in case he should inadvertently come into contact with his beautiful companion. The overwhelming attraction that he felt for her should have been stifled long before, when she was displaying all her aggressive contrariness and when he still thought of her as a confounded nuisance. He realized now, especially when they’d been on the terrace and he’d captured her hands in his own, how strong the temptation had been to take her into his arms. To think that he could cold-heartedly entice Miss Grayson to develop a tendre for him while remaining cool and unmoved himself was the merest fairy tale, he told himself. Now that he recognized this, he regretted having spent the whole evening so far away from her and yet he had no intention of becoming involved with someone so forceful and opinionated, however beautiful she was.
If only Aurelia Casterton were so alluring, he thought. She was insipid and biddable and although she was rumoured to have £60,000 as her dowry, one would tire very quickly of such a moon-faced weakling. He sighed and stirred slightly in his seat, hoping that Charlotte wouldn’t notice his restlessness.
But Charlotte was only too aware of him. In the dim light of the carriage, she could see the outline of his head and shoulders and, as he glanced out of the opposite window, the movement of his eyes. She refused to let herself think of the blueness of those blue eyes, their provocative humour and the intensity of his gaze when he’d kissed her fingers on Mrs West’s terrace.
Her mother was now offering a final conversational opening to the unaccountably silent Mr Westbury. ‘I would like to thank you, sir, for your kind attention this evening. Your offer of the carriage has made the occasion most agreeable.’ She paused slightly and then said in a quieter tone, ‘I suppose the next time we meet, it will be on a much sadder and more mournful occasion.
‘Yes,’ he said tersely. ‘The funeral of my grandfather on Thursday next.’
‘Quite so.’ She was almost whispering now. ‘Thank you again, Mr Westbury. Why, here we are, already! Can I persuade you to partake of some refreshment before your journey home?’
‘I thank you, ma’am, but I am anxious to return to Sir Benjamin.’
The atmosphere felt strange and tense and even her mother seemed pleased and relieved to be standing on the gravel of the drive. No one was inclined for polite chat as Hugo bade them a courteous farewell and got back into the carriage, his expression totally neutral.