Loving Grant from the bottom of her heart, Adeline tried to block out the painful moment when they would have to part. When it was time for him to leave, Adeline accompanied him to the ground floor of the hotel. It wasn’t until they reached the foyer that she realised she had left her reticule in his rooms.
‘I’ll go back and get it,’ Grant offered.
‘No, I’ll go. You go and find a cab. I won’t be long.’
Having retrieved her reticule, Adeline stepped out of the lift and looked around her, searching the people milling about for the face she loved. And there he was. She was about to cross to him when she saw him bend his head to the woman who seemed to be clinging to his side. His arm was half about her waist and her hand was placed possessively on his arm.
It was Diana.
It was the expression on Diana’s face that caught Adeline’s attention and held her momentarily transfixed. Her eyes were direct, intensely earnest, and she was looking at Grant as if she were telling him something profoundly important. Grant, standing with his profile to Adeline, was speaking softly, closer to Diana than was customary for mere friends, and he seemed—at least for the moment—oblivious to anyone else.
Numb with shock, she felt a silence seem to fall around her—a silence in which every sound was muted, a silence in which she seemed embalmed for a moment. And then she spun on her heel and walked out of the hotel. She got inside a cab and told the driver to go to Eaton Place, and to hurry. The man obeyed instantly, snaking his long carriage whip over the horse’s back and urging it forward, ignoring delivery carts, drays and other hansoms which swerved out of their way.
Inside the cab, Adeline felt as if she were existing in some kind of remote space, isolated from everything. The only thing she could think of was Grant and the pleasure he had given her—the intense, undreamed of, unimaginable pleasure—and now Diana had appeared once again to spoil everything. She felt desperately wretched and unhappy. How could he? she thought angrily. But anger did not help her. She felt lost and bewildered.
As soon as she entered the house, Mrs Kelsall handed her a letter that had arrived earlier. It was from Rosehill.
When Adeline didn’t meet him in the foyer, Grant returned to his room to find she wasn’t there either. Puzzled as to where she could be, he waited a while in case she turned up before going to Eaton Place—only to be told by Mrs Kelsall that Adeline had received an urgent message from Rosehill. Her father had been taken ill and she had left for the station almost immediately.
For the second time that day Grant rushed to Victoria Station, in the hope of seeing her. But he was too late. He was to leave himself to catch the boat train shortly, so he was unable to go after her, but he was curious as to why she had left the hotel without saying goodbye. Then the reason why she had gone hit him like a hammer-blow.
Diana! She must have seen him with Diana—and, based on her reaction, she had imagined the worst. She was torturing them both this way because she was angry and hurt. ‘You little fool!’ he murmured, staring at the empty railtrack. She had done it again, without giving him an opportunity to explain. And now it was too late.
He could imagine the wrenching look on her face when she had seen him with Diana—and the image haunted him. It tore at him, along with his other worries about her. There were so many things he needed desperately to say to her—and he would. He would write to her the moment he reached his hotel in Paris.
All the way to Rosehill, Adeline was filled with a mixture of emotions: in particular, worry about her father, and second to that a growing fury—a furious disbelief—that she had allowed a man to treat her as Grant Leighton had done. She felt rage that he had had the audacity to do so. She had the desire to shout her rage out loud. What sort of a woman did he think she was? How dared he? How dared he lure her to his hotel room and do what he had when all the time Diana Waverley had been waiting downstairs? No matter how hard he denied they were having an affair, she did not believe him and never would. How could she when she had seen the evidence with her own eyes?
Well, she could do nothing about Grant Leighton just now. Her father was ill and he needed her—but, dear Lord, she’d have something to say to him when the time came.
On reaching Rosehill, Adeline knew her face was set in lines of anxiety.
‘How is Father?’ were the first words she asked Mrs Pearce, who had been the housekeeper at Rosehill for as long as Adeline could remember.
‘Dr Terry’s with him now, Miss Adeline.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Adeline asked, removing her hat and gloves and handing them to a hovering maid.
‘It’s his heart, Dr Terry says. He collapsed last night at dinner. We managed to get him to bed. It was fortunate Dr Terry was at home and able to come at once.’
‘Is he conscious?’
Mrs Pearce nodded her grey head. ‘He’s very poorly, but the doctor will tell you more.’
When Dr Terry faced Adeline he was as reassuring as he could be.
‘He’s had a minor heart attack, which I believe was brought on by stress. I’ve advised him time and again not to work so hard—but you know what he’s like. His condition is stabilised, and I don’t believe there is any danger—providing you can get him to take things easy.’
‘I’ll certainly do my best.’
‘I’ve given him a draught that seems to have relaxed him, and he’ll be relieved to see you, my dear. Your presence will hasten his recovery, I am sure.’
Knowing full well that her presence was unlikely to make any difference whatsoever, Adeline let her lips curve in a wry smile. ‘Let us hope so, Dr Terry.’
‘I’ve taken the liberty of employing a nurse—a Mrs Newbold—who is extremely competent. She arrived this morning and has already settled in to her duties.’
‘Thank you. I do appreciate that.’
‘There’s nothing more I can do for now. I’ll call tomorrow. Just make sure he stays quiet.’
As soon as Dr Terry had left, Adeline went up to her father. He was propped up against the pillows, his face grey and drawn with the hint of tiredness and pain. The signs of fleshiness were beginning to fight against the hardness of it, showing his advancing age, but his intelligent eyes were keen as he watched her approach the bed with quiet assurance.
‘Adeline,’ he said throatily.
She bent over and lightly kissed his cheek. ‘Hello, Father,’ she said, searching his face. He had always seemed so indestructible. Nothing had seemed beyond the reach and scope of his energy and intelligence. ‘I came just as soon as I could. How are you?’ she ventured. ‘Dr Terry seems pleased with your progress.’ She smiled. ‘You always did confound predictions.’
He nodded, his gaze on her face. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Adeline. All this fuss.’ He glowered at Mrs Newbold, hovering across the room. ‘I can’t stand it.’
‘It won’t be for long. I’m sure you’ll soon be up and about—but you’re going to have to take it easy for some time.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me—and I fear they’re right.’
A sad smile rested briefly on his lips, and when he looked away Adeline knew his very attitude was an admission of weakness. He who had always had determination, stamina, will—who had demanded and been paid the homage of lord and master for so long—had in the last moments been toppled from his pedestal, and the recognition of his fall was mutual.
He looked at Adeline and a softening entered Horace’s eyes. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’
‘Have you?’ Adeline could say no more in her amazement. Her father, who had always seemed so remote—uncaring—had missed her, and he was looking at her in the most extraordinary way. She marvelled at it, and something inside her softened and shattered. Her quick, observant eyes saw the varied emotions flickering in his own. He had changed. Never before allowing her to come too close, now he seemed to welcome her.
Smiling softly, a warmth in her eyes, and taking his hand, she sat on the edge of the bed facing him. ‘I’ve missed you, too. When I left for London there was so much constraint between us—of my doing entirely. I accept that, and I am so sorry, Father. I never meant to hurt you. Truly.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he said hoarsely, gently squeezing her hand. ‘I’m just glad to have you back. You look—different, somehow—quite fetching, in fact. Your hair…’
Adeline laughed brightly. ‘It’s supposed to be the new me, but I’m still the same underneath. I—I saw Grant Leighton in London. I—understand his mother has been a guest at Rosehill whilst I’ve been away?’ Did she imagine it or did a twinkle enter his eyes?
‘She has, and most delightful she is, too. We have much in common, Hester and me. In fact I would like you to write to her—tell her what’s happened and that she must feel free to visit any time. I—would like to see her.’
‘I’ll do that.’
‘So, you’ve seen Grant Leighton, have you?’
‘Yes, on—on several occasions,’ she said, lowering her eyes.
Horace settled into the pillows, observing his daughter with careful scrutiny. He didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him that all was not as it should be with her. ‘Do you regret not accepting his proposal of marriage, Adeline?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s in the past, Father. At the time there was so much unpleasantness. I—prefer not to speak of it.’
Horace did not question her on the subject of Grant Leighton any further. There were areas of the heart into which one did not intrude.
Adeline greeted Hester Leighton in the hall, relieved that she had come at last. Her features were as soft and feminine as she remembered, but there were shadows under and around her eyes that had not been present before.
‘It’s very good of you to come, Mrs Leighton. Father is so looking forward to seeing you.’
‘I would have come sooner, but I didn’t want to appear intrusive,’ Hester said, smiling softly.
‘You knew my father was ill?’
Hester raised her brows delicately. ‘I had a letter from Grant. He mentioned that he’d seen you in London, and the reason why you had been summoned back to Rosehill.’
‘I see.’ And Adeline did see. What Mrs Leighton had said told her that Grant must have followed her to Eaton Place when he had found she had left the hotel. Had he been surprised? Had he realised why? ‘The hall is chilly. Come into the drawing room. It’s warmer and faces on to the garden…’ She smiled suddenly. ‘But you will know all about that, since Rosehill was your home for many years.’
‘I do, and you are right.’ Hester accompanied Adeline across the hall and into the warmer, far more agreeable room. ‘I always loved it in here. It gets the sun for most of the day, and the garden is as delightful as I remember.’ Her eyes misted as she looked out of the long windows. ‘I have so many memories wrapped up in this house—happy and sad. When I heard your father might sell it I sent Grant to see him, to try and buy it back. Did you know?’
Adeline nodded. ‘Father intended giving it to me as a wedding present when I married Paul—but that’s in the past. But what am I thinking of? You must have some refreshment after your journey. Then I’ll take you up to see Father.’
‘Thank you,’ Hester accepted. ‘I would like that.’
When they were seated, Hester asked, ‘How is Horace?’
‘You will be pleased to know he is a little better. The doctor is pleased with his progress and thinks he will make a full recovery.’
Hester’s relief was evident. ‘I am so glad.’ She paused before continuing, as if considering her next words carefully. ‘Adeline, I do so hope you don’t mind, but on your father’s invitation I stayed at Rosehill while you were in London.’
‘Mrs Leighton, this is my father’s house. I think he is old enough to invite who he wants to stay. I certainly have no objections.’
Hester smiled with relief and sudden genuine pleasure. ‘So you don’t mind?’
‘Not one bit. Between you and me, Father spends far too much time working—which, in Dr Terry’s opinion, may well have something to do with his heart attack. Some female company is what he needs.’
It was after dinner, after Hester had spent some considerable time with Horace, talking and reading to him, when, stirring her coffee, she tilted her head to one side and studied Adeline. She said with a smile, ‘You know, you do look different.’
Adeline laughed. ‘I know. It’s all down to Lettie. She thought I needed taking in hand.’ Adeline saw a shadow cross Mrs Leighton’s face. She waited. To ask its cause would be an intrusion, but instinctively she knew it concerned Lettie. ‘How is Lettie?’ she asked, speaking calmly.
Hester sighed. ‘She is well, considering all she has been through—although I do worry about her. I wanted her to come to Rosehill with me but—well…I know what happened to her in London,’ she said quietly. ‘She told me everything, Adeline. I was appalled and extremely shocked—angry, too—to think my darling daughter endured what she did alone. I have you to thank for everything you did for her. Thank you so much for taking care of her.’
Adeline looked at Mrs Leighton and saw her exquisite high-boned face was drawn, her eyes far away, sad and angry. ‘I am glad she felt that she could confide in me.’
‘Poor Lettie. I feel an intense sadness for her. She had the passion, the intelligence and the courage to dare anything. Now she sits brooding and just looking at nothing for most of the day. I cannot condone her affair with that—that nightclub owner, or what she did.’
She looked dejectedly down at her hands, folded in her lap. ‘I cannot even bring myself to speak his name. I wish she’d never set eyes on him, and I cannot forgive the hurt he has caused her. Lettie espoused the Women’s Movement because she cares about injustice. Where’s the justice in what that man has done to her? However, I will not allow my anger to make me forget myself. Yes, Lettie told me many things—things best kept silent, if we are to live in any kind of peace. I am sure if you will consider it you will agree with me.’
Adeline understood that Mrs Leighton was asking her to keep what she knew to herself—not to tell her father. ‘I agree with you. Sometimes to forget is the only sane thing to do—otherwise one becomes imprisoned by the past. Console yourself with the fact that the affair is over. Lettie is strong and will put this behind her. She has the support of her family and some stalwart friends.’
‘Yes, I know. But there will always be a part of her that is damaged, and when I think of what that man is guilty of—that he has simply walked away unpunished…At least as far as Lettie is concerned.’ She shook her head. ‘Grant says he is being investigated by the police for crimes which I know very little about—nor do I wish to.’
‘I am glad he’s under investigation. But if the truth were to come out about Lettie it would bring shame on her, and Lord knows she has already paid a high enough price for her foolishness.’
Reaching out, Hester squeezed Adeline’s hand in gratitude. ‘That I do know. The injustice of it pains me greatly, but you are right. Lettie must move on—we must all move on and look to our good name. Scandal can be so damaging, so destructive. We mustn’t let it.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Suddenly Hester brightened. ‘Adeline, how would you and your father like to spend Christmas with us at Oaklands?’ She saw doubt cloud Adeline’s eyes, and, afraid that she was about to refuse, went on quickly, ‘I will not take no for an answer—and I know I can speak for Grant. I take Christmas very seriously—even when the family isn’t complete. I make it an event every year, and savour the ritual. I would so like you to be there.’
Adeline had grave doubts about returning to Oaklands, but not so her father. He was delighted at the prospect of spending some time with Hester. The time she had visited him at Rosehill, when Adeline had been in London, seemed a long way in the past, and since his heart attack he had been realising more and more every day how he missed her.
He continued to get better, and when the time came for them to leave for Oaklands he was back to his old self.
Adeline’s time had been taken up with writing and sending out Christmas cards to friends and family, and buying presents. She had chosen two rather beautiful silk scarves—one for Lettie and one for Mrs Leighton. Because she wasn’t sure how many children would be there, she had also bought a selection of novelties and chocolates.
Grant was more difficult. After a great deal of deliberation she had chosen a gold cravat pin—plain, yet tasteful—hoping it would be an appropriate gift for their host and that he would like it. She had tried to keep herself focused on preparing for the visit, but her fragile control had begun to crumble the closer the time came for them to leave for Oaklands.
Grant had promised to write to her and he hadn’t. She could only assume that what had happened between them hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to her. She tried to imagine their meeting. Would he be angry because his mother had invited them? Would he be glad to see her or want to show her the door?
With firm determination she pulled her mind away from this nonsensical preoccupation and concentrated on what she would take with her. A terrible premonition of Christmas being a disaster quivered through her—and yet she felt she had been serious too long, and should be none the worse for a little light entertainment, which she intended her Christmas at Oaklands to be.
Since they had left Rosehill the day had become colder, with a knife-edge to it, and the sky was lower and heavy, with more snow in the air. There had been a fall during the night, with slight drifting in places, disrupting both road and rail travel. As the Leighton carriage, which had met them at the station, approached Oaklands, Adeline was as impressed by the house in its colour-bleached surroundings as she had been on her first visit.
Seated across from Adeline and Emma, her father was tucked beneath a thick rug, his chin sunk deep in the collar of his coat, his fur-trimmed hat pulled well down over his ears. Beside him, attentive and concerned for his master’s wellbeing at all times, sat Benjamin, his manservant of many years.
They climbed out just as the door opened, and Hester came to welcome them. Horace strode the couple of paces over to her and took her in his arms. Normally Adeline would have been slightly shocked by this show of familiarity, but at that moment she could think of nothing other than seeing Grant again.
Hester stood back and gave Horace a close look. ‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Horace. Indeed, you do look much improved since I saw you last, thank goodness. Do come inside,’ she said, after greeting Adeline warmly and ushering them into the hall. ‘We were beginning to think you might not make it with all this snow—and more on the way by the look of the sky. Still, the children are loving it, and it keeps them occupied so we mustn’t complain.’
Leaving Emma and Benjamin to follow on with the cases, Adeline entered Oaklands. The hall, which was lavishly decked with holly, mistletoe and red-veined tree ivy, was warm and inviting, with happy-faced servants flitting to and fro, and delicious Christmassy smells drifting on the air from the kitchen.
Removing her bonnet and warm coat and handing them to a servant while her father was conversing with Hester, she felt Grant’s presence. Adeline’s gaze was drawn towards him. He stood in the doorway to the drawing room, the daylight shining in from the windows behind him. There was a moment frozen in time when they looked at one another across the days that had gone by since they had parted in London, and then he was striding forward.
Dressed casually, in an open-necked shirt, tweed jacket and cord trousers, he was just as she remembered—his dark hair outlining his darkly handsome face, the same magnetism in his silver-grey eyes, the same firm yet sensual mouth. The hall seemed to jump to life about him as his presence filled it, infusing it with his own energy and vigour.
His eyes having taken their fill of her, Grant let his mouth curl slightly at the corners, suddenly alive with interest as he strode towards her. Adeline could feel the heat of embarrassment creep from her neck up her face. She was conscious of his nearness, of every detail about him once more, and the energy that radiated from him. Unable to drag her eyes away from his, she felt the black wave of apprehension lifting a little.
‘Welcome back to Oaklands,’ he said, shaking hands with Horace before letting his silver-grey gaze sweep over Adeline’s face once more. ‘It’s good to see you both.’
Adeline could do nothing but stare at him. The rush of familiar excitement had caused her to become tongue-tied, strongly affected by the force of his presence.
Emotions swept over her as she remembered the intense passion they had shared. Sometimes at night she imagined him in her bed, and her heart would beat faster—to both her disgust and her rising passion—her thoughts would be in disarray, desire and reason conflicting. Then she would reproach herself. The presence of Diana Waverley in his arms still haunted her, but the eyes looking at her now dared her to fall into the same dangerous trap in which she had allowed herself to be ensnared in London, causing her to lose her self-respect and her sanity.
Pulling herself together, she chose directness. ‘Thank you for inviting us to share the Christmas celebrations with you. We had intended spending it quietly at Rosehill—Father’s illness, you understand—but when Mrs Leighton invited us to Oaklands, Father was easily persuaded.’
He raised a questioning brow. ‘And you, Adeline? Were you easily persuaded?’
‘No,’ she answered truthfully. ‘But I was outnumbered.’
He nodded slightly, knowing just how difficult it must have been for her to come here with matters unresolved between them. ‘I’m glad you were,’ he said quietly, and then went on to say, in a more conversational manner, ‘You will find a large complement of family staying. As you know, my sister Anna and her husband David have travelled over from Ireland with their children. They have brought David’s sister Kathleen and her two children with them. Her husband’s a sailor and somewhere on the high seas. And Roland arrived from India just last week, so it promises to be a lively affair.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting them—and I’m longing to see Lettie again. Is—is she well?’ she ventured to ask.
‘Subdued, but on the whole she is quite well, and looking forward to being reunited with her good friend.’
A woman came to stand behind him. She was fresh-complexioned, and sufficiently like Grant to tell Adeline that this was Anna, his sister. She smiled warmly.
‘You must be Adeline,’ she remarked. ‘I am Anna, and I’m so glad to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you from Lettie that I feel I already know you. You must come and meet David, my husband, and our boisterous brood of three.’
Adeline followed her into the drawing room, where a log fire blazed in the enormous fireplace. Immediately David, a charming, easy-mannered man, handed her a glass of punch. She was overawed by the large gathering, and seemed to be surrounded by an onslaught of people—not only immediate family, but aunts and uncles, and she was sure she was introduced to a major and a lord whose names she couldn’t possibly remember just then. They were all from different parts of the country, and all of them were welcoming, promising a Christmas unlike any other.
Roland’s pale blue eyes appraised Adeline. Friendliness and charm he possessed in good measure, and there was a similarity of features between the two brothers. Like Grant, Roland was dark-haired and tall, but he seemed to lack the power and authority of his older brother. As Grant introduced them she warmed to him as he took her hand and kissed it, bowing with an essence of grace and charm.
‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Osborne.’
‘Please—you must call me Adeline.’ She gave him the warmest of smiles.
His answering grin was roguish, his even teeth very white against the tan of his skin. ‘Thank you. I shall. I’m glad you were able to come, Adeline. Lettie’s been singing your praises ever since I arrived—and I can see why. Are you aware that apart from Lettie you are the only unattached female here?’
Laughter crept into Adeline’s voice when she replied. ‘No, I am not. But I don’t think I’ve ever been made to feel so welcome.’
‘The Leightons are famous for their hospitality—is that not so, Grant?’ he said, slanting a look at his brother, who returned his sideways glance with an identical one of his own, hiding his irritation behind a mask of genteel imperturbability. He knew his brother was trying to bait him. ‘I don’t think anyone would blame me if I took it upon myself to get to know you better before you disappear back to Rosehill.’
Adeline was unable to suppress her laughter. She looked at him directly and smiled enchantingly. ‘Then I would advise you to be careful. You’re liable to turn my head,’ she teased—something the old Adeline would never have dreamt of doing with a complete stranger. ‘Are you always so impetuous with the ladies, Roland?’
‘As far as I am aware a young lady has yet to catch Roland’s eye,’ his mother remarked jokingly as she passed them in a rustle of bronze taffeta to sit beside a rather stout Aunt Maud, who was looking decidedly flushed from imbibing too many glasses of punch. ‘At least one of my sons is still heart and fancy-free—as the saying goes.’ She exchanged a penetrating look with Grant before saying, ‘Is that not so, Grant?’
Grant’s lips twitched in a smile and he merely nodded.
Mrs Leighton’s casual remark went straight to Adeline’s heart, and for a moment she was bewildered. What had she meant by it? Who was the woman that held Grant’s heart?
While Adeline’s attention was diverted elsewhere, Grant moved closer to his brother. ‘Roland,’ he drawled, in a steely voice that was in vivid contrast to the expression of bland courtesy he was wearing for the sake of his guests, ‘while you are at Oaklands, brother mine, feel free to lavish your attentions on any one of the available females from round about, but I am already committed to that particular young lady—as you well know.’ The grooves beside his mouth deepened into a full smile that was complacent and smug. ‘I have no desire to be free of the obligation. Is that clear?’
‘As crystal,’ Roland replied with a low chuckle. Giving his brother a conspiratorial wink, he murmured, ‘Far be it from me to spoil the surprise you have in store for Miss Adeline Osborne,’ before sauntering away.
Trying hard not to look at Grant, Adeline was glad of the distraction when she felt a tug on her dress. She looked down into the shining face of a little boy no more than six, beaming up at her.
‘Hello. I’m Gerald.’
‘And I’m Mary,’ said a little girl with rosy cheeks, huge blue eyes and black curls, perhaps four years old. ‘Would you like to come and see the Christmas tree? I can show you.’
‘Not now, darling,’ Anna said, scooping the child up into her arms. ‘Miss Osborne has only just arrived. There will be plenty of time to show her the tree later.’
‘Oh, but I’d love to see it,’ Adeline said, smiling at Mary. ‘Will you show me, Mary—you, too, Gerald?’
‘Yes,’ they cried in unison, and Mary wriggled out of her mother’s arms and grasped Adeline’s hand.
‘You’ll be sorry,’ Anna warned her laughingly. ‘They’ll never leave you alone now.’
‘I hope not. I think they’re charming.’
‘Off you go, darlings,’ Anna said, shooing them away as another boy and girl of similar ages—Kathleen’s offspring—joined them. ‘Nanny will be down shortly, to whisk you off to the nursery for tea, so be quick.’
‘Uncle Grant must come, too,’ Gerald enthused, jumping up and down with excitement.
Playfully ruffling his nephew’s curls, Grant looked at Adeline and gave her a long-suffering smile. ‘Woe betide me if I refuse.’
Altogether, amidst a great deal of chattering and laughter, the children made a wild dash along the passage to the big library—Adeline and Grant following at a more sedate pace. The door stood open to allow all those who passed a glimpse within and an invitation to step inside.
The children piled in. Holding hands, they advanced towards the light until they stood in the very centre of it. It was a glorious moment of realisation. They stood in a line, as still as statues, gazing with something like awe at the sight that confronted them. There was something magical in the air, and the delicious fragrance of singed fir branches permeated the room.
The Christmas tree, an import from Germany and popularised by Prince Albert, was the centrepiece of the decoration. Surrounded by a multitude of gifts, this particular tree was planted in a brightly decorated tub in the corner of the room and towered high above their heads. Secured at its pinnacle was a beautiful fairy with golden hair, a flowing sequin-spangled white dress and a wand. The tree was brilliantly lit by a multitude of little tapers, and everywhere sparkled and glittered with bright objects, reflecting warmly on the leatherbound gold-lettered books which stocked the shelves that lined the walls.
‘Why, it’s beautiful!’ Adeline exclaimed, as awestruck as the children.
‘And essentially for the children,’ Grant laughed, pointing to a rosy-cheeked doll hiding behind a branch. ‘It’s also dangerous, and Mother makes sure there is always one of the servants with a wet sponge on tree patrol to guard against fire.’ He looked at her. ‘No doubt you celebrate the festive season at Rosehill in similar style?’
‘Yes, and often several elderly relatives come to stay. Sadly we lack children. We always have a tree—but not nearly as large as this.’
Adeline knelt on the floor with the children in front of a nativity scene that had been set up, gazing with wonder at the wooden image of the baby Jesus in the crib, surrounded by figures of people and animals. She laughed when the children enthusiastically began telling her who the figures were supposed to represent, all talking at once, some louder than others, to make themselves heard.
She was rescued by the sudden appearance of Nanny. Wearing a starched white apron, she came bustling in and ushered her young charges out and up to the nursery for tea.
Left alone with Grant, Adeline moved closer to the tree. To be within close proximity to him was agonisingly difficult, and she couldn’t help thinking what a strange situation this was. When she had last seen him she had been furious with him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him again, but here she was, unable to utter a cross word and thoroughly nonplussed by his manner.
Grant perched his hip on the edge of the desk, and a slow, lazy smile swept across his handsome face as his eyes passed over her shapely figure with warm admiration. He watched her tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear before reaching forward and lightly touching a decoration on the tree. For a moment the bodice of her gown stretched tight across the slim back.
The firelight and tree lights had turned her glossy reddish-brown hair a darker shade, touched her lips to a deeper red. Her face was in repose—vulnerable, thoughtful, like the children dreaming of Christmas, dreaming of something wonderful to happen. He had missed her. When he had found her gone from the hotel it had been like an arrow to his heart. How well he remembered the enchanting sexuality that she had brought to his bed, the wanton loveliness.
In his experience with women—and his experience could not be truthfully termed lacking—he had been most selective of those he had chosen to sample. Yet it was difficult to call to mind one as delectable as the one he now scrutinised so carefully. Even now, having known her as well as a man could know a woman, there was a graceful naiveté about Adeline Osborne that totally intrigued him.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked quietly.
Adeline turned her head and found him studying her. ‘Nothing too profound,’ she hedged. ‘Just—things in general.’
‘Care to tell me about them?’
Trying to avoid both his searching gaze and the entire discussion, she looked away at the Christmas tree. ‘They really aren’t worth discussing.’
‘Why don’t you let me decide that?’
She looked back at him, thinking of the short time they had spent together in his hotel rooms, how he had made love to her with that mixture of exquisite tenderness and demanding urgency. Unfortunately, with the passing of time she was finding it more difficult to cling to the illusion that he was her devoted lover. Now she was unhappily aware that the man who had made love to her with such wonderful passion, who had made her feel that she was the only woman he had ever made love to, had also made love to countless others—including Diana Waverley. She had been reduced to the status of an old friend—a passing acquaintance.
Grant had never intended falling in love with her. He had simply needed her then, that was all. She had never loved Paul, so he had never had the power to hurt her. But she did love Grant—with all of her heart—and he did.
‘Have you always been so persistent?’ she said, in answer to his question.
‘Mother always did tell me it was one of my most unattractive qualities.’
Aware that someone had entered the room, Adeline looked beyond him to the doorway. It was Lettie. Adeline’s eyes became riveted on the lovely brunette clad in an emerald-green gown. The two of them looked at each other and slow smiles dawned across their faces. Lettie’s voice was a whisper filled with pure delight.
‘Adeline! I’m so glad you’re here at last.’
As Lettie approached with her arms outstretched, Adeline noted the dramatic changes in her and wondered a little apprehensively if the changes went too deep to be put right. But the ties of friendship pulled them together, and suddenly they were flinging their arms around one another in fierce hugs, laughing joyously.
‘Oh, Adeline, you look wonderful. I’ve missed you so much.’ Lettie laughingly hugged her again.
‘I’ve missed you, too.’
‘How long are you staying?’
‘Until the day after Boxing Day.’
‘Then I shall do my best to try and persuade you to stay longer. Oh, I’m so glad Grant invited you.’
Adeline stiffened. ‘Grant?’ She looked to where he had moved, to lounge gracefully against the window. His hands were thrust deep into his trouser pockets, his jacket open and pushed back to reveal the pristine whiteness of his shirt. He was looking at her with that half mocking expression which she knew so well. ‘You invited us?’
‘Of course he did.’ Lettie was quick to answer for her brother. ‘Didn’t you, Grant?’
‘But I—I thought your mother…’
‘Mother asked you on Grant’s behalf. Is that not so, Grant?’
He nodded, not in the least embarrassed at being found out. ‘I was in France, remember? I wrote to Mother, asking her to invite you and your father.’
‘Oh! I—I didn’t know.’ Suddenly Adeline’s heart almost burst with happiness. Grant did care for her after all. He had wanted her here.
‘While you were in London, as you know, Mother and Horace saw a good deal of each other and became close. When I heard of his sudden illness it got me thinking. I thought that perhaps they would like to spend Christmas together—providing your father had recovered and was fit enough to travel.’
‘Oh—I see,’ Adeline managed, in a relatively normal voice, her heart sinking. And she did see. And the knowing took away the pleasure she had in seeing him again.
She felt as if he had slapped her. He was treating her as if there had been nothing between them—as if they had never shared the intense passion between a man and a woman. It was incredible to her that those arms had held her, that those hands had caressed her, that those firm lips had kissed her. Feeling absolutely wretched, deeply hurt and disappointed, she hoped she did not show her feelings. She should have guessed, of course. He hadn’t been thinking of her at all.
Sensing the distress Adeline was doing her best to conceal, Lettie glowered at her brother, wondering how he could be so insensitive. ‘Grant, stop being obnoxious.’ Slipping an arm through Adeline’s, she smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Ignore him, Adeline. He’s teasing you. You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you, Grant? It’s ages since we saw each other, and I’m so looking forward to catching up.’
‘Go ahead. Adeline hasn’t been shown her room. You can do the honours, Lettie.’
With a blizzard raging outside, dinner was a merry meal. The children were in bed, and everyone was chatting away amicably, with no awkward silences. The topic of conversation varied from the agricultural depression and Captain Webb’s swimming of the channel in August, to the state of the nation. The Major—Grant’s paternal uncle—sat across from them. He was a tall, elderly man with a shock of irongrey hair, who had never married and had fought in the Crimea. Always one to appreciate an audience, he regaled them with tales of his travels throughout Europe and beyond, and told them humorous stories about his time in the army.
Seated beside Lettie, who looked relaxed and was more like her old self, Adeline felt a lightening of her spirits—but she was hurt by Grant’s seeming uninterest.
She would have been surprised to know that she rarely left his sights as he watched her covertly from beneath his lashes.
For the remainder of the evening Grant was the perfect host. Every time Adeline glanced his way he was conversing with another aunt or uncle, her father or his mother, and all the time her heart cried out for him to look at her, for him to come and speak to her, to see the same look in his eyes as when he had made love to her.