“Julia’s companion? You?”

Captain Brabant took a step toward her and Caroline backed away instinctively. One brow arched in ironic amusement as he saw her withdraw. “My dear Miss Whiston, pray do not be alarmed! You have nothing to fear from me. But—a companion! How very inappropriate!”

“I do not know how you could be the judge of such matters, sir!” Caroline snapped, forgetting that he was to all intents and purposes her host, and giving in to her indignation. “Upon my word, you have a strange concept of appropriate behavior! What is appropriate about accosting respectable ladies as they take a walk in the woods? I believe that you have been away at sea so long that you forget your manners!”

She saw him grin. It seemed an unacceptable response to her annoyance.

“Maybe that accounts for it,” he murmured. “Deprived of the improving company of the fair sex…Indeed, ma’am, I think you must be right!”

Nicola Cornick
A Companion of Quality

NICOLA CORNICK

is passionate about many things: her country cottage and its garden, her two small cats, her husband and her writing. Though not necessarily in that order! She has always been fascinated by history, both as her chosen subject at university and subsequently as an engrossing hobby. She works as a university administrator and finds her writing the perfect antidote to the demands of life in a busy office.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

November, 1811

The room faced south-east and in the morning it was full of sun and the light off the sea. Now, in the dark of a November evening, the curtains were drawn against the night and the room was lit by lamp and firelight. The sound of the sea could still be heard, a faint echo through the dark. Lewis Brabant rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes.

“So you’re not in any hurry to go home, then.”

Richard Slater put two glasses of brandy on the table between them and resumed his seat opposite Lewis. His tone had been mildly questioning and for a moment it seemed he would receive no answer. Then Lewis opened his eyes and smiled a little reluctantly.

“No, Richard. I’m damnably sorry to be going home at all! Given a choice, I’d rather be at sea. But there was no choice…”

“That holds true for both of us—for different reasons,” his friend said, the tiniest shade of bitterness in his voice as he cast one rueful glance down at the injured leg that still caused him to limp a little. He picked up the brandy glass and held it up in an ironic toast.

“To the landlocked!”

They clinked glasses. “You have done your prison out well,” Lewis observed, his keen blue gaze travelling around the study approvingly. The walls were panelled like the wardroom of a ship, a brass sextant shone on the table by the window, and over by the bookcases was a fine telescope in a battered leather case.

“At least I still have the smell and sound of the sea,” Richard commented, “unlike you! Northamptonshire’s a dashed odd place for an Admiral to retire! What made your father choose the county in the first place?”

Lewis shrugged. “My mother had family connections in the area and indeed, they seemed happy enough there.” He took a mouthful of brandy and paused to savour the taste. “This is very fine, Richard! French, isn’t it? Was it smuggled in for you?”

Richard grinned. “Devil a bit! A favour from a friend.”

“I know what you mean.” Lewis stretched. “Never fear, I won’t outstay my welcome here, despite the excellence of the brandy! You and your sister have been most hospitable, but I’m for London tomorrow and from there it’s but a day’s drive to Hewly.” He grimaced. “I suppose I must call it home now.”

“Fanny will be sorry to see you go so soon,” Richard murmured, “as will I. If you feel the need to see the sea again—”

“I’ll be working too hard on the estate to spare any thought for my past life!” Lewis ran a hand through his thick, fair hair. He gave his friend a rueful grin. “But perhaps you will both visit me? It would be good to see old friends…”

“Delighted, old chap!” Richard shot him a quizzical look. “Not looking forward to life amidst a parcel of women?”

Lewis put his empty glass down gently on the table between them. “Not a flattering description, Richard, but I take your point! M’sister writes that not only is she joined by our cousin Julia, but now there’s some spinsterish companion to do the knitting and fuss over the flowers! Of all the things I need—some Friday-faced female at the dinner-table!”

“Mrs Chessford could hardly be described in such terms,” Richard said slyly. “You must be eager to see her again!”

Lewis gave his friend a hard stare. “Julia’s always welcome at Hewly, I suppose, though I would deem it a little slow for her tastes!”

Richard nodded. His sister had been in London during the previous season and had returned with plenty of gossip about the dashing widow Julia Chessford. It seemed unlikely, however, that Lewis would appreciate a rehearsal of Mrs Chessford’s amours. There had been a time, Richard knew, when Lewis was more than a little smitten with Julia himself.

“How long is it since you were there?” he asked neutrally, steering the conversation away from areas that were clearly not for discussion.

Lewis sighed. “It was in ’05, just after Trafalgar. Father’s health had already started to decline then, but it was a slow process. It is only since his recent attack that he has been bedridden and incapable of directing his affairs.”

“Does he show any sign of improvement?” Richard limped over to retrieve the brandy decanter and refill their glasses.

Lewis shook his head slowly. “Lavender writes that he is occasionally well enough to sit downstairs, but he recognises no one and speaks not at all. It’s a damnable shame for so active a man.”

“Isn’t Hewly close to Steepwood Abbey?” Richard asked. He leant down to stoke the fire. “Dashed rum place, as I recall. My Uncle Rodney was a crony of Sywell and Cleeve years ago, before he forswore the drink and the gaming tables! The tales he told!”

Lewis laughed. “I don’t believe that Sywell has ever forsaken the drink and the cards—nor the women! Yes, Hewly is close by the Abbey, but I’ve never met the Marquis. By all accounts he continues to scandalise the neighbourhood. M’sister wrote that he had married his bailiff’s ward less than a year past!”

Richard looked amused. “Perhaps Cupid’s dart will strike you too, Lewis! Just the thing to help you settle down and rusticate!”

Lewis raised one eyebrow in a disbelieving grimace. “I thank you, but I do not look to take a wife! Not until I find a woman who can match my last ship!”

“The Dauntless?” Richard laughed. “What were her qualities then, old fellow? I thought she was a leaky old tub that no one else would dare put to sea in!”

“Nonsense!” Lewis grinned mockingly. “She was a beautiful ship! She was elegant and courageous and she would risk all to gain all!” His smile faded. “And until I find a woman to rival her, Richard, I shall stay single!”

Miss Caroline Whiston put her leather-bound book of Shakespearean sonnets to one side with a sigh. No one had ever compared her to a summer’s day, and if they had she would probably have boxed their ears, knowing their intentions could not be honourable. She knew of too many governesses who had made the mistake of believing in romance and had lived to regret it. Even so it would have been pleasant for once—just once—to meet a man who was neither a rake nor a worthy.

Ever since she had become a governess companion some ten years previously, Caroline had secretly classified all the men that she met into these two groups. The rakes predominated. They could be the fathers, brothers, relatives and friends of her youthful charges and they generally considered themselves irresistible, believing that Caroline should feel the same way. These she dealt with using a mixture of severity and hauteur, resorting very occasionally to physical violence to deter their advances. None of them ever persisted. Caroline was not pretty enough to make it worth their while, and she made sure that she concealed rather than accentuated those features that did give her distinction. Her beautiful chestnut hair was ruthlessly drawn back and confined into a bun. She wore drab, shapeless clothing. Her manner instilled respect into both her pupils and their parents alike.

“I say,” the elder brother of her previous charges had complained with feeling, “Miss Whiston has a dashed cutting way with her! I’d sooner kiss a snake than try for some sport there!”

Then there were the worthies. These were not as dangerous as the rakes but had to be deterred all the same. They might include a tutor or curate who would imagine that Caroline would make a suitable helpmeet. To these she was kind but firm. She had no intention of exchanging the drudgery of an upper servant for that of unpaid maid of all work in a vicarage, not even for the respectability of a wedding ring.

Caroline sighed again. She was growing cold, for the November mornings had turned frosty recently and not even the thickness of her winter cloak was proof against the chill that seeped up through her boots and was currently spreading through all her limbs. Her scarlet velvet dress, a most impractical present from the kind-hearted mother of one of her charges, was more for show than warmth. Caroline knew it was an affectation to wear an evening gown when she was out walking in the forest in the dawn, but after all, there was no one to see and it was the only time she could indulge in a little luxury. Still, she should be getting back. She shivered. It was cold, and she would be late, and then Julia would be as sharp and scratchy as only she could be.

Caroline tucked the book into her pocket, picked up her basket and started to pick her way through the undergrowth towards the path. The frosty twigs crunched under her boots. Spiders’ webs whitened with ice shone like spun silver in the sun. It was very quiet. These early mornings were the only solitude that Caroline could find at present, for she was at Julia Chessford’s beck and call all day long and even at night, if Mrs Chessford were suddenly struck down with insomnia. Caroline, who had at first interpreted Julia’s invitation to stay at Hewly as a request from a friend, had been quick to realise that she was in fact nothing more than a servant. The days when the two of them had been schoolgirls together were long gone.

Then there was Admiral Brabant, who required constant nursing and whose illness cast a shadow like a pall over Hewly Manor. His latest attack had occurred some three months previously, before Caroline had come to Hewly, and had left him incapable of running the estate any longer. The servants whispered that the Admiral would not outlast the winter snows and their gloomy predictions added to the general air of misery. Hewly Manor was not a cheerful place.

Life for Caroline might have been very different. She and Julia Chessford had studied together not fifteen minutes’ walk away, at the Guarding Academy in Steep Abbot. In those days, Julia had been Admiral Brabant’s god-daughter and ward, and Caroline had been the daughter of a baronet. A spendthrift baronet, as it had turned out. Caroline could only be grateful that he had staved off his ruin until she was old enough to earn her own living. He had died when she was seventeen, the title had devolved on a distant cousin, and the estate had had to be sold to pay his debts.

Caroline stepped out of the trees and on to the path, and almost immediately heard the sound of horse’s hooves striking against the frosty earth. Whoever was approaching was riding quickly. It sounded like a single horseman coming from the west rather than from the Northampton road to the east. Caroline hesitated. She had no wish to be found alone and loitering in the middle of the wood, and fortunately there was a woodcutter’s tumbledown hut set a little way back from the track. She hurried to take cover there. She did not fear poachers or highwaymen—that would have been foolish imagination—but there was no sense in courting danger by making herself obvious.

As the horseman came around the corner of the path he slowed his mount to a walk, affording Caroline the chance to get a good look at him. She peeked through the broken doorway of the hut and heaved a silent sigh of relief. Here was no rake, she was sure. He looked far more like a worthy, with his fair, fine-drawn looks and air of abstraction. He was neatly but plainly attired in a black coat and buff breeches, and his boots were scuffed from hard riding. No London rake, then, but a sober country gentleman. Medium height, medium build, altogether unremarkable. Perhaps he was a poet enjoying the morning air just as she had been. Caroline kept quite still and waited for him to pass by.

It seemed, however, that the gentleman was in no hurry. She watched as he sprang down from the saddle and pulled the horse’s reins over its head. It was a fine animal, a high-stepping grey with intelligent eyes, and she saw the man stroke its nose and speak quietly to it as he led it along the path towards her. The horse was limping a little and had obviously gone lame. Caroline held her breath and hoped that its rider would not decide to stop for a rest.

It was the mouse that was her undoing. She considered herself an indomitable female, but ever since Julia had put a dead mouse in her bed at school, Caroline had had a fear of tiny furry mammals. This one ran across her foot and she made an involuntary movement, sending the dead leaves swirling through the doorway of the hut and frightening a pheasant that was scratching around outside. The bird flew off giving its harsh cry and the horse, no doubt still unsettled by the incident that had turned it lame, reared up and almost knocked the gentleman to the ground.

Caroline drew back hastily into the shadows but she knew she was too late. Her abrupt movement had revealed a flash of scarlet velvet and it was useless to just stand there pretending that she was invisible. As she hesitated, the gentleman regained his balance and turned sharply towards the hut. For a long moment he stared straight at her, then he dropped the horse’s reins and took a step towards her.

Caroline’s heart was racing suddenly. She knew that the sensible course of action would be to step forward and apologise, but even as she thought this, she was turning to scramble through a gap in the back wall and stumble down amongst the leaves and brambles on the other side.

Her legs were shaking as she tried to steady herself and tear her cloak from the grip of the rough masonry that snagged at the material. She heard the scrape of loose stone behind her and was filled with a heady panic. Surely he was not following her! He had looked so harmless, so very worthy…

It was at that moment that Caroline discovered the extent of her mistake. A hand caught hold of her wrist and pulled her round to face him with a force that almost knocked the breath from her body. The hood of her cloak fell back and her hair tumbled all about her shoulders. She grasped instinctively at his arm for support, and felt the hard muscle beneath her fingers, the indisputable evidence of a man in excellent physical condition. So much for her thoughts of a dreamy poet with more interest in pursuits of the intellect than those of the body! Caroline raised her gaze to his face and discovered that the far-seeing eyes that she had imagined were dwelling on some piece of verse were a hard blue, cold as a stormy sea. For a long moment they stared at each other, and then Caroline saw a hint of laughter lighten his face and for some reason she felt her legs tremble again.

“Well…” There was lazy amusement in the man’s voice. “Not the poacher I’d expected, but I cannot find it in me to be sorry! Hold still, sweetheart—” He had felt her struggle and held on to her with insulting ease. “You owe me something at least for frightening my horse!”

Not a worthy but a rake, Caroline found herself thinking, as she felt him shift his grip a little so that he could pull her into his arms. This had to be the first time that she had made such an error of judgement, and she was not the only one.

“You are making a mistake—” Her words were lost as she found herself being thoroughly kissed. The roughness of his cheek brushed hers; he smelled of leather and fresh air and lemon cologne. It was delicious and she was utterly shocked with herself for even thinking so.

“You were saying?”

The gentleman had let her go sufficiently to look down into her face. Caroline saw his eyes sweep appreciatively over her chestnut curls and linger on the red evening gown. And no wonder. It was cut low and she could feel the sting of the cold air against her bare skin. Drawing her cloak closely about her, Caroline glared at him.

“I was trying to tell you that you were making a mistake…” The words came out with considerably less than her usual authoritative ring. She cleared her throat and frowned slightly. He was watching her with the same lazy mockery that she had heard in his voice and it distracted her.

“What I mean is…You should not…I am not—”

“I would hate you to think that I had kissed you by mistake, ma’am,” the gentleman said politely, and it seemed to Caroline that he was wilfully misunderstanding her. “I cannot possibly let you go under such a misapprehension. Allow me…”

Caroline gave a little squeak of dismay as he pulled her close again. This was a deeper kiss. Her lips parted under the skilful pressure of his. He tasted cold. Sensation swept through Caroline and left her shivering. She could not believe what was happening to her and could not begin to understand why she was letting it happen. With a supreme effort of will she tried to free herself again, and he let her go immediately.

“Listen to me.” She put a hand out as though to ward him off, although he had made no further move towards her. “I am trying to explain to you that you are making a serious error, sir! I am not what you think me, and you, sir—” She broke off, unusually lost for words as she considered his face.

She had been wrong to think his looks fine-drawn. On a woman, the high cheekbones and chiselled features might have appeared delicate, but there was too much authority and determination in his face to give any hint of weakness. Those blue eyes held a disconcerting look of appraisal and the thick fair hair that Caroline had wanted to touch…She cleared her throat self-consciously, aware that he was still watching her.

“I believe that you must be Captain Brabant,” she said, with as much composure as she could muster. “I am Caroline Whiston. I am staying at the Manor.”

A frown had come into the gentleman’s eyes, replacing the look of appreciative amusement that had lingered there. This time when his gaze considered her it held no warmth. Caroline drew herself up a little. She dared not think what she looked like, her hair all tousled and her lips rosy from his kisses.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said slowly, “but are we acquainted? Or do you include clairvoyance in your gifts, that you already know my name?”

It was on the tip of Caroline’s tongue to say that she felt he had treated her as rather more than an acquaintance already, but she knew that there was no point in provoking further trouble. There was no doubt that this could only be Lewis Brabant and she cursed herself that she had not recognised him from the start. His resemblance to his sister was sufficiently strong that she should have guessed his identity straight away, rather than realising only when he was at close quarters. Very close quarters, she amended. And now she was well and truly in the suds, since this man was heir to Hewly Manor and, more to the point, Julia’s former fiancé…

She realised that Captain Brabant was still awaiting her response and dropped a slight curtsey.

“No, sir, we have not met,” she said, with tolerable composure, “but you have a great look of your sister about you so it is small wonder that I recognised you. The household has been expecting you home this se’ennight and more.”

“I see,” Captain Brabant said, and Caroline had the disconcerting feeling that he saw more than was comfortable. She reflected ruefully that she felt much as the cabin boy must have done when Captain Brabant was inspecting his crew on the quarterdeck. Those blue eyes were disturbingly perceptive.

“Forgive me, Miss Whiston,” he said, “but when you said that you were a guest at the Manor—”

Caroline felt a blush rising. “You misunderstand me, sir,” she said hastily. “I am not a guest of your father’s but companion to your cousin…to Mrs Chessford.”

“Julia’s companion? You?” Captain Brabant took a step towards her and Caroline backed away from him instinctively. One brow arched in ironic amusement as he saw her withdraw. “My dear Miss Whiston, pray do not be alarmed! You have nothing to fear from me! But—a companion! How very inappropriate!”

“I do not know how you could be a judge of such matters, sir!” Caroline snapped, forgetting that he was to all intents and purposes her host, and giving in to her indignation. “Upon my word, you have a strange concept of appropriate behaviour! What is appropriate about accosting respectable ladies as they take a walk in the woods? I believe that you must have been away at sea so long that you forget your manners!”

She saw him grin. It seemed an unacceptable response to her annoyance.

“Maybe that accounts for it,” he murmured. “Deprived of the improving company of the fair sex…Indeed, ma’am, I think you must be right!”

“Fustian, sir!” Caroline retorted, the colour flaring in her face. “I do not believe that you have been deprived of female companionship! Such freedom of manner argues that the reverse is true—” She broke off, realising that this exasperating man had driven her to express views that should have remained private. Severe Miss Whiston never normally allowed herself a vulgar display of opinion. It was not at all proper for a governess companion.

She bit back her words, trying to ignore the Captain’s infuriating smile. “Well, that is nothing to the purpose!” she finished sharply. “Good day, sir! I shall leave you to complete your journey alone.”

“That seems rather pointless when we are both travelling in the same direction,” the Captain said politely. “Permit me to escort you back, Miss Whiston! We may become better acquainted!”

Caroline gritted her teeth. That was the last thing she wanted, and if Julia should witness Captain Brabant’s arrival at the Manor with her in attendance…Well, it did not really bear thinking about.

“No, indeed—”

“Perhaps you could explain why you were running away from me,” the Captain continued affably, as though she had not spoken. “After all, it was your own behaviour that sparked the whole incident!”

Caroline blushed. She knew that he was right, but felt it was not gallant of him to remind her. “I apologise, sir,” she said tightly. “I fear I was nervous. You must think it quite odd in me—”

“I do! To startle my horse and then to run off as though you were a miscreant! What was I to do?”

“You cannot truly have thought me a poacher, sir—” Caroline stopped, realising that she was once again being drawn into a ridiculous conversation.

“Not once I had caught you, of course,” Captain Brabant said, with a quirk of his brows. “When I was holding you, I thought—”

“Thank you, sir, it is best forgotten, I think!”

The Captain seemed undiscouraged. “This must be yours, I think, ma’am.” He was holding out her book of sonnets to her. “Shakespeare? Do you also read the romantic poets?”

Caroline practically snatched the book from his hand, thrusting it back into her pocket. Why must the man insist on making conversation?

“I have little time,” she said crossly.

“For poetry or for romance?” Once again he was smiling at her quizzically.

Caroline concentrated on picking her way through the brambles and did not reply.

“You would probably find walking more comfortable in suitable clothing,” the Captain continued, from close behind her. “That evening dress, whilst most appealing, is not very practical. Though with the boots,” he sounded as though he was giving the matter real consideration, “it is particularly fetching—”

Caroline set her lips in a tight line and still said nothing. She could not believe how unfortunately everything was falling out. Here was Captain Brabant, authoritative, assured and utterly unlike Julia had described him. Why could he not have been the gentle dreamer of Julia’s memory, or at the least a bluff old sea-dog with hair prematurely grey and an everlasting fund of boring tales? She watched him covertly as he retrieved his horse from the forest edge, where it had been happily munching its way through a brambly hedge. She was forced to acknowledge that there was something powerfully attractive about Captain Brabant’s loose-limbed grace, something deceptive about that air of abstraction. A thinker as well as a man of action. In Caroline’s experience that made him all the more dangerous.

It was the worst possible luck that they were obliged to be under the same roof, but she comforted herself with the thought that she need not see him much. Now that he knew she was not a guest but a servant his interest must surely wane, and any further unsuitable interest would have to be discouraged. It was a pity that he did not have enough proper feeling himself to understand the indelicacy of their circumstances. She was sure that she could hear him whistling under his breath, a sure sign that he did not take the situation seriously.

“Your basket, Miss Whiston.”

Caroline jumped. Captain Brabant gave her a slight bow and presented her with the woven reed basket, a few solitary mushrooms rolling around in its base. She had dropped it when she ran away, and she could see the rest of her crop scattered about on the path and in the undergrowth. He followed her gaze.

“We could pick them all up, I suppose,” he mused, “although in a ballgown it would be quite difficult—”

“Pray do not put yourself to any trouble, Captain!” Caroline said hastily, feeling cross and foolish in equal measure. Would the man never cease to remind her of her idiocy in wandering about in the scarlet dress? Now she was well served for her vanity! The dress would be banished to the back of the wardrobe and never see the light of day again!

She reluctantly allowed Captain Brabant to fall into step beside her as they made their way along the path towards Steep Abbot. Caroline tried to preserve a chilly silence, but found that that seemed to make her even more aware of the Captain’s presence at her side. Eventually she was forced into speech by her own self-consciousness.

“Did you have a good journey home, Captain?” she asked politely, picking on the most innocuous topic she could think of. Lewis Brabant smiled at her. It was decidedly unsettling.

“Yes, I thank you. I spent a few nights in London on my way up from Portsmouth. It was strange to be back.”

“Cold as well, I shouldn’t wonder,” Caroline said encouragingly, glad to see that he was capable of holding a proper conversation. “After the Mediterranean, autumn in England must seem very cold.”

There was now a decided twinkle in the Captain’s eye. “Oh, decidedly, ma’am! Cold and wet.”

“It has not rained here for several weeks, although the summer was very wet,” Caroline observed, ignoring the fact that he was now grinning. She knew he was funning her but she was determined to disregard it. She knew how to behave even if he did not.

“I had also forgotten,” the Captain said conversationally, “how the English are obsessed with the weather! Or perhaps,” he turned slightly to look at her face, “it is a defence against too personal a conversation? One thing I have not forgotten is society’s ability to discuss trivia for hours!”

Caroline knew what he meant and she agreed with him. She had spent many a long hour in various drawing-rooms, listening to ladies chatter inconsequentially about something and nothing, gossiping on fortune, connections and scandal. It was galling to think that she was sounding just as hen-witted as they. Yet how to avoid it? She already suspected that Captain Brabant was a man who had little time for prevarication and she felt she had to keep him at arm’s length.

She put up the hood of her cloak. The morning was chilly, though the sun was now breaking through the branches. She knew she looked most disheveled, with her hair in disarray, and she was anxious not to arrive at the Manor looking as though she had been dragged through a hedge—or thoroughly kissed.

“Ah,” she heard the smile in Captain Brabant’s voice, “there are other defences, are there not, Miss Whiston? Hiding away inside your cloak must be one of them! So I suppose that it is out of the question to ask you to tell me a little about yourself? After all, we shall be sharing a roof…”

Caroline did not like the sound of that. The implied intimacy made her blush and she was glad of the concealment of the hood. They had reached the edge of the wood now, and Lewis held the gate for her before leading the horse through. The path crossed the Steep River and approached the village. The river ran in lazy bends here, bounded by trees that in the summer bent down towards the slow, brown waters. This morning, with the sun gilding the frosty branches and glittering on the water, it looked very pretty.

“There is little to tell,” Caroline said, coolly. “I am a very dull subject. I have been a governess for eleven years, since I left the Guarding Academy, and I am now Mrs Chessford’s companion. A paid companion,” she added, to make her meaning crystal clear. For a long moment, blue eyes met blue, then Lewis Brabant nodded slightly.

“No one is ever as dull as they pretend, Miss Whiston! A lady’s companion who walks in the forest wearing a ballgown and reading Shakespeare seems extraordinary rather than ordinary to me!”

Caroline could feel her colour rising again. “Nevertheless…I wish you will not pursue it, sir!”

“As you wish…” Caroline could feel him watching her. “I did not realise that you were a school-friend of Julia’s,” he added thoughtfully. “I do not remember…”

“That is hardly surprising,” Caroline said sharply. In her experience, the relatives of her old schoolfriends, particularly the male ones, had no recollection of her at all. How could they, when she paled into invisibility beside Julia’s golden beauty?

Captain Brabant raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Very well, Miss Whiston, we will change the subject, since you evidently think it unsuitable! You are the paid companion here—scarce better than a servant!” His tone had taken on a sarcastic edge. “Far be it from me to overstep the social distinctions that clearly form the boundaries of your life!”

They had passed the Guarding Academy now and had turned down the cobbled lane that led to the Manor, walking at least four feet apart. Caroline clenched her fists in her pockets. She told herself that she had wanted Captain Brabant to observe the proprieties and it was therefore contrary to feel ill-used when he did precisely that.

They approached the gate of the Manor in silence and Caroline’s heart sank to see the Captain’s frown deepen as his gaze fell on his inheritance. The five-bar gate was rotten and a couple of the spars had broken off. The wall had long ago tumbled into the road and the drive beyond was overgrown with weeds and grasses. It was almost impossible to distinguish the formal gardens from the orchards, for all was a wilderness.

“Much has changed, has it not?” Lewis Brabant said under his breath, and Caroline felt his gaze linger on her as though she were part of a new, unwelcome order. It was not a pleasant feeling.

The clock on the stables read ten thirty, and somewhere in the house Caroline heard the echo of chimes. She winced. Julia might well be awake by now and wanting help with her toilette. She turned to Lewis Brabant, whose face was set in tense lines as he surveyed his home.

“I will go and tell them that you are here, sir. Excuse me—”

She pushed at the wicket gate leading into the gardens, slipping on the damp moss underfoot in her haste to get inside. Immediately the Captain’s arm was about her waist, steadying her and holding her close.

“For all your objections, fate seems determined to throw us together, Miss Whiston,” he murmured in her ear.

“The stables are that way, sir,” Caroline said crossly, trying to free herself. He did not remove his arm and she was obliged to push hard against his chest to make him let her go. She heard him laugh.

“I know it. I was brought up here, if you recall—” He broke off and straightened up suddenly, his arms falling away from her. Caroline spun round. One of the upstairs windows of the Manor was open and a figure was leaning out. Her hair was like spun gold on the breeze. She looked like the princess in a fairy story. Caroline bit her lip.

“Lewis!” the vision called out. “You are home!”

“Julia!”

Caroline heard Lewis Brabant say the name softly and felt a strange pang of envy. She watched with rueful disbelief as he dropped the reins, pushed the gate open and strode towards the main door. Caroline turned away abruptly, took hold of the horse’s bridle and led the grey down the lane towards the stables.

“So that is why Julia has been betrothed three times, married and widowed all in the space that I have been governess and companion to three families!” she whispered in the horse’s silky ear. “Alas that I could study for years and never achieve such a result!”

The horse whickered softly and shook his head, as though in agreement. Caroline sighed as she handed him over to the groom, instructing the lad to take a look at the injured leg. That was that, then. It seemed that Julia would have little difficulty in engaging Captain Brabant’s affections once again. Perhaps Lewis had never really forgotten her, despite all that had happened since the two of them had last met. As for his behaviour in the wood, it only served to show him to be a man who trifled with the feelings of others and could not be trusted. Caroline thrust her hands into the pockets of the cloak and reflected that the Captain would receive a dusty answer were he to try such shabby tricks on her again.

Chapter Two

“Pray be careful with those curling tongs, Caroline!” Julia Chessford said fretfully, moving her head to one side to admire the fall of golden ringlets about her shoulders. “I declare, you are as ham-fisted as a scullery-maid!”

Caroline resisted an immediate urge to press the hot tongs against Julia’s ear. “I fear I am no turn at these matters, not being a trained ladies’ maid,” she said evenly. “It is unfortunate that you gave Letty the evening off—”

“Oh, the worst chance imaginable!” Julia agreed, smiling as she considered her reflection in the mirror. “But how was I to know that Lewis would choose this of all days to return home? Such bad luck quite oversets one’s plans, but we must make shift as best we can! Do hurry, Caroline! We are to dine in ten minutes!”

Caroline moved across to the closet to fetch Julia’s wrap, watching as her former friend stood up and turned around slowly to consider her appearance. There was no denying that Julia looked very beautiful. She had huge blue eyes that gave a misleading impression of sweetness and innocence, and the thick golden hair curled lusciously about her rounded face. Her lips were a perfect bow shape, her nose small and straight. Caroline, blessed with a set of features that were less regular, tried to repress her envy. She would not have exchanged her own informed mind for Julia’s less enquiring one at any price, but sometimes she could not help coveting Julia’s beauty.

“That will do very well,” Julia said with a little, self-satisfied smile. “I am sure Lewis will scarce be able to resist! After all, he has been away at sea a long time and must be delighted to gain some female companionship!”

Once again, Caroline felt the sharp, irrational pang of jealousy. Judging by Lewis Brabant’s behaviour in the woods, she thought that Julia was probably right.

“Miss Brabant told me that Richard Slater has a sister,” she heard herself saying, “so no doubt the Captain has had time to polish his address in Lyme before coming here!”

Julia gave her a sharp glare. “I have met Fanny Slater, Caroline, and I do not think I need consider her a rival!” She smoothed the silk of her skirts with a loving hand. “No indeed, she is a plain woman and has no conversation! And Lewis has already given the impression that he is more than glad to see me again…”

Caroline turned away to hide her face, busying herself by straightening the pots and bottles on Julia’s dressing-table. The room, decorated with swathes of pink satin and spindly white furniture, was a shrine to Julia’s beauty.

“You are in earnest then, Julia? You wish to rekindle your romance with Captain Brabant?”

Julia shrugged carelessly. “La, why not? It should provide some fun in this tediously dull place! Besides,” she gave Caroline a sparkling look, “Lewis is rather attractive, is he not? He has changed since I met him last and I believe he could be quite a challenge! What do you think, Caroline?”

“I have no idea,” Caroline said sharply, bringing forward Julia’s wrap. “I am not accustomed to considering gentlemen in such way!”

“La, I should think not!” Julia’s gaze was faintly malicious as it swept over her companion. “That would be most inappropriate for a governess and could lead to all manner of difficulties! You will not be dining with us tonight,” she continued, taking the wrap without a word of thanks. “You may take a tray in your room, Caroline. It is bad enough having to share Lewis’s homecoming with that little milksop of a sister of his, without augmenting our party further!”

She let the wrap slide over her white arms and sighed. “Lord, it is so slow living in the country! Now that Lewis is back I hope for some more invitations! I am sure that the Percevals will call, and perhaps even the Cleeves—did I tell you that I met the Countess in Town last year, Caroline, and she was most gracious to me! And now that we are neighbours…”

Caroline let the words flow over her head. She had heard quite enough of Julia’s social pretensions in the last few weeks. The Cleeve and Perceval families had shown no inclination for a closer friendship with their neighbours at Hewly. They had been perfectly cordial on the few occasions that Julia and Caroline had encountered them in Abbot Quincey, but no invitations to visit had followed. When Julia had decided to call at Jaffrey House and Perceval Hall, the ladies were apparently not at home. Caroline had seen this as an unmistakable snub, but Julia had shrugged it off airily and persisted in her belief that they would all become great friends in time. For her part, Caroline suspected that the great families of the neighbourhood probably considered Julia encroaching and bad Ton, or even worse, not Ton at all.

“Speaking of the local aristocracy, I heard such a truly diverting piece of gossip this morning, Caro!” Julia spun round to fix her companion with bright, gleeful eyes. “Only guess what has happened!”

Caroline bit her lip. “I am sure that you will tell me—”

“Oh, you are so stuffy, pretending to a lack of interest! This is the most prime piece of news! The butcher’s boy brought the story from the village—the on dit is that the Marchioness of Sywell has run away!”

Caroline stared. She remembered the notorious Marquis of Sywell from her time at the Guarding Academy, for his debauchery and wickedness had been a byword in the Abbey villages. Scarce a week had passed without his depravity being denounced in the local pulpits, rousing much speculation amongst the young ladies of the school as to the precise nature of the Marquis’s iniquity. Once she had left the school, Caroline had gradually lost touch with the gossip of Steep Abbot and its environs, but on her return, Julia had been quick to update her on all of consequence. She had related the tale of the Marquis’s ramshackle marriage with great excitement, but Caroline, deploring tittle-tattle, had not paid attention to half of it. Now it seemed that an even greater scandal had followed.

“The Marchioness?” Caroline said slowly. “But surely you told me that they have been married for less than a year—”

Julia clapped her hands. “I know! Is it not piquant! They said it would all end in tears, what with him being mad and thrice her age, and she being the strange creature she is!”

Caroline sat down on the end of the bed. “Was she strange? I had not heard so—”

“Oh Caro, you must have heard the old story!” Julia looked eager. There was nothing she liked more than some scurrilous tale. “Surely I told you already! The Marchioness was ward to the Abbey bailiff—or the bailiff’s by-blow, more like! Do you not remember? John Hanslope went off in his cart one day and returned with a child! He said she was his ward and his wife educated her at home, for she had been a governess like yourself! We never saw hair nor hide of the girl—she never came into the village, or visited their neighbours, and you must concede that that is odd!”

Julia paused to adjust the bandeau restraining her curls, then resumed. “I suppose you would not remember the chit’s arrival, for it was just after your papa died and you had left Mrs Guarding’s Academy. But surely I wrote to tell you all about it? I would certainly have written to relate so choice a piece of news!”

“I am sure you would,” Caroline murmured.

“Of course, at one time I was hoping to marry the Marquis myself,” Julia said brightly, peering into the mirror to view her reflection the better, “but he was always a drunken old rake and Mrs B., the Admiral’s wife, would not let me near him! Anyway, his taste obviously runs to the lower orders for the bailiff’s ward to catch his notice!”

She picked up her reticule. “I suppose the dinner gong will sound in a moment, but I must just finish the tale! When Mrs Hanslope, the bailiff’s wife, died, he seemed uncertain of what to do with the girl and apprenticed her to some tradesman in Northampton, I believe, no doubt thinking that she might learn a useful profession! Anyway, she returned when Hanslope was on his deathbed, and made that shocking marriage to the Marquis! Scandalous!”

Caroline, remembering the spiteful delight with which Julia had imparted the tale of the Marquis’s marriage, sighed a little. The Abbey villages had always been a hotbed of gossip—no doubt it was the same in any rural community—and probably there were precious few people with a kind word to say about the Marchioness.

“Where do they think she has gone?” she asked dubiously. “With no friends and no one to help her—”

Julia shrugged carelessly. “Heaven knows! But she is well served for her folly and greed, is she not! Presuming to marry a Marquis when she was a little nobody and probably quite unpresentable! No wonder that the villages can talk of little else!”

“What does Mr Hanslope have to say on all this?” Caroline asked slowly.

“Why, nothing! John Hanslope died a few months ago, just after the Marquis married his ward!” Julia said happily. “Is it not the most engrossing tale, Caroline! Louise was her name. The bastard child of the bailiff! Each time Sywell did something outrageous they said that he could not possibly do worse, but of course he always did! And no doubt the girl was no better than she ought to have been, so there is one way that she might keep herself in the future—”

Caroline stood up. She had heard enough of Julia’s spite. “Well, it is an extraordinary tale, for sure, but—”

The gong sounded for dinner. Julia gave her golden curls one last, satisfied pat. “There! I shall not be needing you again tonight, Caroline, for Letty will be back in time to help me undress.”

She swept out of the bedroom and down the curving stair. Caroline followed more slowly. Hewly Manor was a small house, dating in part from the fourteenth century, and whilst Julia deplored the inconvenience of the draughty old rooms and the lack of modern comforts, Caroline admired the style and elegance of previous centuries. The wooden stair led from the main landing directly down to the flagstone hall, where the dinner gong still reverberated softly. The Admiral had always insisted on military precision in his household and it was only recently, when his illness had become so much more severe, that standards had started to slip a little.

Julia grumbled that the food was always late and often cold, the service slipshod, and the servants paid her no heed. She felt was all of a piece with the dilapidation of the house and the estate, but Caroline’s observation was that the servants were willing enough, but had no direction and no one to really care about them. She wondered what Lewis Brabant would make of all this neglect and reflected that she would not like to be in his servants’ shoes. She already knew that Captain Brabant could be somewhat intimidating.

Caroline paused on the landing, taking care to stay well back in the shadows. She watched Julia descend slowly and saw her pause briefly before the long mirror that hung on the half-landing. Then, apparently satisfied with her appearance, she went down to join the Captain.

Caroline could see Lewis waiting at the bottom of the stair. The light fell on his upturned face as he watched Julia approach, and Caroline caught her breath. In his evening clothes, the dust from his journey washed away, he was elegance personified. The blue eyes that had regarded her so stonily earlier now rested on Julia with warm appreciation. That firm mouth held the hint of a disturbing smile. She saw Lewis straighten up and step forward to take Julia’s hand. It was strange, but for a moment Caroline had some impression of restlessness about him, as though he already found the confines of the house chafing on him. It was only a momentary feeling, but it made Caroline wonder. A man who was used to the limitless expanse of the ocean could well find the boundaries of a country estate too restrictive.

“Good evening, Julia.” Caroline saw Lewis press a kiss on Julia’s hand. “Lavender is already down, but does Miss Whiston not join us for dinner?”

Caroline caught her breath. How would Julia respond to that, when she had been the one to forbid Caroline from accompanying them?

“Oh, Caro is a most retiring creature,” Julia said with a ravishing smile, taking Lewis’s arm. “I tried to persuade her to join us but she was positive in her refusal! She is the most perfect companion, you know, so discreet and unassuming. Now Lewis, I want to hear all about your adventures! I am utterly agog, my dear…”

The door of the drawing-room closed behind them. Caroline felt an uncharacteristic urge to stamp her foot. It was not that she had wished to take dinner with the family, but overhearing Julia’s misrepresentations was too much. Even as a schoolgirl, Julia had had an uncanny knack of twisting the truth to present herself in the best possible light, and it seemed that this ability had not diminished in time.

Caroline vented her feelings by slamming her bedroom door behind her. It was childish but it made her feel better. Normally she was capable of dismissing the slights and irritations of her working life. After all, she had endured many such in the time since she had left the Guarding Academy. For some reason, however, working at Hewly Manor was proving more difficult. Perhaps it was because she and Julia had once been friends but were now effectively mistress and servant; perhaps it was because of the memories stirred up by being in Steep Abbot again. And now, Caroline thought honestly, it was because of Lewis Brabant. Now that she had met him, she found she did not like the thought of Julia’s plans of entrapment, which was odd, since she had dismissed the man as the veriest rake.

On impulse, Caro went across to her bed and pulled out the old carpet-bag that was hidden beneath. In it she kept her most treasured possessions. There were scant few: her book of sonnets, a fine gold pendant and matching brooch inherited from her mother, her grandfather’s fob watch. There was also a pile of letters received from Julia over the years.

Julia’s communications had been erratic. After she had married and moved from Steep Abbot she had not written for several years, but in her widowhood she had struck up a correspondence again. Caroline often wondered why she had bothered to keep the letters and had come to the conclusion that it was because they constituted a link with Steep Abbot and her childhood. Added to which, Julia’s writing, whilst no great prose, was as entertaining as it was malicious.

Caroline turned to the early letters, the ones that Julia had sent when Caroline had taken up her first post as a governess in Yorkshire, and Julia had left the Guarding Academy and was living at Hewly under the chaperonage of the Honourable Mrs Brabant. She scanned the closely written lines until she found the bit that she was looking for.

“…Life is so dull now that you are gone, dearest Caro. Mrs B., whilst very amiable, is the most idle of creatures and will scarce take me anywhere! I am desperate for a season in Town! How else shall I find myself a husband? I shall end up setting my cap at Andrew, though he is the dullest of them all with his hunting and his fishing…”

Caroline raised her eyebrows. Andrew Brabant’s dreariness had not prevented Julia from contracting an engagement to him at a later date. But that was not the bit that interested her—at least, not yet. Here it was:

“Lewis is down from Oxford,” she read. “I believe he fancies himself as a poet, for he is most romantical, with a lock of hair falling into his eyes and a dreamy air. He is forever quoting verse and striking a pose. It would be fun to see if I could make him fall in love with me! That would be just the thing for a poet and might even improve his bad verse! Perhaps I shall try…

“You must remember Mrs Taperley, the farrier’s wife? The on dit is that her new baby was fathered by none other than the Marquis of Sywell—they say the little boy is the very image! Mrs B. takes great care to keep me out of Sywell’s way, as you might imagine, but I should rather like to catch a Marquis!

“The Admiral talks of nothing but this horrid War, and is very dreary…”

There was more. Reams and reams of Julia’s news and gossip. Caroline skipped a couple of letters and found another:

“Dearest Caro, the most diverting news! Lewis has asked me to marry him! I knew I could bring him up to scratch and indeed he is head over ears in love with me! He is to go to sea and wished us to become betrothed before he left. He is sure that the Admiral will make no demur, and indeed he might not, for have I not twenty thousand pounds? For my part, I fear that Lewis may be away some time and cannot imagine how I shall go on…I persuaded him that the engagement should remain secret…I saw Hugo Perceval in the village last week and thought him most handsome…”

Caroline sighed. She stuffed the letters back in the bag and pushed it out of sight under the bed. It seemed that Lewis Brabant had only been the first of Julia’s conquests. It was not long before the Admiral’s ward had transferred her affections to the older brother, and had entered into a more formal engagement. Julia had confided that the Admiral and his wife had not liked the match above half, but that she was determined to cut a dash in the neighbourhood as Mrs Andrew Brabant. Alas for Julia, the plan had been thwarted by the fever that carried off both Andrew and his mother, but it was not long before she had received an offer from Andrew’s best friend, Jack Chessford…Jack had been handsome and rich, and Julia had achieved her aim of going to London at last. There had been no more letters until the one telling Caroline that Jack was dead in a carriage accident, the money was almost exhausted and Julia intended to make her home with her godfather, whose own health had deteriorated so markedly in recent years. Of Lewis, there had been no further mention at all.

That was until Caroline had come to Hewly to be Julia’s companion. She shifted a little uncomfortably as she remembered how quickly she had got the measure of Julia’s plans. As soon as Julia had discovered that Lewis Brabant was returning home, she declared that she intended to set her cap at him once more. Nor did she seem to see anything wrong in her plan to entrap him for her own amusement. Caroline sighed. Natural delicacy gave her an aversion to the idea, no matter how much she told herself that Lewis Brabant probably deserved such a fate, but she could scarcely warn him. Besides, Julia’s feelings might be rather shallow at present, but it was not for Caroline to say that a deeper affection might not develop. She felt unaccountably depressed at the thought.

There was a knock at the door and Nurse Prior stuck her head round the door. A diminutive Yorkshirewoman, she had been nanny to all the Brabant children and had come out of retirement on the estate to nurse the Admiral after he was taken ill. Caroline and she had taken to each other quickly, each recognising the other’s virtues. Mrs Prior had confided in an unguarded moment that Julia was about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, and had been appreciative of Caroline’s help in the sickroom.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Whiston, but would you be so good as to sit with the Admiral for a little whilst I take my meal? The poor gentleman has not been so good today, and I don’t like to leave him…”

Caroline jumped up. Over the past few weeks she had become accustomed to sitting with the Admiral whilst Mrs Prior took a rest. Julia never went near her godfather if she could help it, proclaiming herself too delicate for such unpleasantness, but Lavender, the Admiral’s daughter, often took a turn to read to her father. Whether the Admiral was aware of any of them or not was a moot point. Often he would lie with his eyes open for hours on end, neither moving nor speaking. Sometimes he was voluble, but the words made little sense and he had to be soothed into a calmer frame of mind. If he were feeling well, he might get up and take a short turn about the garden, or sit in the drawing-room for a little, but he never gave any indication that he knew where he was or what was happening around him. Caroline, who remembered him from her youth as a strong, upright and active man, thought it a terrible pity.

The sickroom was in near-darkness, with only one candle burning on the table beside the bed. The Admiral lay on his back, gnarled hands resting on the coverlet, eyes closed. Caroline sat down beside the bed and picked up the book of naval stories that Lavender had evidently been reading earlier in the day. There was no sound but the Admiral’s wheezing breath and the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. She started to read very softly.

Afterwards she could not believe that she had fallen asleep, but it had evidently been so, for she found that the book had slipped to her lap and her head had nodded forward. The candle had burned down a considerable way and the door was opening.

“I did not expect to find you here, ma’am.”

Caroline had been expecting Mrs Prior to return, but it was Lewis Brabant who now came forward into the glow of the candlelight. The flickering flame made him appear very tall and cast his face into shadow. He was still in his evening clothes and held a glass of brandy in one hand. Feeling suddenly flustered, Caroline got to her feet.

“Oh! Captain Brabant! Yes, I was sitting with your father whilst Mrs Prior had her dinner, but it seems—” She glanced at the clock in confusion, suddenly aware that it was much later than she had thought.

“The kitchen maid cut herself on the vegetable knife and Mrs Prior has been bandaging her up,” Lewis Brabant said with a smile. “I am sorry that you have been delayed, Miss Whiston. I am happy to sit with my father for a little now, and allow you to join my sister and Mrs Chessford in the drawing-room.”

The prospect held little allure for Caroline, who could not think of many less enjoyable ways to finish the evening. Lewis was looking at his father’s sleeping face and his expression was sombre.

“How has he been, Miss Whiston? Mrs Prior tells me that today has not been one of his better days.”

“The Admiral has been asleep whilst I have been here,” Caroline said, a little hesitantly. “It is true that he has not stirred much today. Sometimes he is quite lively and even takes a walk in the gardens on fine days! And often he will talk to us—” She broke off, aware of Lewis Brabant’s gaze resting on her face with disconcerting intentness.

“You must have spent a great deal of time with him,” he said. “I thank you for that, Miss Whiston. It is kind of you.”

“Well…” Caroline found herself uncomfortable with his gratitude but did not wish to appear so ungracious as to dismiss it. People so seldom thanked her for anything she did. Besides, it was true that caring for the Admiral was not a part of her duties and she had undertaken it to help Mrs Prior and Lavender.

“Mrs Prior is a devoted nurse,” she said guardedly, “but even she needs a rest occasionally. I believe she would work her fingers to the bone otherwise!”

“She was always the same,” Lewis said, smiling ruefully. “Did Nanny Prior tell you that she was nurse to us all, and to my mother’s family before that? She has always been a tower of strength.”

He moved across to the fire and banked it up. The flames shot up and sent the shadows dancing along the wall. Caroline felt suddenly faint with hunger and grasped the chair back to steady herself. She had forgotten that she had not yet eaten and that the hour for dinner was long past.

“I do believe that you must have missed your dinner, ma’am,” Lewis Brabant said, straightening up and coming towards her, concern showing on his face. He took her arm. “You look quite pale! Stay here whilst I go to order you a tray of food. We cannot do with having to call Dr Pettifer out for you as well!”

“I am very well, I thank you, sir,” Caroline said, her face flaming with embarrassment. The hard strength of his hand under her arm was strangely disturbing. She felt her head spin with a combination of hunger and mortification, and Lewis gave an exclamation and pressed the brandy glass into her hand.

“Here, take this, Miss Whiston, before you swoon! You will find it most efficacious!”

He was right. The strong spirit burned Caroline’s throat and made her cough a little, but the world immediately came back into closer focus. She looked a little doubtfully from the empty glass to Lewis’s smiling face.

“Thank you, sir…Your best brandy! I am so sorry—”

Lewis shrugged gracefully. “It is of no consequence, Miss Whiston! I will fetch another glass.” His amused scrutiny dwelled on her face, which had gone from chalk white to rosy pink. “I believe that you should retire to your room until I can arrange for a tray to be brought up. For those unaccustomed to strong liquor the result can be confusing!”

“I am not unaccustomed to brandy,” Caroline began, then realised how her words must sound and broke off in confusion. “That is, I have drunk it before…My grandfather used to promote it as medicinal against chills…” She realised that she was rambling. Lewis had raised one eyebrow and was watching her with a quizzical amusement that disconcerted her.

“I thought for a moment that you must be one of those fabled governesses who was addicted to drink, Miss Whiston!” he said mildly. “Such an idea seems absurd, but one must always expect the unexpected…”

The colour flooded Caroline’s face again. On an empty stomach the drink was proving as much a curse as a blessing. She extricated herself carefully from Lewis’s grip and walked towards the door.

“Pray do not trouble yourself to arrange any food for me, sir. I shall go down to the kitchens directly.”

Lewis shrugged, opening the door for her. “Very well, Miss Whiston. I can see that you mean to be confoundedly independent!” His gaze travelled over her thoughtfully. “I see also that you have rejected your red velvet for more sober garb! How very apt for a governess companion!”

Caroline looked up at him. The faint light could not hide the mockery in his eyes.

“I am persuaded,” he added pleasantly, “that it can only be skin deep, however! The dryad who walks the woods reading verse must be the real Miss Whiston! The child who was brought up on brandy-drinking…”

“The real Miss Whiston has a living to earn,” Caroline said tartly, “and has no time for conundrums, sir! Pray excuse me!”

Lewis Brabant gave her an ironic bow. “Do not let me keep you from your duties then, ma’am! Good night!”

Caroline closed the door softly behind her and leant against the jamb for a moment to steady herself. It seemed that Lewis Brabant, despite his admiration for Julia, was not above flirting with the companion. Such behaviour was not unfamiliar to Caroline, for she had met plenty of men who thought that governesses and companions were fair game for their advances. Normally such situations gave her no trouble but what was particularly confusing here was her own reaction to Lewis. She should have given him a sharp set-down, but instead she had felt a treacherous attraction, as bewildering as it was unwelcome.

She went slowly down the stairs, through the door to the servants’ quarters and along the corridor to the kitchen. The chatter and light interrupted her thoughts, but as she sat down at the trestle table and accepted a bowl of soup, she could not help but wonder just what Lewis Brabant thought of her. Then she thought that perhaps his mind was so full of Julia that he did not think of her at all, and she found that that was more annoying still.

Lewis waited until the door had closed behind Caroline, then took the chair beside the bed, sat back and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was bone weary, but despite that, he had to fight a strong urge to take a horse to the Admiralty and demand to be given the first ship available.

His responsibilities dragged him down like lead weights. The house was in poor condition and the estate even more so. His father’s man of business had been blunt about the time and effort it would take to get things back into shape and Lewis was not sure that he even wanted to try. He had little affinity with a place that he had only visited once in the past ten years. As Richard had pointed out, it was not even near the sea! If it had not been for his family…

Lewis opened his eyes. His father’s breathing was steady but the old man showed no flicker of consciousness. Lewis was aware of a profound sadness. It could only be a matter of time before the Admiral passed on, but he owed it to his father to see that his last days were as comfortable as possible. He would have to talk to the doctor in the morning.

Lewis leant forward and looked at his father’s sleeping face. They had never been particularly close, but the Admiral had been a fair man and they had respected each other. Harley Brabant had never understood his son’s bookish tendencies but had tolerated them whilst complaining that Lewis took after his mother’s side of the family. All the same, Lewis knew that his father had been very proud when he had chosen to follow him into the Navy. It was comforting to think that the Admiral had approved of him. Which was why…Lewis sighed. Which was why it was difficult to escape the notion that the Admiral would wish his son to continue what he had begun at Hewly Manor. Lewis knew that he could always sell up and move away, but he could not escape the thought that this would be going against the Admiral’s wishes.

Then there was Lavender. His sister had only been fourteen when he had gone away and Lewis was uncomfortably aware that she was now a grown woman who must have her own hopes and aspirations. He barely knew her and she was a reserved character who might take some time to understand. He had already seen that she disliked Julia…

Lewis shifted slightly. Julia was just as he remembered her, only more beautiful, sweeter, more desirable. She had been eighteen when he had gone to sea, and he a youth of twenty-two who had thought himself so worldly wise and brave! A faint smile twisted his lips. What a lot he had learned in those first few months, racked by seasickness and homesickness in equal measure, afraid and forlorn! The lowest point had been when he had received his mother’s letter telling him of Julia’s betrothal to his brother. Lewis had felt sick and betrayed, for had not Julia exchanged the most tender vows with him, promising to wait for him for ever?

He had been prepared to put such youthful folly behind him on his return to Hewly. After all, he and Julia were ten years older and such boy and girl affairs were best left in the past. But to his amazement, there had been a letter from Julia awaiting him on his arrival in London, explaining that she had felt it her duty to return to Hewly to care for the Admiral. She expressed herself delighted to be able to welcome him back to his old home. Her words were well chosen and gracious, and had stirred in him a faint but definite anticipation at seeing her again. And then they had met…

Lewis got up and walked over to the window. The heavy velvet curtains had been drawn against the November dark, and when he pushed them back he felt the cold air rush into the overheated sickroom. The moon was high and cast a silver shadow over the deserted garden. He felt restless and cooped up in the house. With a sigh, Lewis let the curtain fall back into place and moved over to the fire. He had imagined that there might be some initial awkwardness in meeting Julia again, but this had proved far from the case. She had been the perfect hostess, but with added warmth that had been most encouraging.

Thinking of Julia led him to think of Caroline Whiston. There was an enigma. No warm welcome from her! For a moment, Lewis recalled the tantalising softness of Caroline in his arms, her lips parting beneath his. The change from that spirit of the woods into the severe companion in her drab worsted was almost unbelievable. It was as though she deliberately hid a part of herself away. Yet she was not ill-looking. It was almost as though she deliberately sought to efface herself, hiding that glorious chestnut hair, choosing colours that drained all vitality from her pale complexion, concealing her figure. It had not been hidden in that red velvet dress…Lewis smothered a grin. Nor could Miss Whiston disguise the flashing beauty of those hazel eyes. She was a most unusual lady’s companion indeed.

Lewis stirred the fire, still thinking of her. What on earth had possessed him to accost her in that particular way? True, he had thought her a maidservant or village girl when he had first glimpsed her, but he was hardly the man to go around stealing kisses from servants! There had been some affinity, some instant chemistry between them that had leapt into immediate life. He was certain she felt it too, for later she had been nervous of him, reserved. Stern Miss Whiston would never allow him within arm’s length again!

Lewis sighed, his conscience pricking him. It was little wonder that Miss Whiston had been nervous after his behaviour earlier in the day. Companions and governesses were in a vulnerable position and he had taken advantage. Yet there was something about the girl that drew him on…

“Petticoat government!” Richard Slater had commented, on hearing that Lewis would be returning to a house full of women. Lewis grimaced. He would have to change that. Already he felt stifled by the claustrophobic atmosphere of Hewly Manor, the shadow of the sickroom, the circumscribed life of the country. He would write to Richard and ask him to bring a party to Hewly, then he would throw himself into the management of the estate, visit his neighbours, find somehow, the piece of his life that seemed to be missing. Previously, it had been the Navy that had filled the spaces in his life, occupying his time and energies. It was his main love, but if there was to be another…His thoughts turned fleetingly to Julia again. His first love. The thought of her as a country wife was laughable, but for the time being at least they were sharing a house and he was still not sure if he was glad or sorry. He picked up the brandy glass and looked at it thoughtfully. He must ask Caroline Whiston more about the grandfather who had encouraged brandy-drinking as a cure for chills. Thinking of her once more, Lewis took the empty glass and went downstairs in search of a refill.

Chapter Three

There were no more early morning walks for Caroline. The weather had turned wet and windy and, even had she wanted to venture out, Julia kept her busier than ever with a wealth of trivial little jobs. She saw little of Lewis Brabant, for he spent most of his days immured with his estate manager or riding out to inspect the property, returning only for dinner. Caroline never ate with the family and made sure that she avoided Lewis if it was at all possible. Nevertheless she found herself curiously aware of his presence, as though the house was alive with a new energy.

From what little she did see of him, it struck Caroline that Lewis was a very self-contained man. He listened carefully, spoke sparingly, watched intently and missed very little of what went on. She noticed him taking particular pains to draw Lavender out and was amused to see that whilst his sister’s natural reserve kept her quiet to begin with, she was soon responding to his genuine interest. Caroline thought that Lavender had probably been lonely and the return of her brother was just what she needed. Julia had never troubled to befriend her and Caroline had suspected that Lavender did not like her anyway, although Miss Brabant was far too well bred to give any indication of her feelings. To Caroline, Lavender had always been pleasant but very quiet, and because she avoided Julia, Caroline had never had the chance to progress the acquaintance. Now though, under Lewis’s encouragement, Caroline saw that Lavender was emerging from her shell.

She found the two of them together in the library one morning when Julia had sent her downstairs to choose her a book. The fair heads were bent close together over what looked like an estate map, and Caroline paused on the threshold, reflecting on the strong family likeness and not wishing to intrude. Then Lewis looked up, tossed her a charming smile and rolled the map up.

“Miss Whiston! How are you, ma’am? My sister has just been showing me her sketches—she has been drawing flora over by Steepwood Lawn. Do you know that part of the forest at all from your walks?”

His tone was suspiciously bland, but since Steepwood Lawn was close to where the two of them had met on his first day home, Caroline knew that he must be teasing her. To her vexation, she felt the faint colour come into her cheeks. Lewis’s gaze was bright with amusement as it rested on her face, one brow quirked in enquiry, his blue eyes dancing.

“I believe I know the place a little,” Caroline said stiffly. She saw that Lavender was watching her with a gaze as perceptive as her brother’s and tried to overcome her discomfort. “Will you show me your sketches, Miss Brabant? I should like to see them very much.”

“Of course,” Lavender murmured, gesturing towards the pencil drawings scattered across the table.

Caroline looked, and forgot her self-consciousness. “But these are beautiful!” she exclaimed warmly. “I did not realise that you could draw so well, Miss Brabant!” She leant closer. “And unless I mistake, that is a May Lily! I had no notion that they grew in the woods hereabouts!”

Lavender’s eyes lit up. “Maianthemum bifolium; you are not mistaken, Miss Whiston, though they are rare. They prefer a light acid soil, you see, and only grow in certain parts of the forest.”

“And oxlip, and squill…” Caroline smiled as she drew the sheets towards her. “It is a while since I studied botany, but—”

“You studied botany?” Lavender’s face was eager. She looked animated and very pretty. Caroline, remembering how Julia had always dismissed Lavender’s fair looks as insipid, realised that they had all underestimated the younger girl. She smiled shamefacedly. “Well, my studies were only for my own enjoyment and most amateur! But I have a delightful book inherited from my grandpapa! It contains all the wild flowers and a wealth of detail. If you would like to borrow it—”

She broke off, aware that Lewis Brabant was watching her, a smile in his eyes. It made her feel as though the room was suddenly overheated. She looked hastily away. Fortunately Lavender appeared not to have noticed.

“Oh, Miss Whiston, thank you! That would be most pleasant!”

Lewis Brabant strode forward with a lazy grace. “It will be good for you to have another expert to talk to, Lavender, rather than a brother who is a dullard!”

Lavender laughed. “No such thing, Lewis! You are ridiculous!”

“Well, I assure you I cannot tell a petal from a stamen, but I do know that your drawings are very fine! Now, you must excuse me for I must be about estate business.” He paused with his hand on the doorhandle. “You will not forget the commission at Hammond’s for me, Lavender? Perhaps Miss Whiston might accompany you if she has any errands into Abbot Quincey?”

Caroline agreed readily. “I have some ribbons to buy for Mrs Chessford and a number of small purchases to make. If you do not mind waiting whilst I choose another book…”

She put the two volumes she was carrying down on the table and moved across to the oaken shelves to choose something else for Julia. Lewis picked up the books and perused their spines. He looked at her quizzically.

“Sense and Sensibility and Marmion! A curious mixture, Miss Whiston!”

“Oh,” Caroline felt flustered. “Sense and Sensibility is Mrs Chessford’s choice—”

Lewis raised his eyebrows. “You do surprise me, ma’am! So Julia reads the books on manners and morals, and you read the romance! How singular, when outward appearances would suggest otherwise!”

He put the book in his pocket. “I should like to read Marmion again…” He raised a hand in farewell. “You must join us for dinner tonight, Miss Whiston. No more skulking in your room!” And he left Caroline feeling confused and annoyed, and suspicious that she had glimpsed more than a hint of speculation in Lavender’s eyes.

The walk to Abbot Quincey was very pleasant, though the roads were a little muddy after the recent rain. It was the first fine day of the week, and Julia had roused herself sufficiently to take the carriage and go to visit friends near Northampton. She had dismissed Caroline, telling her that she did not need her when there was other, more congenial company to be had, which left her companion feeling more than ever sorry to be the butt of Julia’s bad manners.

Lavender Brabant was a different matter, however, and there was certainly no faulting her courtesy. They talked of botany and art as they walked, and found that they had plenty of interests in common to make the journey pass quickly. Lavender’s companionship was stimulating after Julia’s trivial gossip, and Caroline felt her spirits lift at being out in the fresh air. They reached Abbot Quincey to find that it was busy, despite not being a market day, and strolled down the main street to pause before Hammond’s general store and admire the new frontage. Lavender giggled over the fanlight and huge bow windows.

“Oh dear, it looks a little excessive for a country town! I understand that Mr Hammond has modelled it on his store in Northampton, and is as proud as proud! Only look, dear Miss Whiston—he has festooned the doorway with his muslin and kerseymere! I do so hope he will not get mud on it!”

They were about to enter the shop when they were hailed from close quarters by a cadaverous gentleman with an eager eye. Lavender gave Caroline a speaking glance, ducked under the swathes of drapery and disappeared into Hammond’s interior. Caroline sighed and turned to greet the newcomer, trying to compose her face into an expression that was pleasant without being too welcoming.

“Mr Grizel. How do you do, sir?”

Hubert Grizel was curate of a neighbouring parish and had recently preached at the church in Abbot Quincey, on the invitation of the Reverend William Perceval. From the moment Caroline had seen him in church, she had identified him as the perfect example of a worthy clergyman looking for a consort. From the moment he had clapped eyes on Caroline, it was evident that Mr Grizel thought that he had found her. He had called at Hewly, not once but several times, and Julia had made sport of his pastoral visits until Caroline was very uncomfortable. She had no wish to encourage the cleric, but equally no desire to embarrass him.

“Miss Whiston!” Mr Grizel’s thin face flushed with pleasure. He removed his hat, gave a gallant bow and looked as though he were about to topple over. “How are you, ma’am? You look very well, if I may make so bold! I had been intending to call at Hewly, but the weather being as it has—” He gestured vaguely towards the muddy road.

Caroline smiled. “I am very well, I thank you, sir, as are all at the Manor. There has been little change in the Admiral’s condition. But you will perhaps have heard our good news? Captain Brabant is returned—”

Mr Grizel had indeed heard all about Lewis Brabant’s return. “I am relieved that the Captain is home safely from the wars,” he observed pompously, “and am more than ever comforted that you ladies are no longer unprotected. A house full of women is in need of a staunch defender!”

Caroline repressed the urge to tell him that they had scarcely felt in danger before, and a small silence fell. It was clear that Mr Grizel was trying to think of some conversational topic and equally clear that Caroline did not intend to help him.

“Well,” Caroline said brightly after a moment, gesturing towards the shop, “I must be about my errands! We will see you again soon, Mr Grizel.”

Mr Grizel ardently assured her that she would indeed, and took himself off, still stammering profuse compliments.

Caroline smiled a little as she negotiated the blue spotted muslin adorning Hammond’s doorway. Poor Mr Grizel! She hoped that she had mistaken his intentions but suspected that she had read them all too clearly. He could scarcely be blamed for considering a governess companion as a suitable wife and she just hoped she had not been so civil as to encourage his pretensions. She had no wish to hurt his feelings.

The interior of the shop was dark after the sunshine outside, and Caroline paused to allow her eyes to attune. One half of the shop was a grocery and general store, selling everything from candles to teapots, whilst the other half was a drapers. It was clear that Arthur Hammond was not a man to miss a commercial opportunity. He understood perfectly that his country clients could be anyone from the baker’s wife to Lady Perceval, and that rich and poor alike required a shop that sold all the bits and pieces they needed to save them making the journey into Northampton. At the same time he managed to give the impression of fine quality. Local gossip said that Hammond was very rich and an inveterate social climber, and Caroline could well believe it. She knew that he owned an emporium in Northampton and a string of other shops in the county, and that other members of his family had also made a fortune from trade. Hammond’s children had been sent away to get a fine education, all except Barnabas, his eldest son, who was being groomed to take over the shop.

Caroline ducked behind a bolt of glossy lustring that was resting against the shelves, and looked around for the ribbons. Julia had asked her to match some colours for two new gowns. She had chosen the dress material herself, but had lost interest in the details once the purchase was made, leaving the choice to her companion. Caroline did not mind. She knew she had a good eye for colour and style when given a chance, and if Julia did not like the outcome she should not have delegated the task in the first place.

Caroline paused before a display of fine stockings and lace. Would that she had either the opportunity or the means to wear such clothes! The red dress was the only luxurious item of clothing that she possessed, and she had ruthlessly avoided buying clothes she had known she would never wear. Nevertheless it would be fun one day…Caroline caught herself in a rosy dream where she was dressed in green silk and descending a sweeping staircase to a ballroom…She put it firmly from her mind.

She caught sight of Lavender over by the counter, purchasing some gold braid, presumably the commission from Lewis. Barnabas Hammond himself was attending to her, which struck Caroline as interesting since the purchase was small enough for one of the assistants to attend her. Lavender’s head was bent over her purse and there was an expression in Barnabas’s eyes that made Caroline’s heart skip a beat. So the draper’s handsome son had a tendre for the Admiral’s daughter! Caroline watched as Lavender looked up, met Barney’s very dark eyes and blushed becomingly. She pursed her lips in silent surprise. So the interest was mutual! Caroline could not be surprised, for any woman could see that Barney Hammond was a devastatingly attractive man. And perhaps it was simply a physical attraction on Lavender’s part. She had probably not met many young men and Barney had a strong, lithe physique, and a dark, intense gaze that was particularly compelling. Village gossip had it that the girls were mad for him, but Barney was quiet and kept himself to himself, almost as much as Lavender did…

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