The Disgraceful Mr. Ravenhurst Read online

  She rested her elbows on the sill of the window in her allotted bedchamber and looked out. Below her the hillside sloped down through parkland, into fields and ended at the river, out of sight behind its fringe of trees. The shadows were lengthening now, the long summer dusk making the valley mysterious and tranquil.

  On either side of her window the wings of the chateau stretched away. It seemed to have grown over the centuries without any coherent plan, each count adding and adapting to suit his needs. She and her mother were in rooms that dated from the seventeenth century, with fine panelling and great chestnut beams overhead. From the window she could see the medieval part with its turrets to her right and the incongruous eighteenth-century wing to her left, overlooking the formal gardens.

  Lady James had a room next door and Theo was opposite. Where the marquesa was lodged, she had no idea. Doubtless she had secured a chamber close to Theo, Elinor thought, fighting a losing battle trying not to think about Theo’s relationship with the woman.

  It was none of her business and she shouldn’t be thinking about such things in any case—the love life of an adult male was a highly unsuitable subject for speculation by an unmarried lady. But this was Theo, and he had kissed her, and now her overactive imagination was visualising him kissing the marquesa. Only she, of course, knew exactly what she was about and he would enjoy it very much indeed and—

  ‘And nothing.’ Elinor pushed herself upright and stalked into the room. He had kissed her for a number of reasons, none of which had anything to do with why a respectable young lady should wish to be kissed by a man. And Theo was her friend and should not be the focus for her romantic daydreams. If romantic was quite the word to describe the odd, shivery, yearning feeling that kept washing over her when she thought about touching Theo. Or Theo touching her. And it was more than touching, more than the vague and disturbing things that haunted her dreams. She wanted to be close to him with her mind as well as her body.

  The only thoughts she should be having about her cousin were schemes to involve herself in his quest to find the Beaumartin Chalice, and that was likely to be difficult enough to banish all other considerations from her mind. Elinor smoothed down the skirts of her new evening dress and went next door to see if her mother was ready to go down.

  The door diagonally across from hers opened at the same time. Of course, the marquesa had managed to secure a chamber next to Theo’s. Why was she not surprised?

  ‘Ma’am.’ Elinor curtsied, realising as she did so that her punctilious behaviour was a way of subtly pointing out the other woman’s seniority.

  ‘My dear Miss Ravenhurst—Elinor, is it not?—call me Ana. We are going to be friends.’

  ‘I am sure we are.’ Elinor managed a warm smile of utter insincerity. ‘I look forward to discovering what interests we have in common.’

  The other woman’s brows drew together sharply, then she laughed. ‘Interests in common besides Teó? Indeed, yes. And I look forward to meeting your esteemed mother.’ She swept off down the corridor, a tall, slender lesson in elegance, her mass of golden brown hair coiled at her nape, her severe gown emphasising her figure with every step.

  ‘Ouch,’ Elinor muttered as she opened her mother’s chamber door. She had hoped to be subtle and had been neatly countered by the other woman’s alarming frankness. She saw Elinor as a rival for Theo—a pitiable one, no doubt—and she was quite prepared to make that clear.

  ‘I have just met the Marquesa de Cordovilla, another of the guests,’ she remarked, wondering whether to say anything about the woman. The marquesa would go through a polite drawing room like a shark through a school of fish. Her mother might be amused. On the other hand, like a ship of war, she might simply train her powerful guns on the other woman and fire a broadside.

  ‘Indeed? What is there in that to amuse you?’ Lady James settled a handsome toque on her grey curls and nodded decisively at her reflection in the mirror. When she chose to dress up, she did it with a vengeance and usually with an ulterior motive.

  ‘She is somewhat unconventional. And she does not like me.’

  ‘Indeed? Why is that? It appears extreme on a fleeting encounter.’

  ‘I met her in St Père when I was with Theo. I believe she is…attracted to him and thinks I am a rival.’

  Elinor expected her mother to give a snort of amusement, probably encompassing both disbelief that any titled lady might desire her nephew and that anyone should see Elinor as competition. Instead she fixed her daughter with a disconcertingly direct look. ‘One of Theophilus’s past lovers?’ she enquired.

  ‘Mama!’

  ‘Do not be namby-pamby, girl. He’s a man; a lady of your age is not ignorant of these matters, she simply pretends not to see them. What is the woman doing here? Or was she invited to distract Julie from Theophilus and keep her attention on the count, for whom I assume she is intended?’

  She had thought her mother too absorbed in the chateau’s antiquarian curiosities to have done more than notice its inhabitants in passing; this degree of cynical insight was fascinating. She had not thought it worth commenting on the possibility that the marquesa saw Elinor as any kind of rival. That, of course, was too ridiculous. But the marquesa would soon see that for herself once she realised that Theo saw her merely as his friend and relative.

  ‘I believe the marquesa came to visit the chateau in passing because of her interest in art and antiques and was invited to join the party. She is in much the same business as Theo, I understand.’

  ‘The company promises to be reasonably congenial,’ Lady James commented, picking up her fan and reticule and getting to her feet. ‘Is that one of your new gowns, Elinor?’

  ‘Yes, Mama. I think madame has done excellent work with it.’

  ‘Hmm. Where are your pearls?’

  ‘I did not bring them, Mama. I thought it unlikely I would need jewellery on our journey.’

  ‘Jeanie!’ The maid emerged from the dressing room with her mistress’s stole over her arm. ‘Fetch out my jewellery case again.’ She removed the key on its long chain from her reticule and opened the box. ‘The amethyst and diamond set, I think.’

  ‘I thought you did not believe in unmarried girls wearing diamonds or coloured gem stones, Mama.’ The ornaments glittered and sparked as Lady James lifted them out and laid them on the dressing table.

  ‘I do not. But you are past the age where one need worry about that, Elinor. The earrings and necklace, I think—this is merely a family dinner.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’ Elinor hooked the drops into her ears, feeling the unfamiliar cold caress as they swung against her neck. Jeanie fastened the necklace, rosettes of amethysts interspersed with diamonds, and stood back to admire the effect.

  ‘You look very fine, Miss Elinor.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Startled into agreement, Elinor looked into the mirror. Theo had been quite right about the colour of the silk: it made the pale skin of her neck and shoulders gleam. The softness of her hairstyle continued to work its magic on her face and the sophistication of the jewels gave her a confidence she had never felt before.

  ‘It would have been better if you had kept your hat on and had not burned your nose,’ her mother added, flattening her mood somewhat. ‘Still, you do not appear a complete hoyden.’

  Exchanging a wry smile with Jeanie, Elinor followed her mother to the door. Burned nose or not, she felt suddenly more confident of holding her own with the marquesa.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Mademoiselle Ravenhurst, enchanté.’ Count Leon bowed over her hand, and this time he actually kissed it. Elinor bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself ginning. That she, of all people, should be having her hand kissed was too ridiculous. Still, it would not be long, once he had discovered she had no talent for social chit-chat nor a tendency to sit gazing at him admiringly whatever he said, before he was treating her as simply her mother’s companion. It was to be hoped that, in the meantime, Theo did not become territorial again.


  ‘Lady James.’ He bowed. ‘May I introduce you to our other guests? The Marquesa de Cordovilla, an authority on art.’ The marquesa bowed, Lady James inclined her head. Elinor struggled with the precedence in her head: the daughter of an earl, daughter-in-law of a duke versus the widow of a Spanish marquis. Yes, Mama had it right.

  ‘Sir Ian and Lady Tracey. English connoisseurs of the fine arts.’ Elinor curtsied, her mother nodded and smiled, the Traceys made their bows. He was an athletic-looking man in his late thirties, she was tall for a woman, slim and dark with an alertness that intrigued Elinor. Could these two really be conniving adventurers? Her antipathy towards the marquesa inclined Elinor to suspect her, but it could be dangerous to overlook other possibilities.

  The countess took over the introductions, presenting an elderly cousin, whose name Elinor did not catch, Monsieur Castelnau, the countess’s widowed brother-in-law, and two girls, five or six years Elinor’s junior, who were introduced as nieces. ‘Laure and Antoinette. I am sure you young ladies will have much to talk about,’ the countess said firmly, leading Elinor over to where they sat side by side on a sofa opposite Julie.

  Mademoiselle de Falaise appeared as pleased to find herself sitting next to Elinor as Elinor was, and rather less adept at hiding the emotion. Elinor smiled brightly and did her best with small talk in French. There was no sign of Theo.

  The large room was arranged with sofas grouped facing each other. Out of the corner of her eye Elinor could see her mother was talking to Sir Ian while Lady Tracey was chatting animatedly with Monsieur Castelnau. The count could be heard discussing Venetian painting with the marquesa while his mother watched them. In her corner the elderly relative appeared happily engaged with her tatting.

  ‘Yes, I have been out for several years,’ Elinor answered Laure’s question. Or was it Antoinette? They appeared indistinguishable: both blonde, both blue eyed, both animated. ‘Did you both remain in France during the Revolution?’

  It appeared they had spent the years of the Terror in Scotland with relatives, but had learned very little English. Elinor told herself it was good for her to practise her French and soldiered on. Beside her she was conscious of Julie, her eyes on the count, while his attention was fixed on the marquesa.

  Then the door opened, drawing every eye in the room, and Theo walked in. ‘Madame.’ He went straight to the countess. ‘My apologies for my tardiness; I have to confess I became completely lost and had to be rescued by one of your footmen. What a fascinating building this is.’ He turned and regarded the rest of the company. ‘I must apologise also to the ladies for my somewhat battered appearance—I fell down the stairs two days ago.’

  Elinor was conscious of a subtle shifting of attention in the room. Both the young ladies beside her sat up and smiled brightly at the sight of another man, even one who was black and blue. Julie stared at the count, a small smile on her lips. The marquesa turned her head languidly and directed a smile of unmistakable intimacy at Theo and the count got to his feet, bowed to Theo and made his way over to stand beside Elinor.

  Sir Ian rose slowly. ‘Your sense of direction deserting you again Ravenhurst? The directions you so kindly gave to my coachman on the last occasion our paths crossed led us sadly astray.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that.’ Theo strolled across and bowed to Lady Tracey. ‘My apologies, ma’am, although the instructions I gave him were clear enough—what did he have to say for himself?’

  ‘As he vanished into the countryside five minutes after our axle broke, I have no idea.’ To Elinor’s surprise, neither of the Traceys appeared as angry as one might have expected. Almost there was a sense that they had been beaten fair and square at a game. How very English, she thought with amusement. Perhaps her instincts were correct and they were not the villains of the piece.

  Theo, apparently happily unconcerned by the fact that eight of the nine women in the room were watching him, drifted across the vast Aubusson carpet, took a seat next to the elderly cousin and began to compliment her on her tatting in loud, clear French.

  The youngest ladies pouted, Lady Tracey went back to her conversation, Julie directed a look of spiteful amusement at Elinor and the marquesa smiled a sphinx-like smile that made Elinor uneasy. Irritated with her company, she got to her feet and went to sit next to Sir Ian. ‘I did not realise you knew my cousin,’ she began, crossing her fingers at the untruth.

  ‘Oh, yes, we are rivals of old,’ he said readily. ‘Having been outwitted once recently, I am hoping that I can even the score eventually.’

  Elinor asked him about his particular field of collecting and realised with surprise ten minutes later that they had been having a perfectly sensible and intelligent conversation without him once patronising her.

  Theo was still deep in the intricacies of tatting, his elderly companion having had the amusing idea of teaching him how it was done. The sight of a large flame-headed man in impeccable evening dress with his big hands wielding a shuttle and a mass of fine white thread gradually drew the attention of everyone.

  Eventually the marquesa got up and went over. ‘Teó, show us what a tangle you are making.’

  Theo looked up and smiled. ‘How could I make a tangle,’ he said in French, ‘when I have such a skilled teacher?’ He opened his hands and there, hanging from the shuttle, was an inch of fine lacy tatting. Amidst general applause he handed the shuttle back to the old lady.

  ‘Oh, Monsieur Ravenhurst, will you give me your tatting?’ It was Laure, blue eyes wide.

  ‘But, no, it is unworthy to trim your handkerchief, mademoiselle. Here, take my seat and allow madame to show you how to do it yourself.’

  ‘Wicked,’ Elinor murmured as he stood by her side to admire the sight of a petulant young lady trying to look pretty whilst getting in a tangle.

  ‘Aren’t I just?’ he murmured back. ‘How are you getting on with Tracey?’

  ‘I can’t believe it is he.’ Theo raised a brow. ‘He is too sporting about your ruse.’

  ‘And he treats you like a human being with sensible opinions,’ Theo countered. Apparently his attention for the last half-hour had not been entirely on learning tatting. ‘Don’t be flattered into dismissing him, Nell.’

  Irritated that he did not accept her judgement, Elinor turned away, only to encounter the marquesa’s interested stare. Impulsively she turned back, laid her hand on Theo’s sleeve and looked up into his eyes. ‘I am sure you are right,’ she said softly, holding the green gaze for a long moment.

  Unholy amusement flickered in the depths of his eyes. ‘Just be guided by me, Nell,’ he said, adding under his breath. ‘Now go and make friends with her.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lady Tracey. Not Ana, not unless you have all your wits about you.’ Under her gloved hand his arm was steady and warm. She bit her lip and saw his pupils widen. Inside, something reacted to that look. Something primitive and female. ‘You look very lovely in that gown and with those jewels.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She was not sure what devil possessed her, but she turned—slowly, with a lingering smile over her shoulder—and went across to take the seat next to Ana. What was the matter with her? She never flirted. If anyone had asked, she would have said she had no idea how to. And here she was exchanging lingering glances and fleeting touches with…with her friend Theo, that was who.

  ‘Marquesa. May I sit here?’

  ’But of course.’ Ana fanned herself, gentle, sweeping movements. ‘Why are you here, Miss Elinor?’

  ‘Miss Ravenhurst,’ Elinor corrected with a smile. ‘I am the eldest unmarried daughter.’

  ‘Of course you are. The oldest and unmarried. I am so sorry…for my mistake.’

  I walked right into that one, Elinor thought grimly. ‘Why am I here? This is an unoccupied seat and I wished to sit down.’

  ‘Here at the chateau, with Teó.’ There was a slight snap in the richly accented voice. Obviously young ladies were supposed to wilt before her barbs.

  ‘I am h
ere with my mother. Meeting Theo was completely unexpected. But I am so pleased we did.’

  ‘Por qué?’

  ‘I am sorry, I read five languages, but Spanish is not one of them. Let me guess—was that why?’ She did not wait for Ana’s sharp nod. ‘Theo was able to introduce us to the count and it will be so useful for Mama’s researches to study the chapel here.’

  ‘So that is why you are here? To study architecture?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Elinor said, allowing her gaze to linger on Theo’s beautifully tailored back. ‘To study…form.’

  Fortunately, given the hiss of indrawn breath from the woman at her side, dinner was announced before she could add any further kindling to the fire. This really was an amusing diversion, pretending they were rivals for Theo’s affections. She seemed to be convincing the marquesa; doubtless the family talent for acting was coming to her rescue.

  The rest of the evening provided less challenging entertainment. Dinner was excellent and both Sir Ian and Monsieur Castelnau, her partners on either side, proved to be lively conversationalists. Coffee in the salon with the ladies afterwards was duller.

  Ana announced that she had the migraine and retired, looking more like a cat setting out on an evening’s prowl than someone suffering from a headache. The younger women chattered amongst themselves, Julie brooded and the countess made brittle conversation with Lady Tracey, Lady James and Elinor until the men joined them.

  Watching the door, Elinor saw Theo’s eyes as he scanned the room, then frowned. So, he is looking for her is he? Unaccountably irritated, Elinor got to her feet. She did not want to pay games. ‘Do excuse me, madame, Mama. I think I will retire now. Goodnight.’

  An hour later Elinor sat up straight and stretched, yawning. A copy of the plan of the chateau was spread on the table before her, coloured now to show the ages of the different parts. She could see clearly which areas remained from the time of the wicked count and his orgies.