A Most Unconventional Courtship Read online

  ‘A family characteristic, I collect?’ Chance managed a puzzled frown. ‘Which makes it very odd, for I know of another young lady on the island with just such striking eyes and brows.’

  ‘You do? How extraordinary. Under what circumstances?’ Touché.

  His timing was perfect; the butler was just emerging to announce dinner. ‘She saved my life,’he said simply. ‘Please excuse me, I believe in Sir Thomas’s absence I am taking in Lady Trevick, and here comes the Count to claim your hand.’

  A prolonged dinner would give her ladyship plenty of time to recover from the shock and any defensiveness and to get her own story arranged. The less embarrassment she felt discussing such a sensitive family matter with a stranger, the better it would be for Alessa.

  Chance assisted his hostess into her seat, declined her flattering invitation to take the head of the table and sat at her right hand, paying Lady Blackstone at the other end no attention whatsoever. Whatever happened, he wanted no suspicion to arise that he and Alessa were anything but chance-met strangers, thrown together by the drama of the attack upon him. It was going to be difficult enough hiding the fact that Alessa took in washing.

  His ploy worked. As they strolled out again into the moonlit evening Chance found himself neatly steered into Sir Thomas’s study, its doors opening out a little way along the terrace.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘This young lady you referred to.’ Her ladyship was too agitated to apply any poise to her questioning. ‘What is her name?’

  ‘Alexandra.’ He saw the name strike home—the green eyes watching him widened. ‘I do not know her family name. How delightful if she should prove to be a distant relative of yours.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Perhaps twenty-four or five. I was waylaid by thieves one evening, just outside her door, and took refuge in her house; hence the injuries that left me limping until a few days ago.’

  ‘And what are her circumstances?’ Lady Blackstone’s fingers were tight on her fan. She seemed to be holding herself still by sheer force of will. Chance felt a flash of sympathy. What must it be like to be so close to finding an unknown niece, the only child of a long-lost brother? Whatever the rift that had driven Meredith from his family, there must have been happy childhood memories this elegant, apparently assured lady cherished and mourned for.

  ‘She supports herself modestly, but respectably, by making herbal remedies. Kyria Alessa, as she is known, supplies the Residency among many other establishments. She lives with a female companion and with two orphan children she has rescued—she’s funding their education.’To describe Kate Street, whom he had every suspicion had at some time earned her keep as a game pullet, as a female companion, was stretching truth to its limits, but he sincerely hoped Kate would never have to meet Lady Blackstone.

  Honoria Blackstone looked at him sharply. ‘The children are not hers?’

  ‘Not in the family sense, no. But she regards them as her charge, having taken them in.’

  ‘I see.’ She walked away from him, the short train of her evening gown swishing softly over the wide boards. ‘I suppose it is just possible that she might be a connection. I will call upon her when we return to the town.’

  ‘She is staying only a short distance away. I met her by accident today, which is what called her to mind; it seems she has brought the children away for a short holiday in the next village. They have come to visit an old woman for whom she feels a responsibility.’

  ‘Quite a philanthropist, this young person.’

  Chance winced inside at the sharp edge to Lady Blackstone’s voice. She was wary, unwilling to accept anything until she saw the proof.

  ‘Indeed,’ he responded, concealing his feelings. ‘From what I have seen of her, she has all the instincts of a lady. Should I bring her to speak to you, ma’am? Tomorrow, perhaps?’ Chance had no intention of leading Lady Blackstone up a mule track through the olive groves to call on a humble cottage, still less to be glowered at by old Agatha.

  ‘Yes. Very well. It is probably a coincidence and she is no connection, but, naturally, I would like to know. Three o’clock tomorrow, if that can be arranged.’

  ‘I will send a note.’ Chance affected a tone of disinterest. ‘Doubtless the villa staff will be able to find the right direction.’

  Alessa turned the note over in her hands, folded it, unfolded it, then finally smoothed it out on the table and read it through. It was the first, and probably the last, letter she would ever have from Chance and ridiculously her fingertips traced the bold black slash of his signature. He had written nothing that hinted at any sort of relationship between them. Was that tact—or simply that he did not regard what had happened as of any significance?

  Lady Blackstone thinks it possible you may be a family connection, and naturally would like the opportunity to meet you. Three this afternoon would be convenient to her ladyship. I believe it will not be necessary for you to be accompanied by anyone else from your household, including your female companion, as Lady Blackstone will, of course, be able to chaperon you.

  Amused by the idea of Kate as a lady’s companion, Alessa took the hint. Chance had prepared the ground, now it was up to her, if this Lady Blackstone truly was her aunt, to establish herself with credit.

  Alessa borrowed Agatha’s white mule and set out at two wearing her Sunday best. She had no fashionable clothes, only the traditional island costume she had worn for years, but this dress was her finest, the edge trimmed with old embroidery. Her stockings were pure white, her blouse full-sleeved and inset with lace. On her head she had perched a pert saucer of a straw hat with broad black ribbons tying it behind her chignon, and her mother’s filigree earrings dangled in her ears. Lady Blackstone might be startled, but she would have no reason to reproach her niece for shabby or immodest clothing.

  ‘Alessa!’ Chance appeared as she rode into the yard at the back of the villa. ‘You look very fine.’ He lifted her down from the mule, stepping back to admire her while keeping his firm hold on her waist. His hands were warm and strong and the memory of how they had felt on her naked skin brought the heat to her cheeks. ‘Come along inside and I will tell you what I have said to your aunt.’

  ‘You are sure she is?’ Alessa let herself be pulled inside, through the back door and along the shadowy corridor that led towards the front.

  ‘Beyond doubt. Here, this should be safe enough.’ He stopped outside an empty storeroom and ducked inside. Alessa followed and listened, nodding at intervals as he described his interview of the day before. ‘Lady Blackstone is cautious, which is understandable, but you will win her over,’ he concluded. Alessa did not speak, her mind whirling with the realisation that this, after all these years, was the moment when she would meet a member of her family. How did she feel?

  ‘You look pale.’ Chance was regarding her closely in the gloom.

  ‘I am nervous,’ Alessa confessed. He still had hold of her hand and she gripped it hard. ‘Will you come in with me?’

  ‘No, better if this is in private. And I do not want to let her guess how well we know each other: she might imagine some impropriety.’

  And she would be correct! Alessa did not say it out loud, but the sudden spark in Chance’s eyes told her that his thoughts had meshed with hers.

  ‘A kiss for luck,’ he said huskily, and drew her into his arms. It was the first time he had kissed her properly, not under water. The sensations were the same, yet startlingly different, for now, without her senses filled with the scent and the noise and the taste of the sea, she could smell his skin, hear her own pulse thudding, savour the taste of his mouth as he explored hers.

  It was extraordinary how her body knew how to fit against his, how her soft curves met the long, hard masculine lines. How did her fingers know what the crisp hair at the nape of his neck would feel like as they tangled in it? Why did her lips part under the demand of his to allow the intrusion of his tongue?

  Chance thrust into the mo
istness, and she yielded to him, quivering as the dart of his tongue sent a stabbing demand into her loins. Crushed against him, her breasts felt swollen, the nipples, peaking against the tight constraint of her laced bodice, ached.

  His hands slid down, cupped her buttocks, lifted her against him, while his mouth continued to plunder hers. It would have been arrogant, this mastery of her body, if she had been anything but an equally willing participant. Now, moulded against the exciting evidence of just how aroused Chance was, Alessa quivered in response, her mind cloudy with the force of her body’s responses.

  The heavy strike of the big hall clock cut through the room, drowning the sound of panting breaths and rustling clothing with as much force as though it had been in there with them.

  ‘Hell!’ Chance freed his mouth, let her slide down the length of him until she was standing again, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again his gaze was wide and black and his breath was coming fast and short. ‘Hell,’ he said again, stepping back and tugging his coat and neckcloth into some sort of order.

  There was no time. No time to talk, to question what had just happened, and why. Alessa looked round wildly for a mirror.

  ‘Out here.’ There was one hanging, dust-smeared, in the passage. Her frivolous hat had tilted crazily over one eye, an earring had knotted itself up in her hair and her neckline was all awry. She had no recollection of Chance even touching it.

  Frantically Alessa straightened and tidied, half-aware that behind this whirl of activity she was avoiding talking to Chance or thinking about her own wanton behaviour.

  ‘You’ll do.’ He opened the door and pushed her into the hallway only to come face to face with the startled butler. ‘Really, Kyria, I wish you would find something to ride other than that half-broken mule!’ he scolded. ‘I feel I have been dragged through a hedge backwards, trying to stop it just now as you hurtled into the yard.

  ‘Ah, Wilkins. This lady is here to see Lady Blackstone.’

  Alessa felt Chance give her a little push and managed a smile for the butler. ‘Miss Meredith.’ How strange those words sounded. How long was it since she had spoken them? ‘Her ladyship is expecting me at three.’

  ‘I will take you straight in, Miss Meredith.’ She was aware of a skilfully concealed, all-encompassing survey of her attire, but Wilkins was too well trained to betray surprise at the combination of her costume and her name.

  She glanced behind her, but Chance had gone. Well, she was used to being all alone. What was the worst that could happen? That this Lady Blackstone would refuse to acknowledge her? She would be no worse off if that were to happen, when all was said and done.

  ‘Miss Meredith, my lady.’ She was into the room before she could collect her thoughts. The woman who turned from her contemplation of the bay was tall, slender, with black hair streaked dramatically with silver at the temples. But it was her eyes that riveted Alessa’s attention. No wonder Chance had seen the resemblance: identical green irises and the slanting brows to those that looked back at her from her own reflection were fixed on her face.

  ‘Ma’am.’ She dropped a curtsy, keeping her head up and her expression calm. But inside her stomach was churning and her mouth was as dry as ashes. This was her father’s sister, she had no doubt, and it was as though his ghost had entered the room too.

  ‘You are Alexandra Meredith?’ Her aunt’s voice was cool, but not hostile. Alessa nodded. ‘And your parents?’

  ‘My father was Captain the Honourable Alexander William Langley Meredith,’ she said, hearing the pride in her own voice as she said his name. ‘He was the son of the third Earl of Hambledon. My mother was Thérèse Bonniard, the widow of a French royalist.’

  Lady Blackstone turned abruptly, but not before Alessa caught a glint of moisture in her eyes. ‘Forgive me, but they were married?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I have all my papers here.’ Alessa opened the leather pouch that swung at her waist. ‘My father’s passport and army papers, the wedding certificate and my birth certificate.’

  She held them out, but Lady Blackstone remained standing, apparently transfixed by the view through the open doors on to the terrace. Alessa laid the grubby, water-stained documents on a side table and stepped back. ‘When did he die?’

  ‘Almost six years ago. He drowned in a storm. Papa was an intelligence officer.’ Alessa waited a moment—there was no response. ‘I am very proud of him. I do not understand why his family turned their back on him.’

  ‘Oh, it was so long ago.’ Her aunt sounded weary. She turned, picked up the papers, one after another, and glanced through them. ‘I really do not need to see these, do I? You are Alex’s daughter—how could I mistake you? We knew about the marriage, all that time past, but my father was adamant: once the black sheep, for always the black sheep.’

  ‘Papa used to say he had been very wild.’ If truth be told, he was never anything else.

  ‘He was certainly that. If he had set out to alienate his father’s good opinion and scandalise his every value, Alexander could have not done better. ‘Lady Blackstone put down the papers and raised her eyes to Alessa’s face. ‘What do you want of your family?’

  ‘Acknowledgment, perhaps. Nothing that is not mine.’ She had not known what to expect; certainly not this cool, contained emotion, icing over the tears that she had surely seen welling just a moment ago. ‘I assume that Papa had some small inheritance that would come to me? If that is the case, then I would want to return to England and claim it, decide whether I could make a life there. If there is nothing…why, then I will stay here, where I can support myself.’

  ‘Or you could stay here and our attorneys could make financial arrangements.’So, there was to be no rush to welcome her to the bosom of the family. ‘There is a small manor in the depths of the Suffolk countryside. Perhaps a thousand pounds a year. You could live like a queen here on that, I imagine.’

  Alessa did a rapid conversion into Venetian ducats and French louis. Her aunt was not exaggerating. Nor did she want her back in England. She, the daughter of the brother loved and lost, stirred up too many memories. Perhaps her aunt felt guilty that she had not stood up for her younger brother. Perhaps the French wife was still too much to swallow. Or perhaps it was simply that this stranger with the same eyes, standing in front of her with a well-bred English accent and dressed from head to foot like a Corfiot peasant at a festival, was simply too difficult to imagine in London society.

  I am not going to beg her to take me back. Anger and pity and disappointment and a welling relief all mingled inside her. With a thousand pounds a year she and the children would never want and she could give them everything they deserved. Only now did she realise why England had seemed so attractive. In Corfu she would never be able to meet Chance on equal terms. Nor will I be able to watch him courting and taking a wife.

  ‘I think that would be—’

  ‘Mama! May I go out in a boat to sail around the monastery rock? Oh! I am sorry, I did not realise you had anyone with you.’

  Into the room came a girl who could be her sister, her arms linked through those of a staid-looking gentleman on one side and a glamorously exotic character who Alessa immediately recognised on the other. Everyone in Corfu Town knew the Count of Kurateni by sight. And of course the staid gentleman was Mr Harrison, the Lord High Commissioner’s secretary.

  All three stared at Alessa. Mr Harrison found his voice first. ‘Kyria Alessa, I did not look to see you on this side of the island.’

  The Count, without the added confusion of prior acquaintance, shot one penetrating glance around the three women in front of him. ‘You have found a relative, Lady Blackstone! What a charming event—my congratulations.’He stood there positively radiating good will, curiosity and a complete lack of understanding that he was intruding.

  Then Alessa saw the mischief and intelligence in the black eyes and realised he knew just what he was doing. The Count scented scandal and entertainment and he was going to indulg
e himself.

  ‘But, Mama, who is this?’ The girl freed herself from the men and came up to Alessa, her hand held out, a frank smile on her face. ‘How do you do? I am Frances—I am sure we must be cousins.’ She half-turned as she spoke, bringing Alessa with her so they stood side by side in front of the mirror. ‘Just look!’

  ‘Frances, you are interrupting a private meeting—’ But Lady Blackstone’s reproof was lost in the sound of the two Trevick sisters calling for Frances.

  ‘Did your mama say you could go?’ Then they were into the room, closely followed by their mother and, sauntering in with an expression of mild boredom, Chance.

  Now the cat is out of the bag with a vengeance!

  Lady Trevick was regarding this crush in the small sitting room with well-bred surprise. It left Lady Blackstone no options. ‘Lady Trevick, the most fortunate circumstance—this is Alexandra Meredith, my long-lost niece. My youngest brother’s child.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘My dear, what a tale you must have to tell.’ Lady Trevick swept forward graciously. ‘Welcome. Is your mama with you on Corfu?’

  ‘Both my brother and his wife have tragically passed away.’ That establishes my legitimacy in front of everyone, Alessa thought, chiding herself at once for being uncharitable. Her appearance must be the most incredible shock to her aunt, and, after all, although she knew she was a respectable young woman, her new aunt most certainly did not.

  Then the unpleasant thought struck her that she was no longer quite so respectable. If anyone had seen her only half an hour ago, let alone in the bay yesterday, she would be ruined. Instinctively she looked at Chance and found he was frowning. Perhaps he had imagined her receiving a more rapturous welcome.

  ‘I am Sir Thomas’s sister,’ Lady Trevick was explaining. She had no way of knowing that the young woman in front of her had probably washed all the linen she was wearing now, and, mercifully, Mr Harrison did not feel it necessary to point this out. ‘These are my daughters Maria and Helena.’ The two smiled warmly, obviously agog with curiosity.