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Her thoughts went off in a new direction, imagining her calling on him and him calling on her. Imagining kisses in the wild garden, or secret meetings in the park. Time flew past and it was almost the hour for dinner when Beth knocked on the door and stepped inside the room. She was wearing a new dress of gray silk with cream lace trimmings, and her hair was coiled neatly at her nape with a few feathery curls brushing her temples.
“You’re not dressed,” she scolded, before Averil could tell her how well she looked. “What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been thinking about the Home,” Averil said, avoiding her companion’s suspicious gaze. It wouldn’t do for Beth to know she’d been ruminating over Rufus all this time.
There was a delicate porcelain bowl with a matching jug full of water on the dressing table and Averil washed while Beth laid her clothes out on the bed. No maids had come to assist, so Beth helped her dress, lacing up her stays and helping her into her evening dress. The soft mint green was just right with Averil’s pale complexion and gray eyes, and it clung perfectly to her curves. The neckline was revealing without being overly so and the dress had puffed sleeves that almost reached her elbows. Her hair was pinned up and hopefully would stay in place long enough for her to complete dinner, and she wore her mother’s locket around her neck.
Averil examined herself critically in the full-length mirror and was pleased—she knew she wanted Rufus to admire her. She wanted his dark eyes to gleam when he saw her; she wanted to see the forbidden promises in the curve of his lips. Her heart fluttered at the thought of more kisses and she had to pretend to suddenly become very interested in the fall of her skirts, so Beth’s sharp eyes didn’t notice.
Rufus was waiting impatiently in the main drawing room. Everything was clean and sparkling, and the enormous chandelier was blazing with candles. Of co
urse they were too far away from the city to have gaslights, or the even more modern electricity, but he found he preferred the candlelight.
He hadn’t quite believed his eyes when he first walked into his home. Last time he’d been here there had been dust and cobwebs everywhere. Of course he was very much aware that they were all taking part in a charade, but it was wonderful to see the castle as it should be, as he’d like it to be. James had done a marvelous job, apart from the seed cake earlier, but all in all Rufus was impressed with his disreputable uncle.
“Rufus!”
The familiar voice made him jump. “Great-Aunt Mildred,” he said, and turned with a smile.
She was standing in the doorway behind him, wearing a turban that had seen better days, and a great many shawls. Mildred felt the cold and Southbrook Castle was the devil to heat; even in the summer it could have an arctic chill.
“I see you’ve come prepared,” he said dryly, as he bent to kiss her cheek.
“I have indeed.” She caught his arm so he couldn’t move away. “What are you up to, Rufus? James wouldn’t tell me anything, which surprised me rather. He was always such a rattle, but he’s informed me that his lips are sealed and if I want to know anything then I am to ask you.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “We have guests and one of them is James’s latest flirt. He knew she wouldn’t come if there wasn’t a female here at the castle, so he roped you in.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes shrewd. “You’re lying,” she said. “You’re good at it, mind you, but I could always tell.”
Rufus laughed. “I’m not. You’ll see.”
Mildred tipped her head to one side like a wizened little bird. “Maybe not entirely lying, but there’s something you’re not telling me. Who are these guests?”
“Douglas McInnes, my land agent; Lady Averil Martindale; her companion, Miss Beth Harmon; and their protégé, Violet Pinnock.” After much consideration he’d decided that Violet should join them at the table, rather than be hidden away in the servants’ quarters, as was probably more socially proper. The girl would be company for Eustace and besides, he’d be blind not to realize that she was the main reason Douglas McInnes had inserted himself into the evening’s party.
“I know I don’t get down to London as often as I used to,” Mildred replied drolly, “but even I know about the Martindales. Is this Lady Averil the daughter of Anastasia?”
“Yes, she is, but I’d prefer you didn’t pass comment. Averil is nothing like her mother.”
Mildred gave him another of her shrewd looks. “Pity. Anastasia was the sort of woman that drew every eye, especially male eyes. I’d like to see you smitten by a woman, Rufus. You’ve been free and easy for far too long.”
Voices were approaching. Rufus looked up, prepared to play the host, and then Averil entered the room, followed by Beth and Violet. He didn’t notice the others; he only had eyes for Averil. She looked beautiful in her evening dress; her fair hair gleamed under the chandelier and her smile lit up her face. She didn’t possess the sort of beauty that made people stand back and gasp, it was more than that. When Rufus looked at Averil he wanted to reach out and touch her.
Beside him Mildred cleared her throat in an amused way and Rufus bit back a groan. So much for hiding the truth from his great-aunt. He’d given himself away with one glance.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
Great-Aunt Mildred was behaving herself and Rufus, who’d had his doubts, was relieved to see it. They were seated in the dining room where Southbrooks had sat for centuries. This room always made him think he was stepping back in time, with its dark paneling and candles in sconces and hunting scenes around the walls, the latter mercifully dimmed by the candles.
Across the table Beth and James were talking and smiling together as if they’d known each other for years, while Douglas was engaging Violet and Eustace in a conversation that seemed to be mostly about his pack of hunting hounds. Great-Aunt Mildred had fallen silent, and Rufus took the opportunity to lean toward Averil on his other side. From this angle he could admire the pale, creamy curves of her breasts above the neckline of her gown, and that tantalizing little hollow at the base of her throat.
She smiled up at him. She appeared to be enjoying herself, and she’d already said she was looking forward to seeing the property tomorrow. Now, when he continued to look and say nothing, she reached up a little nervously to touch the locket about her throat, and he recognized it as the same one that Mrs. Fredericks had given her—her mother’s locket.
“Can you open it?” he asked, gesturing to the locket. “Is there something inside?”
“I did try,” Averil said, a little frown creasing the smooth skin between her brows, “but the catch is broken. I don’t want to force it open, in case I break it, so I’ll have to have it fixed before I can see what’s inside.” She leaned toward him and now they were barely inches apart. “Do you think there might be a clue in there? Something to do with Rose?”
