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“You think I shall find someone else as soon as I get to London. You think I’ll forget you. I won’t,” he vowed almost angrily, tapping his heart. “I’ll never forget you.”
* * * * *
He slept badly that night.
Impotent rage made him thrash on his mattress as he attempted to conquer the demons that plagued him. Namely Lord Partington, to whom he owed a great debt of gratitude for staging the show that would see Sir Archie and Lady Julia given some of their own medicine. Furthermore, for welcoming him as the next heir before reluctantly conceding his patronage would have to take another form following the advent of Edgar.
When he awoke, he felt as if he’d been running all night from the hounds of hell. Emerging from his bedchamber, he cast around for Sybil, desperate to rest his eyes upon her, for that’s what it would be—a peaceful release as he allowed his gaze to dwell on something good and wholesome and real.
A search of the gardens did not yield her so he went to his lair behind the conservatory, where he’d dubiously held out just a little hope of finding her but found instead her undeserving husband.
His Lordship thought it a great joke and chortled when he saw the specimens Stephen had collected. “Oh, my lad, you’re thorough. I like you far more than I thought I would and I only wish I were handing over the reins to you instead of that sapskull nephew of mine.” Then obviously remembering the phantom child Dr. Marsh had erroneously confirmed, he added, “Of course, Edgar’s nose is greatly out of joint. He’s barely addressed any of us since the news Lady Partington is expecting but it’s early days yet.” He sighed, looking gloomy and Stephen felt the bristles on the back of his neck rise.
Was Lord Partington dwelling on what he considered an unpleasant duty when he visited Sybil tonight? The thought of the two of them fumbling and grunting on the marital bed made him sick to the stomach. A bitter irony that the act was so distasteful to each of them though sanctioned by the Church, whereas the same act between Sybil and Stephen, who felt so deeply for each other, was a sin.
“Still, there may not be another child and if Edgar inherits, I fear for the future of this place.”
Together they turned their attention from the gardens to the fine old house where Stephen had just spent the happiest days of his life and which contained the woman who had had the most influence over him. The woman he loved.
“The ladies will miss you. Lady Partington in particular. I think she has quite a soft spot for you.”
Stephen searched for any sign of a double entendre and was satisfied. Daringly, he said, “She has been very good to me. I was eighteen when I went to war. By the time I returned both my parents were dead and my income was low, just like the standards I accepted for myself. Lady Partington has reminded me how important it is to aim high.”
He was visited by an image of Lady Julia’s sharp-eyed, speculative look as she took him in her mouth in the little pantry at her home. It made him squirm, but not so the memory of Lady Sybil spread-eagle beneath him, her sweet smile lighting up her face as she offered her luscious body to him. That had been real. Only she was off-limits now and his heart felt heavy in his chest.
He wanted to talk of her, even if it was to her husband. “Lady Partington is a good woman who clearly loves the Grange. A wonderful model for her daughters to follow, for she is so dutiful.”
Lord Partington made a dismissive sound. “We must all do our duty.”
“And she is beautiful too.”
Lord Partington narrowed his eyes. “Your mother was a beauty!” he exclaimed, insinuating that his wife was not.
“As is Lady Partington,” Stephen declared, quashing the urge to call out this man. Instead he damped down the anger, squared his shoulders and pointed to the spiders. “I must take these to the house.”
Now there was to be no more Sybil to caress. Only a vacuous weekend of dodging the gambits of the conniving Lady Julia.
* * * * *
Lady Julia greeted him with unsurprising coquetry as her husband handed her out of her carriage. Stephen was part of the welcome party at the bottom of the steps to the house, in company with Hetty, Araminta and Edgar, whose eyes nearly popped out of his head as the vision of loveliness offered him her hand to kiss. He brightened for the first time in two days.
“The heir to the Grange himself,” she tittered, cradling her hand as if to revere the spot he’d kissed before turning to Stephen. “Poor Mr. Cranbourne,” she said with mock sympathy. “What will you do now?”
Stephen contemplated her question without correcting her assumption that Edgar’s position was as rock solid as before. “I have no money, of course.” He smiled. “Perhaps I shall have to resort to lightening the load of those who do...return to my old gambling days though I’d sworn off wagers following one I had no right to lose.”
She cast an edgy little smile at the group in general before following the lady of the manor up the steps and into the enormous flagstone hallway, clinging to her husband’s arm.
“Mary will show you to your room, Lady Julia,” said Sybil, handing her guest over to the maid, following the requisite courtesies. “We will be waiting for you in the drawing room when you’re ready.”
It was clear Sir Archie and Lady Julia were not used to being entertained in such grand style. Their eyes darted to every fine accoutrement and Stephen harked back to their modest country manor, which he’d thought so fine. How much lower were his standards mere weeks ago? In everything, women included, he thought some time later, watching Lady Julia’s assessing look as she surreptitiously ran her hand over the plush upholstery of the fashionable Egyptian sofa upon which she sat.
No doubt she imagined a thousand pounds was nothing to Stephen with such relatives. It’s why Sir Archie and Lady Julia had entertained him, of course. Money. Or lack of it. They were punting on the River Tick and they saw him as fair game. He should have realized it when Lady Julia took him into the pantry with such determination upon such flimsy acquaintanceship.
It was why she tried her luck again when she accosted him in the passageway as the party broke up to dress for dinner. He mightn’t be in line to inherit now but he was close enough and certainly plump enough in the pocket with possible connections her husband could trade upon.
“Have you missed me?” she purred, taking his arm as they rounded the corner into the older part of the house. Disused closets and bedrooms abounded but he was repulsed by her.
“Please don’t be offended but if you wish the truth, I’ve enjoyed my time here too much, Lady Julia, to spare you a thought.”
