A Particular Circumstance (24 page)

He let his head fall back and put a weary hand over his eyes. Yes, he would certainly follow the doctor’s advice and forgo horse-riding for a while. He had hoped to give little Lucy Baker her long-awaited treat and perhaps see Charlotte and ride with her. Realistically, he knew it would not be more than that. He would not be able to do more than talk to her or perhaps hold her hand … would not be able to give way to his overwhelming desire to take her in his arms … hold her 
close … kiss her…. Even without a chaperon, he knew this would be impossible. He would have to be modestly satisfied with a word, a glance from those fine grey eyes. But even just to see her … to be with her…. He gave himself an impatient shake and rang the bell for the butler to get him some brandy.

And so, the rest of the day was spent in lonely misery.

The following days were no better. Hugo kept to his room, barely speaking to his servants and with only Doctor Armstrong to keep him in touch with the distressing reality of the inquest and the arrangements for the funeral. As the neighbourhood gradually found out about the death of Sir Benjamin and Alfred Westbury, condolence cards and floral tributes were left at Westbury Hall and Hugo was aware that friends, including the Graysons, had called to pay their respects, yet still he remained aloof from it all.

The
Lynn News,
had a large spread, headed:

After all the formalities were over, Sir Benjamin was interred in the family vault, at a quiet ceremony attended only by Hugo, the vicar, assisted by his curate, Reverend Andrew Preston, and Doctor Armstrong. Even Bunfield was not 
present. No mention was made of the disposal of his cousin’s body and Hugo was utterly indifferent to Alfred’s fate.

At church the following Sunday, Hugo and Charlotte merely exchanged polite bows and a quiet ‘Good morning’. Even the servants did not intrude on his grief, only the
irrepressible
Bunfield, who visited doggedly and kept him abreast of the developments in his enquiries.

Hugo was still too sick at heart to care about the details of the case and it wasn’t until Adam Brown requested an
interview
that he came out of his self-imposed silence to welcome him to Westbury Hall.

Adam was not on this occasion accompanied by Matthew, but by the vicar, Mr Swift. They were invited into the library and offered a glass of wine and Hugo was aware that both men were looking at him with some interest.

The three men were silent for a while and then Adam Brown said gently, ‘I am so sorry at the way things have turned out, sir, and would like to extend my profound sympathy at the loss of your esteemed great-uncle.’

Hugo noted in passing that the lawyer did not say ‘to you and your family’. Because he had no family, he thought bitterly. Some far-off relatives in America, perhaps, related to his long-dead mama and whom he had never seen, and that was all. He nodded without replying and waited for Adam Brown to continue.

‘The reading of Sir Benjamin’s will is just a formality, Mr Westbury. I have asked Mr Swift to be a witness, but as no one else is concerned in any bequests, there was no need to invite anyone else to the reading. Sir Benjamin left all his
considerable
fortune to yourself, sir. As well as this country estate, Sir Benjamin owned property and farms in Yorkshire and Leicestershire. He owned a substantial town house in Berkeley Square, which is at present leased to a relative of Lord Hampton and, of course, his business concerns in India, which were sold out and wound up earlier this year.’

Adam Brown coughed softly and continued, ‘In all, Mr
Westbury, your inheritance is somewhat in excess of two hundred thousand pounds. Please peruse the document and ask any questions that you might have.’

As if in a dream, Hugo read through the legal document which was his great-uncle’s last will and testament. The words ‘I bequeath all these to my great-nephew, Hugo Westbury’ were repeated after every itemised possession and bank account that Sir Benjamin had owned. There was no mention anywhere of Alfred Westbury or any other member of the family. Apart from a few minor bequests to old servants and a sum of money for the restoration of St Paul’s bell tower, there was nothing more to mention and Hugo returned it to the lawyer without speaking.

After Mr Swift had departed, Adam remained, conversing in his quiet, gentlemanly way about his betrothal to Matthew’s Aunt Lavinia and their forthcoming marriage, but Hugo was paying little attention to what he was saying and merely answered in monosyllables. At last, Adam also took his leave and Hugo was left completely alone.

After a solitary dinner, he sat for some time, still brooding on the events of the last few weeks and wondering, almost despairingly, why Charlotte was suddenly so unfriendly and aloof. Even Latimer dared not disturb him and Hugo’s mood became blacker than ever. Finally, as the evening sun began to set in a spectacular red sky, Hugo squared his broad
shoulders
and made a sudden resolution. He would forget about going riding. Tomorrow, instead of brooding alone, he would walk to Felbrook Manor and insist on seeing Charlotte. He would refuse to leave until he had spoken to her.

Once this plan was firm in his mind, he rang the bell for Latimer and took himself off to bed.

The next morning, he set off immediately after breakfast, a most unfashionable time to go visiting, he reflected, with a half smile, but he was determined on it. He wore his country gentleman’s nankeen jacket and breeches and a simple stock,
rather than his usual elaborate cravat. The morning was cool, but with the promise of autumn sunshine still to come and in spite of his anguish at Sir Benjamin’s death, his heart felt a little lighter, even though his thoughts were disjointed. He would see her today. They would be able to talk in private. He was determined to ask her to marry him. He would refuse to take no for an answer. He loved her. He was almost certain she loved him in return. If not, he would court her and make her love him.

His wound was not paining him at all now. It had completely healed and there was only a thin, jagged, pale line in the flesh of his side to show he had ever been injured. Not yet silver, as the doctor had promised, he thought grimly, but still, all healed up. He rejoiced that the evil Alfred’s plan to remove him had not succeeded and wasted no time on
hypocritical
thoughts of sorrow for his cousin.

All these meandering thoughts sped away from him like a hare before the hounds when he saw her coming towards him. After the first shock of surprise and recognition, he noticed that she was not walking with her usual upright confident stride, but her head was bent and she walked slowly as though lost in thought. But what a delight she was to look at. Her high young bosom rising and falling with her breathing. Long slender legs, silhouetted faintly through the light fabric of her gown. Slim shapely hands whose touch he remembered so well, inflaming him when she had
disentangled
the Bakers’ kitten and soothing him when he had been injured. Was any woman ever so bewitching … and so tormenting?

His heart beat faster, but he managed to greet her coolly as he slowly advanced towards her. ‘Good morning, Charlotte.’

‘Good morning, Mr Westbury,’ she said demurely. Then her natural curiosity overcame her and she asked, ‘Why are you out so early when … when you are so … so badly wounded?’

‘I thought that was obvious. I came in pursuit of you.’

Charlotte turned her head away and fidgeted with the satin ribbons of her pretty straw bonnet. ‘Oh, indeed, Mr Westbury?’ she said faintly.

‘Yes,’ he said, taking her hands firmly away from the ribbons and holding them in his own. ‘And what is more, Charlotte, I love you and am determined to marry you.’

In her agitation, Charlotte pulled away from him and stepped backwards, but unfortunately, caught her heel on an inconvenient tuft of grass and fell backwards on to the dry springy turf. Regardless of his wound, Hugo immediately threw himself down beside her and pinioned her arms above her head.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘The tables are turned. You were on top of me when I was ill, but it is I who am on top now.’

‘You knew?’ she gasped. ‘Oh, it is so dishonourable of you to mention it…. Let me go, Mr Westbury … how can you be so … so ungentlemanly?’

‘Very easily,’ he said, smiling down on her wickedly. ‘Especially when I have you in my power like this.’

‘Please, Mr Westbury. This is most improper. Let me go….’

‘Not a chance,’ he said in a whisper and then he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, softly at first, but then he released her hands, to pull her body closer and kiss her more passionately.

Charlotte determined to lie passive and utterly still in his arms, in order to cool his ardour and bring him to some sense of the impropriety of his conduct. But her lips refused to act upon the message that her brain was giving them and seemed to have a will of their own as she found herself responding quite disgracefully to his lovemaking, her willing mouth
softening
under his.

Hugo rolled on top of her, pressing himself against her, and began to stroke her mouth with long, sensuous kisses until Charlotte’s traitorous body arched upwards towards him and she returned his kiss with a passion to match his own.

As soon as he felt her response, Hugo freed her mouth and 
whispered against her neck, ‘So, you do love me, then?’

‘You know I cannot think properly with you lying on top of me like this,’ she complained breathlessly and then,
immediately
, she whispered softly, ‘Yes. I love you.’

He rolled to one side and pulled her into his arms again. ‘And you will marry me?’

‘Yes.’

When she was finally able to raise her head, Charlotte
realized
that her bonnet had rolled across the grass and her
hairpins
had come loose, but she felt such a burst of happiness within her that she was inclined to forgive him. 

Dear Miss Grey
Dangerous Legacy
Tangled Destiny