Abbeyford Inheritance (11 page)

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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

BOOK: Abbeyford Inheritance
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Lord Lynwood called for her at her apartment.

“You are enchanting, ma'am,” he said and bowed deeply as she curtsied playfully to him.

Lynwood himself handed her into his carriage and they bowled through the fashionable streets of London.

They drew up outside a grand terraced house with pillars on either side of a huge oak front door. More carriages lined the road and the night air was filled with the sound of laughter and excited chatter.

“Well,” Lord Lynwood smiled down at her as he escorted her up the steps and into the house. “Are you ready to rock London Society?”

Adelina laughed. “I hope so.”

As they entered, their names were announced and Adelina was aware of the heads turning, of the sudden stillness in the room, swiftly broken by the babble of speculation which swept through the vast room. The young men soon gravitated towards her and before long she was dancing every dance and never twice with the same partner – except for Lynwood, who demanded four. He watched as she danced with other men, his eyes following her swaying body, her parted lips, her shining eyes. She was easily the most beautiful girl in the room and a new face amongst the familiar ones of this particular set was bound to create excitement amongst the gentlemen and jealousy amongst the ladies.

Breathless and laughing, Adelina returned to Lord Lynwood. For the first time Abbeyford and all its unhappy memories seemed a hundred years away.

“Oh, Francis, this is wonderful. Oh look, there's Lord Eversleigh!” The use of Lynwood's Christian name sprang naturally to her lips. Now she felt his equal as his friends and contemporaries laughed and flirted with her.

But Adelina's growing confidence was like a knife in Lynwood's heart – now she was even more like her mother!

Gaily she waved her ivory fan at Lord Eversleigh across the room. Immediately he threaded his way through the people to reach her.

“Miss Cole – Lynwood. ' Tis good to see you here.” His words were intended to include them both, but his eyes rested solely upon Adelina. But her restless gaze was wandering about the room, drinking in the elegance, the atmosphere of frivolity and enjoyment. She had never known anything like it in her life. She had not known such a world even existed.

Suddenly she saw the smile fade from Lord Eversleigh's face. “I say, Lynwood,” he said in a low, urgent tone and nodded his head towards the door.

Lynwood turned and Adelina's eyes followed the direction of his gaze. Standing at the top of the stairs, framed in the doorway, stood a beautiful woman. Adelina eyed her critically … Whoever she was, she was certainly lovely. Her skin was creamy white and her black hair shone and glinted in the light. Her low-cut gown was of transparent pink net over a deeper shade of pink.

“Who is she?” Adelina asked. She saw Lord Lynwood and his friend exchange a glance.

“That,” remarked the Earl of Lynwood drily, “ is Helene Lyon.”

“Do you know her?” Adelina asked innocently.

Lynwood coughed and Lord Eversleigh seemed to stifle his laughter.

“Slightly,” Lynwood replied, but there was sarcasm in his tone.

Helene Lyon floated elegantly down the steps, graciously acknowledging greetings on every side. She smiled and fluttered her fan, but all the while she was making her way directly across the room towards Lord Lynwood.

“Francis! How wonderful you're back in London,” she cried, stretching out her hands towards him. “I couldn't imagine
you
, of all people, vegetating in the dreary countryside.” Helene's voice was low and seductively husky. Her eyes flirted openly with him.

“Helene.” Lynwood kissed her hand and then turned towards Adelina.

“I must introduce you to Miss Adelina Cole from America.” Now that she was close, Adelina could see that Helene Lyon's face was perfectly proportioned, with pale blue eyes, finely arched brows and full, well-shaped lips.

“How do you do?” The expression in Helene's eyes belied her friendly greeting. Her scathing glance raked Adelina from head to toe and her lip curled disdainfully. “Are you staying in London long, Miss Cole?”

Adelina glanced at Lynwood. “I'm not sure. I hope so, but the decision rests with Lord Lynwood.”

Adelina heard Helene's swift intake of breath and saw the anger spark within her eyes. Helene turned to face Lynwood and her eyes narrowed.

“So – that's the way it is!” She gave a snort of contempt and turned away abruptly, her skirts swirling angrily.

“Methinks you have offended the lady,” Eversleigh murmured.

“It would appear so,” Lynwood remarked in an offhand manner. He held out his arm to Adelina, “ Come, Adelina, 'tis time you danced with
me
again.”

Watching her dance with other men had caused Lynwood to feel acute jealousy. Seeing her admired had at last made him acknowledge his own deepening passion for her.

As they joined three other couples in a quadrille, Adelina was aware, all the time, of Miss Lyon's hostile gaze following their every movement.

Adelina found herself dancing opposite a tall, thin, young dandy, whose admiration for her was plain to see.

As the dance came to an end he demanded to be introduced to her. Lynwood performed the introductions with bad grace. It was the first time Adelina had seen him openly discourteous towards someone. His lips were a thin, hard line and anger glittered in his blue eyes making them seem suddenly cold.

“Mr Thomas de Courtney – Miss Adelina Cole.”

“Madam – I am charmed. You are like a breath of spring amongst our dull company. May I pray beseech the pleasure of the next dance?”

“Of course …”

But Adelina's words were interrupted by Lynwood saying sharply, “It's time we were leaving, Adelina.”

“Oh, no, Francis,” she spoke without thinking. “I'm having such a wonderful time. I don't want to go yet.”

“Madam,” Lynwood said warningly, “ you will oblige me by leaving when
I
say.”

For a moment the fire of challenge was between them, their determined, wilful spirits clashing. Then colour flooded Adelina's face as she remembered that she was only here by Lynwood's kindness. She had allowed the flattery of all the young men here to turn her head for a moment. Submissively, she put her hand on his arm. “Of course. I'm sorry, my lord.”

His anger melted at once and Lynwood caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. The scene did not go unnoticed by those nearby. As Lynwood led Adelina from the room it was not only Helene Lyon's eyes which followed them.

“My Lord Lynwood seems to be smitten somewhat,” remarked one of Thomas de Courtney's friends.

“Egad, but she's a fine filly. From the New World, ain't she?” murmured de Courtney. “I'd like to try my hand at prising her away from Lynwood.”

“Why don't you, then?”

“I might at that,” he remarked casually.

“Damned fool if you do, de Courtney. He'll call you out for sure and he's reputed to be the best swordsman this side of the Channel.”

De Courtney shrugged and his eyes followed Adelina until she left the room and disappeared from view.

“It might even be worth it if I'd had that little filly first!”

His fellow companions guffawed loudly.

In the carriage Lynwood and Adelina did not speak to each other, but each was acutely aware of the tension between them.

Lynwood, his desire, his love and all the bitter memories he'd tried so hard to crush had come crowding to the surface as he had watched Adelina dancing with other men.

He followed her into her apartment and slammed the door behind them. Adelina gasped and whirled to face him, her eyes wide, her lips apart. At the look on his face, she backed away and put her hand out as if to fend him off. “ No, my lord, please. I …”

“Adelina!” he whispered hoarsely and reached out towards her. “Don't be afraid. I won't – hurt you.” He grasped her shoulders and drew her into his embrace. His mouth found hers, demanding, searching, pleading for love, so that she found herself, unwilling at first, responding to his desperate need for her. His hands stroked her hair, his mouth was against her neck, his lips seeming to burn her skin. Then he picked her up and carried her towards the bedroom, kicking shut the door behind them.

He lay beside her, his arms about her. For a moment his lips were gentle, his caresses tender and worshipping, but as his passion grew, a swift change of mood overwhelmed him and he took her swiftly, using her for his own selfish gratification, punishing her for something she could not understand.

His passion spent, he still lay heavily across her, his face buried against her neck, great shuddering sobs shaking his whole being. She could feel the wetness of his tears against her skin.

Suddenly he raised himself from her and, keeping his face averted, rolled off the bed and stumbled towards the door.

As the door shut behind him, Adelina curled her lovely body into a ball as if to protect herself from further misuse.

Was there no love in this world? Were all men as cruel as this? She covered her face with her arms and sobbed and sobbed.

Eventually she fell into a deep, troubled sleep where Evan Smithson's twisted features became Lynwood's tortured face!

The following day, there was no word from Lynwood, nor on the next, but on the third day Adelina was surprised to receive a visit from Lord Eversleigh during the morning. As she bade him sit down, she noticed he seemed ill at ease.

“Er – Lynwood is – er – staying with me.”

Adelina raised her left eyebrow fractionally. “ Really?”

“He – er – asked me to come and – well – see if you were still here.”

The silence grew between them and then Lord Eversleigh's eyes met Adelina's steady gaze.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “ I am still here.”

“And – and are you going to stay?”

Slowly she inclined her head. “Yes.”

Relief flooded through his face. “ Lynwood will be glad. He's very fond of you, you know, Miss Cole.”

“Did he tell you to say that?”

“No – no – but I know he is. I can tell.” Eversleigh stood up. “He'll be back this evening, then.”

“Tell him …” Adelina paused.

“Yes?” Eversleigh queried eagerly.

“Tell him – I look forward to seeing him.”

Eversleigh smiled. “ I will.”

After Lord Eversleigh had left, Adelina decided she would not remain closeted within her rooms any longer. She would go driving in Hyde Park that afternoon.

So, at five o'clock, the fashionable time when all the Society people appeared to drive or ride in the Park, she sent word that she required Lord Lynwood's carriage. Her arrival there caused a stir amongst those who went there regularly. Adelina recognised one or two faces from her attendance at the ball and, before many minutes had passed, she found that several of the young men on horseback were keeping pace with her carriage. One seemed determined to get close to her.

“Why, it's Mr de Courtney, is it not?”

“It is, ma'am, and I am mighty flattered that you should have remembered my name. I, of course, could not forget yours if I had tried. Indeed, Miss Cole, my
dear
Miss Cole, you have been scarcely out of my thoughts since I laid eyes on you the other evening.”

“Really, Mr de Courtney?” Adelina knew his words to be outrageous flattery. “Aren't you going to introduce me to some of your companions?” she nodded towards the other riders beside her carriage.

“What? And have them usurp my place beside you, Miss Cole? Indeed I am not!”

Her carriage had slowed to a snail's pace so that she might carry on a conversation with Thomas de Courtney. Several other carriages rattled past.

“Why, there's Miss Lyon!” Adelina waved her gloved hand in greeting, but Helene Lyon appeared not to have noticed, for, although she seemed to be looking in Adelina's direction, her eyes wore a steely, glazed expression.

“Why,” Adelina cried with a spurt of anger. “ She cut me!”

Thomas de Courtney guffawed loudly. “Are you surprised?”

Adelina's eyes widened as she looked at him. “I don't understand you.”

“You can hardly expect her to show friendliness towards the lady who has taken her place, can you?”

Adelina looked puzzled and shook her head slightly. Brutally, Thomas de Courtney took great pleasure in informing her, “Helene Lyon was Lynwood's mistress. That is until you arrived on the scene.”

“What makes you think I am his mistress?” Adelina snapped defiantly.

“Oh, come now, Miss Cole,” Mr de Courtney waved his hand towards the numerous ladies in their carriages, most of whom seemed to be engaged in conversation with some gentleman. “ There isn't one of these lovely ladies here who hasn't a string of lovers to her name. It's the occupational pastime of the idle rich, my dear.”

Adelina opened her parasol. “Well, Mr de Courtney. I am not a Britisher – so pray don't judge
me
by your own standards!”

“Brave words, Miss Cole, but I wonder just how long you'll be able to live up to such a high moral code if you plan to become part of our decadent Society?”

Adelina declined to answer. “ Drive on,” she instructed her coachman sharply. “ Goodday, Mr de Courtney.” “Goodday, Miss Cole. We shall meet again.”

Adelina was in a fine temper when she arrived home, partly because she had found Thomas de Courtney's arrogance disturbing but more so because he, and most likely everyone else, had recognised her for just what she had become – the mistress of Lord Francis Lynwood.

Jane was waiting for her. “His lordship has sent word he is taking you to dine tonight, madam, and afterwards to the Opera.”

“The Opera!”

Adelina's ill-humour was dispelled in an instant. “ How wonderful! I've heard such a lot about it, but I've never been. Oh, Jane, what shall I wear? How shall I dress my hair?”

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