Call of the Heart (13 page)

“A Miss Studley, M’Lord.”

For a moment Lord Rothwyn was still. Then there was a scowl between his eyes as he walked across the Hall.

A footman opened the door to the Silver Salon and he entered to find Sophie standing at the window.

She had removed her bonnet and the sunshine was dazzling on her gold hair.

It also revealed the perfection of her pink and white skin, the liquid blue of her eyes, and the classical curves of her rosebud mouth.

She turned at his entrance and with a little cry of pleasure ran towards him.

“Inigo!” she exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?”

The question was sharp and abrupt.

Sophie came to a stop in front of him and raised her eyes to his.

“Need you ask that question?” she enquired.

Then as Lord Rothwyn stared at her without speaking she put out her white arms towards him as if she would place them round his neck.

“I had to come, Inigo!” she said dramatically. “I had to!”

“May I ask what you mean by that?” he enquired.

She would have pressed herself close to him, but he walked away from her to stand on the hearth with his back to the mantel-piece.

“I did not invite you.”

“I know that,” she replied softly, “but I could go on no longer without seeing you. So I drove here this afternoon.”

“We have nothing to say to each other,” Lord Rothwyn declared. “Nothing at all!”

“I have a lot to say,” Sophie said in a beguiling tone.

She had drawn near to him as she spoke and now once again she was standing beside him.

“I love you!” she said. “I have only just realised how much I love you, and how I cannot live without you.”

Lord Rothwyn looked down at her and his lips twisted in a cynical smile as he asked:

“Now what can have provoked such an outburst of passion? Can it be the fact that Verton has left for the Continent?”

He saw a little flicker in Sophie’s eyes which told him that she had not expected him to know this, but the tone of her voice did not change as she said:

“I made a mistake, Inigo, when I sent Lalitha to you that night, or rather Mama made me. You know how she forbade me even to think of marriage where you were concerned.”

“So it was your mother who forced you to jilt me at the last moment?” Lord Rothwyn said slowly.

“Yes, yes, it was Mama! You know how dictatorial she is, and I could not disobey her. I love you—and I told her so—but she would not listen.”

Lord Rothwyn’s eyes were hard as he said:

“You are a good actress, Sophie, but not good enough. I am well aware why you have come here today. Verton has talked and Society is not smiling so kindly upon you as it once did.” “That is not true!” Sophie said quickly. “And anyway it is of no consequence. I love you and that is all that matters!”

“Even though I am not a Duke?” Lord Rothwyn asked cynically.

“I never wanted to marry Julius. Mama made me and while he was in England I did not dare to get in touch with you. Now that he has left, I am free. Free to come to you as I wish to do.” “Cannot even you see that it is too late for you to ‘change your mind’ as you call it?” Lord Rothwyn asked. “As you well know, I am married.”

He paused a moment and then he said:

“Have you seen Lalitha? What have you said to her?” “Lalitha has been very accommodating,” Sophie replied. “She will not interfere with our plans in any way.”

“What plans?” Lord Rothwyn enquired. “I will not have Lalitha upset!”

His hand went towards the bell-pull as if he would ring it, and as she realised his intention Sophie said quickly:

“Do not ring for Lalitha. She has left!”

“Left? What do you mean left?”

Lord Rothwyn’s question was sharp.

“I told her how much I loved you,” Sophie explained, “and she agreed to go out of your life. After all, you only married her out of revenge—to punish me.” “Lalitha agreed to go out of my life?” Lord Rothwyn said slowly, as if he could hardly understand the words. “But how? And where has she gone?” “She will not trouble you anymore,” Sophie answered. “I have made arrangements for her future. She will be quite all right. You need not think of her again.” “Where has she gone?” Lord Rothwyn asked. “Surely it is immaterial?” Sophie said. “You have not announced your marriage to her, so no-one in London is aware that it ever happened. I am prepared to marry you as soon as it can be arranged, tomorrow or the next day. Then we can be together as you always wanted.”

Her voice died away as she realised that Lord Rothwyn’s face had suddenly become contorted with an anger that was frightening.

“Do you imagine,” he said firmly, “that I would touch you, let alone marry you, after the manner in which you and your mother treated Lalitha?”

“It was nothing to do with me,” Sophie said quickly, “and if she has told you a lot of lies, you need not believe them. She always was a liar and a cheat. After all, she is nothing but a love-child. My mother looked after her out of charity.”

“Where has she gone?”

“Why are you so interested in her?” Sophie enquired. “She is a nobody—ugly and emaciated! I am prepared to give you myself, Inigo. Could you ask for anything more?”

“You revolt me!” Lord Rothwyn retorted, “and although I have no desire to touch you, if you do not tell me where Lalitha has gone I will throttle the truth out of you, or I will beat you in the same manner that your mother beat that wretched girl!”

He spoke with such ferocity that Sophie instinctively moved backwards.

“You must be mad to speak to me like that!”

“I will speak to you in a far worse manner if you do not answer my question! Where is Lalitha? Must I repeat myself, or shall I force an answer from you?”

He took a step towards her and now Sophie was really frightened.

She gave a little cry.

“Do not touch me! I will tell you! I will tell you where Lalitha has gone.”

“Very well,” Lord Rothwyn said, “and hurry up about it!”

“I gave Lalitha money to go Norfolk,” she said. “I do not know exactly where but she left on the stage-coach.”

“At the cross-roads?”

“I took her there.”

“That is all I wanted to know,” Lord Rothwyn said. He walked towards the door.

As he reached it he turned back to say:

“Get out of my house! If I find you here when I return I will order the servants to throw you out!” He left the Salon, slamming the door behind him.

As he reached the Hall the Major-Domo looked at his furious face apprehensively but he walked past him and round to the Stables.

“My curricule with four fresh horses immediately!” Lord Rothwyn ordered.

“Very good, M’Lord.”

Half a dozen grooms ran to do his bidding and although Lord Rothwyn waited with obvious impatience it was less than four minutes before the curricle was ready, drawn by a team of well-matched chestnuts.

Lord Rothwyn flung himself into the driving-seat and the horses were already moving before Ned had scrambled up behind.

If he had driven quickly from London it was nothing compared to the speed he achieved now.

Only when they reached the cross-roads did he slacken his pace to ask:

“Which way would the afternoon stage-coach travel to London?”

“That’ll be the slow one, M’Lord, stopping at the smaller villages. Your Lordship goes left.”

Lord Rothwyn took the left fork and once again, despite the fact that the road twisted and turned, he managed to proceed at a speed which occasionally made Ned grip the sides and press his lips together in consternation.

Never had he known His Lordship to push his horses so hard. Even so the evening was drawing on and they were within a few miles of London when ahead they saw a heavy, ponderous stage-coach packed with passengers.

It carried on top an assorted collection of baggage, including several hen-coops and a young goat sewn into a sack.

As the road was narrow it took Lord Rothwyn some time before he was able to pass the coach.

Only then was he able to bring his sweating team to a standstill across the road so that the stage-coach was obliged to come to a halt.

“Wot d’ye think ye’re a-doing of?” the coach-man shouted truculently.

“Her Ladyship will be inside, Ned,” Lord Rothwyn said. “Ask her to join me.”

“Very good, M’Lord.”

Ned climbed down from the curricule and ran to the coach.

The coach-man and the man up on the box shouted abuse at him, but he paid no attention and pulled open the heavy door.

Packed in amongst fat farmers, small children, a Parson, and two commercial travelers, he saw Lalitha.

She was sitting with her head bent, her hood pulled low over her forehead so that those in the coach could not see her tears.

It had been impossible not to cry as the coach took her further and further away from everything that meant security and happiness.

As they had driven through the great stone gates of Roth Park and reached the open road Lalitha admitted to herself that she was leaving behind the man she loved.

She had loved him, she thought, since the moment he kissed her in the Church-yard thinking she was Sophie.

She had loved him although she had been frightened of him when he had come to her room and she had thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

It was not only his looks; there was something else about him to which she instinctively reached out.

She could not explain it.

It was as if something secret within her recognised in him all that she longed for in life.

Even alone in her beautiful bed-room she had been conscious that the house, the furnishings, the pictures, all were a part of him.    _

Just as his ancestor had built into the house his mind, his imagination, and heart, so Lord Rothwyn had imprinted his personality on it.

Then when they had talked together and Lord Rothwyn had shown her his possessions he had been kind and gentle in a manner which she had never expected from any man, let alone

from him.

She recognised now that she had lost her heart hopelessly and irretrievably.

‘I love him! I love him!” she whispered, “and now I shall never see him again!”

It demanded a tremendous effort of self-control not to cry until Sophie had dropped her at the cross-roads.

“Good-bye, Lalitha,” she had said as the stagecoach lumbered into sight. “Do not forget your promise to forget that mock-marriage to Lord Rothwyn and all that has happened since. He will not remember your existence and neither shall I!”

Lalitha did not answer but merely stepped out of Sophie’s carriage carrying her small bundle under her arm and with some difficulty a place was found for her in the already overcrowded coach.

Sophie did not wait to see her go.

As soon as Lalitha was on the road the coach-man turned back the way they had come—back towards Roth Park.

It was hot and noisy inside the coach. There was a smell of food and smoke and sweat, but Lalitha could think only of Sophie’s beauty as Lord Rothwyn would see her when he returned that evening.

She thought of him walking into the house, the dogs running to greet him. Then he would find waiting for him not herself, as he would have expected, but Sophie.

She could imagine his arms going round her, Sophie’s lovely face turned up to his, and then he would kiss her.

The thought, the pain of it, was an agony within her breast that she had not believed possible.

It was worse than the pain she had endured from her Stepmother’s beatings; worse than anything she had ever suffered before.

Lalitha shut her eyes.

“How can I bear to think of it for the rest of my life?” she asked and then the tears came.

She wiped them away surreptitiously but she could not check them.

The stage-coach rumbled on, stopping at one small village and then another.

Some passengers got out, others got in, and goods were taken down from the roof.

It caused an inordinate amount of noise, shouting, heavy thumpings, and occasionally a bleat from the goat.

On again.

Still Lalitha could think of nothing but Lord Rothwyn; the way he had talked to her with sympathy and understanding, and the occasional look in his eyes which would make her draw in her breath and find it difficult to speak.

Had he any fondness for her at all? she wondered. Or had she just been an encumbrance—someone forced upon him by chance and whom he would be glad to see go?

Again it was an agony to think that she had meant nothing!

Then sharply she tried to rally her pride and the courage she had always thought she possessed.

She must face facts. She was of no consequence to him, a woman he would never even have encountered had it not been for Sophie’s perfidy.

He had been sorry for her, that was obvious, but how was it conceivable that he could have any other feeling for someone so unattractive?

Lalitha told herself than anyone who had looked at Sophie’s incredibly breath-taking beauty would be immune to the attraction of other women however fascinating.

As she herself had no attractions at all she could certainly not be fascinating to someone as fastidious as Lord Rothwyn.

She had always guessed that there had been many other women in his life, and if she had not, Nattie’s chatter would not have left her long in ignorance.

“He’s had too much in life, His Lordship has!” she said once. “Spoilt he’s been ever since he was a small boy by everyone who admired him.”

“Was he always so handsome?” Lalitha asked.

“The most beautiful child I’ve ever seen, like a little angel!” Nettie answered. “And when he grew older he stood out in any company. No wonder the ladies were always after him!”

“Were . . . they?” Lalitha asked in a low voice.

“But of course,” Nettie replied. “With His Lordship’s looks, his position and his wealth, he is every young girl’s dream and the match every mother wants for her daughter.”

“It is strange that he has not married before,” Lalitha said.

“That’s what I've often said to him,” Nattie said, “but he always laughs and says: ‘I have not yet found a woman to come up to my ideal!’ ”