Love Became Theirs (9 page)

"Beautiful lady," said Count Rostoy fervently.

"That's enough," said Rona. "You are drawing people's attention to me, and I do not like it."

"You are right. It is better to wait until we are alone."

Receiving no answer, he sighed.

"Alas, I bore you already."

Rona barely heard him. Her attention had been drawn by Alice, sitting next to Jacques, the youngest son. He seemed totally smitten with her, and she was flowering under his attention. She was also, Rona noted, learning a lot of new French words.

Her eyes met the Earl's across the table. She glanced significantly at Alice and smiled. He nodded, understanding her perfectly, and returned her smile.

Rona turned back to the Count.

"I do wish you would tell me about Russia," she said sincerely. "It's a country that has always fascinated me."

He began to do so, describing the court of Czar Alexander II, which he seemed to know well, although not, she suspected, as well as he claimed. He talked about the jewels and the splendid clothes, and the great ceremonies in the cathedral.

But he also talked about his home in the country, where the landscape stretched to a far horizon, seemingly endless. He talked about spring and silver birch trees and songs floating on the air as the peasants walked home from the fields.

Rona listened entranced, liking him more and more. She was in no danger of falling in love with this cheerful, overgrown child, but he was agreeable company.

When dinner was over, the party adjourned to the music room. Various guests took it in turns to strum on the piano, while the others mingled, murmuring softly.

"I've never seen Alice come out of her shell like this," the Earl said to Rona. "But are you sure she's not coming out too fast."

"She's safe enough while we both keep an eye on her," Rona said. "That boy is little more than a child himself. It's a game to both of them. And I think Alice has suffered from too little praise and attention. A little of too much won't harm her."

"You're right. I leave it in your hands," he said warmly. "For I never knew anyone I trusted more."

He enclosed her hand in both of his for a moment, then turned away to talk to his hostess.

Count Rostoy immediately commandeered Rona's attention again.

"Are you sure you're wise to spend so much time with me?" she asked. "You might be overlooking an heiress."

"You are very kind to think of my problems, but concern is needless," he said gravely. "Monsieur Thierre's daughters are either married or too young. The little Alice is also too young. If I tried to be gallant, her Papa would slit my throat."

"Or I might do it for him," Rona agreed cheerfully.

"Exactly, so you see, there are no possibilities here. I have checked carefully."

"Of course. I should have known that you would not overlook such a detail," she returned with equal gravity. But her eyes were dancing.

Again they laughed together, but quietly this time, not to attract too much attention.

He continued talking about Moscow and St. Petersburg, and she listened in delight, until one young woman, anxious to display her skill at the piano embarked on a piece that was very long and very loud.

"Let us slip onto the terrace," said the Count. "We can talk more quietly there."

They did so, moving out of range of the pianist, but staying within sight, for the sake of delicacy, so that anyone who was interested could look out and see the good looking man and woman, laughing with their heads together, happily engrossed in each other's company.

They stayed like that for an hour, until Rona recollected herself and declared that it was time for Alice to go to bed.

*

At breakfast, the next morning, Marcel said,

"Ladies, would it suit you to ride in the Bois de Boulogne this morning?"

"We would be glad to escort you," added young Jacques, with a sigh in Alice's direction.

Neither Rona nor Alice had riding habits with them, but the ladies of the family were generous in lending theirs, which were new and in the very latest style.

"I look so grown up," Alice said, thrilled.

"Well remember you are not quite seventeen," Rona warned her. "Try to behave sedately."

Alice made a face.

Rona tried not to be vain about her own appearance, but the riding habit showed off her trim figure to advantage. Outside the sun was shining.

The Earl and Monsieur Thierre had gone out together to attend some conference. Peter was also missing, and Marcel mentioned that he had left early that morning, 'on urgent business'. Thus a party of eight set off for the Bois de Boulogne.

Jacques had easily manoeuvred himself so that he was riding next to Alice, and there was a certain amount of jostling to get beside Rona. It was Marcel who prevailed. He played practised court to her, admiring her looks and her riding, until eventually she laughed.

"Have I offended you, that you laugh at me?" he asked.

"No, I'm not offended. I'm just enjoying the novelty of compliments. In England they're in very short supply. That's what's so nice about coming here, because you always say such charming things, even if you don't mean them."

"Of course we mean them when it concerns anyone as pretty as you," Marcel replied promptly.

Rona laughed again.

"Now that's the sort of compliment I like," she said, "and which I wouldn't get in my country."

Marcel nodded.

"I've been to England, and I think the reason the Englishmen are very mean with their compliments is simply because they don't know how to enjoy themselves, especially when it concerns pretty women.

"And the trouble with English women is that they are so unused to compliments that they cannot believe them."

"I promise to believe every word you say," Rona laughed.

"Good. And when you return home, you must give the Englishmen a lesson in how to behave towards women. Tell them we manage better over here."

"I'll try but I don't think all the lessons in the world will make an Englishman as skilled as a Frenchman."

They continued bantering in this cheerful way until they were deep into the park. Then suddenly Rona heard a new voice beside her.

"My compliments ma'am. After a wearying journey and a late night you still manage to be as fresh as a daisy this morning."

Turning her head quickly she was startled to see Peter, astride a jet black horse and looking magnificent.

"I did not think you meant to join us, sir," she said. "You are supposed to be elsewhere."

"Oh, I manage to be everywhere," he said lightly.

And suddenly she heard another voice, in another place, saying,

"Harlequin is everywhere, and sees everything."

A tremor went through her. It was him. Now she was sure it was him. Hearing words so similar she recognised the tone in the voice.

She twisted in the saddle to regard him intently.

He was looking at her, and there was something in his eyes that might have been recognition.

She waited for him to confirm her suspicions.

"Your charge is a credit to you," he said at last. "I have seldom seen her in such good spirits."

Good manners forced her to conceal her disappointment.

"I can take little credit for that, sir. I've been in the Earl's employment only two days."

"I think you can take every credit. It's not a question of time, but of attitude. When we met, Alice told me you were magic, because that's how you made her feel. She was unhappy, and you made her happy. That's true magic."

"Thank you," she said, taken aback.

They rode a little further and then he said,

"I was very fond of my sister, Valerie. We grew close after our parents died. When she married and had a child, they became my family too. Giles has always encouraged me to treat his house as my own, and now I feel almost like a second father to Alice. I'm grateful to you for what you've done for her."

"The poor child needs a woman's guidance now she's growing up," said Rona. "With her father being an Earl, so many men are going to approach her for the wrong reasons."

"You mean fortune hunters?"

"I am afraid so. She must learn to recognise them."

"But you can teach her that better than anyone."

"Why do you say so?" she asked quickly.

Now he was going to tell her that they had met before.

"Because, ma'am, you seem to be pursuing a secret vendetta against men." He spoke lightly, and with a sideways smile at her.

"I'm doing no such thing," Rona retorted.

"You clearly disapprove of us all – except perhaps those with big black moustaches. I wonder why."

She maintained a diplomatic silence. She had the feeling that he was deliberately fencing with her.

"We're not all rogues," he pleaded.

"Indeed?"

"You can't be so hard hearted as to believe that."

"I can believe whatever I think I have reason for," she said with a little toss of her head.

"I see what it is. Some shabby fellow let you down and broke your heart. Tell me the scoundrel's name and I'll run him through."

"Certainly not. And my heart is far from broken. In fact, it's firmly in my own possession and always has been."

"Ah! A lady of taste and discernment. I like that."

"You are impertinent, sir. I have no interest in what you like."

"Foiled again!" he said with an exaggerated sigh that made her laugh. "Well, I guessed that winning your good opinion wasn't going to be easy."

"Probably quite impossible," she said.

"Would it help if I grew a moustache?" he asked hopefully.

"You haven't the style for it. I advise you not to waste your time."

"But I never take good advice, ma'am. It's the code I live by."

"Then you will surely come to grief."

After a moment he said in a strange voice,

"How do you know I haven't already come to grief?"

She hesitated, not sure how to reply. He could have meant so many things.

"Well, if you have, you're very cheerful under it," she said, trying to gain time.

"But how do you know that what you see is real?" he asked. "Perhaps I'm really wearing a mask?"

Her heart began to beat quickly.

"I think you would wear a mask better than most people," she agreed. "Perhaps several."

He gave a quick intake of breath as though her words had gone home. She was startled by the sight of his face which had grown suddenly pale.

"Astute of you, ma'am," he said in a soft voice. "A shrewd guess? Or are you too, perhaps, wearing a mask?"

"Do you believe I am?"

He had recovered himself and was looking at her, with a curious half smile. She noticed again what a wide, mobile mouth he had, and suddenly she was assailed by the memory of firm lips covering her own, moving seductively in a kiss given by a man determined that she should never forget him.

'Was it you?' she thought desperately. 'Was it your arms that held me, your mouth that caressed mine until I could not think, only feel?'

In a moment surely he would say something to end her confusion.

Then she heard a shout from behind. Somebody said,

"Hey, look who's over there."

Everybody's eyes turned to where the Countess Rostoya and her brother were cantering towards them.

"I must pay my respects," said Peter. "Your pardon ma'am."

He tipped his hat to Rona and, with no further ado, spurred his horse forward towards the Countess. Rona saw him pull up beside her, take her hand in his and kiss it fervently.

The spell was broken. One moment she had held all his attention, and he had seemed on the verge of saying something momentous.

But now he had forgotten all about her.

By common consent the two parties joined up. Count Rostoy immediately fell in beside Rona, seized her hand, kissed it and pressed it theatrically to his bosom. Since his behaviour reminded her more of clowning than of passion, she was not offended.

"I have spent the whole night thinking of your beauty," he said in throbbing accents.

"What a shocking waste of time!" she declared. "You should have been thinking of heiresses."

"True, but what can I do when you are so beautiful and so cruel?"

From behind them came the sound of a giggle. Alice was listening and enjoying herself. Not in the least disconcerted, the Count turned and saluted her, grinning.

The Russian didn't have everything as he pleased. Henri, determined not to be outdone by his brother, Marcel, joined Rona on the other side and made a determined bid for her attention. He and the Count enjoyed a cheerful duel for the next mile, but they were both baulked by the fact that the lady's attention kept wandering. She was trying to keep Alice in view.

Sometimes this was easy as the girl rode almost level with her. Sometimes she fell behind, and sometimes she began to drift off down side paths, with the two younger sons, and Rona had to call her back. Alice would make a face, but she always returned obediently.

It pleased Rona to see that Alice was a very good rider. Her horse was docile, and presented little challenge, but the girl clearly had a natural skill.

Rona's own mount was more spirited and she had to concentrate to keep it under control. But her Papa had insisted on her being taught by the best teachers, and she emerged the winner from their battle of wills.

Henri, who owned the animal, congratulated her.

"Castor is lively, but you have the trick of making him obey you."

"Thank you," she said lightly, "but that shouldn't surprise you. A governess has to know the art of commanding obedience, with horses as in everything."

"Ah yes! In everything! I think, Mademoiselle Governess, that this describes you. You are – now, what is the English word?"

"Bossy," Rona informed him merrily.

"Ah yes! Bossy!"

"But this is an insult," roared the Russian. "A woman doesn't like to be called bossy."

"That depends how bossy she actually is," Rona pointed out. Meeting Henri's eye with a teasing glance, she added, "she might be glad of it, as a way of signalling the slavish obedience that she expects."