were your parents thinking?’
‘I believe they were thinking about their artefacts,’ Rachel said composedly. She gripped her hands together about the little blue-and-white china teacup. What she really wanted to say was that she had always believed that her arrival had been unexpected, a disruption to her parents’ plans, and that her subsequent existence had been a severe trial to them. But it felt a little disloyal and she did not know Deborah well enough yet to confide.
Mrs Stratton’s animated face had softened slightly. She put an impulsive hand out to Rachel. ‘You poor girl! I do believe that you would have given anything for a childhood as ordinary as mine, whilst I would have given anything for the excitement of yours!’
They laughed together.
‘What was Lord Newlyn doing whilst you were learning to poach?’ Deb asked.
Rachel smiled a little. ‘Oh, Cory would follow my parents around like a faithful dog! He spent many of his holidays with us, you know. At first I do not believe that his parents approved, but his very determination won them over. He was very kind to me,’ she added, helping herself to a second marshmallow. ‘I did not appreciate it at the time, but I do not suppose many boys would have been so tolerant of a small girl. Most would probably have found me irritating.’
‘Goodness!’ Deborah said suddenly, sitting forward. ‘I do believe that it is Lord Richard Kestrel outside. And Lord Newlyn! Are we to see a riot in Woodbridge, as all those ladies try to attract their attention?’
Rachel looked. Cory Newlyn and Richard Kestrel were strolling down Angel Hill in the sunshine with a casual aplomb that was reminiscent of Bond Street rather than the decidedly more provincial surroundings of a country town. They were being followed at a somewhat indiscreet distance by a positive tidal wave of ladies fluttering and flouncing in their summer dresses.
Deb sighed. ‘I wish that I could claim your acquaintance with Lord Newlyn, Rachel. He has taken me driving, you know, but although we talked on all manner of topics, I have the strangest feeling that he is not an easy man to get to know.’ She wrinkled up her face. ‘Oh, he is charm personified, but under the surface…’ she gave a little shiver ‘…I suspect he is ruthless and rather dangerous-in a thoroughly fascinating way!’
Rachel fidgeted with her empty cup. She had not known that Cory had taken Deborah driving and was disconcerted to find that she did not like the idea. Seeing him now felt a little odd, as though she was looking at him from an entirely different perspective. They had not met for several days, for, in order to counteract the peculiar effect that Cory had had on her at Saltires that afternoon, Rachel had kept out of his way. She had assumed that he had been working on the excavation with her parents and she had been busy with…Well, busy with all sorts of matters that had kept her from his presence. It had been her choice to avoid him and yet she felt oddly dissatisfied with the results, which was in itself annoying and contrary.
‘Under the surface, my dear Deb,’ she said, as lightly as she could, ‘Cory is as arrogant and self-opinionated as all other gentlemen of his type!’
Nevertheless, she could see why Cory was creating such a stir. With his long, lean frame and his careless grace, he compelled female attention wherever he went.
‘I suppose that he is quite good looking,’ she added, in a casual tone that sounded slightly false even to her own ears, ‘but his looks are nothing compared to Lord Richard Kestrel. Glory, what a handsome man he is!’
Deb looked unimpressed. ‘I’ll allow that Lord Richard is nice enough to look at, but if you are speaking of arrogance, Rachel, there is a cast to his countenance that quite spoils his appearance in my opinion, and gives fair warning of his nature.’
Rachel bent over the teapot to hide her smile. Deborah had sounded quite indignant and Rachel suspected that her opinion was not entirely unbiased.
‘Oh, no,’ Deb whispered, ‘they are looking this way! Pray make as though you have not noticed them, Rachel, for although I should be glad to give the time of day to Lord Newlyn, I do not wish to speak with Lord Richard at all.’
‘It is a little difficult to ignore them when we are sitting in the window,’ Rachel pointed out, as Deb shrank back against the wall in a vain attempt to disguise herself. ‘I should not concern yourself. There is no danger of them joining us, for Lord Newlyn has never been known to drink tea. He considers it boring.’
She was foresworn almost immediately as Cory and Richard Kestrel entered the teashop and made directly for their corner. Suddenly the room seemed rather small and it became smaller still as an indiscreet rush of ladies poured through the door in hot pursuit and squabbled over who should take the remaining tables.
‘Good afternoon, Rachel,’ Cory said, smiling down at her. ‘May we join you?’
Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Deb’s lips form a horrified ‘no.’ Deb was studiously avoiding looking at Lord Richard Kestrel who, rather to Rachel’s amusement, had not taken his eyes off her since he came into the shop.
‘Of course you may join us if you wish,’ Rachel said, ignoring Deborah’s scowl, ‘but I fear that we were about to leave. It is very crowded in here.’
‘We shall not keep you above a minute,’ Cory said. ‘Richard and I were both agreeing that there is nothing like a cup of tea for refreshment on a hot day.’
‘Were you?’ Rachel said disbelievingly, looking from Cory’s innocent face to Richard Kestrel’s saturnine one. ‘How singular of you when you detest so insipid a beverage.’
Richard bowed to Rachel, a twinkle in his very dark eyes. ‘How do you do, Miss Odell? I am delighted to see you again.’
‘How do you do, Lord Richard,’ Rachel said, smiling. ‘I am well.’
‘And Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said, his smile deepening as he took in Deb’s angry profile. ‘How are you, ma’am?’
‘I am very well, thank you.’ Deb snapped. She did not meet his eyes, but turned ostentatiously to Cory and gestured him to the empty chair at her side. ‘How do you do, Lord Newlyn? Please take a seat.’
Rachel saw Richard and Cory exchange one laughing, rueful glance, and then Cory did as he was bid and Richard shrugged lightly and took the seat beside Rachel.
Richard Kestrel was, as Rachel had noticed on several previous occasions, an exceptionally good-looking man. Tall, dark and with a commanding presence, he had the wicked, piratical looks that were characteristic of the Kestrel family. If there was any arrogance in his appearance, it was tempered by the humour Rachel could see in his eyes. She could not help but warm to him, although curiously, his riveting good looks did not attract her in the least.
They spent some time chatting and the gentlemen managed a cup of tea each and several Bath Oliver biscuits. Rachel found herself enjoying Richard Kestrel’s company. He did not make the mistake of trying to flirt with her, but they engaged in an easy conversation about the town and the threat of invasion and the wider political situation. Even so, Rachel was conscious that she was watching Cory out of the corner of her eye for almost the entire time. She could not ignore his presence. She observed him talking to Deb and felt a distinct stirring of jealousy as she saw his head bent close to hers and watched the ready smile with which he responded to Deb’s conversation. She had wanted to regain her comfortable friendship with Cory after the confusion she had felt over their previous encounters. This morning had seemed like a good opportunity. Yet now it was disconcerting to realise that friendship was not exactly what she felt towards him. Over the years she had taken both Cory’s friendship and her own feelings for granted and it was profoundly disturbing to sense those feelings changing without any conscious reason. Several times Cory caught her looking at him and gave her a look of speculation. Rachel blushed and looked away. She did not wish him to think that it mattered to her, but it did.
Having been preoccupied with thoughts of Rachel all day, Cory Newlyn opened the door of the billiard room at Midwinter Royal later that evening and was greeted by a sight to deprive most red-blooded men of breath. It made him forget the message that he was supposed to be delivering, it made him forget the excavation he was supposed to be working on and for a second it practically made him forget his own name. For one long moment he simply stood and stared.
Rachel was leaning over the billiard table, her breasts straining against the thin cotton of her gown, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she sighted along her cue. A breath of wind from the open doorway must have distracted her attention, for she turned her head slightly a second before she played the shot-and missed. She straightened up and Cory’s breathing returned slowly to normal. He closed the door and came forward into the room.
‘You put me off my shot,’ Rachel said. She seemed slightly put out, but Cory felt she did not have a great deal
