to eavesdrop, but then she realised that she could not retreat without being seen. She kept still.
‘Damn it, Richard,’ she heard Cory Newlyn say, ‘when Justin said that this would involve a spirit of self-sacrifice I had no idea that it would be so bad! Just how much flirtation is one expected to undertake for the sake of the enterprise…’
Rachel heard Richard laugh, and then the voices faded away as they turned their backs and strolled down the terrace.
A tickle of pollen took Rachel unawares. She grabbed her handkerchief and raised it to her nose just in time to stifle the huge sneeze that erupted. Even so, it was not enough. She heard one of the men give an exclamation and did not wait for more. She dived through the door to the ballroom, the handkerchief discarded on the terrace behind her.
No one appeared to have noticed her hasty entrance. She hid behind a pillar, breathing deeply and trying to calm her racing pulse. She was not quite sure why she was so shaken, but she felt as though she had been caught prying into something that did not concern her She watched the ballroom doors, but the only person who came in was Helena Lang, looking flushed and bright eyed. Helena did not see Rachel, for she was too busy scouring the ballroom for someone completely different. A moment later Rachel realised whom she sought. James Kestrel had entered the great hall from the direction of the refreshment room. He was dusting down his sleeves and adjusting the set of his jacket and looking rather pleased with himself. Rachel turned away.
She leaned one hand against the cool stone wall and pressed the other to her suddenly aching forehead. She could pretend ignorance of Miss Lang’s flirtations, but she could not ignore what she had overheard and it disturbed her. Could Cory have had some sort of wager with the Kestrel brothers to flirt with the ladies of Midwinter for their own entertainment? She remembered the occasion on which Richard Kestrel and Cory had come into the teashop in Woodbridge. Cory had been most attentive to Deborah Stratton whilst Richard had made himself agreeable to her. And tonight Cory and Richard and Justin and Lucas had flirted with a great many ladies, damn them…
‘I think you must have dropped something, Rachel.’
Cold dread clutched at Rachel’s stomach, to be followed by a prickly heat running down her neck. She turned slowly. Cory was standing directly behind her, her handkerchief hanging limply in his hand. It had the letter ‘R’ embroidered on it, and the way Cory was holding it made this quite visible. Both of them knew that there was no point in her denying that it belonged to her.
Rachel licked her dry lips. Now was the moment to challenge him on what he and the Kestrels were up to. Now was the moment to speak, to be as open and honest as she had always been with him. She looked into his silver grey eyes and he looked back at her. His gaze was hard. Their earlier quarrel seemed to hang heavily between them.
‘Thank you,’ Rachel said. She took the handkerchief from his grip and tucked it into her reticule, hoping that her hands were not shaking too much. She had no idea why she felt so nervous. Perhaps it was guilt, or anger, or disappointment, or a mixture of all three.
‘I must have dropped it when I went outside for some air,’ she said.
There was a sceptical lift to Cory’s brows. ‘I did not see you when I was out there just now. Did you see me?’
Rachel hesitated. She had never told Cory a direct lie in her life. She took a deep breath.
‘No,’ she said, adding with deliberate flippancy, ‘were you taking a young lady outside to look at the stars?’
Cory did not smile. ‘No, I was not,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ Rachel felt slightly at a loss. ‘Well…thank you…’ she gestured vaguely towards her bag ‘…and goodnight. I believe that Mama and Papa are ready to leave now.’
Cory bowed slightly, his handsome face as still as carved stone. Rachel was uncomfortably aware that he watched her progress across the room to Lady Odell’s side. When she was almost there she could not help half- turning to look back at him, and saw that Richard Kestrel had come across to engage Cory in urgent conversation. She saw Cory shake his head once, decisively, then he looked across the room and met her eyes. His own expression was veiled.
The anger took Rachel again. She had liked the Kestrels and, whilst she had not deluded herself that they had any serious intentions, had at least thought them sincere in their compliments. The idea that they had made some odious wager made her feel quite furious.
She could scarcely exact revenge on the Duke or Richard Kestrel, but Cory at least was within her scope. She had thought earlier that he was too arrogant and needed to be cut down to size. Now she was doubly certain. She would surely take her revenge. And it would be sweet.
‘What a delightful evening,’ Lady Odell said, smothering a yawn as the carriage pulled away from the door of Saltires in the July dawn. ‘I have not enjoyed myself so much since Lord Coate hosted the Egyptian Revue! Lady Sally’s guests were remarkably cultivated and knowledgeable. Why, Lord Richard Kestrel knew all about Barrington’s work in Oxfordshire and spent over a half-hour asking me about our progress on the dig.’
Rachel stifled a yawn of her own.
‘Sound fellah,’ Sir Arthur grunted. ‘Told me he had come across some uncommonly interesting ruins on his travels in Asia. Thought I might look into it one day…’
Rachel felt her heart sink. There she had been trying to persuade Cory from inviting her parents to excavate in Cornwall so that they might be settled in Suffolk for a while, and instead her father was contemplating the deserts of Asia.
‘Are you quite well, my love?’ Lady Odell enquired, patting Rachel’s hand. ‘You seem quite done up and it is not at all like you.’
‘I am a little tired,’ Rachel conceded. ‘I fear I did not enjoy the evening as much as you did, Mama.’
‘Not surprising, quarrelling like that with Cory,’ Sir Arthur said, displaying one of his rare but blinding flashes of perception. ‘You are always miserable when you cut up rough with the boy, Rachel. Remember how matters were that time in Patagonia? You did not eat for three days.’
‘I was only twelve then,’ Rachel said, trying to quell her bad humour, ‘and Cory deserved for me to wrangle with him. He was an odiously self-important young man! And he has not changed much either,’ she added, with sudden bitterness.
‘Best to make up with him,’ Sir Arthur grunted, closing his eyes. ‘You know you are always happier that way.’
Rachel looked out of the carriage window at the pale light streaking the eastern sky. The suggestion to make up with Cory sat ill with her intention of bringing him down a peg or two by sketching him for Lady Sally’s watercolour book. She admitted to herself that such a revenge did seem a little childish. Yet Cory’s discourtesy still rankled; as for the business of the wager, that was outrageous.
‘I think I shall go straight out to the field when we get home,’ Lady Odell said. ‘It will be light enough in an hour or so to get an early start, and we wanted to open up the largest burial mound today, did we not, Arthur?’
‘Good idea,’ Sir Arthur concurred. ‘Wake the servants, what, and get digging.’
Rachel wrinkled her brow. ‘Is it really a good idea, papa?’ she besought. ‘You are likely to put a spade through your foot in the half-light.’
Sir Arthur chuckled. ‘By goodness, do you remember when I did that at Jericho? What an outcry that caused! Had to send fifty miles to find a quack to treat me.’
‘Precisely,’ Rachel said. ‘I am persuaded that you would not wish to cause such trouble again, Papa.’
Lady Odell leant forward to peer out of the window. ‘I do not believe there will be any danger. There is a very good doctor in Woodbridge.’
Rachel sighed. ‘At least take the time to change your gown before you go out, Mama. Yes-’ she forestalled Lady Odell’s next remark ‘-I am aware that you excavated the ruins of Delphi in a ball gown, but such eccentricity is not to be encouraged.’
There was a small silence in the coach. ‘Am I truly eccentric?’ Lady Odell sounded rather pleased.
‘Yes, Mama,’ Rachel said, thawing a little. ‘You and Papa both.’
‘Nonsense!’ Sir Arthur rumbled. ‘Just a little unconventional, Lavinia dear. And who would wish to be ordinary anyway?’
I would, Rachel thought, pressing her gloved fingers against the cool pane of the carriage window. That is exactly what I wish to be.
