Duelling Fire Page 12

  Sara half expected the female members of the party to retire alone after dinner, leaving the men to their port, as was usual in days gone by. But Lord Hadley and his guests all left the table together, adjourning to the drawing room, where coffee and brandy were waiting.

  Sara refused the brandy Peter Hedgecomb offered her, but took the seat he indicated on the sofa. Then, while he was getting their coffee, she glanced about her, looking away abruptly when Harriet caught her eye.

  ‘I hope Peter’s been taking good care of you, Sara.’ Venetia’s faintly scornful voice made her look up. ‘I think you should know Rupert’s practically engaged to Elizabeth, so it’s no use casting your eyes in his direction.’

  Sara kept her temper with an effort, but right now she had other things on her mind. ‘What’s the matter, Venetia?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Can’t you stand the competition?’

  Venetia sucked in her breath. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘How dare you?’ countered Sara tranquilly. ‘Your brother’s old enough to speak for himself, isn’t he? And besides, I’m not looking for a husband.’

  ‘Then why did Harriet arrange this dinner party? She did arrange it, you know. Daddy would never have thought of it himself.’

  ‘I know that.’ Sara was at least glad she had not had to hear the news from Venetia. ‘I suppose she thought she was doing me a favour.’

  ‘She knew how Rupert would react,’ retorted Venetia hotly. ‘She knows Daddy’s been trying for months to get him to propose to Elizabeth. So she deliberately throws you into his path, to complicate the issue.’

  Sara was going to object, but there was a certain amount of logic in what Venetia was saying. Had that been Harriet’s objective? To throw her and Rupert together? And was that why Jude had been so scathing about their invitation to Linden Court?

  It was all beginning to make sense, except that she had no desire to get involved with Rupert Hadley. She liked him—what she knew of him anyway—but he didn’t attract her sexually. Unlike Jude, her conscience pricked her mockingly.

  ‘Anyway, I just thought I’d put the record straight,’ Venetia added, smoothing the sleeves of her dress. ‘And surprise, surprise—here comes my brother. Exactly on cue, as usual.’

  Rupert gave both girls a curious look. Then he turned to Sara. ‘Ready for the grand tour?’ he asked, holding out a hand to pull her up from the sofa. ‘I think we’ll start in the library. We’ve got an illustrated manuscript, I think you’d like to see.’

  ‘Grand tour?’ Venetia said the words sarcastically, and Sara sighed as she let Rupert bring her to her feet.

  ‘Your brother has kindly offered to show me round the house,’ she declared flatly. ‘You can come with us, if you like. I don’t mind.’

  ‘Well, I do,’ exclaimed Rupert indignantly. ‘Mind your own business, there’s a love, Venetia. I don’t interfere when you go chasing Jude all over the building.’

  ‘I do not chase Jude,’ Venetia flared angrily. ‘He doesn’t object, anyway.’

  ‘That’s not been my interpretation,’ said Rupert, with airy confidence. ‘Go take a powder, will you? I want to talk to Sara.’

  ‘What about Elizabeth?’ demanded his sister. ‘Don’t you think you owe her something?’

  ‘I think I’ll owe you a lot more, if you don’t keep your opinions to yourself,’ Rupert said emphatically.

  ‘Here’s Peter. What are you going to say to him?’ Venetia persisted, and Sara took the cup of coffee he had brought her with some relief.

  ‘Your father was looking for you, Rupe,’ he remarked, sipping from his own cup, and Venetia chuckled maliciously as her brother cast an impatient look in Lord Hadley’s direction.

  ‘Look, I think we should leave the tour for another time,’ Sara ventured ruefully. ‘I mean, you shouldn’t abandon your guests, and if your fiancée—–’

  ‘I have no fiancée,’ Rupert asserted grimly, giving his sister a savage look. ‘But okay, maybe this isn’t the best time to get together.’ He found her hand and turned her so that they were both facing away from the others. ‘I’ll ring you,’ he mouthed, squeezing her fingers, and before she could say anything in reply, he walked away.

  Venetia met Sara’s gaze with a challenging stare, but after a few moments she shrugged, as if abandoning any further efforts to direct her brother’s life. ‘Where’s Jude?’ she murmured, half to herself, and moved away to find him, leaving Sara and Peter alone.

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked, putting a slim cheroot between his teeth, and Sara knew an hysterical desire to laugh.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, and she could hear the suppressed emotion causing her voice to rise. ‘It’s been—quite fascinating,’ she averred, putting down her coffee cup, and Peter accepted her answer, as if it was exactly what he had expected.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HARRIET came to find her at ten-thirty, and Sara, steeling herself to meet the older woman’s censure, found her aunt distressed over an entirely different matter.

  ‘Where’s Jude?’ she exclaimed. ‘Have you seen him? He was with Venetia earlier, and now they’ve both disappeared.’

  Sara’s stomach plunged. ‘How—how should I know where they are?’ she replied tautly, and although Harriet was evidently upset she noticed the deliberate challenge.

  ‘Is something the matter, Sara?’ she asked, taking time out to probe this new development, but the girl only shook her head and didn’t answer.

  ‘They may be in the library, Miss Ferrars,’ Peter suggested from his seat on the arm of Sara’s chair. ‘It’s Venetia’s usual place, if you know what I mean. And of course Jude knows it, too.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, thank you, Peter.’ Harriet paused only long enough to give Sara another puzzled look, before charging away across the floor, her usually calm façade in tatters.

  ‘Poor old Jude,’ remarked Peter, after she had gone. ‘Imagine living with someone as possessive as her! No wonder she keeps such a tight rein on him. She’d never control him otherwise.’

  Sara gazed up at him. ‘And doesn’t she have a right to be possessive!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, I guess so.’ Peter shrugged. ‘It’s a pity she never married. I guess that’s the only way he’s going to get his freedom.’

  Sara was appalled. Did everyone know what was going on? And how could they sympathise with Jude, when it was Harriet who deserved their compassion? Was it really a case of the woman always bearing the blame, particularly a woman who was so much older than her lover?

  Her lover!

  Sara felt sick. She had tried not to think of this aspect of their relationship, but how could she help it when Harriet showed so blatantly how much she depended upon him—had she no shame? Didn’t she care that these people might be laughing at her, deriding their affair, and ridiculing her part in it?

  Jude had no shame, that was obvious. He knew how Venetia felt about him. He couldn’t fail to be aware of her infatuation. And yet he deliberately encouraged it, knowing her father objected, and hurting Harriet indiscriminately.

  Sara’s own feelings towards her aunt underwent an abrupt reversal. After all, why should she feel angry with Harriet for trying to throw her and Rupert together, if that really was what she had intended? It was not something to be ashamed of. She was only thinking of her, of her future; and she was mistress of her own destiny, wasn’t she? She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she should be flattered to think that Lord Hadley’s son was attracted to her.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  Peter got up at that moment to go and find another drink, and in his absence Sara lifted an unsteady hand to her hair. What an evening, she thought wryly, and what a revelation it had been.

  ‘All alone?’

  The challenge was unexpected, its deliverer more so, and Sara glanced up at Jude in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’ she exclaimed, recalling Harriet’s unseemly exit, and wondering with some confusion how she ever could have missed him.
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br />   ‘I’m a guest—remember?’ he retorted, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Where’s the Honourable Peter? Or have you ditched him—just to please Harriet, of course.’

  The irony in his tone was unmistakable, and Sara gave him a frosty look. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she informed him coldly. ‘Perhaps you should know that Harriet is looking for you. Apparently she’s upset by your cavalier attitude!’

  ‘My what!’ Jude suppressed an infuriating laugh. ‘Dear me, do people really still use that word?’ He sobered. ‘What am I supposed to have done? Fought a duel with Rupert over my lady’s favour?’

  ‘You know perfectly well I mean,’ exclaimed Sara, wishing she was standing, and not being forced to look up at him. ‘Harriet thinks you’re with Venetia.’ She paused, her nails biting into her palms. ‘You wouldn’t expect her to be pleased about it, would you?’

  ‘No.’ Jude shrugged. ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘How can you stand there and speak so casually about something that should arouse some sense of conscience?’ Sara gasped. ‘You may not care, but you could consider Harriet’s feelings!’

  ‘Why should I? When did she ever consider mine?’ enquired Jude, his brief amusement disappearing. ‘For God’s sake, Sara, what do you think I’ve done? Raped the girl? I think James’s hounds would have had some objection to make about that!’

  Sara caught her breath, pushing herself up out of the chair. ‘You admit—you have been with Venetia, then?’

  ‘We’ve been talking, yes.’ Jude was unrepentant. ‘Why shouldn’t I talk to her? Do you have any objections?’

  ‘Me?’

  Sara looked past him coldly, unable to meet the challenging hostility in his eyes, and saw Harriet and Venetia just entering the room.

  Harriet seemed somewhat harassed, her usually calm features drawn into stiff lines, while Venetia looked as if she had been crying, hardly an optimistic augury for the future. Sara hesitated, unsure now whether to go to Harriet or not. Sara’s own earlier frustration seemed a small thing compared to the humiliation Harriet must be suffering, but before she could move, Jude’s fingers had curved about her wrist.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and she turned to look at him incredulously. ‘We’re not wanted here. Or at least, I’m not. Come home with me now, before Harriet gets her second wind.’

  Sara choked back a sob, dragging her hand angrily from his grasp. ‘How can you?’ she cried. ‘How can you be so callous? Those two women love you! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

  ‘Not what it means to you, obviously,’ retorted Jude grimly. He shook his head. ‘You’re a born victim, aren’t you, Sara? You see the web, but you still step into it.’

  Sara ignored him, pressing her hands together, staring across the room to where Harriet and Venetia had been joined by Lord Hadley. What were they saying? she wondered. At least Harriet had an ally in the girl’s father, if what Venetia had said was true.

  ‘Let me know when your particular trap begins to close, will you?’ Jude murmured in a low voice, his lips almost brushing her ear. And as she jerked her head away in confusion, he left her to face her aunt alone.

  Peter returned before Harriet could make her way across the room to where Sara was waiting. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, noticing her tense face and following the direction of her gaze. ‘What’s going on? Didn’t I see Jude with you just now?’

  ‘What? Oh—oh, yes.’ Sara was half impatient. She shook her head. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I—er—I just think perhaps it’s time I was leaving.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Peter swallowed a gulp of champagne in disgust. ‘I say, you’re not going yet. You can’t. I—well, it’s too early. I’ll drive you home later. If Harriet wants to leave, let her. The night’s still young.’

  ‘Thank you, but I shall be going with Harriet,’ declared Sara firmly, biting her lip. ‘I—er—I’ve enjoyed talking to you, but—–’

  ‘—but you’re leaving,’ finished Peter gloomily. ‘Isn’t that the story of my life!’

  Sara managed a faint smile, but half to her relief, she saw Harriet approaching. ‘Where’s Jude gone now?’ the older woman demanded, the taut lines of her face making her look older than Sara had ever seen her. ‘Didn’t you tell him I was looking for him? Really, Sara, I should have expected you to show that courtesy!’

  ‘I told him. Of course I told him.’ Sara was embarrassed, aware of Peter’s faintly jaundiced eye. ‘I don’t know where he is. He—he just disappeared.’

  ‘In a puff of smoke, what!’ Peter chuckled, but sobered at the killing contempt in Harriets gaze.

  ‘I suppose he may have gone home,’ Harriet reflected grimly. ‘It’s like him—to walk out and leave me to make the explanations.’

  Sara sighed. ‘Shouldn’t we go home, too?’ she suggested gently. ‘After all, it is late, and—well, I’m really.’

  ‘Are you?’ Harriet’s eyes flickered over her critically. ‘And have you enjoyed yourself?’

  Sara glanced awkwardly at Peter. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Harriet did not sound convinced. ‘Oh, very well, let’s go.’ And as they walked across the floor: ‘What happened to Rupert? I thought he was going to show you the house.’

  Sara wondered how Harriet had discovered that, but she merely shrugged her shoulders. ‘His father kept him busy,’ she said indifferently, wishing she had only Rupert to worry about. ‘He told me you arranged this party. Why did you pretend the invitation came from his father? I—well, I was terribly embarrassed.’

  ‘Not here, Sara.’

  Harriet cut her off abruptly, leaving the girl to make her farewells, and Sara stood awkwardly waiting for her to return. She managed to convey her own goodbyes by the means of a smile, but it stiffened somewhat when Rupert came up to speak to her.

  ‘I’ll phone tomorrow,’ he said, taking both her rather limp hands in his and squeezing them tightly.

  Sara shook her head. ‘Not—not tomorrow,’ she protested, unable at the moment to face the prospect of meeting any of the Hadleys again. ‘Give me a couple of days. I—I feel as if I’ve got a migraine coming on.’

  ‘Oh, poor Sara!’ Rupert was sympathetic. ‘Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?’

  ‘No. No, nothing, thank you.’ Sara forced a smile, and as she did so, Harriet came back.

  The older woman’s eyes flashed speculatively as she took in their apparent intimacy, and Sara withdrew her hands at once, putting them behind her back.

  ‘Goodnight, Rupert,’ said Harriet, her feelings evidently mollified by this display of attention. ‘It’s been quite an evening. Will we be seeing you in the near future?’

  Sara cringed, but Rupert was enthusiastic. ‘In the very near future,’ he promised, looking pleased with himself, and Harriet’s expression softened in satisfaction as they went to collect their coats.

  The Rolls-Royce was standing where they had left it, but there was no sign of Jude. Sara had wondered whether they might find him waiting in the car, but apparently, if he had left, he had made his way home across the park. She wondered if Harriet had a spare set of keys as her aunt opened the door, but then saw in the light from the courtesy bulb that the keys were hanging in the ignition.

  Harriet made a sound of impatience and then indicated that Sara should drive. ‘Isn’t this just typical?’ she exclaimed, wrenching open the passenger side door and getting inside out of the cold night air. ‘He dismisses Rob, and then leaves us to drive ourselves home!’

  ‘He could have taken the car,’ remarked Sara provocatively, her temper still simmering from that earlier set-down, but Harriet only snorted as she settled into her seat.

  There was no alternative but that Sara should drive, and she reflected rather bitterly that perhaps for once she was to earn her keep. Although driving a stately limousine some three or four miles could hardly count in that capacity.

  ‘He knew what I’d have to say to him when I saw him,’ Harriet continue
d, as Sara adjusted the seat to suit her own height. ‘He’s made a complete fool of me! I don’t know when I have been more angry.’

  Sara moistened her dry lips. ‘I was angry, too, Harriet. As it happened, Rupert told me you’d asked his father to arrange this party, but it could just as easily have been Venetia. Why did you do it? I just don’t understand.’

  Harriet sniffed. ‘James was happy to do it. Besides, he owes me a favour. Why shouldn’t I want the best for you? You are my—niece, after all.’

  ‘But we’ve had dinner parties at Knight’s Ferry,’ Sara protested, the car’s headlights picking out the curving sweep of the drive. ‘Why couldn’t we have had the party there? If—if you felt it was necessary.’

  Harriet sighed. ‘I wanted you to see Linden Court.’

  ‘I saw Linden Court, the day you took me up there to meet Lord Hadley,’ Sara reminded her tensely, and Harriet made a sound of impatience.

  ‘You must realise that the Hadleys can command a different kind of gathering. I mean—I know the people they associate with, I’m very friendly with them, but I don’t get invited to their dinner parties and they wouldn’t come to mine.’

  Sara cast a startled look at her. ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters.’ Harriet was irritable. ‘Honestly, Sara, are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’

  ‘No—–’

  ‘Then for goodness’ sake, girl, think sensibly! I wanted you to meet the kind of people the Hadleys associate with. I wanted them to see you in that company. I wanted them to realise how infinitely more suited you are to mix with their set, than—well, than others I could mention.’

  Sara shook her head. She was remembering what Venetia had said, what she had accused Harriet of doing. But Sara wouldn’t accept that this was true. She didn’t want to accept it.

  ‘I appreciate your confidence in me, of course,’ she said, seeking an escape. ‘But I don’t see that it matters what the Hadleys and their friends think of me.’