The feel of her fragile bones beneath his hands, the look of helplessness in those dark, indigo eyes, had been unexpectedly seductive. He had been within a hair’s breadth of kissing her in real earnest. Kissing little, penniless, hopelessly disorganised Deborah Staunton! And then she had, quite understandably, stiffened and pulled away and the moment had passed… He shook his head. Midsummer madness! It would not be repeated.
He firmly dismissed the incident and turned to contemplating his own future. Now that he was based more or less permanently in Northamptonshire, was he going to find the life of a country gentleman intolerably dull? For the last ten years he had lived in the fashionable world, and though he had never outrun his budget he had managed to enjoy most of the delights London had to offer. He was aware that he was known in society as a man of taste and judgement. He had always been a keen sportsman, and through practice and, yes, luck, he had achieved success in most of the activities admired by his London acquaintances. They had been good years…
But he had promised his parents he would settle down when he reached thirty, and that time had now come. He had returned to Abbot Quincey with the fixed intention of marrying, and it seemed to him that either of his twin cousins would make a very suitable wife. The Percevals were a good sound stock—there could be no objection to marriage between cousins. The problem would be which one to choose! He was fond of them both, and they both seemed to like him. Yes, he could do a lot worse. Life with either one of them would be very pleasant…
Might it be dull, perhaps? Possibly, but he would be kept fully occupied with the responsibilities to his family and to the estate he would one day inherit. He and Frederica—or Edwina—would have a sound relationship based on friendship, love for their children and their separate duties. That would be enough. Quite enough. Indeed, excessive feeling of any kind was in rather poor taste—he had usually managed to avoid it. Yes—marriage to someone like Edwina—or Frederica—would suit him very well. Either of them would make an excellent future Lady Perceval. Unlike poor Deborah Staunton… She would lead a man a pretty dance indeed! He would never know what she might do next!
Chapter Three
Deborah had the promised talk with her aunt the next morning, and was so shocked by what she heard that she collected Autolycus and set out to find solitude and peace in the woods surrounding the Hall. She walked along the familiar paths, lost in her own thoughts, until she was roused by excited barks and yelps from the dog. Hugo was walking towards her, Autolycus leaping up at his adopted new master.
‘That damned dog! Down, sir! Why the devil don’t you keep him on the leash until he knows how to behave?’ Hugo said testily. ‘Ill-disciplined dogs are a menace to all! I said down!’ Autolycus flattened himself in his usual posture of abject apology whenever Hugo addressed him thus, and lay quiet. ‘I’ve been looking for you. Edwina told me you had come this way.’ He took a look at her dazed expression. ‘You’ve been crying! What’s wrong?’
Deborah threw up her head and said angrily, ‘I haven’t been crying! I never cry. If my eyes are red it’s because…it’s because I had a fly in one of them.’
‘Let me see.’
‘It’s gone now.’
‘Deborah, tell me why you are upset.’
‘I’m not upset, I tell you! I’m very pleased!’ Deborah took a breath and said more calmly, ‘I’ve just learned that I’m not poor! Not at all! I have an income of a hundred pounds a year!’
‘My poor girl, that won’t go far!’
‘It’s riches, Hugo! I thought I had nothing.’
Hugo fell into step beside her and they walked along the shady path together. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Where has this wealth come from?’
‘Grandmother Inglesham.’
‘The Duchess? I thought that the Ingleshams had cut you all off?’
‘They had. But when she died my grandmother left some money with Aunt Elizabeth to provide an allowance for my mother. One hundred pounds a year. But not before my father was dead. The Duchess of Inglesham was determined not to let Edmund Staunton benefit in any possible way.’
‘So she still loved her daughter, though she couldn’t forgive Staunton!’
‘Loved!’ Her scorn was devastating. ‘It’s not my idea of love, Hugo.’
‘Oh come, Deborah! She did leave her the money…’
‘Money? It’s not the question of money! My mother didn’t care about the money! It was a word from her own mother that she wanted. What sort of love denies any contact with someone who loves you? Sends money through someone else, refuses to meet a daughter who is aching to see you, to have your forgiveness? My poor mother hoped for a reconciliation till the day the Duchess died!’
‘Perhaps your grandmother was afraid of what the old Duke would say?’
‘Pshaw! Real love doesn’t count that sort of cost, Hugo! If I loved someone I wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop me! I would fight to be with them, help them, show them how much I loved them. That’s what I would call love.’ Unaccustomed colour was in her cheeks and her indigo eyes were flashing blue fire. Hugo was fascinated. He could well believe what she said. Deborah Staunton would fling herself into the fray with passion, with no thought for her own good. He wondered what it would be like to love or be loved like that. For a fleeting moment the vision of such devotion was extraordinarily appealing. But then his customary dislike of excessive emotion reasserted itself. He nodded and said calmly, ‘All the same, a hundred pounds a year is not a fortune, Deborah.’
She looked at him with a strange smile in her eyes. Then she said wryly, ‘I know the Percevals do not consider themselves rich. Compared with what they were in the past they might even think they are poor. But you’ve never known what it is to be really poor, Hugo. I don’t suppose it occurred to you when you saw me in London four years ago that I was living on a shoestring.’
‘Then why on earth did your mother send you?’
‘She was worried about my future and hoped that I would find a husband. If I had been able to make a good match it would have solved the chief of her worries. When Mrs Young offered to have me with her for the Season, Mama was delighted. Poor Mama! She was so sure that some gentleman or other would be glad to marry the granddaughter of a Duke. So she sold everything she had left that was of any value and sent me off to London.’
‘It was mad to do such a thing!’
‘It wasn’t very sensible, I agree. It meant that later, when times were hard, she had nothing to fall back on. But Mama was like that. She took the risk because she loved me. She knew that the Inglesham family were to be in London that year for the season, so she wrote to them. I think she hoped that…that they would take an interest in me, once I was there in front of them, so to speak. But they refused even to acknowledge me. And the rest of the Ton followed suit.’ When Hugo gave a muffled exclamation Deborah said fiercely, ‘I didn’t mind! I could see as soon as I arrived that I wouldn’t “take”, as they say—even if I’d had twice as many dresses and jewels and introductions. And the Ingleshams were just the sort of people I disliked most. I disliked London, too. I sometimes thought that you were the only creature in the capital who cared anything at all about me.’
Hugo walked on in silence for a moment, frowning. Then he said brusquely, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before? After you had tipped us both into the lake I was pardonable angry. It was the last in a whole series of mishaps and I had had enough. But you let me drag you back to Mrs Young’s, ranting all the while, swearing never to see you again and you didn’t say a word—not a word—of all these difficulties! Do you think I’d have rejected you quite so comprehensively if I’d known?’
‘I didn’t want your pity!’ flashed Deborah. Then she gave him a fleeting grin. ‘Besides, as I remember it, Hugo, you didn’t give me a chance to say anything at all! You’re very fluent when you’re in a rage. Anyway, there was little