Brabant said, straightening up and coming towards her, concern showing on his face. He took her arm. “You look quite pale! Stay here whilst I go to order you a tray of food. We cannot do with having to call Dr Pettifer out for you as well!”
“I am very well, I thank you, sir,” Caroline said, her face flaming with embarrassment. The hard strength of his hand under her arm was strangely disturbing. She felt her head spin with a combination of hunger and mortification, and Lewis gave an exclamation and pressed the brandy glass into her hand.
“Here, take this, Miss Whiston, before you swoon! You will find it most efficacious!”
He was right. The strong spirit burned Caroline’s throat and made her cough a little, but the world immediately came back into closer focus. She looked a little doubtfully from the empty glass to Lewis’s smiling face.
“Thank you, sir…Your best brandy! I am so sorry—”
Lewis shrugged gracefully. “It is of no consequence, Miss Whiston! I will fetch another glass.” His amused scrutiny dwelled on her face, which had gone from chalk white to rosy pink. “I believe that you should retire to your room until I can arrange for a tray to be brought up. For those unaccustomed to strong liquor the result can be confusing!”
“I am not unaccustomed to brandy,” Caroline began, then realised how her words must sound and broke off in confusion. “That is, I have drunk it before…My grandfather used to promote it as medicinal against chills…” She realised that she was rambling. Lewis had raised one eyebrow and was watching her with a quizzical amusement that disconcerted her.
“I thought for a moment that you must be one of those fabled governesses who was addicted to drink, Miss Whiston!” he said mildly. “Such an idea seems absurd, but one must always expect the unexpected…”
The colour flooded Caroline’s face again. On an empty stomach the drink was proving as much a curse as a blessing. She extricated herself carefully from Lewis’s grip and walked towards the door.
“Pray do not trouble yourself to arrange any food for me, sir. I shall go down to the kitchens directly.”
Lewis shrugged, opening the door for her. “Very well, Miss Whiston. I can see that you mean to be confoundedly independent!” His gaze travelled over her thoughtfully. “I see also that you have rejected your red velvet for more sober garb! How very apt for a governess companion!”
Caroline looked up at him. The faint light could not hide the mockery in his eyes.
“I am persuaded,” he added pleasantly, “that it can only be skin deep, however! The dryad who walks the woods reading verse must be the real Miss Whiston! The child who was brought up on brandy-drinking…”
“The real Miss Whiston has a living to earn,” Caroline said tartly, “and has no time for conundrums, sir! Pray excuse me!”
Lewis Brabant gave her an ironic bow. “Do not let me keep you from your duties then, ma’am! Good night!”
Caroline closed the door softly behind her and leant against the jamb for a moment to steady herself. It seemed that Lewis Brabant, despite his admiration for Julia, was not above flirting with the companion. Such behaviour was not unfamiliar to Caroline, for she had met plenty of men who thought that governesses and companions were fair game for their advances. Normally such situations gave her no trouble but what was particularly confusing here was her own reaction to Lewis. She should have given him a sharp set-down, but instead she had felt a treacherous attraction, as bewildering as it was unwelcome.
She went slowly down the stairs, through the door to the servants’ quarters and along the corridor to the kitchen. The chatter and light interrupted her thoughts, but as she sat down at the trestle table and accepted a bowl of soup, she could not help but wonder just what Lewis Brabant thought of her. Then she thought that perhaps his mind was so full of Julia that he did not think of her at all, and she found that that was more annoying still.
Lewis waited until the door had closed behind Caroline, then took the chair beside the bed, sat back and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was bone weary, but despite that, he had to fight a strong urge to take a horse to the Admiralty and demand to be given the first ship available.
His responsibilities dragged him down like lead weights. The house was in poor condition and the estate even more so. His father’s man of business had been blunt about the time and effort it would take to get things back into shape and Lewis was not sure that he even wanted to try. He had little affinity with a place that he had only visited once in the past ten years. As Richard had pointed out, it was not even near the sea! If it had not been for his family…
Lewis opened his eyes. His father’s breathing was steady but the old man showed no flicker of consciousness. Lewis was aware of a profound sadness. It could only be a matter of time before the Admiral passed on, but he owed it to his father to see that his last days were as comfortable as possible. He would have to talk to the doctor in the morning.
Lewis leant forward and looked at his father’s sleeping face. They had never been particularly close, but the Admiral had been a fair man and they had respected each other. Harley Brabant had never understood his son’s bookish tendencies but had tolerated them whilst complaining that Lewis took after his mother’s side of the family. All the same, Lewis knew that his father had been very proud when he had chosen to follow him into the Navy. It was comforting to think that the Admiral had approved of him. Which was why…Lewis sighed. Which was why it was difficult to escape the notion that the Admiral would wish his son to continue what he had begun at Hewly Manor. Lewis knew that he could always sell up and move away, but he could not escape the thought that this would be going against the Admiral’s wishes.
Then there was Lavender. His sister had only been fourteen when he had gone away and Lewis was uncomfortably aware that she was now a grown woman who must have her own hopes and aspirations. He barely knew her and she was a reserved character who might take some time to understand. He had already seen that she disliked Julia…
Lewis shifted slightly. Julia was just as he remembered her, only more beautiful, sweeter, more desirable. She had been eighteen when he had gone to sea, and he a youth of twenty-two who had thought himself so worldly wise and brave! A faint smile twisted his lips. What a lot he had learned in those first few months, racked by seasickness and homesickness in equal measure, afraid and forlorn! The lowest point had been when he had received his mother’s letter telling him of Julia’s betrothal to his brother. Lewis had felt sick and betrayed, for had not Julia exchanged the most tender vows with him, promising to wait for him for ever?
He had been prepared to put such youthful folly behind him on his return to Hewly. After all, he and Julia were ten years older and such boy and girl affairs were best left in the past. But to his amazement, there had been a letter from Julia awaiting him on his arrival in London, explaining that she had felt it her duty to return to Hewly to care for the Admiral. She expressed herself delighted to be able to welcome him back to his old home. Her words were well chosen and gracious, and had stirred in him a faint but definite anticipation at seeing her again. And then they had met…
Lewis got up and walked over to the window. The heavy velvet curtains had been drawn against the November dark, and when he pushed them back he felt the cold air rush into the overheated sickroom. The moon was high and cast a silver shadow over the deserted garden. He felt restless and cooped up in the house. With a sigh, Lewis let the curtain fall back into place and moved over to the fire. He had imagined that there might be some initial awkwardness in meeting Julia again, but this had proved far from the case. She had been the perfect hostess, but with added warmth that had been most encouraging.
Thinking of Julia led him to think of Caroline Whiston. There was an enigma. No warm welcome from her! For a moment, Lewis recalled the tantalising softness of Caroline in his arms, her lips parting beneath his. The change from that spirit of the woods into the severe companion in her drab worsted was almost unbelievable. It was as though she deliberately hid a part of herself away. Yet she was not ill-looking. It was almost as though she deliberately sought to efface