The Master of Stonegrave Hall. Helen Dickson

      He nodded, his expression sombre. She was upset, he could see that, and he was determined to treat her with the extra care and gentleness her situation called for. What she needed right now was all the solid strength that he could give her, not the shocking revelation of what would inevitably come later.

      ‘I’m saddened to hear it. I am not completely heartless, Miss Lewis. I am not totally insensitive to your situation.’

      ‘I do know that.’

      His gaze swept over the garden. ‘I was working in my study when I saw you come out into the garden. It’s a shame to think of anything being conducted within doors on such a day as this.’

      ‘So you thought you would come out into the garden.’

      ‘Something like that. I wanted to apologise to you for the other day. You were upset—’

      ‘Upset and angry—and still awaiting answers to my questions,’ she interrupted, wanting to appear haughty and coldly remote—anything but miserable, for that was tantamount to weak and helpless.

      Laurence glanced away to avoid the puzzlement and scrutiny in those wide eyes, finding it increasingly difficult to maintain the subterfuge and silence Nathan had imposed on him. ‘After overhearing my brother’s words you had every right to be angry. But I have done nothing to justify your anger. I merely wanted to make sure your mother was cared for.’ He looked at her levelly. ‘For this, do you honestly think I deserve your bitterness and animosity?’

      Victoria’s shoulders drooped. She swallowed and looked away. She felt confused and miserable, no longer entirely right, yet not completely wrong, either. ‘I—I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you deserve.’

      To her surprise, the blue eyes watching her showed no sign that he had taken offence. Instead, Lord Rockford’s long lips curved. ‘Whatever it is, save it for my brother.’

      ‘He was very angry. However, I do apologise for accusing you of interfering when you brought my mother here. I may not show it, but I am indeed grateful—and I assure you, Lord Rockford, that it is not my intention to disrupt your household.’

      Those candid eyes lifted to his—searching, delving, expressing her gratitude—only made Laurence feel more than ever like a disgusting fraud. He paused, then, his smile deepening, he said, ‘Thank you. I respect your frankness. I hope the servants are looking after you.’

      Victoria, her gaze locked in the blue of his, felt a tingling sensation run over her skin. She blinked, then frowned. ‘How thoughtful of you to ask. Yes—thank you,’ she replied. ‘Everyone is being very kind.’

      ‘And you like the house?’

      ‘Very much—but then, who would not?’ she said, warm in her admiration. She lowered her eyes. An odd sensation, a ripple of awareness slid over her nerves, leaving them sensitised. It was most peculiar. She would have put it down to the touch of the breeze, but it wasn’t that cold.

      Beside her, Laurence raised his brows, his predator’s smile in evidence. Her dress was hardly fashionable, but it hugged her contours, emphasising their softness, leaving him with an urgent longing to fill his arms with their warmth.

      ‘Are—are you and your brother close?’ she dared to ask. Looking up, he trapped her gaze.

      ‘As close as brothers can be. Until he married Diana Ellingham and bought the Grange halfway between here and Cranbeck, he ran the estate in my absence.’

      Victoria hesitated, searching his eyes. ‘And now you’re back you can do that yourself.’

      ‘For now. My business is in London, which is where I’m often to be found. Either there or on board my ship bound for foreign parts.’

      ‘It sounds exciting. What is the name of your ship?’

      ‘I own a fleet, Miss Lewis, but I’m rather fond of The Saracen. It was my first vessel, you see. I’m very proud of it.’

      ‘Aren’t ships usually named after women?’

      ‘Not in my fleet.’

      ‘Why is that?’

      ‘Because they are more trustworthy.’

      She tilted her head to one side. ‘And ladies are not.’

      His reply was a world-weary crooked smile and a shake of his head.

      She smiled. ‘I see you’re a cynic, Lord Rockford.’

      ‘Absolutely, and I’m not about to change. Have you been to London?’