had it completely refurbished before my arrival,’ he enlightened her. ‘I knew I should be obliged to spend at least part of each year here, and I had no intention of suffering constant reminders of my late father.’
She had heard rumours, of course, of how much he had loathed his father and half-brother, and now she’d had confirmation of the fact from the man himself.
She couldn’t help wondering from where the hatred had sprung. It would have been true to say that his father hadn’t been universally liked, and there were plenty round these parts who certainly hadn’t mourned his passing, she reminded herself. But to be disliked so intensely by one’s own child …? It was all so very sad.
She raised her eyes to discover him staring intently down at her. There was a decidedly saturnine smile playing about his mouth, an indication, perhaps, that he had guessed precisely what had been passing through her mind. She felt acutely uncomfortable, and for the first time in his company felt unable to meet that knowing gaze. Fortunately the butler came to her rescue by entering the room a moment later, thereby instantly capturing the Viscount’s attention.
‘Get one of the footmen to take this note over to my new steward without delay, Tredwell,’ his lordship instructed, handing over the folded sheet of paper. ‘I want as many of the estate workers as can reasonably be spared taken off other duties and sent down to the western boundary to clear the ditches down there.’
The butler was on the point of departure, when his lordship forestalled him by demanding to know, ‘What on earth is that confounded noise?’
Isabel acknowledged the butler’s apologetic glance with a smile, before she said, ‘I’m afraid I’m to blame. It’s my dog, Beau. I’d better leave.’
‘Nonsense, child! Sit down, and finish your wine,’ his lordship countered, as she made to rise. ‘Leave the library door ajar, Tredwell, and let the misbegotten creature in. I don’t doubt he’ll locate his mistress’s whereabouts without causing too much mayhem.’
It was a matter of moments only after Isabel had detected the sound of the front door closing that Beau came bounding into the room. After satisfying himself that she had come to no harm, he did something that she had never known him do before. He stood on his long hind legs and placed his front paws high on his lordship’s chest. A lesser man might well have staggered, or at the very least betrayed signs of alarm. His lordship did neither. He merely looked appalled when the hound appeared as though he was about to lick his face by way of an introduction.
‘Oh, no, you don’t, you abominable creature! Get down at once!’
Although the dog surprisingly enough obeyed the command, his immediate compliance didn’t appear to impress the Viscount, who followed the hound’s subsequent exploration of the fine library with a jaundiced eye.
‘What did I hear you call him …? Beau, was it?’ At her nod of assent, he rolled his eyes ceiling-wards. ‘A singularly inappropriate name. A more ill-favoured brute I’ve yet to clap eyes on!’
More amused than anything else by this most unjustified criticism of her beloved hound, Isabel smiled up at him. ‘Ah, but you see, my lord, you do not view him through my eyes.’
He regarded her in silence, his expression, as it so often was, totally unreadable. Then he said, ‘What on earth possessed you to acquire such a breed? You know what it is, I suppose?’
‘Yes, a wolfhound—er—mostly,’ she responded. ‘When a pup he was discovered scavenging for food round the cottages in the village by some urchins, who then considered it would be wonderful sport to tie a large stone about his neck and throw him in the millpond,’ she explained. ‘I happened along at the time, rescued him and took him back with me to the farmhouse. Naturally I made enquiries about the village, and in
Merryfield, too, to see if anyone had lost a wolfhound pup, but no one came forward to claim him. So he’s been with me ever since.’
While she had been speaking Lord Blackwood had seated himself in the chair opposite. Not many moments afterwards Beau had returned to the hearth and had settled himself on the rug before the fire, making use of one of his lordship’s muscular thighs to rest his head.
Isabel watched as his lordship raised one long-fingered hand and began to stroke the hound gently. He appeared perfectly relaxed, and she would have been too, strangely enough, had she not been convinced that striking blue orbs were avidly scrutinising her from behind those half-shuttered lids.
‘Well, I’d better not waste any more of your time, my lord,’ she said hurriedly, suddenly feeling embarrassingly aware that the hem of her skirts and cloak were caked in mud.
Although she had always remained particular in her personal habits, she would have been the first to admit she had never spent an inordinate amount of time before her mirror, simply because being perfectly groomed at all times had never ranked high on her list of priorities. Yet she couldn’t deny that being likened to an ill-groomed country wench had touched a very sore spot indeed. Why suddenly should her appearance matter so much? Moreover, why should this aristocrat’s approbation all at once be so important to her?
‘It was good of you to see me,’ she added, ‘but now I’ll be on my way.’
‘Nonsense, child!’ he countered, when she made to rise. ‘Sit and finish your wine. As I mentioned before, I’m quite at leisure.’
She was forced silently to admit that he looked it too. Sitting there, with his long, muscular legs stretched out before him, and his eyes fully closed now, he appeared totally relaxed, completely at ease with himself. Had she needed more proof that he could never have committed that terrible crime all those years ago, she was being given it now. Surely no man who had carried out such a dreadful deed could look so at peace with himself?
Yet the murders did take place, she reminded herself, once more taking stock of her surroundings. There was no refuting that fact. Could the grisly events have taken place here, in this very room? She couldn’t help wondering.
‘Something appears to be troubling you, Miss Mortimer,’ he remarked, his eyes once again fully open and as acutely assessing as her own had been only a short time before. ‘I trust you are not concerned about being in here alone with me. You are in no danger, I assure you. And if, for any reason, I should experience an overwhelming desire to lay violent hands upon you, I’m sure your trusty hound, here, would come to your rescue.’
‘Ha! I’m not so very sure he would!’ Isabel returned, quite without rancour. She was more amazed than anything else that Beau had taken such an instant liking to someone. It had never happened before. Which just went to substantiate her belief that his lordship was not the black-hearted demon he had sometimes been painted.
‘So, what were you thinking about a few minutes ago that brought such a troubled expression to your face?’
Lord! Isabel mused. Was he always so observant? ‘Well, since you ask, I was experiencing a surge of morbid curiosity,’ she finally admitted. ‘I was wondering whether your father and brother were killed in this room.’
‘No, in the drawing room, as it happens. Should you like to visit the scene of the crime?’
Had she not witnessed it with her own eyes she would never have supposed for a moment that those icy-blue orbs could dance with wicked amusement. He really was a most attractive and engaging gentleman when he chose to be. And, she didn’t doubt for a second, a damnably dangerous one, to boot, to any female weak enough not to resist his charm! Was she mad even to consider remaining with him a moment longer?
‘Well, yes, I would, as it happens,’ she answered, curiosity having rapidly overridden sound common sense.
Rising smoothly to his feet, Lord Blackwood escorted her and his new-found friend across the woodpanelled hall and into the large room situated at the back of the house. Of all the ground-floor rooms, the drawing room boasted the most commanding view of the formal gardens at the rear of the house, which could be reached by means of tall French windows leading out on to a wide,