Page 10 of The Marquess of Temptation
Chapter Five
Hestia had never seen a house as splendid as Hawkfield Manor. True, in Truro, Lord and Lady Bedford had lived in one of the finest homes in the locality, but the seat of the Baronage paled in comparison to the Ducal seat of Hawkfield. Hestia counted fifteen bay windows as the carriage trundled up the drive, before she lost count and gave up. She could feel the disapproving eyes of the Viscountess Jarvis on her and hastily she sat back in her seat, attempting to quell the obvious look of awe on her face.
The carriage journey from London, while relatively short, had been most arduous, mostly because of the Viscount and Viscountess. Jane's brother had a nasty habit of disparaging Jane's every word, thought and movement, and his new wife was no better. Hestia had been forced to bite her tongue several times over the few hours that they were all crammed together in the carriage's compartment and to say that she was relieved that the journey was at an end was an understatement.
Two liveried footmen rushed to meet them as they drew up at the sweeping front steps of the manor. Hestia was the last to alight the vehicle and she lagged slightly behind the Deverauxs as they entered, so that she could take in the sight of the Ducal seat without the disapproving eyes of the Viscountess watching her. It took all of her will power not to cry out "Lud" as she took in the double-height ceiling of the entrance hall with its stained glass dome that shed dappled light onto the marble tiles. The hall was bigger than most houses; Hestia counted at least a dozen marble pillars, which led to the grand, sweep of the staircase.
"Welcome, welcome," Lady Caroline, who was Lord Payne's sister called to the group. Her husband, a rather quiet man, stood beside her, a warm smile on his intelligent face.
"How was the journey?" Lady Caroline enquired politely.
"Arduous," Lady Deveraux cried with a heavy sigh. To be fair to her, Hestia thought with alarm, the Viscountess was looking slightly green around the gills after the carriage ride. She watched quietly as Lady Caroline summoned a maid to take Lord and Lady Jarvis to their suite of rooms, a little relieved that she would soon not have to suffer their company. Once they had departed, Lady Caroline, who was petite and almost bird like, gave Jane a warm hug. The two women began talking about the guests who were due to arrive, allowing Hestia the opportunity to take in the beauty of the hall. Dozens of portraits of hung on the walls, all of the previous Dukes of Hawkfield and their families. Hestia was delighted by the detail of the pictures and how the fashions changed drastically in each different portrait; it was almost like seeing a timeline of the history of England. She allowed her mind to wander, thinking on the lives that the previous Dukes must have led, only coming out of her reverie when she heard Lady Caroline exclaim, "Why the Marquess of Falconbridge, of course. He and James have been friends since childhood."
Falconbridge?
Hestia felt her face flame red at the mention of the name of the man who had permeated her every thought since that morning in Green Park. Every day since she had scanned the society pages in the newspaper, hoping for a glimpse into what ball he might have attended, or if he was seen out riding on The Mile in Hyde Park, but her searches had yielded nothing. Lord Delaney was quite the mystery; all that Hestia knew of him was that he was a widower, and that fact had been gleaned from eavesdropping on one of Lady Jarvis's morning callers. The caller, a Miss Shufflebotham had been bemoaning the lack of eligible bachelors that season.
"The only good one left is Lord Delaney," she had huffed, unaware that Hestia, who was sitting in the corner, had stilled at the mention of his name. "But he is never seen out. Some say he's still mourning his late wife, though my father says he's more interested in dead languages than dead wives."
This barb had earned a cackle from Lady Jarvis, before the two women carried on their inane gossiping.
Now the Marquess was expected here and he would sleep under the same roof as her. Hestia felt clammy at the very thought of having to spend any time near him; while she found him dreadfully attractive, she also found him mildly terrifying. Not to mention haughty, rude and inappropriately overbearing for a man who could claim no connection to her.
"Oh look," Lady Caroline called, glancing out the open doorway, "Here they are now."
Indeed, as she spoke, Lord Delaney and Lord Payne were just reaching the top of the driveway, both men having opted to travel on horseback. Lord Payne's hair was tousled from the ride, and his clothes were slightly rumpled, whereas Lord Delaney was immaculate. Hestia watched surreptitiously as he dismounted his steed, handing the reins to a waiting footman. His clothes were pristine; he wore a dark riding coat over buckskin breeches that were tucked into a pair of gleaming, black Hessians. She felt Henry, who was seated at her feet, perk up at the sight of the familiar figure.
"Oh, no you don't," she whispered, scooping the mischievous dog into her arms and stealing away behind a pillar where she hoped she might not be noted by the Marquess. From her vantage point she watched as the two men strode into the hall to greet Lady Caroline and Jane. Lord Payne's face was creased in a warm smile and his every movement was ebullient, while the Marquess was much more reserved, his expression stiff and haughty. Lady Caroline fussed about the pair and called for the housekeeper, Mrs Hughes, to come take Jane and Hestia to their rooms.
"Put Miss Bowstock in the Lavender Room," she instructed the older woman, then turned to glance around the hall, her face a picture of confusion. "Where has she gone?"
"I'm here," Hestia whispered, coming out from behind the pillar, still clutching a struggling Henry in her arms. She kept her eyes focused on Jane and Lady Caroline, too afraid to glance at the towering figure of the Marquess to her right. Jane's eyes narrowed in thought as she surveyed Hestia, glancing at the Marquess then back at her companion.
"Come Belinda," she said kindly, as a footman took their bags and Mrs Hughes began to lead the way to their suite of rooms. Hestia trailed the group as they slowly made their way up the stairs, feeling very conscious that a set of blue eyes might be following her. The urge to look over her shoulder was too tempting to resist and the instant that she did, her eyes locked with those of Lord Delaney. His smouldering gaze knocked the wind out of her and she immediately turned her head away, wondering if he could hear her heartbeat, which thundered like a storm in her chest.
"I cannot go to dinner Jane, I have a terrible migraine."
It was half true; Hestia's head did ache after the journey but it was not so bad that she would not have been able to eat. In truth, she was famished, but the thought of sitting opposite Lord Delaney through five courses was too difficult to contemplate.
"Oh, Belinda. It's not because of the Marquess, is it?"
It still felt strange to Hestia to be referred to as Belinda and it took her a moment to respond to Jane, who was seated at the window of the small sitting room which joined their two bedrooms together.
"It's not, I promise," Hestia replied firmly, her eyes wide as she tried to convey her innocence. "It's just that the journey has left me a little fatigued. Even Lady Jarvis is tired after it, and you know how much she loves to socialise."
The Viscountess had cried off attending dinner, an act that had left Jane worried, for like Hestia she had noted Lady Jarvis's pallid complexion earlier.
"As long as you're not going hungry simply so you don't have to see him," Jane replied kindly, "I shan't let him chastise you ever again."
Hestia felt a little guilty at Jane's fiercely protective words. When they had reached their rooms earlier Jane had immediately begun to question Hestia on what had transpired between her and the Marquess, to make both of them look so uncomfortable in each other's presence. Hestia had fibbed and told Jane that Falconbridge had berated her for touching one of the artifacts at Montagu House, which was almost true. Jane had been incensed on her behalf, leaving Hestia feeling a little worried that her mistress might take the Marquess to task over it all.
"Honestly, Jane," Hestia protested weakly, "It's just a migraine. It has nothing to do with Lord Delaney and I pray that you will say nothing to him. It's all forgotten about --I swear."
"If you say so," Jane sighed, placing the book she had been holding in her lap aside, "I'd best head down, lest they send out a search party for me."
In truth, it was rather early to be going down for dinner, but Jane was harbouring secrets of her own. Her old paramour, an entomologist by the name of Mr Jackson had reappeared from South America. Hestia wasn't overly fond of Mr Jackson, who was pompous and rather dry, but Jane had revealed that her engagement to Lord Payne was nothing more than a ruse to placate the Duke, who was threatening to cut Lord Payne off from his allowance. It was all very complex, Hestia thought, and she secretly believed that while Jane thought the engagement was merely an act, Lord Payne disagreed. It was clear to even the most casual observer that the Hawkfield heir was head over heels in love with Miss Deveraux.
Love -there was that word again. Her mother had been right, Hestia thought as she waved Jane away, love brought nothing but trouble.
