Page 23 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘I doubt I shall see much of her. The countess came down last night because you were there but it took a great deal out of her, so it’s unlikely she will find the energy to leave her rooms again for a few more days.’ Flora frowned. ‘If at all. Naturally, I shall remain upstairs with her.’
‘That will be a pity.’
‘No one will miss me.’
‘Fishing for compliments, Flora?’ Archie sent her a taunting smile and Flora saw flashes of the carefree young man he must have been before his accident. Handsome, confident, an outrageous flirt. ‘You know very well that I shall miss you and that the dinner table will be a dull place without you at it.’
‘As I say, nothing stays the same.’ Her smile felt strained. ‘Are you ready to return to the house?’
‘If we must. I am enjoying your company, but aware that I am keeping you from your duties.’
‘Stay where you are. I will fetch Mabel.’
She did so, encouraging the cob forward with gentle words and an even gentler tug on her bridle. Archie leaned on Flora’s shoulder as he stood and balanced himself on the bench. He stepped from there into the gig, more confident this time, and took his seat.
‘Thank you. I can manage now.’
She smiled, went to fetch Amethyst, and stood on the bench herself in order to slip into her saddle. They turned back in the direction of the Court, both lost in thought. As they reached the house, they noticed a carriage pulling up at the entrance portico.
‘That’s Mr Nesbit who collects folk from the station,’ Flora remarked. ‘The Flemings must be here already.’
‘So it would appear.’ Archie turned Mabel in the direction of the stable yard. ‘They must have caught the first train out of London, and they are obviously very anxious to enjoy Luke’s hospitality.’
Flora laughed when she saw Luke standing at his library window, observing the new arrivals. Then his gaze fell upon Flora and Archie and he frowned.
‘We’ve been rumbled,’ Archie said mischievously. ‘You will have some explaining to do now.’
‘I am not afraid of Luke.’
‘Neither am I, and I have enjoyed this excursion more than you could know, Flora. Thank you so very much.’
‘It was entirely my pleasure. I hope you will let me help you as we discussed, and I apologise for crying all over you.’
‘My legs aren’t much good, but I make up for them by having very broad shoulders.’ He smiled, the gesture soft and intimate. ‘You are welcome to cry on them at any time.’
Chapter Seven
Luke couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked to clear his vision, convinced that his eyes must be playing tricks on him, but there was no mistake. Flora rode towards the stables beside Archie who was driving, yesdriving, Luke’s damned gig. Jealousy surged through him as he watched the two of them laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Archie raised a hand when he saw Luke watching him and gave an ironic little salute, then returned to his conversation with Flora.
Where the devil had they been? He knew that Archie had an eye for Flora. He always sat with her and his grandmother when he dined at Beranger Court and made her laugh with his outrageous stories. He had even proposed to her once during the course of a meal. The proposal had been ironic, and she’d laughed it off, but Luke had been left with the impression that he wouldn’t have been too upset if she’d taken him seriously.
He had no right to feel jealous, Luke conceded, or to resent his best friend’s flirtatious manner and the ease with which he charmed every female who crossed his path. His body might be broken but he still had that indefinable something that made him so attractive to the ladies. The more so since he’d become an invalid, Luke sometimes thought, since his condition invoked universal sympathy. And now of course, he was a marquess to boot.
‘Mr and Miss Fleming have arrived, my lord,’ Woodley said from the open door of Luke’s library. ‘They are in the drawing room.’
‘Thank you, Woodley. Is Mr Dalton aware?’
‘He is, my lord. He has gone to fetch Lady Mary.’
‘Very well. I shall be there directly.’
Luke ruffled Romulus’s ears, wondering why he felt the need to delay the encounter. He had decided while still in Boston that he would like to observe Ottilie’s behaviour here in his home. His dog looked up at him through large, liquid eyes and wagged his tail, probably sensing Luke’s uncertainty.
‘Best get it over with, I suppose,’ he told the attentive animal.
Luke had discarded his coat while taking care of the morning’s correspondence. He slipped his arms back into it, adjusted the knot in his tie, whistled to Romulus and the two of them reached the drawing room at the same time as Mary and Paul.
‘They don’t waste any time,’ Paul remarked. ‘I didn’t think they’d get here until the later train.’
