“It didn’t occur to me to ask because neither of you had bothered to even hint that I was more than a poor relation.”
“Your precious money was perfectly safe, Victoria. Damien was going to tell you when you came of age.”
Victoria could but stare at her. “I wouldn’t have gotten my money, unless I married, until the age of twenty-five. Is that the age you’re referring to, Elaine? And a husband—ah, I can just imagine how Damien would have handled that. Just as he handled David. I cannot believe that you, my own cousin, could have been so perfidious.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You were always treated as one of the family.” She paused a moment, pale now. “Besides, I didn’t know about your inheritance.”
Victoria just looked at her. “No,” she said slowly, “I don’t suppose you did.”
“Shall we go to the drawing room?” Damien’s voice. He’d come to a halt in the thick-beamed central hall.
Victoria nodded, her eyes now on Rafael. He was standing very still, looking about. Victoria followed his gaze from the cavernous fireplace, black and deep as a pit, large enough to roast an oxen, to the suits of armor—English, French, Flemish—many of them terribly rusted, along the far walls, to the banners and crests of every Carstairs generation since the sixteenth century.
“It’s still the same,” Rafael said.
“Don’t get too close to those wretched knights in their armor,” Elaine said. “They’re dangerous, you know. The maids, silly wenches, won’t dust them or clean them properly. They say that there are ghosts, and the ghosts hide in the armor. It’s stupid, of course, but what can one do?”
That was neutral enough, and the four of them trooped into the drawing room. Here Rafael saw change. Elaine, he supposed. It was an improvement. All the dark, heavy furnishings were gone, to be replaced by some marvelous light Queen Anne pieces. The draperies were nearly transparent, with the sunlight bursting through them. A light blue Aubusson carpet with wide creamy swirls covered the center of the floor.
“Very nice,” Rafael said, turning to smile at Elaine. “My God, Ligger,” he said, seeing the old retainer on the threshold. “Hello, dear fellow, you are looking just the same.”
“Thank you, sir. May I say, sir, that it is very gratifying to see you again.”
“Yes, I’m gratified to be here, actually. Did you know, Ligger, that Miss Victoria and I are married?”
Ligger knew, of course. Every servant at Drago Hall knew. It had been a choice topic of conversation for nearly a week now. And Ligger also knew why Miss Victoria had run away. That fact he had kept to himself. His loyalty was to the family, after all, no matter how despicably the current master might behave. Now, Master Rafael—a hell-raiser, that one was, but straightforward and honest. A man people could trust, that was master Rafael.
“Tea, please, Ligger.”
“It is coming directly, my lady.” Ligger turned to direct two house maids bringing in a huge silver service and a trolley with cakes and biscuits and small sandwiches artfully displayed.
There was silence until the servants left the drawing room in Ligger’s majestic wake.
“You are home to stay, Rafael?”
Rafael smiled at Elaine. “Yes, I believe so. My shipping interests shouldn’t suffer, however. My first mate, a fellow with excellent training and judgment, will captain the Seawitch now. However, I don’t intend to become a gentleman of leisure.” He paused a moment and leaned back against the settle. “I’ve worked too many years to enjoy a life of leisure. I suppose I shall continue directing my enterprises from here. Of course, Victoria and I will also raise our family here.”
“So,” said Damien, “you have earned enough money over the past five years to buy your own estate? Or,” he continued, his voice soft, a bit taunting, “do you plan to use Victoria’s funds to get what you want?”
“Both,” said Rafael, the smile never slipping. “The other half of Victoria’s money is soon to be in trust for our children.” The lovely smile now was directed toward Victoria. It didn’t reach his beautiful gray eyes, she saw.
“How noble of you, Rafael,” said Elaine, her voice a bit on the shrill side.
“Not at all,” he said easily. “It’s simply that I have no pressing need for her funds. Indeed, I would have married her if she hadn’t had a sou.”
Liar. Victoria’s expressive eyes told him. Bloody liar. She kept her mouth shut, however, and he was profoundly thankful for small favors. “A young woman as lovely as Victoria,” he continued, “shouldn’t be left in the world without protection. She was much in need of a husband and I trust that she isn’t disappointed with the bargain she made.”
Victoria, bless her sweet, reasonable self, dutifully nodded, a bright smile pinned firmly on her lips.
Rafael took a sip of tea, wondering about Elaine. He’d overheard some of her conversation with Victoria and he imagined that she knew quite a bit more about her husband’s vagaries than she let on. She was wary of Victoria and she appeared to dislike her. Could it be, his thinking continued, that she simply resented not having a poor relation to do her bidding anymore?
He said with a smile, “Congratulations are in order, I see. An heir, Damien?”
“Yes, undoubtedly. Just after Christmas, Dr. Ludcott tells me. And Elaine is in the pink of health, as you can see.”
Suddenly Victoria rose from her chair. “I think I shall go to the nursery and see Damaris.”
“Damaris is sleeping,” Elaine said sharply. “You know how Nanny Black is—at least you should remember how very territorial that old woman acts.”