The Waters of Love Read online

  With this attire and with her tall slim figure from a distance she could have passed for a boy, which pleased her.

  ‘If only I had been born a boy, life would be so much simpler,’ she sighed. ‘And more fun!’

  In the stables she found Skylark all ready for her, raring to be off, snorting and prancing so that two grooms were barely enough to hold him.

  “I wish you wouldn’t ride him, miss,” implored the Head Groom. “He’s dangerous.”

  “Good!” responded Lexia cheerfully, swinging herself up into the saddle. “That’s how I like it.”

  Seeing her groom about to mount his horse in order to accompany her, she called out,

  “No need, Hawkins. I’m riding alone today.”

  “But miss – ”

  “Stand clear,” she ordered the grooms holding Skylark’s head. They obeyed her only too willingly, releasing the reins and dashing clear of the flying hooves.

  For the first few miles Lexia gave Skylark his head. He was a powerful animal eager for exercise and he flew over the ground at a speed that exhilarated her.

  “Atta boy!” she exclaimed as they finally slowed. “Skylark, you are wonderful!”

  Suddenly she realised that nothing looked familiar. She had galloped further than ever before and was now in strange country.

  Looking round she thought this was the loveliest place she had ever seen and there was a softness about the greenery that appealed to her.

  Just ahead she saw the glint of water where a little stream meandered past and urged Skylark forward, so that he could drink.

  He did so gladly and as he dropped his head to the water she noticed the house just up ahead. It was magnificent, made of pale honey coloured stone, and stretching over two hundred yards along the front.

  ‘I wonder if that is where the Marquis lives,’ she mused. ‘It’s beautiful and I wouldn’t mind being invited to a party there or a ball.’

  She put her head on one side to consider the house’s attributes.

  ‘That terrace looks like the perfect place for a little flirting. You just arrange for your partner to dance you out of the French windows and into the shadows and then – hmm!’

  Her lips curved in pleased recollection of balls she had attended in the past, the young men who had been only too glad to flirt with her and some enchanting moments in the shadows.

  But she also realised something else.

  ‘It would take a pile of money to keep up,’ she murmured to herself. ‘So this Marquis thinks he’s going to make himself a fortune through me. And if Pa has his way, he will.’

  She considered this thought for a moment.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said to herself at last. ‘Not even for that house.’ “C’mon, boy.”

  She patted Skylark and turned to start the ride back.

  After a while she became aware that someone was behind her.

  Looking back she saw a shabbily dressed man on horseback, waving and calling to her.

  “Hey you, boy! Come here!”

  ‘Oh, goodness!’ she muttered. ‘That’s all I need, someone who’s seen me dressed like this. If Pa hears about it, he’ll never let me forget it.’

  She urged Skylark faster and he responded at once. Now she was doing what she loved and everything else fell away again in the joy of riding a really fast horse.

  From behind her she could hear the man shouting angrily and she thought she heard the word ‘trespass’, but it was hard to be sure.

  ‘And I am not waiting around to find out,’ she thought grimly, spurring Skylark on to greater efforts.

  The thought of being trapped by one of the Marquis’s grooms and perhaps hauled in front of his Lordship was distinctly unpleasant.

  Even if she escaped that fate there was still the chance of being recognised and reported to the Marquis as a hoyden, a young woman who did not know how to behave like a lady.

  Not that she cared what he thought of her! She had no intention of being handed over to him in marriage.

  But she wanted the refusal to be on her side, not his. To be rejected as ‘not quite the thing’ would be a hideous fate.

  The man shouted again and she looked behind her, finding to her dismay that he was gaining on her.

  Occupied thus, she failed to notice the tree trunk across her path and when Skylark soared across it, she was unprepared.

  The sudden movement upward shifted her to one side so that she lost her balance and the next moment she was flying through the air.

  The world seemed to spin wildly until at last the earth came up to meet her with a thump that nearly knocked all the breath out of her.

  She lay there on her back, breathing hard, while everything settled back into place. Then the man and his horse came soaring over the tree trunk, heading directly for her.

  “Whoa!” she yelled, rolling sharply to one side just in time to avoid the flying hooves and covering her head with her arms.

  The horse landed, turned and halted. The man dismounted and came towards her, dropping to one knee.

  “Are you all right?” he enquired coolly.

  “I think so – no thanks to you,” Lexia snapped.

  “It seems to me that you have come by your just deserts,” he said. “There is no right of way across this land.”

  “I was only taking a ride.”

  “In a place where you have no right to be. Let it be a lesson to you, young fellow. Come on, up with you!”

  “Take your hands off me,” she raged as he reached for her.

  His answer was to seize her arms and haul her to her feet.

  Outraged at this disrespectful treatment, Lexia lashed out with her feet and then, after managing to get one arm free, with a hand.

  “That’s enough!” the man roared.

  Lexia’s answer was another swipe, which he narrowly dodged. Exasperated she stamped her foot and was rewarded by a yell of pain.

  “I said that’s enough!” he yelled.

  “Oh, no, it – isn’t,” she gasped, flailing furiously.

  “That’s it, young fellow,” growled the man through gritted teeth.

  Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a shake, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to dislodge her peaked cap, which went flying off.

  The next moment her long fair hair cascaded around her shoulders and the man was staring at her in dismay.

  “You’re a girl!” he exclaimed.

  Lexia could have screamed with vexation. This was the worst thing that could have happened.

  “Yes, I’m a girl,” she replied gruffly.

  “Dressed like that?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake!” she exploded. “How would you like to ride a side saddle and wear a dress?”

  A slow grin crept over his face.

  “Well, if you put it that way, I don’t think it would suit me,” he agreed.

  There was something about his smile that was irresistible, she discovered. In fact, he was a handsome man, tall, broad-shouldered and with dark red hair.

  She allowed herself a moment to regard him with pleasure. She had not known that servants were so good-looking in this County.

  She had, as yet, no ear for the nuances of English accents or it might have occurred to her that his voice was too cultivated for a servant’s, despite his clothes having seen better days.

  So there was nothing to suggest to her that this might be the Marquis himself.

  “Definitely not for me,” he repeated, “but then, I am not a lady.”

  “Neither am I, according to Pa,” grumbled Lexia. “And now I’ve gone and made a mess of everything.”

  He stared at her baffled.

  “What have you made a mess of?”

  “Well, it’s – it’s sort of a long story.”

  “In that case you had better tell me in comfort. Why don’t we make our way over there to the lake?”

  The way led through a little clump of trees, which crowded down to the edge of the water. The
re the horses drank gratefully and Lexia dropped to her knees to bathe her face in the deliciously cool water.

  When she had finished she went to join him on a tree stump where he was sitting, moving carefully because she was still sore from her landing.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. “You took a nasty tumble.”

  She shrugged.

  “That’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”

  “So if that isn’t what is troubling you, what is it?”

  She sighed.

  “It’s the Marquis.”

  “I beg your pardon!” he queried, startled.

  “The Marquis. You know, the one who owns this place? Warburton – Wilberry – ?”

  “Wimborton,” he said.

  “Are you sure? I was certain it was Warburton.”

  “I assure you, he is the Marquis of Wimborton.”

  “Oh, well, I expect you would know, wouldn’t you?”

  “I expect I would,” he agreed gravely.

  “Have you worked for him long?”

  “Have I – ?”

  “Well, that doesn’t really matter, but you do know him? I mean, you could pick him out of a crowd?”

  “I think I could manage to do that. But how does he come into this?”

  “Well you see – it’s really all his fault,” Lexia told him distractedly.

  “Good Heavens! What has the poor fellow done?”

  “Don’t call him poor fellow,” said Lexia darkly. “He’s a terrible man. I hate and despise him.”

  Her companion stared for a moment, but then recovered himself and managed to speak with composure.

  “Have you known him for long?”

  “I’ve never met him.”

  “But even so you know him to be hateful and despicable? That’s quite a burden for any man.”

  “He wouldn’t care.”

  “If he knew he had incurred the censure of a lady who hadn’t even met him I think he would care about that.”

  “Why should he? He must have women swooning at his feet and ready to let him get away with anything that he likes, just because of his title.”

  Her companion opened his mouth to protest about this unjust assessment, but the realisation that there was a hint of truth in it held him silent.

  “Sometimes – perhaps,” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean it’s what he likes.”

  “He doesn’t think he likes it, but he’s used to it,” Lexia pointed out. “He knows nothing else, so of course he expects it. He is Lord of all he surveys and he thinks he only has to snap his fingers and people will come running.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain what he has done to incur your dislike,” the man parried, carefully not answering this last remark.

  “He has put me in an impossible position. At least, Pa’s done that, I suppose. But he wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for this Marquis, so it’s his fault too.”

  Her companion rubbed a hand over his eyes.

  “I seem to be unusually stupid today, but I must confess myself totally at a loss. Why are you in an impossible position and what does the Marquis have to do with it?”

  She gave him a sharp look.

  “You did say you knew him, didn’t you?”

  “I – er – yes,” he floundered.

  “He must never know. Oh, please, promise you won’t tell him. Pa would never let me hear the end of it.”

  “It’s all right,” he assured her. “His Lordship and I don’t discuss such matters. I won’t tell him – whatever it is you don’t want me to tell him. What is it, by the way?”

  “That you found me dressed like this.”

  “I promise not to tell him, but why is it significant?”

  “Because I am supposed to marry him.”

  After this there was a silence.

  “What?” he managed to say at last.

  “Pa’s set his heart on him marrying me. It’s a tomfool idea because I don’t suppose he wants me any more than I want him, but I can’t talk sense to Pa.”

  A strange look had come over the man’s face.

  “Just – who – is your father?”

  “Garry Drayton. We are renting Highcliffe House.”

  “Garry Drayton, hmm! Would he be the – er –millionaire?”

  “You have heard of him?”

  “I think everyone in the locality has heard of him. Myself, I don’t believe most of the stories. I have never heard of anyone who actually possessed a million pounds.”

  “Oh, Pa has more,” she said indifferently. “He made it in the California gold fields.”

  “California,” he murmured.

  “In America – that’s where I’ve lived for the last eighteen years.”

  That explained her voice, he thought. He had been trying to place her accent.

  “By the way, I am Lexia Drayton.”

  She extended her hand, giving him a friendly smile. He seemed nonplussed and she realised that she had offended against some social code. It probably wasn’t ‘the done thing’ to shake hands with a servant.

  Then he offered his own hand.

  “My name is Francis.”

  “Francis. Do people call you Frank?”

  Again there was the brief hesitation, as though she had caught him off-guard.

  “Nobody ever has before,” he admitted truthfully. “But please call me Frank, if you wish.”

  “Thank you.” Then she sighed. “Oh, Frank, it’s terrible!”

  “Terrible to be a millionaire?” he echoed.

  “Dreadful!” she confided. “They all want to marry me for Pa’s money.”

  “And what do you want?” he asked sympathetically.

  “I want to avoid the Marquis. I don’t want to be frog- marched up the aisle to find him standing there waiting for me, gloating over the prospect of getting his greedy hands on Pa’s money.”

  “So you think he’s desperate to marry you?”

  “Not me, the money. They say he’s in a bad way and he’ll do anything for hard cash.”

  “Do they, indeed?”

  “But I don’t want to marry a man who thinks he’s some little tinpot King. He probably does all sorts of feudal things like – like shooting peasants before breakfast.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  “Why would he do that?” asked Frank at last.

  “Because he’s their Liege Lord and – and the peasants work for him, and if he isn’t pleased with their work – he shoots them!”

  “But this is the nineteenth century. Your ideas are about six centuries out of date. I promise you that he hasn’t shot a peasant in years – not before breakfast anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He isn’t allowed to any more.”

  She gave him a suspicious look.

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Well, maybe just a little,” he agreed wryly.

  “But you really do promise not to tell him that you saw me like this in these clothes, riding without my groom? It would make him look down his nose at me.”

  “But, if it turns him against you – isn’t that what you want? Maybe it would put him off marrying you.”

  “With my money and his problems? I don’t think so!”

  “You think he’s so desperate that he will marry you anyway, even looking down his nose at you?”

  “Some men will do anything for money,” confided Lexia darkly. “But I don’t want him thinking I’m not a lady – even if I’m not.”

  Frank’s lips twitched.

  “So you don’t really mind if he falls at your feet, but only so that you can grind him beneath your heel?”

  “That is overstating the case,” she came back stiffly.

  “Of course, I can see why you would want to receive his proposal, even if you don’t mean to accept it?”

  “You can?”

  “If he’s as desperate for money as you say, but didn’t propose, it would amount to saying that you are so f
ar beyond the pale that even your father’s money cannot make you acceptable.”

  Lexia stared at him, speechless with indignation, while he warmed to his theme.

  “Naturally you would not want that, especially after your father appears to have made his ambitions fairly plain. For an heiress to set her cap at a Marquis is bad enough. For her to do so and fail would be mortifying beyond belief.”

  “Hey, you!” she cried, outraged. “I haven’t set my cap at anyone.”

  “No, but it’s being done on your behalf and you will get the blame.”

  “I – I – ”

  “And you are not being very fair to the Marquis. You claim the right to hate and despise him, but he must admire you.”

  “You’re on his side, aren’t you?” she challenged.

  “I must admit I am.”

  “Yes, well, if you work for him, I suppose you have to be,” admitted Lexia, trying to be fair.

  “True, but I can sympathise with your problem. You need to bring him to the point where he’s eager to marry you, but will not make a nuisance of himself when you reject him.”

  “That’s right! But if I receive a proposal Pa will expect me to accept. And if I don’t, he’ll throw himself into a rage.”

  “I feel reasonably certain that you will know how to deal with your father.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Anyway, this is all in the future. You might never meet the Marquis.”

  “I am going to meet him tomorrow. We’ve been invited for tea so that he can look me over.”

  “That will be your chance to astound him by your beauty, grace and wit. Wear your finest clothes and don’t let him lord it over you.”

  “I certainly won’t let him do that.”

  “Your pride is at stake and you can snub him later.”

  “Well – I don’t wish actually to wound him.”

  “That would be impossible,” said Frank solemnly. “His heart is too armoured to feel a wound.”

  “Really?”

  “I have to admit the truth. He is everything you have said and worse. Proud, arrogant, thinking himself above the world.”

  “That’s disgraceful!”

  “He thinks every woman he meets is after his title. He will disdain you from the first moment.”

  “The cad!”

  “You must teach him a much needed lesson. Your unfortunate situation is clearly his fault and he should be made to suffer.”