They Touched Heaven Page 4

“I am afraid I shall be occupied, Lord Alphonse. I have only just returned from France and am rather busy.”

  “I shall be visiting your father tomorrow morning, so, if you are here at home, I will see you,” he persisted, releasing her. “Now, please excuse me – my carriage is waiting.”

  Temia felt her skin crawling as he kissed her hand.

  Almost as soon as Lord Alphonse had left her side, her mother hurried over to her.

  “What did he say? What did he talk about?” she asked in an anxious tone that made Temia suspect that this Lord Alphonse was a far more important person than she had at first suspected.

  “He was most insistent that I allow him to call on me tomorrow. Of course, I shall say I am not at home.”

  “That is not wise, Temia, dear. He is a very good client of your father.”

  “But Mama, I don’t care for him at all. He held me disagreeably close during the waltz and it – upset me.”

  “Darling, I feel certain that, if you can handle the attentions of Parisian men, then you are more than able to deal with him in the correct manner. You must not be too off-putting to him, darling, your father would not be happy if he took umbrage with us.”

  Temia felt a lump spring into her throat. She had not expected her Mama to say this. Why was she not agreeing with her? No gentleman would hold a lady he had just met so close!

  ‘I can see that they wish to impress him and that I must go along with it,’ she mused, as George Armstrong happened on her in the corridor.

  But even as she danced with him, she could not wipe the vision of Lord Alphonse’s leering face from her mind for the rest of the evening –

  *

  The servants were still clearing up after the ball when Temia went downstairs to find something to eat the following morning. It was almost midday, but she could not wait until luncheon.

  Slipping down the backstairs and into the kitchen, she begged some bread and honey from Mrs. Duff who had just taken a batch of steaming loaves out of the oven.

  She sat at the kitchen table and ate, famished.

  ‘At least if I am down here, Ridley will not find me,’ she said to herself.

  But five minutes later he came down the stairs.

  “Miss Temia! Now what are you doing here?”

  “I wanted something to eat.”

  “A gentleman who is in with your father has been asking after you.”

  Temia sighed.

  “Would that be a Lord Alphonse?” she asked.

  “It is, miss”

  “Ridley, I wish you to tell him, if he asks for me again, that I am not at home. Do you understand?”

  “Very good, miss. And if the Master requests your presence?”

  “You have not seen me.”

  The butler paused and then nodded, slowly. Taking up a salver he made his way back up the stairs.

  After finishing her snack, she crept out of the back door and out into the grounds.

  The Head Gardener was clearing leaves from the path and his assistant was busy pruning some bushes.

  Without thinking, Temia soon found herself by the stables.

  ‘I should not linger here,’ she thought, ‘for this is surely the one place Lord Alphonse will visit if he is here.’

  As she turned back towards the house, she heard someone shout her name. With a sinking heart, she ignored Lord Alphonse at first, but then, when his shouts became louder and more insistent, it would be rude not to acknowledge him.

  Forcing a smile, she turned towards him. He was hurrying across the courtyard towards her with his head bent.

  “Miss Brandon! I was told you were not at home.”

  “Ridley could not find me, as I was in the kitchen. He must have assumed I was out.”

  “I am so glad I have seen you as there is an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you.”

  “I was just about to go out, Lord Alphonse.”

  “It will not take long. Can we go inside?”

  “I must speak with Robert.

  “Later. Come, let’s return to the house. You must be cold without a coat or shawl.”

  He touched Temia’s shoulder in a gesture that made her shudder. She did not like being treated so familiarly.

  Once inside the house, she led him to the drawing room, hoping that her father would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Miss Brandon,” he began. “You have to believe that I have thought of nothing but you since our meeting last night and I have to confess that I have fallen utterly in love with you. I am not a man to tarry when I have set my mind on something, and so, I ask you to marry me. I know that your father will agree to it.”

  “You have spoken of this to Papa?” asked Temia a little nervously. “No, not yet, but I am most confident that he will not raise any objections to our betrothal.”

  Temia paused. She did not wish to cause offence, but equally she was taken aback by the shocking arrogance of the man.

  “I am afraid that I do not wish to marry anyone at present, Lord Alphonse,” she replied stoutly. “Naturally I am flattered to be asked, but I am not able to accept. Now, if you will excuse me, as I have said, I am about to go out.”

  Lord Alphonse’s face grew red with anger. His lip trembled and he exhaled noisily as he knitted his eyebrows.

  “You – refuse – me?” he spluttered.

  “I do,” answered Temia quietly.

  “What objection can you possibly have to refuse a gentleman of my standing?”

  “Sir, I hardly know you. That is reason enough, is it not?”

  “No, it is not!” he shouted. “I am used to getting what I want and I will have you, Miss Brandon! I will leave you for now to contemplate the error of your decision and will return tomorrow once you have had a chance to think about it. Good day. I will show myself out.”

  With that he stormed angrily out of the room. She heard the front door slam shut and the sound of his footsteps dying away over the gravel. ‘I fear I have made an enemy,’ she said to herself, sitting down on the sofa. ‘Papa will be furious, but surely, he will understand why I have refused?’

  But in her heart, grew a nagging fear that perhaps, just as Lord Alphonse was not a man to be put off, her father was not going to be as understanding as she would hope.

  CHAPTER THREE

  While Temia was awake all that night, occupying her mind with unwanted thoughts about Lord Alphonse, in London the Earl of Wentworth was feeling agitated.

  “What the hell do you mean, we cannot enter?” he demanded at the stage door with his silver-topped cane in his hand. His tall frame was encased in a large black cloak and his silk hat made him seem even taller than his six feet. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but Mr. Baker was insistent – no gentlemen callers backstage tonight.”

  “But my friend here is accompanying one of the young ladies to dinner,” he asserted, tapping his long cane impatiently on the pavement. “Leo knows us!”

  “Sorry, my Lord. I’ve got me orders.”

  The man shut the stage door abruptly, leaving him and Sir Thomas Babbington indignantly on the pavement.

  “It’s no problem, I can see Gladys another night,” said Sir Thomas. “There was no need to make a fuss.”

  The Earl sighed. It was not as if he was interested in any of the girls from Les Jolies Mademoiselles. Since he had broken off an engagement two years earlier, he had steered clear of any romantic interludes. True, a man had needs, but these were easily satisfied by a stream of willing, usually married, ladies he encountered at endless balls and house parties.

  But, of late, even those had ceased to amuse him.

  His last affaire du coeur had ended when the lady in question had returned repentant to her husband. On the other hand, Sir Thomas was an inveterate romancer of showgirls. It was one of his few vices that, unlike carousing or playing cards, the Earl did not share an enthusiasm for.

  But Sir Thomas was a slave to a pretty ankle and a saucy wink and the actresses of London had provided
him with many merry moments.

  “I must break myself of this habit,” he murmured as they returned to their carriage. “I should settle down with a nice girl from a good family and produce a son and heir. It is what my father would have wanted.”

  The Earl threw his head back and laughed.

  “I would so like to meet the young lady who could tame you!” he cried. “No, I do believe that, in spite of your protestations, you are a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor! Shall we go instead to our Club, Thomas?”

  “I suppose a brandy or two might help pass the time agreeably. Coachman! Take us to Whites.” The sleek black phaeton moved forward and soon they had left the lights of the Royal Kent Theatre behind.

  *

  Temia was right that Lord Alphonse was not a man to be easily deterred. The day following her rejection of him, a large box of flowers appeared at Bovendon Hall.

  “Orchids!” sighed her Mama. “They are lovely.” “Funeral flowers,” countered Temia dismissively.

  “But darling, these are not white. I have never seen such beautiful colours.”

  Temia read the card that came with the orchids. “I shall not rest until you say you will be mine.”

  The day was cold and the parlour maid had already lit the fire. Temia threw the card into the flames and then watched as it curled up and dissolved into cinders.

  “Darling one, was that really necessary?”

  Temia was still gazing at the flames. “Shall I ask Sarah to put them in your room?”

  “No, Mama. If they have to be displayed, let them stay in the hall, so I will not have to look at them for long.”

  Temia paced up and down by the window before, finally, hurling herself into an armchair. “Temia!” cried her mother. “I don’t think we paid all that money for you to go to Finishing School so you could throw yourself around like a stable boy! What if Ridley had been in the room?”

  “Then he would have averted his eyes,” answered Temia sulkily.

  But even removing the orchids from the room did nothing to soothe her foul temper. And when, that afternoon, a note arrived from Lord Alphonse saying he would be calling the next day, Temia was beside herself.

  She ran out and took refuge in the stables, picking up a brush and grooming Lightning until his coat shone.

  “Miss Temia, there be no need for you to do that, I was about to do it meself!” said Robert, as he came across her in Lightning’s stall.

  “It’s no reflection on you,” she replied, burying her face in Lightning’s silky mane. “I wished to be out of the house.”

  “Shall I saddle ’im up for you, miss?”

  Temia brightened visibly.

  “What a wonderful idea! I shall ride to the village and back. A change of scenery is what I need.”

  The day was grey and overcast, but Temia did not pay any heed to the weather. She rode Lightning hard and fast along the road to the village and stopped to look at her brother’s memorial. The bronze relief of his likeness almost seemed to her like that of some other person and, as she stared at it, she could barely believe that Jasper was dead.

  ‘How different my life might have been, had he lived,’ she mused, touching the brass plaque affectionately before remounting Lightning. *

  At breakfast the following day, Temia was given strict instructions from her father that if Lord Alphonse should call, she must receive him.

  “Papa, if he asks me to marry him again, I will not say ‘yes’! Would you speak to him? Perhaps he would take my refusal more seriously if it came from you.”

  Sir Arthur looked distinctly uneasy. Temia could see that he quite clearly did not wish to have any such conversation with Lord Alphonse.

  “It may be difficult to broach the subject. There are outstanding matters I have to discuss with him first.”

  “But you will at least say my mind is made up?”

  Sir Arthur hesitated and appeared uncomfortable with doing that favour for Temia. She was far too used to him allowing her to have her own way and his reluctance quite shocked her.

  “You must not upset him, dearest. If you must refuse him once again, say that you have no wish to marry anyone – and do try not to offend him,” added her Mama, anxiously.

  “It’s true, I don’t wish to marry anyone. I have yet to meet a man who intrigues me enough for that. I want a man who is not showy and boastful – what would there be for me to discover about him otherwise?”

  She then flounced out of the room. Lady Brandon waited until she judged that Temia was out of earshot and turned to her husband,

  “You must tell her, Arthur. If she knows the real reason for you wanting to keep him on your side, perhaps she will at least be a little more pleasant to him.”

  “Alice, I will not discuss my business or personal affairs with my daughter! Is it not enough that my wife knows I have made a damn fool of myself?”

  “Then, you will only have yourself to blame if she inadvertently makes things worse.” *

  But Temia’s father did not speak with her and so Lord Alphonse came calling the next day, as he promised.

  And Temia again refused his proposal of marriage.

  Sir Arthur was now in the awful position of having to explain in detail to Lord Alphonse why his daughter had not accepted him.

  He took the clearly annoyed Lord into his library and brought out his best brandy, hoping to soothe him.

  “She is young, Lord Alphonse, and she has no wish to marry yet awhile,” said Sir Arthur, handing him a glass.

  “Your daughter is almost twenty-two and she will be an old maid if she persists in this foolishness. I intend to have her, Sir Arthur, and I would appreciate your help.”

  “Temia is very strong-willed and I cannot make her do anything she does not wish to.”

  Lord Alphonse looked at Sir Arthur with a distinct sneer on his face.

  “I would not care to endure a tyrant in petticoats in my own home.”

  “Then, Temia would most certainly not prove to be a satisfactory wife for you, Lord Alphonse,” answered Sir Arthur, hoping that would be an end to the matter.

  “Ah,” he countered, with a supercilious smile, “but I believe she is waiting to be tamed. I have yet to meet the woman I could not bend to my will, if I choose to do so.”

  He swigged at his brandy and laughed a low cruel laugh that made Sir Arthur feel quite ill. “Now, to business,” said Lord Alphonse, taking out his pocket book. “I believe you have some new stock that would interest me – ”

  Outside the library, Temia had stood listening to their raised voices through the door. Although she could not hear exactly, she could guess the drift.

  ‘I hope that Papa has made it clear I don’t welcome Lord Alphonse’s wooing,’ she murmured to herself.

  She was still feeling a little ruffled from having to refuse him yet again. This time he had tried to control his temper and had simply laughed when she had said ‘no’.

  “A lady always refuses at first, otherwise she is not a lady,” he had said in an infuriating manner. “You will agree eventually.”

  “I will not!” she had replied, her blue eyes flashing.

  It was all she could do not to run out of the room and it was only the arrival of her father that had relieved the tension.

  Temia then took the opportunity to excuse herself, ran upstairs and waited until they left the drawing room before making her way back down the stairs again.

  And now she could hear raised voices no more and guessed that her father had opened his drinks cabinet where he kept his best brandy. ‘I hope he has not gone against what he promised he would say,’ she thought, suddenly panicking that the brandy meant a deal signed and sealed.

  Just then, her Mama entered the hall and frowned.

  “Listening at doorways? Really, Temia!”

  “Mama, it’s not what you might think. Papa is in there with Lord Alphonse. I have refused him yet again.”

  Lady Brandon sighed.

  “He is a persi
stent man, I will grant you.”

  “Mama, if I could have dealt with him myself, I would not have involved Papa.”

  “Yes, I know, my dearest. Now come and let’s go into the drawing room, as it would not do for the servants to catch us behaving like this.”

  “Servants?”

  “Precisely. Do hurry now, it sounds as if they are finishing their discussions.”

  Temia and her mother quickly went to the drawing room and they were about to sit down when Lord Alphonse appeared at the door.

  “Miss Brandon, Lady Brandon. I am sorry I cannot linger any longer, but I have business to deal with. I will see you again soon – in fact, very soon, indeed!”

  He bowed and then took his hat from Ridley. As Temia heard the front door close, she turned to her mother,

  “What did he mean by that? Very soon indeed.”

  “I really don’t know, dearest.”

  Ridley now reappeared in the drawing room and his face wore a grave look. “My Lady, the Master asks for you in the library, if you could come at once.”

  Ridley had no liking for Lord Alphonse, but would never have made his feelings known. He did not care for the way the man looked around The Hall as if he was about to assume ownership of it.

  “Temia, I must leave you. I trust you will be dining with us this evening?”

  “Yes, Mama. I have no other engagements. I had quite forgotten how very quiet life can be in the country.”

  Lady Brandon’s heart sank, as she sensed that her summons to the library was to do with Lord Alphonse. It was fortunate that Temia was otherwise engaged when her mother finally emerged from the library over an hour later looking tearful and drawn.

  She gave instructions to Ridley that she was not to be disturbed before dinner and then retired to her room.

  She was dreading the evening because when Lord Alphonse had alluded to the fact that he would see them again very soon, it had not been an idle boast.

  She did not know if she should warn Temia that he was coming to dinner this evening and that he would once more propose, but this time with her father’s blessing.

  Temia had retired to the music room and spent the hours before dinner amusing herself by playing the piano. Her fingers flew across the keys in a lively Chopin piece and then Beethoven. She felt herself transported by the sadness of the Moonlight Sonata and even more so by his Adagio cantabile from his No. 8 in C minor.