Love and the Marquis Page 5

  Again there was the suspicion of a smile on the Marquis’s lips before he said,

  “If you have that sort of intuition, Miss Gladwin, I suggest you use it to find a reason why I have not rearranged the pictures in this Gallery and removed what you so rightly called ‘a fake’.”

  Imeldra put her head a little to one side as she tried to find the answer to her question.

  Because she was looking directly at him, she felt as if she could read his thoughts.

  “I think, my Lord,” she said, “the answer you wish me to give is that you have not yet had the time to arrange the Picture Gallery but – ”

  She paused before she continued slowly,

  “But I think it is more than that – something I cannot quite understand – tells me you are reluctant – to do so.”

  There was a look of incredulity in the Marquis’s eyes before he asked harshly,

  “Why should you say that? What are you insinuating?”

  He spoke in a manner that told Imeldra that he was upset.

  “I am sorry – ” she said quickly. “But you did – ask me,”

  Then, as if he thought that he had over-reacted, he said in a very different tone of voice,

  “There have been so many other things to move in the house and the Picture Gallery has been left until the last.”

  He looked to his right and left as he spoke and, almost as if he was acting, he added,

  “There is a great deal to do.”

  “That I understand and I thought the salon next to the library is magnificent and exactly as it should be.”

  “I am, of course, glad that it meets with your approval, Miss Gladwin,” the Marquis said, and now he was undoubtedly being sarcastic.

  Imeldra gave a little laugh.

  “So why are you laughing?” he asked sharply.

  “Because it obviously irritates you that I should presume either to praise or to criticise just because I am young. If I was supported on two crutches, you would doubtless then listen to me with respect whether my opinions deserved it or not.”

  She paused before she continued,

  “Only the English are always obsessed with age. Foreigners are much more inclined to appreciate one’s intelligence and not count the years.”

  Now the Marquis looked definitely amused.

  “You talk as if you have travelled a great deal.”

  “Actually I have,” Imeldra said, “but again I cannot think, except that you are English, why it should surprise you.”

  “You are making my nationality sound a disadvantage,” the Marquis parried, “although I have always thought it something that I should be both proud of and grateful for.”

  “That is the average Englishman’s attitude,” Imeldra answered. “He is also supremely sure that everything he thinks is right and that once he crosses the Channel he is consorting with illiterates and barbarians, not to add a few cannibals here and there!”

  She spoke teasingly as she might well have spoken to her father and she knew that the Marquis was looking at her in such surprise that for the moment it swept away the cynical boredom which she was certain was his habitual expression.

  Because she thought that she had given him enough to think about, she merely said,

  “May I, with your Lordship’s permission, continue to view your superb Gallery or would you rather I returned to my grandfather?”

  “I certainly think that you should tell me more about my pictures and indeed myself,” the Marquis replied. “I find you, Miss Gladwin, a very surprising young woman.”

  “I am glad about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because surprises are always interesting. When people are exactly what one expects them to be like, I find that a definite bore.”

  “I suppose having said that in a very provocative manner,” the Marquis remarked, “you are expecting me to ask you if I am what you expected.”

  Imeldra hesitated for a moment.

  Then she said,

  “That is certainly a leading question and, as I presume that your Lordship would like an answer, let me tell you the answer is ‘yes’ and ‘no’.”

  “Explain!” the Marquis ordered her.

  “I thought perhaps you would look different from the average beau or buck, whichever you consider yourself to be. But there is something else.”

  “What is it?”

  There was a pause before Imeldra said,

  “I think Your Lordship must allow me time to consider my answer to that question. I might not be accurate in my considerations and, as I have already said, you are different and perhaps I should add – defensively – a little difficult.”

  Unexpectedly the Marquis laughed.

  “I just don’t believe this conversation is taking place,” he said. “I came home expecting to be alone this evening, as I have some papers to work on and was considerably bored by the idea. If I am ‘different’, Miss Gladwin, you are certainly a surprise and so I must ask you to dine with me tonight.”

  Imeldra hesitated for a moment knowing that it was something that she would very much like to do and wondering how she could accept.

  After a moment she said demurely,

  “I think your Lordship has forgotten that I have come here to be with my grandfather.”

  “I feel sure that Gladwin will understand,” the Marquis said casually.

  “I shall, of course, have to ask his permission.”

  “Are you making difficulties?”

  “I am behaving, as your Lordship is well aware, with propriety.”

  “That is invariably, as I have found, very dull.”

  Imeldra raised her eyebrows.

  “That is not what I have heard about you.”

  “What have you heard?” he then asked challengingly.

  “That you are serious-minded and censorious of those who speak out of turn or behave unconventionally.”

  She was thinking of her father and how unkind and disagreeable the Marquis’s father had been to him.

  She had no idea that her voice had sharpened and there was almost a bitter note in the way she spoke.

  After a moment he asked her,

  “What have I done to make you speak like that?”

  Imeldra felt at once that she had been indiscreet.

  “The things one hears about people are often incorrect. At the same time, as my Nanny used to say, There is no smoke without a fire.

  “That is an infuriating reply,” the Marquis retorted.

  “I think, my Lord,” Imeldra said quickly, “that on such short acquaintance I have already been far too personal to be correct.”

  “What is this insistence where I am concerned that you should be so proper and correct?” the Marquis asked. “If that is indeed my reputation, which I very much doubt, it is not of my choosing.”

  Imeldra did not reply. She merely looked at him mockingly and after a moment he said,

  “I sent for my Agent and he will be waiting for me. Will you promise to dine with me? Meet me in the salon at seven-thirty.”

  Imeldra hesitated and he added,

  “If you prefer, I will speak to your grandfather myself.”

  There was a note in his voice that told Imeldra that he would make it an order and she was certain that he would upset William Gladwin, which was what she did not want.

  “I will tell him,” she said, “and, if he forbids me to dine with you, you will understand that I would not wish to disobey anyone I am so fond of.”

  “I shall understand nothing of the sort!” he replied. “I wish to continue this conversation and as a guest you must not only accede to your host’s wishes but also appreciate that he has his rights.”

  Imeldra laughed and her laughter seemed to ring out round the whole Gallery.

  “How could I possibly refuse an invitation that is a mixture of a request, a challenge and, of course, blackmail?”

  She dropped the Marquis a curtsey.

  “I shall look forward,
my Lord, to our dinner together.”

  The Marquis stared at her again as if he could not believe that she was real.

  Then he walked away with his footsteps ringing out on the highly polished parquet floor and continuing down the corridor beyond the Gallery until there was only silence.

  Imeldra stood where he had left her watching him until he was out of sight.

  Then she thought with a feeling of delight that this was far more exciting and far more intriguing than if she was with her grandmother.

  Almost as if she felt it her duty, she continued to look at the pictures, but she knew that she was now not thinking about them.

  Instead she was aware of exactly what William Gladwin had mentioned when he had told her that there was something about the Marquis that was different or indeed wrong.

  Why was he so cynical when he had everything in life, looks, wealth, possessions, rank and one of the finest houses in England? And doubtless a large number of relatives who thought that everything he did was marvellous.

  Imeldra’s intuition told her that what she felt vibrating from him was in no way springing from happiness, contentment or even pride of possession.

  There was something wrong, very very wrong and she was determined to find out what it was.

  Chapter Three

  When she reached the end of the Picture Gallery, Imeldra went to find William Gladwin.

  She had been expecting him to come, but when she arrived at the building site, he was just locking up the wooden hut for the night.

  As she reached him, he said,

  “I am sorry, I was delayed and therefore unable to join you as I promised.”

  “I had somebody else to talk to instead,” Imeldra told him.

  William Gladwin looked at her sharply.

  “The Marquis has returned and he has asked me to dine with him tonight.”

  There was a frown between Mr. Gladwin’s eyes.

  “I didn’t mean this to happen,” he said. “I don’t know what your father would say.”

  “I am quite sure that Papa would not object to my dining with the Marquis, although he would think it insulting that you were not included in the invitation.”

  William Gladwin laughed.

  “I assure you, Lady Imeldra, I do not aspire to such heights. My patrons are very kind to me, but I don’t eat with them in their dining rooms.”

  “Then I suppose,” Imeldra replied, “if I was really your granddaughter I should refuse our host and make it clear that either you accompany me or I dine upstairs.”

  William Gladwin hesitated before he replied and then, as if he found a solution, he said,

  “I have the answer to that. Come with me.”

  He walked towards the house and, because she felt he wanted to do things his own way, Imeldra did not question him as they walked down the long corridor that led to the hall.

  Now that the Marquis had returned there were four footmen and the butler himself on duty. William Gladwin walked up to the butler and said,

  “Would you be kind enough to give a message to his Lordship?”

  “Of course, Mr. Gladwin.”

  “Will you say that I thank him for his kind invitation to dine with him this evening, but I am sure he will understand that I am extremely tired after a very long day’s work. However my granddaughter, Miss Imeldra, will be honoured to be his guest.”

  Without waiting for the butler’s reply William Gladwin started to climb the magnificent carved staircase and Imeldra hurriedly followed him.

  When they were out of earshot of the servants, she said with a little chuckle,

  “That was very clever of you.”

  “I’m not certain if I have done the right thing,” Mr. Gladwin said in a low voice, “but at least the staff will not gossip about you being singled out by his Lordship. As you well know, it is an invitation that he would not have made to you if he knew who you really are.”

  “That makes it all the more fun!”

  “But I am worried,” William Gladwin said as they walked along the corridor to the East wing.

  “There is no need to be,” Imeldra replied. “I can look after myself and I will find it very amusing to discover how the noble Marquis behaves when he is not in the company of a lady from the Beau Monde.”

  She thought her reply made Mr. Gladwin look more worried than ever and, being half-afraid that he would try to prevent her from dining alone with the Marquis, as soon as they reached the East wing, she told him that she was going to rest and went into her bedroom.

  Actually she sat thinking about the Marquis, puzzling as to why he looked so cynical and bitter.

  She wondered especially why he had spoken harshly when she told him she thought that he had some reason for leaving the fake picture in the Gallery.

  The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

  In every other part of the house she had seen so far, granted it was very little considering the size of Marizon, everything had seemed so perfect.

  The pictures, the furniture, the china were all exactly right and as she had expected them to be. Then why in the most important room in the house from a connoisseur’s point of view had he deliberately hung a fake?

  It was impossible to find the answer and yet the problem both intrigued and excited her while she was dressing for dinner.

  Because she wanted to make him more puzzled than he was already, she deliberately chose one of the gowns she had ordered from London before she left school, which was more sophisticated than her others.

  At the same time, when she entered the salon where the Marquis was waiting for her, it was impossible for her to look anything but very young and very spring-like.

  The light from the chandeliers brought out the red in her hair and sparkled in the tiny diamond dewdrops with which her gown was embroidered.

  Imeldra walked slowly towards him with the grace that had been the pride of her dancing teacher, despite the fact that it came to her naturally.

  As she reached the Marquis, she dropped him a curtsey and, looking up into his eyes as she rose, she was sure that there was a glint of admiration in them.

  “Good evening, my Lord,” she said. “I hope that you received my grandfather’s message regretting that he was unable to dine with you this evening.”

  “I received it,” the Marquis replied with a twist of his lips.

  “I feel guilty at leaving the poor old man all by himself,” Imeldra said, “but he gets very tired when he works so hard to please you and I feel it is important for him to rest when he wishes to do so.”

  “I do get the point, Miss Gladwin,” the Marquis said dryly, “that you are correcting my manners and attempting to make me feel guilty.”

  Because she liked his perceptiveness and the manner in which he challenged her, Imeldra laughed and she thought as she did so that there was an answering twinkle in the Marquis’s dark eyes.

  “May I offer you a glass of champagne?” he asked.

  “Thank you,” Imeldra replied, “but only a little.”

  “That is what I intended to give you,” the Marquis said. “You look too young to drink alcohol of any sort.”

  Imeldra gave a little sigh.

  “We are back on the endless controversy of age so I am sure, my Lord, you will not be surprised if I retire to bed early.”

  It was now the Marquis’s turn to laugh and he parried,

  “You are certainly refreshingly frank, Miss Gladwin, and I think it is the first time I have ever dined with a lady who had warned me in the first five minutes that I might bore her.”

  “I am very glad to be original,” she replied, taking the glass of champagne from him, “although I should imagine it is quite difficult to be so, seeing that your Lordship has such a very wide acquaintance.”

  She had seated herself while he was fetching her the champagne on a sofa covered with satin in a Boucher blue and she was aware that it was a very appropriate frame for her white gown and her red-gold
hair.

  The Marquis sat down beside her, turning a little sideways so that he could look at her, with his arm along the back of the sofa.

  “As you have just said, we keep talking of age,” he remarked. “But I am indeed curious to know, unless you have sold your soul to the Devil in exchange for a beautiful face, how you have acquired the self-assurance and intelligence of a woman who has lived for at least thirty years in a very sophisticated world.”

  “Now you are paying me a compliment,” Imeldra exclaimed, “something that has been lamentably lacking in our conversation up to now.”

  “What do you want me to say?” the Marquis asked. “What hundreds of men must have told you already? That you are very lovely?”

  His eyes flickered over her from her hair to her feet in a way that Imeldra found slightly insulting.

  Then she remembered that she had in fact invited such familiarity since it was unlikely that any debutante straight out of the schoolroom would speak in such a way and certainly would not dine with him alone.

  ‘To him I am not a debutante,’ she told herself, ‘but the granddaughter of a man he has employed to work for him.’

  But, because she was quite certain that, once she was under her aunt’s chaperonage, she would never again be able to talk to a man with such frankness and she was determined to make the most of it.

  It might be reckless, it might be slightly reprehensible but, if it was, what did it matter?

  Her father was behaving in a far more reckless way and, if in many respects she was her father’s daughter, it was hardly her fault.

  After what was quite a long pause, having sipped her champagne to give herself time to think, Imeldra said,

  “Thank you, my Lord. Now you make me feel that I am not out of place in this very beautiful room surrounded by such breath-taking treasures that they must make you feel very proud.”

  “Do you really need to ask my reassurance to tell you that you shine dazzlingly amongst them?” the Marquis asked.

  There was undoubtedly a mocking note in his voice and Imeldra replied,

  “No, I am not ashamed to be amongst them. I feel as I always do when I see beauty as if it becomes a part of me, which nothing can take away. I was, in fact, just concerned with your feelings.”