203. Love Wins Read online

  Lord Heywood sat back comfortably in his chair, a glass of champagne in his hand.

  “Ladies first,” he said. “I should be interested to know what you think of me.”

  Lalita put her head a little on one side, which was, as he had thought before, a very attractive gesture, and made him think of a small bird.

  “Now, let me think,” she started slowly. “You know, of course, that you are strong, determined, domineering and overwhelming! A lot of people must have told you that.”

  Lord Heywood raised his eyebrows, but he did not say anything.

  “But you are also,” Lalita then continued, “kind, compassionate, understanding and intuitive.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I can feel it when you send out vibrations from yourself towards another person like me. It is almost as if you are sensing what I am feeling and thinking, And in fact you are delving beneath the surface.”

  She spoke slowly and carefully and then gave a sudden little gesture with her hands as she said,

  “I am explaining myself badly, so you must use your intuition to understand what I am trying to say.”

  “I do understand,” Lord Heywood replied, “and I find it surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think it is something that nobody has ever discovered about me before.”

  She smiled and it brought the mischief back into her eyes.

  “I told you that I was a Celt and, although you will not believe me, I know that everything in the future is going to be – exactly as you – wish it to be.”

  “I would like to believe that.”

  “You can believe it because it is true,” Lalita insisted. “You will win because you always win, because you are a victor and a conqueror, a man who will vanquish his enemies whether they are people or situations.”

  Lord Heywood raised his glass.

  “Tonight after such a good dinner in such charming company,” he said, “I am prepared to believe in anything, even in the crock of gold at the foot of the rainbow.”

  “That is what you will find,” Lalita said in a soft voice.

  There was then silence until she asked him,

  “Now tell me what you think of me.”

  “Determined, obstinate, contradictory and disobedient,” he teased her.

  Lalita gave a cry of protest and he added,

  “But imaginative, understanding, gentle and very lovely.”

  For the first time since he had known her, Lalita looked shy and blushed.

  Having congratulated Carter on the dinner they went back into the writing room where Lalita showed Lord Heywood an old book that she had found on the shelves when she was dusting.

  It described The Abbey as it had been originally and contained a plan showing what parts of the old building had been preserved when it was rebuilt by Robert Adam.

  “One of the Chapels is just as it was when the monks were here,” Lalita told him. “As soon as I have time, I am going to clean it out, put flowers and candles on the altar and pray that those who first lived in The Abbey will come back to bless us.”

  “I am glad you think that can happen.”

  As she showed him the pictures, he was conscious of how close she was to him as they sat side by side on the sofa, but she was concentrating on turning over the pages.

  He was aware that she smelt of roses and he could feel the warmth of her body against his side.

  Because she was wearing an evening gown there was something very soft and feminine about her and he found it difficult not to put his arms around her and draw her closer.

  It struck him that it was unprecedented for any woman to be sitting as near to him as Lalita was without raising her lips invitingly to his and without attempting to excite him physically.

  Lady Irene’s face seemed to flash before his eyes and once again he was thankful that he had left her behind in London.

  “I wish Robert Adam had left a great deal more of the old Abbey,” Lalita was saying. “It must not only have been beautiful but sanctified.”

  “We still have the Chapel and you are right, Lalita, we must clean it up and make it as it was when I was a boy, a place of quietness and prayer.”

  “If we can do that I shall pray there for you every day,” Lalita promised softly.

  She closed the book and walked across the room to put it back in its shelf.

  Lord Heywood watched her, thinking she had a grace that was as natural as her lack of self-consciousness.

  He also thought that in her elegant evening gown with diamonds at her throat she would be the belle at any ball she attended and she was certainly wasting her youth and beauty on a man who had nothing to offer her but a roof over her head.

  Aloud he now said,

  “Have you thought, Lalita, that the most effective way you could dispose of your Guardian you are hiding from would be to get married?”

  She turned quickly from the bookshelves to face him.

  “Married – ?”

  “Your uncle would have no jurisdiction over you if you had a husband.”

  He saw by the expression on her face that she was thinking in horror of the imbecile her uncle had tried to marry her to and he added quickly,

  “There are a great number of men in the world who would, I am sure, be only too eager to offer for you, if you had the chance of meeting them.”

  The expression of horror faded from Lalita’s face.

  “Are you suggesting that you might give a ball for me?” she enquired.

  “I would do that, if it was possible, but I was really thinking that you should take your rightful place in Society.”

  “I am not sure that I have a rightful place, but, if you will not give a ball for me, the next time we have a celebration dinner, we must find out if there is a fiddler in the village so that we can invite him here and I can dance with you.”

  Before Lord Heywood could speak she clapped her hands.

  “That is a wonderful idea! And, of course, if we blindfold him he would not be able to see me, although he might think it rather strange if you were dancing alone with yourself.”

  Lord Heywood laughed.

  “You are making it into a Fairy story, Lalita, but I was being serious in thinking that it is a mistake to waste your youth and beauty on an old man like me.”

  “Now you are definitely fishing for compliments,” Lalita pointed out. “I think what I am really doing is monopolising you and keeping away all those busy little bees who hover around a honeypot that is called ‘Romney Heywood’!”

  “You have been talking to Carter,” Lord Heywood said accusingly.

  “Of course I have. He has made me realise how very privileged I am to dine alone with a man who must have broken hundreds of hearts in his time.”

  “If you talk to me like that I shall be extremely angry!”

  Lord Heywood tried to speak severely, but his eyes were twinkling.

  Lalita crossed the room to sit down again at his feet, her gown billowing out around her so that she looked more than ever like a rose just coming into bloom.

  “I will not tease you,” she said, “because my instinct tells me you are very sensitive – about your attractions. Instead I will just say that I would rather be here dining with you than dancing at Almack’s or attending a ball at Devonshire House.”

  “I still say that is where you should be.”

  “And my reply is the same, I am very – very happy where I – am.”

  There was no doubt of the sincerity in her voice that shone in her eyes, making her look so lovely that Lord Heywood had to check an almost irresistible impulse to draw her closer to him again and kiss her lips.

  *

  The next morning they went riding early as usual and Lord Heywood felt again as if everything he looked at and everything he saw meant more to him than it had before he had left for London.

  He did not say anything to Lalita, but, as if she was aware of it, she said as they se
ttled down to a trot,

  “Nothing is worth having unless one has to fight for it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I was thinking last night that most people are so taken up with the little difficulties and frustrations in life that they are inclined to take the important issues for granted.”

  Lord Heywood was well aware of what she was saying and he answered,

  “Money is to most people the big thing.”

  “Only when they have none,” Lalita replied with unassailable logic.

  She glanced at him from under her eyelashes as she added,

  “My mother used to say to me when I was a child, ‘count your blessings’ and I think, if you started off with The Abbey and ended up with Waterloo, you have not done badly.”

  “You are preaching at me,” Lord Heywood protested, “and I consider it a vast impertinence on your part.”

  “I think really I am envying you,” Lalita answered. “Poor or rich, big or small, what everybody wants is a home and that is something – I have lost and may – never have again.”

  There was something very wistful in the way she spoke and Lord Heywood said without thinking,

  “I thought for the moment you were sharing mine.”

  “That is what I pretend I am doing,” Lalita said, “but at the same time, as you well know, I am always afraid that you may turn me out.”

  “I am still trying to think what is best for you.”

  “I can give you the answer to that quite easily, but before we get serious, I suggest I race you to those trees and it is only fair that I should have a good start.”

  She touched Conqueror with her whip as she spoke and was away at so swift a gallop that it took Lord Heywood some minutes before he could catch up with her.

  As soon as they arrived back at The Abbey, they started to clean the Chapel and it was obvious that it had been neglected perhaps more than any other room in the house.

  It was not only that the dust had accumulated, but some of the panes of glass in the windows were broken and the birds had come in to nest on the elaborate cornice and even on the triptych above the altar.

  However, the carvings around the wall were as fine as when they had been placed there by the monks and the marble of the altar itself, when washed, had a beauty that only age could impart.

  They worked until luncheon time, then when they had cleaned themselves up and eaten the excellent rabbit stew that Carter had prepared for them, Lord Heywood declared,

  “I think we have done enough in the Chapel for today. I suggest we rest for a little while, while it is still rather hot and then go into the garden.”

  “I would like that,” Lalita answered.

  “I want to show you where my mother once planted a water garden,” Lord Heywood went on. “I am afraid now it will be overgrown and full of weeds, but it used to have little waterfalls and pools where there were goldfish. Perhaps one day we shall be able to restore it to the way it looked when I was a boy.”

  He had spoken without thinking and only as he saw Lalita looking up at him was he aware that he had implied that she would be with him for a long time.

  ‘I must not raise her hopes,’ he told himself severely.

  “That would be fun,” Lalita agreed, “and I have something else to show to you if you have time.”

  “What is that?”

  “Some drawings that I discovered in a drawer in what I believe is known as the Heraldry Room. They are very interesting and they might be valuable if they were executed by an artist of any note.”

  “I would like to see them,” Lord Heywood replied.

  “They are so pretty that I am sure you will hate to part with them,” Lalita said. “I think really they should be framed and hung on the walls.”

  “I know very little about drawings,” Lord Heywood admitted, “but this is something we will ask the man from Christie’s about when he visits here.”

  He refused a glass of port that Carter offered him saying,

  “I shall be getting fat, Carter, if you feed me so well and that reminds me you must be getting short of money. In fact I suspect you are in debt, which I most certainly cannot allow.”

  Lord Heywood was quite unconscious of the glance that passed between Carter and Lalita.

  “As it ’appens, my Lord,” Carter said, “I was waitin’ for your Lordship’s return so that I could ask for a guinea or two.”

  Lord Heywood put his hand in his pocket.

  “Actually I have that with me now,” he said, “and mind you pay the proper price for everything we buy.”

  “We do that, my Lord.”

  “Don’t forget,” Lord Heywood insisted.

  He walked out through the doorway as he spoke and Lalita gave a sigh of relief.

  He quite obviously had no idea how much she and Carter had spent already on the food that he found so delicious.

  Because she had no wish to dwell on the subject, she talked to him animatedly about the drawings that she was to show him and, when they reached the writing room, she sat down in her favourite position at his feet to take the sketches from a portfolio and spread them out around her.

  “Look at this one!” she cried. “It’s exquisite!”

  “I think it must be of Rome,” Lord Heywood said, “and it is certainly drawn by a very accomplished artist.”

  “That is what I thought and, although I have never been there, I am sure that this is a view of Paris.”

  “It is indeed! In fact I remember standing in that actual place.”

  “With whom?” Lalita asked.

  “Actually, and I can hear the suspicion in your voice,” he replied, “I was with a crusty old General who had imbibed too much at luncheon and I was having some difficulty in keeping him on his feet.”

  “How unromantic!”

  Lalita threw back her head and laughed.

  As she did so, the door opened and the sound died on her lips.

  Coming into the room and looking like a vision from another world was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

  Dressed in a silk pelisse of shimmering green and a pointed bonnet trimmed with ostrich feathers of the same colour, she was so sensational that it flashed through Lalita’s mind that she must be an actress.

  Then, as Lord Heywood rose to his feet, she heard him exclaim almost beneath his breath,

  “Irene!”

  So this, Lalita thought, was the famous Lady Irene who Carter had spoken about and whom Lord Heywood had been glad to leave behind in Paris.

  There was a smile on her red lips as she swept into the room and a glint in her eyes behind her heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

  Then, as she looked first at Lord Heywood and then at Lalita, the smile vanished.

  “How could you come to London, Romney, without seeing me?” she began sharply.

  Then looking straight at Lalita, she demanded,

  “Who is this? And what is she doing here?”

  There was no mistaking the anger behind the last words and, as Lalita rose to her feet and Lady Irene came further into the room, she could see suspicion and antagonism in the look on her face.

  Lalita was aware in that second that she had to save Lord Heywood from this woman!

  She was not thinking of herself, but of him for she knew that Lady Irene, having found them alone at The Abbey, could raise a scandal that would do him irreparable damage.

  Acting on an impulse that seemed to come to her as if it was an inspiration from above, she walked towards Lady Irene holding out her hand.

  “I think,” she said with a smile, “that you must be Lady Irene Dawlish. I have been looking forward to meeting you because I have heard so much about you from my – husband.”

  As Lalita finished speaking, she thought that the two other people in the room seemed to have been turned to stone.

  Then, in a voice that sounded strangled, Lady Irene asked,

  “Did you say – your husband?”

&nbs
p; Lalita did not dare to look at Lord Heywood, but kept her eyes on the face of the woman in front of her.

  “Yes – we are – married,” she responded, “but it has to be a – secret because I am in – mourning for my grandfather. But I know you will understand and say nothing about it until – we can announce it properly.”

  “Married!” Lady Irene exclaimed and now the words seemed to echo round the room.

  She took a further step forward to face Lord Heywood.

  “How can you have done this to me?” she asked, “You have ignored all my letters, you have made no effort to get in touch with me and now I learn you are married!”

  Her voice rose as she went on,

  “I have never been so insulted in my life and I consider your behaviour abominable!”

  With an obvious effort Lord Heywood found his voice,

  “If I have upset you, I can only apologise.”

  “Upset me?” Lady Irene repeated, “How did you expect me to feel? When you left me you said – ”

  She threw up her hands,

  “But what is the point of talking about it? You are married and I believed, I hoped – I – ”

  Words failed her.

  Then, as if she suddenly lost all control of herself, she stamped her foot.

  “You will be sorry you have done this to me,” she threatened. “And I will make sure that milk-faced chit is not accepted by any decent people.”

  She almost shouted the last word and turned and swept from the room in a flurry of silk that seemed to rustle around her like the hiss of a snake.

  They listened to her footsteps going down the passage until, as if Lord Heywood remembered somewhat belatedly his good manners, he hurried after her.

  Only when she was alone did Lalita feel as if her legs would no longer carry her and she sank down again on the floor.

  Then she asked herself what she had done.

  It had all happened so quickly and the explanation that they were married had come to her lips without her even for a second considering the implications of it.

  And yet, if Carter was right, as indeed her coming here had confirmed, Lady Irene’s pursuit of Lord Heywood was not something that he wanted and, if she was trying to marry him, she would now realise that it was a hopeless idea and leave him alone.