Bought for Revenge

‘Yes, I see it. A tiny detail, easily missed.’

She leaned closer. The painting had been on the wall for as long as she could remember and she had not studied it for years.

‘It is a little boy, I think. I wonder who—’

‘Shall we go?’

His tone indicated that his interest was at an end. At the top of the stairs he put a hand beneath her elbow. Startled, she looked up and their eyes locked. His were black, unfathomable, yet she sensed danger and her breath caught in her throat. Panic gripped her, setting her heart thudding wildly, and the blood pounded so loudly in her ears that she was sure he would hear it in the gloomy stillness.

Annabelle swallowed nervously. She was being fanciful and foolish beyond permission. Straightening her shoulders, she moved away from him and began the descent, although she kept one hand lightly on the banister in case her shaking legs failed to support her.

Back in the drawing room, the tea tray had arrived.

‘It is a few miles to the Red Lion,’ explained Samuel as they came in. ‘I know you will want to get back while the moon is still high.’

‘I will indeed, sir.’ Lucas replied. He noted Annabelle’s tense countenance and could not resist teasing her, saying quietly, ‘Patience, Miss Havenham. Your ordeal will soon be over.’

Her brows rose and she muttered with icy politeness, ‘It is no ordeal, sir, I assure you.’

‘What thought you of the picture?’ Samuel enquired, unaware of the interchange.

‘Very interesting, sir.’

Samuel nodded. ‘It is an accurate representation of the way the manor used to be. Feel free to call again and look at it whenever you wish. Bring your architect, he may want to copy the detail.’

Lucas felt a smile tugging at his mouth when he saw the flicker of alarm in Annabelle’s eyes.

‘I am not employing an architect, Mr Havenham,’ he said. ‘I have drawn up my own plans for the builder.’

‘Such a lot of work,’ sighed Samuel. ‘The place has been sadly neglected. I always intended to do something about it, but…’

He trailed off and Lucas said cheerfully, ‘I do not despair of returning it to its former glory. The house is already under way and I have made a start on taming the wilderness that was once the park.’

‘I wish you good fortune, then, Mr Monserrat. If we can help in any way, you only have to ask. In fact…’ Samuel straightened in his chair ‘…if anyone knows the lie of the land it is Belle. She grew up playing in those woods and grounds.’

‘Oh, no, Papa. I am sure Mr Monserrat would be better advised to study a map.’

‘Nonsense, my love, you know every dell, every spring and stream at Morwood.’

‘But surely you could be more helpful to him, Papa,’ she persisted. ‘After all, you remember the house and grounds as they were before the fire. You have not yet given up your horses, a gentle ride would be good for you.’

A strange look came over Samuel’s face. Fear? Revulsion? Lucas could not decide, but a definite tremor ran through the old man as he shook his head.

‘No, my dear,’ he said quietly. ‘I do not care to ride there any more.’

‘I would be honoured if Miss Havenham would give me the benefit of her knowledge,’ said Lucas. ‘Perhaps, ma’am, you would ride out with me one day and show me these, er, streams and dells.’

‘An excellent idea,’ put in his host, rousing himself once more. ‘And you should do it soon, while the weather holds. What about tomorrow, sir?’

‘Papa, I do not think—’

Samuel was so caught up in his own thoughts that he did not hear her.

‘Yes, if you are free, Monserrat, I think tomorrow would be most convenient. I know Belle intended to spend the day at home, but Dr Bennett is coming over to play chess with me in the afternoon, and it is very dull work for a young lady to be sitting with two such elderly gentlemen when she would much rather be roaming free over the fields, what?’

Annabelle opened her mouth and closed it again. Her father had anticipated every objection. Lucas rose.

‘Then it is settled.’

Lucas came towards her, smiling with unholy amusement at her consternation.

‘I must be going. I shall call for you tomorrow, Miss Havenham.’ His back was to his host and he added quietly, ‘It seems you are not rid of me quite so easily.’

She bit her lip before replying with much feeling, ‘Nothing about you is easy, Mr Monserrat.’

Apollo was fresh. The big grey sidled and sidestepped playfully when Annabelle rode away from Oakenroyd, and she was glad that she could give her attention to controlling her mount and did not have to make conversation with the man who rode beside her, mounted on a hunter of equal size and strength to Apollo.

‘I am somewhat surprised you agreed to ride out with me, Miss Havenham.’

‘I did not choose to do so.’

‘If you really did not wish to come, you could have told your father the truth about our first meeting.’

Apollo took exception to a wood pigeon flying out of the hedgerow and she quietened him before making her reply.

‘That would upset him and he would be obliged to cut your acquaintance. I would not have him on bad terms with a neighbour.’ She glanced behind her. ‘And as you see, I have Clegg with me today.’

‘You would be quite safe, even if you had not brought your groom.’

His tone was perfectly sincere, but Annabelle had not forgotten his insolent manner, nor the hard looks he had given her when she had come upon him at Morwood.

‘Perhaps,’ she said coldly. ‘I would rather not put it to the test.’

‘I can see I have some work to do to gain your good opinion, Miss Havenham.’

‘A great deal,’ she retorted.

‘But you will allow me to try?’

‘That implies good behaviour does not come naturally to you.’

‘Of course not. I was in the army for fifteen years and they teach one discipline, but not society manners. Pray allow this boorish soldier a chance to redeem himself.’

He smiled, softening the harsh features. The dangerous look in his eyes disappeared, replaced by something warmer, an invitation to share his amusement. Annabelle was shaken by the transformation and had a great desire to smile back. Instead she looked away, not ready to capitulate. She pointed to a nearby lane.

‘If we turn in here, we can go across the moors and gallop the fidgets out of these horses.’

The exertion, the sensation of flying over the ground, did much to ease the tension Annabelle was experiencing. They raced neck and neck along the track that cut through the rough moorland. The gorse was coming into bloom; in a few more weeks there would be huge splashes of brilliant yellow dotted over the moors, contrasting sharply with the black, almost lifeless heather that would turn first dark green, then purple as the summer progressed. She felt at home here, free to roam, but the approaching woods reminded her that her freedom was now curtailed. That wall of trees was her boundary. The land surrounding Morwood Manor was no longer hers to ride over as she wished. She tried not to be downhearted. Her father still owned sufficient land for her to enjoy a daily gallop. She must not be greedy.