This Way to Heaven (11 page)

Mary smiled at her, the frown lines between her eyes vanishing.

She liked this young American and, more than that, she liked the effect she was having on the Earl.

This was the first time Mary had known him show an interest in anything except for his silly old Government papers for a long time.

Even if it was only dinner, it was a start to getting him out of the clouds of despair he had been living in since his wife died.

“I would be delighted to help, madam. I used to do her Ladyship's hair every evening and I daresay I have not lost the knack.”

Jasmina was tempted just for a moment to ask Mary about Millicent and then stopped.

She would have had no qualms in doing so back home in America, but she felt that it would not be tactful in these surroundings.

Jasmina smiled.

“There are dresses in that trunk, Mary, but anything suitable for dinner tonight with his Lordship must surely be creased.”

“I will attend to it immediately, madam.”

Mary opened the largest trunk and began taking out the clothes and laying them carefully on the bed.

It was lovely to drink in the vivid colours, touch the expensive fabrics, the luxurious silks and velvets.

There were evening dresses in pink, pale blue and white with matching shoes and gloves.

It had been a long time since such beautiful clothes had been on show at Somerton Castle.

“Which one will you wear, Miss Winfield?”

Jasmina was about to reply, then in the mirror she noticed the way Mary was stroking the velvet of one of her skirts and so she smiled to herself and pretended to fiddle with her hairbrush.

“Oh, you decide!” she said in an offhand tone. “I am sure you will know which one is the most appropriate. My jewellery box is in one of the trunks as well. We must choose something very suitable for this occasion, although I confess I don't own that many diamonds or emeralds to adorn myself with!”

She began brushing out her hair again, feeling a surge of excitement course through her veins.

This was a momentous occasion.

She was to dine all alone with the Earl of Somerton, the man who constantly invaded her thoughts and dreams, the man who had saved her life twice.

Jasmina remembered her last day at Harley Grange as she had looked out of the window at Somerton Castle.

She recalled listening to the Duchess's gossip and wishing that she could meet the Earl who sounded such a romantic tragic figure!

Well, she had met him and now she was going to spend an evening in his company.

This surely was the most important day of her life!

CHAPTER SEVEN

At eight-thirty precisely that evening the Earl was standing with a glass of sherry in his hand in the drawing room of Somerton Castle.

He had hesitated before donning his dinner jacket, but finally decided that the occasion merited it.

When the door opened and Jasmina Winfield was announced, he felt a thrill run through him and he was glad that he had made the effort.

The American girl looked superb.

In point of fact he could hardly recognise her from the figure wrapped in coats and shawls he had argued with so vehemently only an hour or two ago on the banks of the frozen lake.

Her shining golden curls were piled on top of her head in a very elaborate style laced through with dark pink ribbons. Her dress was matching dark pink velvet, slightly off the shoulder, but fitting tightly into her tiny waist.

She was wearing a gold and pearl link necklace and bracelet and tiny gold and pearl studs in her ears.

The Earl found himself wondering how she would look with rubies and diamonds against her creamy skin.

Then he shook himself.

This was madness!

The girl was just a passing guest at the castle and an annoying one at that!

Very soon she would be heading off to be with her relations in the next valley and later she would be returning to her home in America.

This dinner was just by way of an apology for his abrupt behaviour earlier – nothing more.

“Miss Winfield!”

He reached out to take her hand in his, aware of the strength in her fingers that looked so fragile.

“Let me pour you a glass of sherry. I hope that you have fully recovered from your adventures on the ice?”

“Could we dispense with the formality, my Lord? I am sure there is no one around who would be offended if you called me ‘Jasmina'.”

His dark eyes gleamed suddenly with amusement.

“My ancestors would be shocked and I am certain that the servants would disapprove, but if I am to call you ‘Jasmina', then you must use my name – ‘Richard'.”

“Yes, my Lord – I mean Richard!”

As she smiled up at him, the blue of her eyes took his breath away.

“It was kind of you to accept my invitation to dine. I could not have blamed you if you decided never to speak to me again after my boorish behaviour earlier.”

Jasmina blushed and sipped her sherry.

She was sure it was the alcohol that was making her heart beat so fast. She was not used to anything stronger than champagne.

“I am sure you were only trying to protect me. But I am afraid American girls are not like English ones. We are trained to look after ourselves and stand on our own two feet.”

The Earl smiled.

“I am rapidly becoming more and more aware of the character of young American women, Jasmina! But I am afraid it is bred into me to protect the fairer sex at all costs.”

She smiled and asked,

“Have you heard how Florence is progressing?”

“Indeed, I had a report a few minutes ago that she is well on the way to recovery. Her leg was badly twisted, but she has youth on her side and will soon be up and about again.”

Just then the door opened and Mary appeared.

“Dinner is served, my Lord,” she murmured.

The Earl held out his arm and with a smile, Jasmina placed her hand on his wrist and walked with him through the connecting doors into the castle dining room.

She gave a little scream of delight.

The room was situated in one of the castle's turrets and so was completely round. Tall tapestries decorated the grey stone walls and bright Turkish rugs covered the floor in a myriad of blue, ruby and emerald colours.

A cheerful fire was burning in the hearth with the logs crackling, keeping away the chill.

Heavy red velvet curtains were drawn across the deep windows, shutting out the snowy night scene.

A small round table had been laid sparkling with white china rimmed with gold, crystal glasses, solid silver cutlery and in the centre a deep bowl of white lilies and sprigs of holly, the berries bright red against the flowers' white petals.

“Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble, this looks beautiful” smiled Jasmina, as a footman moved her chair back.

The Earl nodded.

“I fear I am a sad disappointment to my staff. I do not entertain. This is the first chance they have had for a long while to show me their varied talents.”

Jasmina slowly sipped the delicious
consommé
that had just been served to her.

“Are you averse to entertaining as such, or is it just the lack of neighbours that prevents you?”

“I must admit that there are only a few people that I admire living locally. I do not hunt and only shoot for the castle's larder. So you see, Jasmina, in the eyes of Society I am an abject failure.”

Jasmina was silent as a superb dish of Dover sole in champagne sauce was served.

When the footman had left the room, she glanced across the table at the Earl's face.

He was frowning as he pushed the fish around on his plate.

She wondered if he was thinking once again about Millicent, the girl who had stopped his life in its tracks.

Well, she decided if she wanted to know, there was one sure way of finding out!

“Did you entertain much when your wife was alive, Richard?”

The Earl's fork clattered noisily onto his plate and he glanced up at her, his eyes dark.

Unbidden memories came flooding back.

He recalled the crowds of youngsters who had often stayed at the castle for weeks at a time. Rich, idle, little more than children themselves with too much time on their hands and only interested in enjoying themselves.

“Millicent boasted many friends. People very like herself – all young, eager for excitement and adventure, unwilling to listen to advice.”

Jasmina took a sip of a clear golden wine.

“You very much sound as if you disapproved of her behaviour?”

The candles flickered in a draught from the door as the footman came in to clear the course.

The Earl watched moodily as a confection of apples and cream was placed in front of them.

He could not believe how blue and direct Jasmina's gaze was.

She appeared to be challenging him and there was nothing retiring about her presence at his table. The tilt of her pretty chin, even the way she sat at table, upright and determined, was so different from the languid young ladies whom he had met recently.

“She was my wife and – ” his voice roughened very slightly, “ – so young to be a Countess. I am sure that, had she lived, she would have taken on the various duties and responsibilities of the first Lady of Somerton. But – ” and pain tore through him, “ – she did not live and that was my fault!”

Jasmina gasped and instinctively reached out across the table to touch his hand.

His fingers twined with hers and she felt a quiver of emotion run through her body.

“You blame yourself for her death, Richard?”

The Earl looked at her, his eyes shadowed by his dark thoughts.

“Millicent loved riding above everything else and she loved to hunt. While I was staying away in London, she purchased a new horse from a dealer I did not trust. I begged her to think again, but she would not.”

There was a little silence. Jasmina was tempted to speak, but something held her back. She had the feeling that if he did not tell her now, he never would.

At last the Earl continued,

“The horse arrived, but it was scarcely broken in
–
a chestnut, a wild creature, although good-looking in a flashy way. Probably with calm patient schooling it would have become a fine ride. But Millicent was not a patient type of girl.

“She had invited some of her young friends to stay at the castle for a weekend party.”

He passed his hand over his eyes, as if wishing to wipe away the memory.

“At breakfast that morning she announced that she would show everyone what her new horse could do over the fences. I begged her, I pleaded and finally I
ordered
her not to be so stupid and rash.”

Jasmina frowned.

“She did not listen?”

He laughed and it was an unhappy cold sound.

“Indeed she did not. She told me that I was an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy if I thought she was the type of old-fashioned wife who was going to obey her husband's every command.

“She insisted she was an extremely good rider and she would show me and everyone there just how silly I was to try and stop her. Then –”

“Hush! You need say no more!” Jasmina broke in swiftly. “But Richard, as dreadful and tragic as her death was, in no way was it your fault! She was a young girl, probably spoilt by you and your father, whom I have heard doted on her when she became his ward. She went her own way and it led to her untimely death. But you are
not
to blame.”

The Earl looked across the flickering candles into her blue eyes.

“I should have been more forceful,” he responded quietly.

Jasmina sighed.

“Richard, unless you had locked Millicent in her turret room, I cannot see that you could have stopped her!

“Women are different these days. We make decisions for ourselves and sometimes they are the wrong ones, but the fact that we make them ourselves is still important.”

He stared at the fearless expression on her face.

Yes, this young American had a strong independent streak running through her. Why could she not see that in this modern world it could lead her into great danger?

Although he believed Jasmina when she told him she had not intended to go out onto the ice this afternoon, she had still done so when Florence fell over.

And she could easily have drowned in the freezing waters of the lake.

“So you would have done the same thing? Gone against all my wishes?” he enquired slowly.

Jasmina pushed her plate away.

“Well, I would like to think that I would not have been deceived by the bogus horse-trader in the first place! But at your poor wife's young age with no real knowledge of the outside world and taking everyone at face value, then maybe I would.”

“And obeying your husband? Would that not be a rule you lived by?”

Jasmina reached out her hand and began to toy with the lilies and holly leaves of the table decoration.

“Love, honour and obey, is that not what every wife promises at the altar?” she replied thoughtfully. “I hope I will do everything in my power to keep that vow when I take it.

“I believe I would never marry anyone I could not trust implicitly, but I cannot obey a man whose commands are wrong. God gave us all common sense and everyone even women have to use it!”

The Earl pushed back his chair and stood up.

But the force of his movement slid the contents of the table to one side and Jasmina grunted with pain as a holly leaf cut into her finger.

“You are hurt!”

“No, it is nothing.”

“Let me see?”

He smiled suddenly.

“And that is a request, not an order!”

She raised her hand and he took it gently, bending his dark head to examine the pearl of red that was welling up from where the thorn had pierced her skin.

Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he dabbed the blood away.

“I think you will live!”