An Unexpected Love (6 page)

At long last, Ravina could tell by the slowing of the horses that they had reached their destination. She opened her eyes to find Sir Michael gazing eagerly from the window.

“Ah, Lady Ravina, we have arrived at the Priory. May I impose on you to have your first look and tell me what you think?”

Ravina pulled up the blind and looked out.

The horses were walking slowly up a long straight drive laid out with formal gardens on each side.

In front of them was the old stone house, its walls covered with a bright red creeper that had been pruned back neatly from the mullioned windows.

Even from a distance, Ravina could see that the whole place gave the appearance of being repaired and restored.

A fine new gravelled area in front of the main door had been recently raked into neat patterns. Everything looked spick and span. Even the flowerbeds were arranged neatly in rows with all the reds in one area and blues and whites in another.

“Goodness!” Ravina exclaimed. “I thought as we came down the drive that George must have driven to the wrong house.

“I remember often peeping through the gates of the Priory when I was young. The drive was always overgrown with tall weeds and the house looked run down, almost a ruin. Now look at it. Anyone would be delighted to call it home.”

Sir Michael laughed with pleasure, his rugged face appearing much younger.

“You are saying exactly the right things, Lady Ravina,” he told her. “I will be very hurt if you do not come over for lunch tomorrow, because I have a thousand questions to ask you and frankly I shall find it impossible to do any more to the house until I have sought your help and advice.”

“Thank you, but I am sure my help will not be needed, although I am complimented that you think it will.”

“And you will stay for a few nights soon? We have plenty of rooms. I am sure your cousin will come too so you would be well chaperoned.”

Ravina nodded and smiled sweetly, but did not reply.

She had forgotten Dulcie. But of course, she could go with her to the Priory.

That wretched Sir Richard Crawford could not have been more wrong. If she was well chaperoned, there would be no reason for her not to stay at the Priory.

Sir Michael jumped down from the carriage when they arrived and with many more warm words of thanks, stood waving as George turned the carriage and shook the horses into a trot.

Ravina sat back with a sigh. In fifteen minutes they would reach Curbishley Hall. She was longing for a nice cup of tea and the comfort of her own room.

George swung the team out of the gates and flicked thewhip to urge them on. It was uphill for a few miles and the team was tired and needed all his attention.

That was a pity because if he had glanced behind him, he would have noticed a man riding a foam-flecked horse, standing hidden behind a clump of bushes.

The same man who had spoken to him in the courtyard of the hotel at lunchtime.

But even George's sharp eyes would not have picked out another shape – a solitary grey horse and rider, outlined for a second against the crest of a rise before they merged into the trees and vanished from view.

Ravina's irritation vanished like an early mist as the coach finally crested the last hill and began the long run down towards Curbishley Hall.

She leant out of the window enjoying the feel of the breeze on her cheeks. She could almost believe she could taste salt from the sea in the air.

She pulled off her hat and let the wind tease her blonde hair out of its tightly bound coils.

There. They were almost home.

Curbishley Hall, the Earl of Ashley's country seat, lay in a wide valley, sheltered from the sea on one side by rolling hills and from the nearby town of Rosbourne by a great track of woodland.

It was a splendid house, gleaming softly golden in the late evening sun and surrounded by beautiful grounds and gardens.

Ravina could tell from all the activity outside the beautiful porticoed front door that the servants' coach had arrived.

She could see Nanny Johnson being helped up the steps by a footman. By rights she should have gone to the servants' entrance with the others, but no one would dare say so to the old lady, especially not Ravina.

“Ravina, my dear – how lovely to see you again. It has been too long.”

Dulcie came running down the front steps to greet her – a tall, thin, dark-haired woman wearing a dark blue dress, cut very severely with only slight touches of white lace at her collar and cuffs.

The thin chain belt around her waist carried all the various keys and necessities of her role as housekeeper.

Although she was only twenty-eight, her recent troubled life had left its mark. There were a few premature grey hairs and a small frown constantly marred her pleasant kindly features.

Two years previously, on the sudden death of her father, Dulcie had been left alone and destitute.

She was deeply grateful to Lord Ashley for rescuing her from a life of poverty and establishing her at the Hall, where she now had a home and a small income.

“Dulcie. Oh, I am so glad to be here. You are looking very well.”

“You are late. I was beginning to worry. Did you have trouble with the carriage?”

Ravina slipped her arm through her cousin's as they mounted the steps to the front door.

“Oh, no. The journey was quite uneventful.”

She stood for a long moment as she entered the hall, taking in with renewed pleasure the polished parquet floor and the great staircase.

Deep bowls of blue and white china full of heavy headed roses stood on small inlaid tables. A familiar scent hung in the air, telling Ravina that she was indeed home once more.

“My dear Dulcie, I must tell you – such a joke –I was late because I had a passenger. I was bringing Sir Michael Moore down from London to the Priory.”

Dulcie turned to tidy away a few rose petals that had fallen from a vase.

“Sir Michael is back home again, is he? That is good news for the district. He is much admired locally for all his good works for the poor of the County. But was it wise for you to travel with him on your own, Ravina? You know how people talk.”

Ravina tossed her head.

“Oh, people. What do I care about people? Anyway, it was all very proper. Goodness, we had George with us all the way down and stopped for refreshment at a large hotel. Nothing could have been more refined.”

She pushed away the memory of Sir Richard Crawford's sarcastic comments about her behaviour. Dulcie definitely did not need to know about that particular meeting!

“Anyway, I like Sir Michael. He has asked me to go over to the Priory for lunch tomorrow and advise about his restoration ideas before he throws a ball. I admit I am quite looking forward to helping him.”

Dulcie looked up startled, biting her lip.

‘He wants you to – ?'

She stopped, as if lost for words, before continuing,

‘Well, I am sure you will have lots of modern London ideas to suggest. I have met Sir Michael in Rosbourne and he mentioned that he is eager to restore the Priory to its former glory.

“Indeed, I did venture to show him some samples of furnishing fabrics and found him a seamstress to make some curtains, but obviously, I have no idea of modern trends. No idea at all.”

She walked across to the stairs, before turning back to Ravina.

“I have asked for a light supper to be served for you. You must be hungry, but you would not sleep following a heavy meal.”

“Will you join me?” Ravina asked.

Although Dulcie was the housekeeper, she was still treated as family by the Ashleys and always ate with them when they were in residence.

“No, if you will excuse me, I must check with the maids that all is in order upstairs. And I have to try to keep the peace between Mrs. Crandle and our Mrs. Diver. Two cooks in one kitchen is never an easy situation!”

“Do you like Sir Michael?” Ravina asked as her cousin turned away.

Dulcie stopped, rubbing her hand along the polished banister as if searching for dust.

“I do not know him well, but he seems a well-informed gentleman. Very polite.

“As I mentioned, I did venture to take some samples over to the Priory and he liked them, so I ordered some curtains made. I expect he was only being polite. I have no doubt he will take them down very soon.

“Indeed, our country tastes will seem extremely out of date to you and him. Well, Ravina, I am so pleased you are here. I will look forward to hearing all your news in the morning when you have rested.”

Ravina watched as the slim figure in the plain blue dress vanished up the stairs.

She felt from her tone that Dulcie did not approve of Sir Michael.

Well, that was unfortunate as she fully intended to take him up on his offer to stay at the Priory for a few days, regardless of what Cousin Dulcie and the wretched Sir Richard Crawford thought.

She ran upstairs to her room to tidy her windblown hair, but half way there, gave an irritated exclamation.

She had left her reticule in the carriage tucked under the seat.

She debated sending one of the footmen to find it, but decided it would be far quicker and easier to go herself.

Dusk had fallen swiftly while she had been indoors, but Ravina had spent half of every year of her life at Curbishley Hall and she knew all the paths and gates leading to the stable block.

She retrieved her bag and started back towards the house along a side path through the rose garden.

She stopped to pull down a large swag of white roses from a climbing bush and broke one off to wear in her hair.

Then she hesitated, looking around her.

She had the oddest feeling that someone was standing just behind the big wooden arbour, watching her.

“Hello. Who's there?” she called.

She felt no fear. Indeed, it had been a long time since she had been afraid of anything, but it was a little odd. If it was a member of the staff, why did they not show themselves?

Unless, of course, she thought suddenly, it was someone who should have been on duty and not wasting time in the rose garden.

Someone, perhaps, who knew Dulcie had retired for the evening and was taking advantage of her absence.

Ravina bit her lip. She did not want to get anyone into trouble. Maybe one of the footmen and one of the maids were courting. There was nowhere indoors where a man and a girl could speak privately.

Indeed, she knew that Dulcie would have no compunction in dismissing any servant whom she considered less than efficient.

Ravina turned and quickened her pace to bring her once again to the front of the house. Whoever it was would have a chance of returning to work by slipping indoors through the scullery.

As she rounded the corner of the house, she stopped abruptly.

A man leading a grey horse was walking up the drive.

And even in the half-light of the summer evening, Ravina could see that the man was Sir Richard Crawford!

“Sir Richard?” she snorted, crushing the white rose between her fingers, the petals floating to the ground.

“Lady Ravina.”

He bowed and just then someone began turning up the lamps in the house, and she could see in the light streaming from the windows that he looked tired and drawn and that his horse was sweating and covered with mud from heavy riding.

“I must apologise for my untimely arrival. My stallion has gone somewhat lame, otherwise I should have been here earlier. If it is not too much trouble, I should like to speak to your father.”

Ravina became aware of a footman running down the stone steps towards them.

She hesitated.

She knew what she must do, but she really did not want to do it.

“Please come in, Sir Richard,” she said at last. “I am afraid my parents are not here, but I can offer you some refreshment while one of my men tends to your mount.”

She gave instructions for the horse to be taken to the stables and walked into the house, aware that Sir Richard was following closely behind her.

In the small drawing room, she rang for Gibbs and stood hands folded in front of her.

Sir Richard did not speak and they stood in uneasy silence until the butler appeared.

“Gibbs, Sir Richard Crawford has arrived. His horse has gone lame. I am sure he would appreciate a drink.”

“Just coffee, please,” Sir Richard said.

“And could you please inform Miss Allen that we have a visitor, but she need not come down if she has already retired.”

“Certainly, my Lady.”

“Do sit down, Sir Richard. You make me feel quite nervous.”

Dark eyes gleamed from his tanned face and his lips twitched in what might have been a smile as he flicked up the tails of his dark green riding jacket and sank onto a hard backed chair.

Ravina sat on a sofa, as far away from him as was politely possible.

“I find it hard to believe that anyone could make you feel nervous, Lady Ravina,” he said and for an instant she thought he was laughing at her.

“Men do not suffer from nerves, sir,” she retorted. “So I see no reason for women to do otherwise.”

He nodded and continued to observe her.

Ravina frowned.

The familiar sense of irritation his presence caused her was beginning to make itself felt once more.

“My father is out of the country, sir,” she began when the silence had gone on long enough. “It is a great pity you did not mention the reason for your journey to Dorset when we met at the hotel today.

“I could have saved you the time and trouble to yourself and your poor horse. Indeed, you must have ridden him extremely hard to have arrived here when you did. He looked quite exhausted.”

Sir Richard could hear the note of disapproval in her voice that she did nothing to hide.

“He is well used to hard travelling, Lady Ravina. A few days rest and his leg will be as good as new.”

He bent to flick some dust from the edge of his jacket and murmured,