Fragile Mask (14 page)

She had gone only a short way when the unmistakable sound
of running footsteps halted her. Turning, she beheld the man
himself, chasing through the back garden, his feet crunching as he
came.

Heavens! He was coming after her.

Chapter Five

Arrived at the low back gate in his path, Denzell vaulted
over it, and hurried up to his quarry, a touch out of breath, but
blue eyes quizzing her from their misty depths.

‘
How could you be so unkind—Miss Chaceley? Visiting the
place—and then leaving before I could so much as catch a glimpse of
you!’

Verena found her own breath catching in her
throat, as if she had been running as hard as he. Her pulses were
flurried, and it was all she could do to maintain the outward cool
reserve that
must
distance him.

‘
Good morning, Mr Hawkeridge,’ she managed, refusing to be
drawn into responding to his provocative speech.

He grinned, bowing, as he flung aside the folds of a
greatcoat that hung open. He had obviously seized it and thrown it
on all anyhow in his haste to follow her, and taking no time at all
to find his hat, for his head was uncovered.

‘
Good morning, Miss Chaceley. May I escort you
home?’

She blinked, saying stupidly, ‘Thank you, I know my
way.’

‘
No, do you?’ he countered, on a spurious note of surprise.
‘Why, then you must have come this way before.’

The spurt of laughter could not be contained. She
controlled it.

‘
You are absurd, sir.’

‘
I know,’ said Denzell, and the grin vanished. ‘It has
become a habit with me. And for that you should take pity on me,
Miss Chaceley, and indulge me just a little.’

‘
What, by allowing you to escort me home?’

His face lit. ‘You are so quick, ma’am.’

Again, Verena was obliged to bite down on a quivering lip.
‘And you, sir, are remarkably slow.’

‘
How so?’

Verena drew a breath. ‘What does it take to convince you,
Mr Hawkeridge?’

He raised his brows. ‘Of what, Miss Chaceley?’

Disconcerted, she snapped, ‘You know perfectly
well.’

Denzell eyed her for a moment, his gaze roving her features
under the bronze bonnet. He had succeeded in rattling her, but that
was not what he wanted. Yet if that was what it took to shake her
out of that infuriating façade, then what choice had he? There was
only frankness left.

‘
I don’t know what it takes,’ he said. ‘I can only suggest
that we pursue the matter until we find out.’

‘
We?’

A slow grin entered his face. ‘Why, I think so. Though I
admit that for you, Miss Chaceley, it seems to be a case of
willy-nilly.’

She almost laughed out again. Really, the man was too much.
In spite of herself she warmed to him, saying in a friendly way
that she had not meant at all, ‘In that case, I will be on my way,
and you may do just as you please.’

‘
How magnanimous,’ he murmured, turning to keep pace beside
her as she began to plough across the uneven ground.

A hidden dent under a pocket of snow undid her, catching
the heel of her boot. She gasped as her step faltered. But Denzell
put out an instant hand, grasping her arm.

‘
Steady!’

She straightened, glad of his support. The gratitude in her
smile, as she turned to him, was genuine. ‘Thank you.’

His lips quivered at the edges. ‘That will teach you to try
and run from me.’

Verena’s laughter bubbled up, but she nevertheless drew her
arm from out of his grip, retorting, ‘It ought rather to teach you
not to trouble me.’

Denzell’s features at once became serious, and his gaze
held hers. ‘Do I trouble you?’

A flurry of confusion was set up in Verena’s chest. The
automatic rebuttal came out before she could stop it.

‘
No!’

‘
I wish I might!’

Verena became aware of a tattoo battering in her bosom. She
thrust down the burgeoning emotions, unaware for the moment that,
though her features were composed, her eyes gave away more than she
would have wished.

‘
Mr Hawkeridge, pray leave off this incessant badgering,’
she said in the severest tone she could muster. ‘I am aware that
you are passing the time in a fashion which you apparently find
agreeable, but believe me, sir, it is not agreeable to
me.’

‘
Because you will not allow it to be so,’ he hit back, out
of a sudden frustration that welled up inside him.

Verena’s instinct was to slam back at him, but she
controlled it. She knew it for the truth, but that did not make his
saying it any better. She could feel the tremor in her own voice,
and only hoped that it did not reach his ears under the calm manner
in which she answered him.

‘
That, sir, is no concern of yours.’

‘
I am all too well aware of it.’

‘
Then I think we understand each other. Good day, Mr
Hawkeridge.’

Denzell watched her walk away, cursing himself for that
instant’s foolish show of revolt. Chaste stars, but her control was
ten times more effective than his own!

How little she gave away. And how swiftly she covered over
every tiny lapse. It was maddening.

He sighed, turning a trifle disconsolately for home. He
hardly knew now why he was persisting. She did not want anything to
do with him. Why, then, should he force himself upon her notice in
this ruthless fashion?

And yet…and yet she
had
warmed to
him. Briefly, yes. But she had laughed at his sallies as she had
the other night, never mind that she had damped down upon her
mirth. Given time, he could succeed with her, he was sure of
it.

Only, why bother? He must leave for Tuttingham soon, in any
event. He had set out to beguile the time, just as Verena Chaceley
had accused. But she had proved so intriguing that some other
motive seemed to have set in, and Denzell was not at all sure he
knew what it was. He was not at all sure, moreover, that he liked
it.

What, was he so set up in his own conceit that he could not
endure—just as Ossie had said—to be thwarted in his interest in a
female? It was a chastening thought.

However, it did not serve, he discovered later, to deter
him from renewing his explorations into Miss Chaceley’s hidden
interior. At the Lower Rooms on the following evening, whither
Denzell repaired with his hosts, telling himself that he would
ignore Verena if she turned up, he no sooner caught sight of her
exquisite beauty—radiant, if statuesque, in a gold-spangled muslin
gown that seemed to make her loose tresses glow in the
candlelight—than he straight away abandoned his resolve.

Deuce take it, she was intolerably beautiful. How the devil
could a man be expected to keep his distance, when everything she
was beckoned to his deepest desires? Oh, but that was fustian.
Everything she was? He did not know what she was. How could he,
when she would open nothing of herself to his sight?

A thought struck him. The brother, now. Why not investigate
there? Had not Unice spoken favourably of him, of his animation?
Might he not then be more forthcoming than Verena herself? He could
hardly be less so. But how to beard the boy?

His ingenuity was not called upon, as it turned out, for as
he glanced about the company in the large room, he discovered that
the mother having been ousted from the boy’s side, he was being
quizzed by none other than Unice Ruishton herself.

‘
Unice, present me at once,’ he said, coming up smilingly
and holding out his hand. ‘Or better still, go away and allow me to
present myself. Hawkeridge, dear sir, and delighted—’ leaning
towards the boy with a confidential air ‘—to welcome a like-minded
spirit in this aged desert.’

Adam shook hands, grinning. ‘Adam Peverill,
sir.’

Unice looked from one to the other of them. She had chosen
to beard the boy for Verena’s sake, feeling that the bud of a
possible friendship with her might be reinforced if she showed
interest in the family. It might serve Denzell quite as well.
Finding herself already excluded from the conversation, she
shrugged and left them. She could quiz Denzell later for the gist
of their conversation.

‘
Yes, yes, I know who you are,’ Denzell was saying. ‘I was
commiserating with your sister only the other day on giving place
to a newer, brighter star.’

The young man shook his head, saying in a deprecating way,
‘I could never compete with Verena. Mama says she gets at least
half her looks from her paternal side, although Mama is—was—herself
very handsome...’

Denzell ignored the conscious way he corrected himself, and
the stammer as he petered out. Capital! The youth was clearly
loose-tongued.

‘
You are then her half-brother, I take it?’

There was reserve in his voice now, but he answered readily
enough. ‘Yes, on Mama’s side.’ He gave a light laugh—forced,
Denzell thought. ‘There is little beauty in the Peverill
family.’

‘
But you have taken your colouring from the other side, I
think,’ Denzell said, glancing at the burnished glow of the boy’s
hair that was cut to rest on his collar. Keep it casual. Keep him
relaxed.

‘
That is true.’

The lad was not at all bad-looking, he thought, and he
dressed to advantage. The suit was all of a piece in tones of
brown, if rather too tight-fitting. Denzell, himself attired once
more in his claret coat, but ringing the changes with black satin
breeches and the cloth waistcoat with the embroidered lapels once
more, thought that the boy would do very well in a few years when
he gained a man’s figure.

He smiled at him in a friendly way. ‘So you are on a visit?
Don’t you find this place intolerably slow?’

Adam shrugged. ‘Oh, well. It is not much different from
Fittleworth, I suppose. Except that there are far more of us in the
younger bracket.’

‘
Fittleworth? Is that far?’

‘
Sussex. It is near Petworth.’

‘
Has not one of the racing men a stud there?’

‘
Yes, but we don’t race. We hunt, though. My father is the
Squire, and so he is Master in the area.’

So Mr Peverill was alive. Then why was his wife living with
her daughter in Tunbridge Wells? And how to phrase this innocuously
enough that he did not put the boy on his guard?

‘
So you have a decent inheritance.’ He grinned. ‘I know what
that can be like. No doubt you have all the girls of Fittleworth on
the hunt for you.’

Adam flushed, stammering, ‘No—at least—well, I am not much
of a catch, you know. Not like Verena, though she has never shown
the slightest preference for anyone. And we don’t entertain—very
little, in any event. Not at all now that—’ He broke off in some
confusion.

‘
Of course not,’ Denzell agreed, with a leap of something in
his chest. Verena had no lover! ‘With your mama away, recuperating,
no doubt your father has no mind to it.’

The boy looked so conscious that Denzell was almost sorry
for him. How readily he showed that this interpretation of the
circumstances fell far short of the truth. And how little control
he had in comparison with his sister. He was tempted to let the
matter rest there, but something—he knew not what—drove him to
pursue it. To his cost.

‘
Do you find your mother in better heart now?’

An icy voice spoke behind him. ‘Yes, he does, Mr
Hawkeridge.’

Denzell turned. Verena Chaceley was at his elbow, her
features quite composed, but such a blaze of anger in her eyes that
astonishment struck him to silence.

She paid him no further attention, but turned at once to
speak to her brother. ‘Mama is asking for you, Adam.’

‘
Is she? I mean—yes, of course. I will go to her at
once.’

Too discomposed even to take his leave of the other
gentleman, the young man departed. Verena’s glance returned to
Denzell, scorching him, and her voice took on a metallic quality
that was distinctly unnerving.

‘
I do not know, Mr Hawkeridge, if you are indulging in
vulgar curiosity, or if you have some other end in view, but I will
thank you to keep out of the affairs of my family.’

Quite taken aback, Denzell stared at her for a moment in
silence. Then, from sheer amazement, he laughed.

‘
Bravo, Miss Chaceley! That is the first time I have heard
anything on your lips other than polite inanities. Am I to take it
that the thaw has set in?’

Without any warning, Verena’s anger dropped right out.
There was delight in his tone. Dear heaven, but had she given
herself away? Thaw? Then he supposed her to be melting towards him.
Was it his mission to thrust through her cultivated
control?

Denzell watched the fury vanish into consternation. She had
forgotten her countenance. There was puzzlement, too. She did not
know how to take him, that was certain. He could not help but
smile.