The Art of Love (16 page)

For his part, Leo was more than glad to find Tara alone. Although their conversation earlier, when she had confessed she thought him the son of a poacher, had further convinced him she would never consider marrying him, the boat ride home had given him undeniable proof of how much she desired him. It made her even more attractive. He was determined to discover whether she was already the mistress of another man, and if she proved to be he would set out at once to make her his own.

His heart seemed to swell as she smiled at the sight of him, but he resisted the temptation to take her in his arms, it would be too easy to get distracted and lose the opportunity this moment of privacy afforded him. Instead he sat down on a yellow damask sofa and she joined him there.

‘Tell me about your friends,’ Leo said. He could tell by the slight widening of her eyes that she was surprised by the question, but Tara, he knew, would enjoy talking about her friends, she adored them. The only question was, how much?

‘You know most of them,’ Tara said. ‘There’s Rodney of course. I am so relieved his affections are firmly secured on Susannah. He is so amiable and such a gentleman, I would have missed him dreadfully if we had quarrelled.’

Leo nodded. He did was quite certain she did not have an arrangement with Rodney. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘Freddie I think you may know even better than I do,’ Tara said. ‘We met in my first season when I think he may have had some thoughts of offering for me. But Freddie is not really interested in such things. He is more concerned with watching his fortune grow both on the stock exchange and at the card table. It doesn’t really leave time for anything else. I think he will only marry when he feels the need for an heir.’

She was surprisingly astute, Leo thought. That was exactly how he saw Freddie himself, although he wondered if his friend might have made room in his life for a dalliance, however from what Tara said it seemed unlikely. ‘He likes to flirt with you,’ he fished.

Tara laughed. ‘Party manners, nothing more. Freddie and I have always flirted, it is just our way.’

‘I see,’ Leo said. ‘Tell me about the rest of your friends.’

Tara’s eyes grew wary. ‘There is Philippe, of course,’ she said. ‘But every time we discuss him, we argue. Besides, you know all about him that there is to know.’

‘Do I?’ Leo asked, suddenly alert. He had seen for himself that Tara was very fond of the Frenchman. Was she having an affair with him? That would be intolerable! ‘You have told me you have no desire to marry La Monte,’ he said carefully. ‘But surely he wishes to marry you?’

Tara shrugged. ‘If he does, he has the good sense to keep such an idea to himself.’

’He enjoys your flirtations,’ Leo went on, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice, sensing that if she detected it she would change the subject immediately.

Tara reached for his hand and at her touch, Leo found himself falling once more under her spell. ‘I flirt with all my gentlemen friends,’ she said, looking at him very wide-eyed, perhaps wondering how he would react to such honesty. He longed to demand she give that up and save all her coquettishness for him, but he forced himself to keep to the topic.

‘With La Monte, is there something more?’ he asked. Tara gasped and he could tell from her fleeting, shocked grip on his hand that she took his meaning immediately.

‘Of course not!’ she said, gazing at him, her pupils dilated and her eyes unreadable.

There was a step outside the room and Tara just had time to snatch her hand back before the door swung open and Rodney and Freddie came in. Rodney asked some affable question about their boating experiences, but Tara was unable to take it in. Had Leo really asked her if she were Philippe’s mistress? She ran the conversation back rapidly in her mind.
With La Monte, is there something more?
Yes, he had asked her if she and Philippe were lovers, but why? Beside her Leo was talking about the inn at Shillingford as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day either in the rowing boat of just now, here on the sofa. Then another thought dawned on her. Did Leo want to make her
his
mistress? Was that why he wanted to discover if she already had an arrangement with another man?

She stole a look at him. ‘You must have been soaked,’ Rodney was saying.

‘We were in the inn for the worst of it,’ Leo replied cheerfully, omitting to describe what had happened under the shelter of his jacket. It was as if they had not just had the most outrageous conversation of her life. But perhaps it hadn’t been that way for Leo. Perhaps he had quizzed women on their affairs before, if so he must have found her answer fearfully dull. Rodney had asked something else and Leo was answering.

He turned and looked at her, ensnaring her eyes and smiling, ‘Certainly,’ he said, addressing his remark to Rodney, ‘if she’ll have me,’ His double entendre could not have been more pointed if he’d tried. Even as she struggled to be shocked by his audacity Tara felt a warm sensation squirming within her at the mere thought of being Leo’s mistress. She knew she could not marry him, but she was very, very tempted to follow the other path.

At dinner Tara found she enjoyed herself immensely. She was sitting next to Leo, but tonight everyone seemed witty and beautiful. Freddie and Antonia gave an account of how they had both tried to row their boat, sitting side by side, one pulling the oar forward and the other pulling it back thus spinning the dingy in uncontrollable circles. Tara laughed uproariously and Freddie and Antonia looked quite pleased with the results of their tale if not of the escapade itself.

‘What about you, Susannah?’ she asked, wanting to include the shyer girl. ‘How did you and Rodney fare. You must have done better than Leo and I, we were soaked to the skin.’

‘We rowed a short way upstream before turning back,’ Susannah said. ‘Rodney is very adept at reading the weather.’

‘As I am not,’ Leo said ruefully, but his dancing eyes in the glance he and Tara shared left her in no doubt that he did not feel a moment’s regret over that.

Behind Leo a door opened and a footman entered the room even though the main course of their meal was not nearly finished. Tara felt a prickle of foreboding which she tried to dismiss and failed, feeling the bubble of laughter inside her subside as the footman went up to Rodney and Rodney glanced involuntarily towards her, his face completely sober.

‘Lady Tara, there is an urgent message for you,’ he said quietly. ‘The messenger is waiting in the drawing room.’

Tara felt the colour drain from her face as she rose. Only her mother or brother would send her such a message, and it could only mean illness, death or disaster. Anything else could have waited until her return home next week. ‘Excuse me,’ she said unsteadily. Then she felt, rather than saw, Leo standing beside her. He took her arm, giving her strength and with a nod to their host, escorted her from to room find out what bad news awaited.

Chapter Nine

Tara didn’t recognize the messenger waiting for her in the drawing room at first. He was a lad a little older than her brother, dressed in worn clothes, looking all the worse for his journey through the dismal weather. But the boy knew her.

‘Lady Tara,’ he said. ‘I have a message from your mother.’

‘Yes?’ Tara asked impatiently, but was felt some small relief, whatever disaster lay in store for her, at least the boy did not bring news of her mother’s death. But his next words left her spirits plunging.

‘She’s real poorly. She wants you to come home straight away and manage things.’ Tara stared at him in consternation. She could not imagine her mother being so ill she could not keep the estate running with the combination of efficiency and sheer determination with which she had kept it going ever since Tara’s father, Lord Penge, had taken his own life.

‘Oh,’ she said faintly, then tried to pull herself together. ‘What ails my mother?’

‘Mam says it’s a summer fever, says she ought to have thrown it off easy, but her ladyship’s been working so hard. The crops are doing so well this year there was that much to do,’ the boy said, and then, almost hearing his mother’s words as he repeated them, Tara recognised him. He was Jed Grayson, the cook’s boy, just a year older than her brother Richard, but he had been apprenticed to the village tanner a year ago and she hadn’t seen him since. Things must be hectic at Penge if her mother had to send out for a messenger instead of using one of the farm workers. Worry gnawed at her, a fever could be dangerous in anyone, but her mother had been worn down by her cares in recent years, taking on the roles of both lord and lady at Penge and it sounded as if this fever may have taken her in a death-grip.

‘I’ll go to her immediately,’ she said to no one in particular. She took a step towards the drawing room door, but was stopped when a strong hand closed around her arm. It was Leo, she had almost forgotten about him in her fear for her mother.

‘You cannot be thinking of leaving now?’ he demanded.

‘Yes I am,’ Tara said, a little frantically, she dreaded the thought of what she would find when she got home, but she dreaded waiting more. ‘Penge is only four hours from here, I will arrive shortly after midnight and can take over the running of the estate in the morning.’

‘It’ll be more than four hours in the dark and in this weather,’ Leo said grimly, inclining his head towards the window. A splatter of rain sounded clearly on the glass, as if backing him up. Tara was about to protest that she did not care but he must have seen it in her face, for he caught her by the other arm and swung her to face him. ‘What’s more it would be downright dangerous to travel in conditions like this. You would run the risk of not getting to Penge at all - and then how would your mother cope? Wait until morning,’ he said more gently, perhaps sensing her growing acquiescence. ‘We’ll start off at eight and you will be with your mother by lunchtime.’

‘
We’ll
start at eight?’ Tara echoed. Did Leo mean to come with her? She felt her heart lighten fractionally. She dreaded what she would find when she arrived home, but with Leo with her she knew she would have the strength to face whatever lay ahead.

Leo looked at her with a haughtiness she had not known he possessed. ‘Naturally I shall accompany you. You can’t possibly return home alone under these circumstances.’ Tara looked at him for a long moment. She hadn’t expected such gallantry from a man of his social class, but when she thought about it she couldn’t imagine Rodney or Freddie offering to escort her back to Penge at a moment’s notice. Perhaps being a gentleman did not owe as much to position in society as she had always thought it did.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I had better go and pack. I don’t think I want any more dinner.’

‘I’ll make your excuses for you,’ Leo said softly, seeming to understand that she did not want to go back into the dining room and tell the happy, laughing crowd what had befallen her. Then he turned to Jed. ‘Lady Tara might have lost her appetite, but I expect you are starving. Go down to the kitchen and tell them you need a hot meal and a bed for the night. And please tell the butler I need to speak to him about a carriage for the morning.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jed sped gratefully away.

‘I’m sure your mother will be much better for seeing you,’ Leo said gently. Tara looked up at him, feeling comforted. She was still desperately worried about her mother but Leo had taken charge of the situation, taking responsibility for Jed, the carriage and informing her host of their imminent departure. All she had to do was instruct her maid to pack, and then she could go to bed. She had a feeling that, with Leo managing everything, their journey would run like clockwork and she would be at her mother’s side by twelve o’clock, just as he promised.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied gravely. She looked at Leo for a moment more, then she gave him a brief kiss on the cheek and without waiting to see his reaction she left the room.

Leo stared at the closing door, deeply touched. Tara was normally so vibrant and strong, and these were the qualities which drew him to her. But this evening he had seen in her a vulnerability which he had not known existed and it had moved him far more than he would have expected. There was obviously a strong bond between Tara and her mother, and she was consumed with worry for her, yet she had kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, expressing her gratitude for his help, but it told him in a way that words could not, how much she appreciated being able to rely on him. It had been a long time since Leo had been in a position of having anyone dependent on him, his mother had only outlived his father for a short time and after that he had had no one to take care of but himself. By needing him, he felt that Tara had given him back his dignity.

Tara did not see Leo in the breakfast room the next morning, but she ate rapidly, confident that he would have everything ready for their departure at eight o’clock, as he had said the night before. Consequently she and her maid Betty were standing in the front hall, one of the footmen carrying down the last of her luggage when the grandfather clock struck eight and the front door opened to admit Leo. He was dressed for travelling and from the drive outside Tara heard the crunch of gravel under hooves; the carriage was ready.

Rodney appeared on the front steps just as Leo was securing the last case onto the luggage rack, while Tara and Betty watched and Jed held the horses. ‘Tara,’ he said. ‘So sorry to hear about your mother. Best of health and Godspeed and all that.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Please say goodbye to your father for me.’ A moment later they were off in the hired carriage, Leo driving, with Jed riding pillion and Tara and her maid Betty safely inside.

At first Tara was content to look out of the window and see the country lanes eaten up as the carriage spun rapidly along, glad that every minute brought her nearer to home. But after about an hour her thoughts started to chase themselves in circles. How ill was her mother? Would she be able to nurse her back to strength? She tried to recall the content of her mother’s letters over the past few months to see if there had been any hint of the strain she had been under while Tara was away in London. Should she have anticipated her mother’s collapse and cut her season short - or have forgone it altogether and stayed at home where duty dictated she should be? But much as she loved Penge she felt that she would have been suffocated, trapped in the country all year round; she needed her three months a year in town, that was when she most truly felt alive. Then she chided herself for being so selfish. Her mother had not been to London for five years, she had been far too busy running the estate, taking on her father’s role, financing Tara’s seasons and making sure there would be something left worth inheriting once her brother Richard came of age. She, Tara, would have to be prepared to take on that role herself and she should be grateful for the five seasons she had had.