the rain borough inheritance
by
helen Dickson


Helen Dickson was born and still lives in South Yorkshire with her husband and two
sons on a busy arable farm where she combines writing with keeping a
chaotic farmhouse.  An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure,
owing much of her inspiration to the beauty of the countryside.  She
enjoys reading and music; history has always captivated her, and she
likes travel and visiting ancient buildings.

THE

RAIN BOROUGH

INHERITANCE

Recent titles by the same author:.

KATHERINE

MASTER OF TAMASEE

HONOUR BOUND

MILLS BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

LAUI~ENCE DWYER walked with purpose' in the direction of Lincoln's Inn
with his head bowed slightly in brooding preoccupation.  He was a
strikingly handsome man, an army officer just back from the
Mediterranean and the warm Spanish sun, in his late twenties, tall and
markedly upright in bearing, his features dark and lean, making claim
to good looks and aristocratic distinction, a likely candidate
indeed--albeit a reluctant one--to fill the role of the next Earl of
Rainborough, heir to the vast Rainborough estate and castle, twenty
miles northeast of the ancient city of York, where the town of
Rainborough nestled, comfortable and full of charm, surrounded by the
wide beautiful vistas of the bracken-clad Yorkshire moors, which in
August became a sea of purple heather.

Laurence emerged from an alleyway into a pleasant cobbled courtyard and
went directly towards the offices of Gareth and Shard, the lawyers who
handled all the affairs of the Dwyer family.  He was ushered inside by
one of the clerks and, a few moments later, into the

office of Mr.  Shard, the sole occupant, busily writing at his desk.
Recognising his visitor immediately Mr.  Shard, a tall lanky man with
blunt features, placed his quill into the inkwell and rose.

"Welcome, my lord!"  he exclaimed.  "How good it is to see you--and so
soon.  In truth, I did not expect you until next week at the earliest.
You had a good journey from Spain, I hope?"

"Yes--thank you.  Once I received your letter I saw no reason to delay.
I took leave of absence from my regiment but I know it is only a matter
of time before I must resign my commission."

Seating himself across the ledger-strewn desk from Mr.  Shard,
Laurence.  regarded the lawyer seriously, one long-booted leg crossed
over the other.

"Yes, of course.  You were close to your cousin, I understand.  His
death must have come as quite a shock."

"Yes.  Rupert and I spent ~many'happy hours together as boys.  Due to
my commitments with my regiment, I have not seen him for some
considerable time--four years, in fact--but nevertheless I shall miss
him sorely.  I was not aware that he suffered from ill health.  What
was wrong with him?"

"His death was quite sudden~ Sadly, the lure of St.  James's and the
gaming tables' was too strong for your cousin to resist.  After his
father died, with no one to advise him and restrict his
spending--although it must be said that both Mr.  Gareth and myself
went to great pains to do just that--alas to no avail--he took to
spending a good deal of his time here.  From what I understand he
contracted a fever prevalent in London at that time and died soon
afterwards."

Laurence nodded, saddened to learn that his cousin had come to so
tragic an end.  A man of great charm, Rupert had no ambition
whatsoever, unlike himself, and his father, unwilling to allow his only
son and heir to take a commission in the army, fearing that he would be
killed in action, had insisted that he remain at Rainborough and learn
how to run the estate.  Rupert had raised no objection and had been
content to do just that.

Laurence sighed deeply.  "I never thought I would inherit Rainborough
and, in truth, Mr.  Shard, I never had any desire to.  Rupert was
always so robust.  I believed his future was secure--that he would wed
the Lady Anne Waddington from over Pickering way whom he was forever
hankering after, and that together they would raise a profusion of
healthy children."

Mr.  Shard nodded with understanding.  He had known Laurence Dwyer
since he was a boy, when he had come to London with his father,

and later, after his death, with his uncle, the then Earl of
Rainborough.  Even then he had burned with ambition.  Once he had got
his commission, he had entered the Foot Guards as a young subaltern,
volunteering for all the dangerous tasks, and had been complimented on
his exploits which had not gone unnoticed or unrewarded.  He was a
soldier of outstanding ability, having distinguished himself in various
campaigns abroad--at Blenheim, in the Netherlands and later in Spain,
having learnt his trade with the most celebrated of England's masters,
the Duke of iMarlborough.  Having reached the rank of colonel~ Laurence
Dwyer was utterly devoted to his regiment, Who could blame him for not
wanting to leave?

"I dare say you will miss the army."

"Aye.  Life with the army was the one I chose.  It suited me well.  It
will be strange adjusting to life outside the regiment."

"I can understand that--but as you know you are the last of the Dwyers.
I cannot say that I would blame you should you decide to remain with
the army--but, should you not wish to accept your inheritance, then the
entire estate must be sold."

Laurence looked at him sharply.  "No, Mr.  Shard.  That is quite out of
the question."

Mr.  Shard sighed, shaking his head slowly.  "That is what I expected
you to say, but you may change your mind when you discover its sorry
state."

Laurence's eyes narrowed.  "What are you saying?"

"That owing to your cousin's waywardness--and the land tax, which in
itself has proved crippling to many noble families, especially to those
not having recovered from sequestrations imposed on them during and
after the Civil War--you have inherited a considerable pile of debts.
The whole estate has been sadly neglected.  To avoid shutting up the
castle and selling land, a great deal of money must be acquired--and
quickly.  I take it that you have no means of your own?"

Laurence shook his head.  "Only what I receive from the army and a
small inheritance left me by my father--which is nowhere near the
figure I suspect you are speaking of.  But something must be done.
Rainborough Castle has been the home of the Dwyers for generations.  We
fought for it and we survived the perilous years of the Civil War, To
sell it all is unthinkable."

"Then--might I~put forward a suggestion?"  said Mr.  Shard
cautiously.

"Of course--anything--if it will help.  What is it you wish to say?"
Not being one to beat about the bush, Mr.

Shard came straight to the point.  "That you marry an heiress."

Laurence scowled, experiencing a sudden surge of anger.  Mr.  Shard and
Mr.  Gareth had clearly discussed this matter together and no doubt had
just such an heiress in mind.  "Marriage?  No, Mr.  Shard.  I would be
grateful if you would kindly refrain from interfering in something
which I consider to be an entirely private and personal matter.  When I
marry, I will choose my own wife."

Undeterred, for he was certain that what he had suggested was the only
solution to the problem, Mr.  Shard continued.  "I apologise, my lord.
Please believe me when I say I meant no offence.  Perhaps I put my
suggestion clumsily.  But please hear what I have to say before you
dismiss it completely.  You see'I have already been approached by Sir
Thomas Howard, who has suggested that you might consider marriage to
his daughter.  Do you remember the Howard family?  They are from your
part of the world."

Yes, Laurence did remember them.  The Howards' land bordered the
Rainborough estate--although the Howards' acreage was nowhere near as
vast.  Ben Thomas Howard was the son of Matthew, who had emigrated to
Barbados during the Commonwealth back in 1655--like many other
Royalists unwilling to submit to the powers that were at that time.

He remembered his uncle telling him he the Howard estate had suffered
more than me as a result of the Civil War and that Matthe the youngest
of Lord Howard's three sons, with discontent and unable to see any
future for himself in England, had taken his wife a~ son, Thomas, to
Barbados.  His father, a ha man, certain that his son was bent on
destroyi~ himself, had told him there would be no col side ration in
his will.  Despite this, Matthew he gone to Barbados and, through hard
endeavou had managed to make his way by growing sugar

"I was under the impression that Sir Thorn: was in Barbados?"

"That was the case, but he always had yearnMg for England.  When his
wife die, leaving him with two young daughters, and himself in failing
health, having already made fortune out of growing sugar, he sold his
plal tat ion and brought them to England sever~ months ago, taking up
residence with his spit ster cousin at Burntwood Hall.  Sir Thomas w~
saddened to learn of the death of your uncle whom he had met on several
occasions durin his visits to England over the years, becaus your
family has close ties to the Howarc having fought side by side
throughout the years of Civil War."

"But why did he not put his propositio to Rupert?"

"Rupert's dissolute behaviour did not endear him to Sir Thomas--whereas
you are a different matter entirely.  Your reputation and ability as a
soldier and a gentleman are well known.  Aware of the debts Rupert had
incurred, and the problems that would beset you on your arrival at
Rainborough, he came to see me with an eye to marriage between yourself
and his eldest daughter.  He is afraid that when he is dead Henrietta,
who is twenty-one-years old and will be an immensely rich young
woman--as will Lucinda, who is just one year younger than her
sister--will be beseiged by fortune hunters.  It could prove to be
disastrous for them with no one to guide them."

"But what of her younger sister and this cousin of her father's you say
she lives with?"

"A husband is also to be found for Lucinda but, alas, Sir Thomas's
cousin is too old and ill herself to be of help, It is his dearest wish
to see both his daughters settled before his demise--which, by all
accounts, could happen at any time.  Sir Thomas is a very ill man so
you can understand his haste in trying to arrange matters.  It would be
advantageous to both families if a marriage took place, uniting the
Dwyers and the Howards.  In fact, with the sad state of the Rainborough
estate nothing could be more appropriate.  You would gain enor-from the
marriage while Miss Howard would gain the title of Countess and the
security of marriage."  - .

Laurence listened to what Mr.  Shard had to say and as he did so his
words were a harsh reminder of his position.  Gradually he' began to
see the sense of his words and he had a sudden vision of his uncle and
his father, of their proud and noble bearings an~d of the long line of
his forebears who had suffered to preserve intact the honour and noble
name of'Dwyer, who had subdued their own lives and fought their own
individual battles for that same 'sense of honour--somemaking~ that
ultimate' sacrifice, Laurence knew he owed itc to them to see that
Rainborough was made secure for future, generations; if he were to sell
everything, then surely the Dwyer ghosts would be justified in rising
up in anger at his dishonourable deed.

In: that moment he could see no alternative to Mr.  Shard's suggestion
--however , ~much he was against it.  Besides, there was another matter
to be considered other than his inheritance, one which Mr' Shard knew
nothing about--a matter which made it extremely difficult-if not
impossible--for him to return to Spain and his regiment.

Laurence sighed deeply, his expression grim as he faced Mr.  Shard.
"Very well," he said firmly.  "You are right, of course.  If things are
as bad as you say then there really is no alternative.  But, before I
agree to anything, let it be understood that I must first see for
myself the extent of neglect at Rainborough before I commit my seIf to
Miss Howard."

"As you wish.  Miss Howard is herself in London with her father at this
time.  Would you like me to arrange a meeting?"

"Yes--very well..  However--it must be in the next day or so for I must
leave for Rainborough as soon as possible."

Almost two weeks later, seated in the sitting-room of the George Inn in
York, along Coney Street, a large establishment where many visitors and
people of note lodged when in the city, Lucinda Howard kept glanffmg
towards the door, impatient for her ~maid to reappear.  She had sent
her up to her chamber to fetch her bonnet and gloves, having decided to
go out into the city to take in the shops in the Minster yard and
Pavement.

Confound the girl, she fumed impatiently, annoyed at being kept
waiting, although, she sighed, she must try not to be too hard on her;
no doubt her services had been commandeered by her aunt who was by no
means young and in ill health, and who found it difficult to get about
with ease.  From the window which faced the street she had been
watching passengers alight from a coach which had just arrived from

London across at the busy coaching inn, the Black Swan, with servants
running about in a frenzy in order to attend to the newly arrived
guests.

The activity over, no longer distracted and unable to wait any longer,
Lucinda rose to go in search of her maid, hurriedly climbing the
stairs.  On the upper landing her attention was caught by a
foreign-looking woman holding a child, a little girl, in her arms.
Lucinda was momentarily diverted from her: quest by the womanrs looks
which caught her attention, her inky black hair and heavy features and
large hooded black eyes which bespoke of Italian or Spanish blood.  A
rush of emotion and nostalgia swamped her, for she had seen many such
women on her island home of Barbados,~ the island she had never wanted
to leave.  She was so terribly homesick: and thought of it with
yearning, of its warmth, its blue sea and skies, which this cold and
dismal country could never replace in her heart.  She saw that the
child, who she assumed must be the woman's daugMer, resembled her with
her lustrous black curls struggling to be free of the white frilled
bonnet, but in contrast her features were fine, her face small and
exquisite with long silky lashes fanning her cheeks.

Lucinda was about to pass her by when she noticed with alarm how
flushed the woman was and how she swayed slightly.  Immediately she
moved towards her, afraid lest she fell with the child in her arms.

"Please--let me take the child.  You are not well."

Quickly Lucinda took the child from her.  The woman tried to hold on to
her, and it seemed to be with some reluctance that she had to let her
go.

"I--I am so sot tee she breathed in faltering English, passing a hand
over her brow.  " I--I feel quite faint.  It ees coming in here--it ees
so hot--so many people--but I have a chamber to go to so please give me
back the child.  "

Balancing the little girl on one arm Lucinda placed her free hand on
the woman's elbow, guiding her along the landing.

"Then let me help you to your chamber.  Perhaps you will feel better
after lying down."  Lucinda smiled down reassuringly at the child in
her arms and the child smiled back.  '~What a beautiful child.  "

"Yes--yes, she ees.  Thank you.  You ar{~ kind--but I will be all right
now.  Come~give me the child," she requested firmly, holding out her
arms.  ~

"No--'

"Please--I can find my own way--truly I can."

"I will help you," Lucinda insisted, proceeding along the landing but
she was halted suddenly' You heard the lady," said a deep ma scull
voice brusquely from behind, so close she col almost feel his hot
breath on her neck.  " I suggl you do as she says.  "

Still holding the child, Lucinda spun rout having to tilt her head back
slightly to look at the man who had come up behind her, w~ another man
following close on his heels carling some heavy-looking leather bags,
will indicated they must have arrived on the London coach, but
preferred to stay at the George I: rather than the Black Swan.

When her eyes locked on his she was qtt unprepared for the effect he
had on her--her pulse seemed to leap and she found it diffic~ to
compose herself.  She gaped up at him; wi his deepset green-brown eyes
and his rich da brown hair tied back in the nape of his neck, I was by
far the most attractive man she had ev, seen in her life.  He had the
same swarthy da: tan as the men on Barbados who worked the plantations
regardless of the sun burning the almost as nut brown as their slaves
from Afric His dark eyebrows were drawn into a sco, across his nose.
Never had she seen eyebrox so wicked.  Blood rushed to her cheeks for
st was suddenly aware that she was staring at hit but the expression in
his eyes was so compel lit that she was unable to lower her gaze.

"Is there a problem?"  he asked, glancing from one to the other.  His
face was expressionless but in his narrowed eyes was a spark, grim and
formidable, which seemed to say that he wanted no fuss.

Lucinda noticed a shutter come down over the woman's face and that she
lowered her gaze to avoid her own.  "Yes.  This lady is clearly unwell
and needs to lie down," Lucinda said, surprised at hearing her voice
sound normal.  "I was afraid she might fall with the child and injure
her."

"Then give her to me," said the gentleman, reaching out and taking the
child from her, who did not object in the slightest--in fact she seemed
quite happy to be held in his arms.

Again Lucinda glanced towards the woman with some concern.  "Perhaps a
doctor or an apothecary should be called for?"

"No, that is not necessary.  Pray do not concern yourself," said the
gentleman with a small degree of irritability at her persistence, yet
he could not prevent his eyes from lingering on her face.  There was no
denying that this young woman was indeed a beauty, with well-chiselled
features and a mass of.  fashionably arranged fair-coloured hair.  Her
skin was translucent, her wide eyes the colour of violets and her full,
firm lips betrayed a hidden sensuality and strength of purpose.  At any
other time he would have been more than happy to make her acquaintance
but not now.

Lucinda's anger rose and her cheeks flamed.  In spite of his good looks
she sensed something purposeful and menacing about him, and his slender
brown hands, which emerged from fine lace cuffs, and had taken the
child from her, made her suspect that if the situation demanded they
could be as hard as steel.  In her view his behaviour was thoroughly
ungrateful, for her intervention might have prevented the
woman--probably his wife--from falling and injuring herself and the
child.  She noticed the woman's nervousness, that this man's presence
seemed to increase her agitation, and she kept her eyes lowered, as if
she were almost too afraid to look at him.  Was she afraid of him?  And
if so, why?

Lucinda deliberately turned away from the gentleman, directing all her
attention to the woman, resenting his easy dismissal of her ill
health.

"Would you like me to stay with you until you are recovered?"  she
asked softly.

She saw the woman's eyes dart to her companion before she shook her
head vigorously.  "No--thank you--no."

"That will not be necessary," the man intervened sharply.  "I shall see
that she is made comfortable myself."

Lucinda was genuinely angry now and when she turned accusingly the
gentleman saw it and, fearing she was about to make a scene, sensed
he'd better change his tactics and smiled a reassuring smile, looking
down at her with those magnificent green-brown eyes.

"There's absolutely nothing to worry about," he said, speaking in a
persuasive voice.  "We have just arrived on the coach from London. Four
days is a long time to be on the road for anyone but with a child it
seems interminable.  If you have ever travelled some distance in one of
those contraptions then you will know there is little comfort in them. 
I can assure' you there was little ease for any of us."

"By the lady's condition it seems she had less," commented Lucinda
acidly,

"The lady has had a long and arduous journey.  I'm sure that after
resting and some refreshment she will feel a good deal better.  Is that
not so, Maria?"

Maria nodded, smiling gratefully at Lucinda who suspected the smile was
forced to satisfy the gentleman.  She stepped back, realising that
further protestations would be both foolish and counter-productive. ~

"In that case there is nothing more to be said."

"No--nothing at all," the gentleman replied coldly, 'and I would be
obliged if you would step aside to let us pass.  "

Realising that she was being dismissed and was also blocking their
path, Lucinda stepped aside.  Well, she thought--handsome this man
might be but that was the only thing to his credit.  She considered him
to be unmannerly, exceedingly rude, a bully and a brute.  May God help
the poor woman if she had the misfortune to be his wife.

"Very well.  I bid you good day."

The gentleman merely bowed his head in assent and watched as Lucinda
turned and disappeared inside her own chamber before taking the woman's
elbow and propelling her along the landing.

Unbeknown to Lucinda, who had closed the door to her chamber and was
leaning on it breathlessly, she had just made the acquaintance of
Laurence Dwyer, the Earl of Rainborough, unaware of who he was and how
important he was to be to her future.  Just then she did not suppose
she would ever see him again.  But, brute and bully though he might be,
one thing was certain--she would not forget him in a hurry.

Lucinda considered York to be a pleasant and beautiful city, with its
wide, navigable river and quaint, tightly packed streets, flanked by
buildings with jet tied roofs and timbered gables, some streets so
narrow they would hardly take the width of a coach.  Every other place
was a gate or a bar which she found so confusing.  She was in York to
do some shopping with her Aunt Celia, who had long since promised her
this visit to the ancient city.  With Lucinda's sister Henrietta away
in London with their father, it had seemed the perfect opportunity, but
Celia did not enjoy good health, and today was one of her bad days so
she remained in her room resting while Lucinda went out into the city
accompanied by her maid, Nancy.

Celia was their father's cousin but because she remained their closest
living relative it had long since been agreed that she should be known
to Henrietta and Lucinda as Aunt Celia.

Together Lucinda and Nancy negotiated the intricate tangle of streets
enclosed within the limestone ribbon of wall, proceeding to walk along
Stonegate towards the Minster yard where they admired the fine large
houses situated around the Minster, especially the Deanery, a building
of many notable events during the Civil War, when King Charles I had
been in York and he had convened a Great Council here of the Peers of
the Realm.

In the Minster yard they browsed in a bookseller's and a draper's, with
fancy silks, rich brocades and striped mantuas.  They bought some
perfumed comfits and macaroons from a confectioner before moving on
along Petergate because Lucinda wanted to look at the markets, being
careful to avoid the Shambles where the air was thick with bluebottles.
It was a smelly, obnoxious street where butchers set up their flesh
benches in the open air.  They walked towards Thursday Market to view
its splendid new market cross, a hall which was supported on five open
arches topped by a turret and a weather vane.  It provided a shelter
below and a room where plays were performed above.

They strolled along the street towards Pavemere, where All Saints
Church stood with its graceful octagonal lantern tower.  Her Aunt Celia
had told her that in medieval times a large lamp was hung there, lit at
night to act as a beacon for travellers to aim at who were making their
way to York through the dense Forest of Gaitres to the north of the
city.  They passed a butter factor and chandler, smelling the plea sam
aroma of Jamaica rums, French and British'brandies and cinnamon waters,
stopping to browse in a: shop which sold an elegant' assortment of
perfume and essence pots, snuff boxes and ivory toys from London and
Germany.

Having purchased some trinkets, they made their way slowly down High
Ousegate and back along Coney Street towards the George Inn.

They were just about to pass the gateway which led into the inn yard
when, at that

THE RAIN BOROUGH INHERITAIMCE

moment, a horseman came clattering out over the cobblestones with such
haste--evidently in a hurry to reach his destination--that to avoid
being trampled underfoot Lucinda, with a cry, stepped back quickly,
stumbling in the process and falling painfully to the ground,
scattering her packages about her in the dirt.  Nancy rushed to her in
alarm, kneeling beside her.

Seeing the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, the horseman
pulled his mount to a halt and, turning in the saddle, looked back.
Upon seeing Lucinda on the ground, he immediately dismounted and strode
over to her.

Raising her head, her body feeling bruised and sore, Lucinda saw the
horseman looming over her and recognised him immediately as being that
insufferable man she had met on the landing earlier.  He reached out a
strong brown hand and, seizing her arm, helped her to her feet. Putting
her weight on her left foot, she suddenly winced with pain.

"Are you hurt?"  he demanded.  "I saw you trip."

Lucinda stared at him incredulously, her eyes sparking with anger.
'~Frip?  I did not trip.  Why--had I not thrown myself out of the way
of your mount I would have been trampled on.  You came riding out of
the inn yard as if the devil himself were after you.  "

"Then if that is so I apologise.  I did not see you there."

"Evidently," she snapped, pulling her arm free from his grasp and
supporting herself with one hand on the wall while brushing at the dirt
on her skirts with the other.  Gingerly she put a little weight on her
injured foot, almost crying out at the pain that shot through it.  It
was beginning to throb terribly.

"Your ankle is hurt," he said sternly.  Here--let me help you.  "

"No," said Lucinda quickly as he reached out his hand, looking at Nancy
who was picking the dropped packages up off the ground.  TII manage
perfectly well with Nancy to help me.  It is only a sprain.  I don't
need your help.  "

"Laurence scowled at her, noticing the stubborn thrust to her chin
which told him she would rather die than accept his help, but her eyes
were swimming with the silently repressed tears that the pain from her
injured ankle was causing.  It was evident that she would not make it
up to her room unaided.  His eyes narrowed.

"I doubt that.  Come--don't be difficult," he said impatiently.  "I am
in a hurry and enough time has been wasted as it is."

Before Lucinda could stop him or protest, he had placed one arm firmly
about her waist and the other beneath her knees, swinging her
effortlessly up into his arms.  Normally she

~rHE RAIN BOROUGH INHERITANCE

would have kicked and fought at being handled in such a way, but she
was too stunned to say anything at finding herself pressed so close to
him.  She could feel his warmth and the strength in his hard lean body,
which made her feel uncomfortable--and something else as well, which
she could not identify.

After they had reached her room and Laurence had placed her on a chair,
he dropped on one knee and removed her shoe, flexing her ankle with the
professional expertise of a doctor.  Lucinda could feel the firmness of
his fingers through her stocking; as he twisted her foot to one side,
she gripped the arms of the chair, almost crying out with' the pain
this caused her, but bit her lip inner determination not to let him
know how much it hurt.  At last he put her foot gently on the carpet
and looked up at her directly.

"You were.  right.  There's nothing broken--just a slight sprain.  Get
your maid to bind your ankle firmly and rest it.  You'll be walking on
it in a few days."

"Why--thank you, doctor," she said with emphasis.

Ignoring her sarcasti~ tone Laurence's lips curled in a wry smile. "I'm
not a doctor," he confided.  "I'm a soldier and used to dealing with
broken bones and the like--although I have to say that none of the
soldiers under my command have quite so charming an ankle."  He stood
up, looking down at her upturned face which had flushed slightly in
embarrassment at his remark.  His dark eyes twinkled.  "I assure you,
you will be all right--and I apologise if, because of my recklessness,
I have ruined your visit to York.  You are visiting."

"

"Yes," she retorted, 'and yes, you have ruined it.  I am here with my
aunt and now, it.  seems, we shall have to return home earlier than we
intended.  "

"You are right to reproach me.  If I could repair the damage then
believe me, I would," he said softly.

Lucinda fixed him with an unblinking gaze.  On seeing that he did
indeed look' genuinely sorry her manner melted towards him a little,
and when she next spoke her tone was kinder.

"Yes, I'm sure you would.  However, it was just an accident--' she
relented '--and I did not mean to reproach you.  You said you were in a
hurry.  Please do not let me detain you any longer."

Alone, Lucinda reflected on her meeting with the stranger and was
curious as to his identity.  He had a powerful physical presence which
had seemed to fill the whole room and, despite being the cause of her
sprained ankle, his behaviour towards her had been perfectly courteous
On reflection, she remembered seeing how thick his hair was when he had
bent his head to examine her foot, how broad his shoulders were and,
when he had looked at her, how taut his skin was stretched over his
cheekbones, and how frank and interesting had been his gaze when he had
fixed his deep brown eyes, flecked with green, on hers.

He had told her he was a soldier--which explained his tanned face and
hands, indicating that he'd seen service abroad.  Giving herself up: to
Nancy's ministerings as she bound her foot, she sighed, experiencing a
feeling of regret that she would never see him again.

Meanwhile, as Laurence made his way back down to the street, he was
feeling the same sense of regret, for he had thought the young woman
quite enchanting.  There was something so fresh about her; her vibrant
personality positively burned in those glorious violet eyes.  He was
not deceived by her aloof manner, suspecting that, beneath her would-be
hardness, there was a fawn-like vulnerability that cried out for his
sympathy.

After retrieving his horse he rode along Coney Street, unable to~
resist the impulse of stopping to purchase a bunch of red and white
sweet-scented roses from a flower seller.  Slipping a coin into the
palm of an eager young boy, he asked him to deliver them to the

George Inn to a certain young lady with a sprained ankle, giving him
clear instructions as to which room she occupied, before riding out of
York alone towards the north-east, in the direction of

CHAPTER TWO

Two weeks after her return from York, when Lucinda's father and
Henrietta returned from London, she saw with some concern that all was
not well with her sister.  She noticed how pale she was--in fact, she
had never seen her so pale, but it was not until they were alone in
Lucinda's room that she discovered how deeply upset and disturbed she
was by her visit to London.

Henrietta had known before she left Howard Lodge the purpose of her
father's visit, that he intended calling on the Earl of Rainborough's
lawyers with the purpose of proposing a match between the Earl and his
daughter.  But Henrietta's head was so in the clouds over her love for
Hal Ingram, a squire's son from the next village of Carthwait, that in
her bewildered young mind she had truly thought her father would not go
ahead with what he intended when he saw how averse ~he was to the
match.

But her father was resolved to finding suitable husbands for both his
daughters before his demise.  He had been careful to conceal from
either of them just how ill he was from the 3O

growth that was slowly growing and eating away at his insides.  But
Lucinda, with her sharp, observant eyes, missed nothing, so she was not
insensible to his discomfort, but she had no idea and would have been
deeply shocked to know just how serious it was.

"Oh, Lucinda, what is to be done?"  said Henrietta with an urge' to
confide in someone at last.

"Done?  Why--what do you speak of, Henrietta?"

"This--this marriage to the Earl of Rainborough.  I cannot go through
with it, Lucinda.  I simply cannot."

"But I understood the Earl to be in.  favour of Father's
proposition."

Unbidden tears came suddenly to Henrietta's eyes but she blinked them
away.  "I know.  And how happy Father would be if I were in agreement.
How it would please him--but I cannot."

"Why?  Because of Hal?"

Henrietta nodded.  "I cannot think of a life without Hal.  I cannot
live without him," she groaned despairingly.

Never had Lucinda seen her sister in such a state.  Alarmed by this,
she went over to Henrietta at once, feeling a great need to protect
her, taking her hands and drawing her down beside her onto a low
divan.

"Have you spoken to Father?  Have you told him how you feel about
Hal?"

Henrietta nodded.  "Yes--but he will not listen.  Every time I mention
his name, he retreats into himself.  When I first met Hal and we fell
in love, everything seemed so simple.  I planned it all in my
mind--that we would become betrothed and then married.  How was I to
know that Father would take against his family so?  I know his father's
reputation for the gaming tables and his love of strong liquor
discredits him in Father's eyes--and that his older brothers are little
better--but Hal is not like them.  He is kind.  He loves me and cares
not one jot about Father's money.  He says he would marry me if I had
nothing at all."

Lucinda did not contradict her.  Hal Ingram's adoration and the
gallantry he showed towards Henrietta were plain to all when they were
together--which was not often, for their father had done his utmost to
discourage the relationship.

"Tell me what 'happened between you and the Earl of Rainborough?  What
he's like?"

"Nothing--nothing at all happened.  We met after he and Father had had
a long discussion--that is all.  He is undeniably handsome and
charming; in fact, any woman would be honoured to marry such a man.  I
am certain there is not a woman in the whole of England who33

having met him--would not die for a rendezvous with him.  His lineage
is impeccable, he has distinguished himself in countless battles all
over Europe and is highly thought of by the

Duke of Marlborough himself.  "

"But?"

Henrietta fixed imploring eyes on hers, "Oh, Lucinda- in truth he is so
excessively male and formidable.  He radiates a force and vitality that
scares me half to death,.  The mere prospect of marriage to him
terrifies me."  She sighed deeply, lowering her eyes and looking down
at her hands folded quietly inner lap.  "How foolish you must think me,
you, who have never been afraid of anything or anyone in your entire
life."

Lucinda sighed, for Henrietta spoke the truth.  The two of them were
alike in colouring, yet in temperament they were so very different,
Whereas Lucinda was self-willed, lively and restless, full of energies
she found difficult to repress, with nothing of Henrietta's unselfish
forbearing, Henrietta was of a more simple, timid nature, the epitome
of placid indolence, often overcome with shyness and sudden blushes
when in the company of the opposite sex and, Lucinda thought, if the
Earl of Rainborough was as strong and formidable in character as her
sister would have her believe, then she would have been more timid and
embarrassed than usual, for such men never failed to discompose her.

Henrietta was not as tall as Lucinda.  Her eyes were a limpid blue,
whereas Lucinda's were a deep shade of violet which became lighter or
darker depending on her mood.  They had always been close.

"Father is hoping that matters will proceed to a satisfactory
conclusion," Henrietta went on, 'and I know I should feel honoured--and
I am--but I would give all my prospects to anyone who would take them
from me--simply to marry Hal.  Good, simple, ordinary Hal.  Oh--he
isn't rich or anything like that, but then, neither is the Earl.  "

"Not now, perhaps, but marriage to you would change all that," retorted
Lucinda coldly, feeling some resentment towards the Earl of
Rainborough.  She did not blame her father for wanting the best for
Henrietta but what manner of man was it that would take a wife merely
to pay off his debts incurred by his cousin and to repair the neglect
on his estate?  And who was to know that he wouldn't do the same as his
erstwhile cousin anyway and squander his new-found fort tree as seemed
to be common among most of the English aristocracy?  She could feel
nothing but contempt for any man who would marry a woman for the size
of her dowry rather than herself, and there was no doubt in her mind
that the Earl of Rainborough would jump at the chance of marrying
Henrietta.

Lucinda sighed, trying to think of something comforting to say that
would alleviate her sister's fears.  "Father is only doing what he
considers is best, f-Ienrietta.  I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be
unhappy.  You worry yourself to no purpose."

"I do so hope you're right.  You ~understand, don't you, Lucinda?  I
have no love to give anyone but Hal.  The Earl is important, that I
know.  He owns a vast estate and castle and if I married him I would
become a countess--but that means nothing to me.  I cannot marry merely
for gain and position.  It is not what I want.  I must have love above
all else.  You must understand that.  Do you think that is selfish of
me?"

"No."  Lucinda smiled.  "How can I when I want the same things myself?
But more than anything else," she said wistfully, a faraway expression
in her eyes, "I want to return to Barbados.  Every night I go to bed I
pray that when I wake up I shall be back in my bed at Lynton, with
Deborah bringing me my hot chocolate and pulling back the
'drapes--flooding my room with brilliant sunlight--and I would smell
the newly turned earth, in the fields and the hibiscus and
bougainvillaea clinging to the veranda beneath my window, and hear the
chanting of the negroes working in the fields.  Oh, Henrietta--it's all
so far away from us now.  The very thought of never going back, never
seeing it again, breaks my heart."

"I know--and I too wanted to return to all that until I met Hal.  But
now I am content to be where ever he is.  One day it will.  be the same
for you, Lucinda.  You'll see.  You're so lucky not to be in the same
predicament as myself."

"Not so lucky.  Remember it is to be my turn next.  Father is set upon
finding both of us a husband with 'considerable haste, it seems."

"I know, but I doubt~ it will bethe sort of match he is: preparing for
me.  Why does he have to aim so high?"

"Because of the fortune we will inherit, Henrietta, and owing to the
fact that we have no immediate family--only Aunt Celia, whose health,
as you know, gives us all cause for concern--I suspect he wants to make
quite sure we are settled and everything is taken care of
before--before..."

Something in her faltering tone caused Henrietta to look at her
sharply.  "Before?  Before what, Lucinda?  Do you think Father is very
ill?  Is that what you are trying to say?"

"I don't know, but there is no denying that he has lost some of his
toughness and vigour.  There is a frailty about him and there are times
when he appears to suffer a great deal of discomfort.  He also tires so
easily.  However, you must tell him how you feel, Henrietta.  You must
find some way of making him see that you love Hal--that you cannot
marry 'the Earl of Rainborough.  And if the man is so desperate to
retain his estate and castle, then he must look elsewhere for some'
other heiress to marry."

The sun blazed down on the annual Rainborough fair held in the
surrounding fields of Rainborough~ town.  It had the promise of being a
glittering and rowdy affair.  People came from far and wide dressed in,
their finest apparel--farmers and esquires, their wives and
daughters--filling every road and track for miles around.  Gipsies,
with their olourful caravans and strings of ponies and horses, all
travelled in the direction of Rainborough fair, where open stalls
~under brightly coloured awnings had been erected and wh~re all manner.
of merchandise was sold:

Delicious smells of various foods cooking on stalls had been set out
like small banquets--mouthwatering roast pork, roast goose, gingerbread
and gooseberry pie.  Great crowds were attracted to the waxwork booths
and freak shows, which Lucinda avoided, wondering how people could be
so ghoulishly fascinated by dwarfs and deformities.

Here the not so well-to-do rubbed shoulders with the better off.
Usually it was the fashionable thing for the sophisticated townspeople,
with their perfume and pomades, to despise the common country folk,
stinking of their animals and fields, but for these two days of the
fair they flocked in their hundreds in their fancy carriages, driven by
dandified footmen, to see the booths and curiosities displayed and
would dally to partake of the dancing and merrymaking which went on
long after dark.

It was the first fair Lucinda had ever been to in her life; there was
nothing like this, on Barbados.  She had wanted Henrietta to accompany
her but her sister had managed to escape the watchful eye of her father
to keep a secret assignation with Hal instead, so she had to be content
with Nancy.  She sauntered aimlessly between the stalls followed by
Nancy, pushing her way through the noisy crowd, avoiding the crude
prize fights, unwilling to look upon bloody noses and burst lips,
preferring instead the novelty of the puppet shows, the jugglers and
acrobats.

When she passed the bright purple-and-gold coloured gipsy fortune
teller's tent, she contemplated whether or not to go in and have her
palm read but decided against it.  There was only one thing the gypsy
could tell her that would make her happy and that was for her to return
to Barbados,.  to Lynton, the house in which she had lived all her life
until coming to England, but she knew that was the one thing she would
not be told.

But at the thought of her beloved Barbados sudden pain wrung her heart
and hot tears stung her lids.  One day she would return, she promised
herself fiercely.  She had to.  Not even the kind of love Henrietta
felt for Hal Ingram would make the memory of her island home fade:

She paused to toss some wooden hoops onto pegs, failing to win the
adorable little painted doll, and she sipped a mug of lemonade beneath
the shade of a tree, when she suddenly realised that Nancy had wandered
away from her side, Annoyed by this, Lucinda began searching for her,
eventually drawn towards a crowd gathered outside one of the large
tents where mugs of ale were being sold and where music was playing
loudly and dancers stomped around on the grass to the merry rhythm.
Looking through a break in the crowd, she craned her neck to see what
was causing so much interest and amusement, She soon saw what it was.
Her heart plummeted when she recognised Nancy's cherry red dress and
realised that she was the centre of everyone's attention.

Men in smocks slouched against barrels, unashamedly slaking their
voracious appetites for ale, determined to make the most of these two
days of idleness, for the fair days were the only high days and
holidays of their year.  Doubtless many would be too drunk by nightfall
to find their way home without the aid of a horse and cart.

The air was rent with coarse laughter and lewd remarks, the crowd
yelling with a great deal of delight and a slapping of thighs, shouting
encouragement to a burly man, whose wide lips were curled into a
leering grin as he harassed Nancy, a pretty young girl with full
rounded breasts and a saucy expression, which frequently made her the
target of masculine attention.  The swaying man had h'ks arm about her
waist as he tried to ply her with ale from a foaming mug, clumsily
slopping some down her bodice.

"Come, my pretty one," he slurred.  "Come on and have a drink."

Emitting a little squeal, Nancy responded by turning her head away, a
movement which made her long auburn curls dance wildly, causing the
crowd to roar with laughter.

Unable to stand by and watch her maid being made a spectacle of,
without a moment's hesitation Lucinda angrily began pushing her way
through the crowd towards Nancy, who did not appear to be enjoying the
attention--but neither was she resisting very hard, which angered
Lucinda further.  She did not see Laurence Dwyer lounging lazily
against a tree to one side of the tent, absently watching the
entertainment with some amusement and trying to remember where he had
seen the saucy young wench before.

Upon seeing Lucinda emerge from the crowd in a striking billowing white
dress with a bright blue sash, he became lost in fascination,
transfixed by the scene.  Her limbs propelled her across the grass with
lightning speed and immediately she held centre stage.  She was swift
and supple, with the long limbs of a young colt and fleecy light golden
hair.

Somewhere in his mind a bell of recognition rang and almost at once he
recalled where he had seen her before, which caused his lips to curve
in a slow smile and his eyes to dance with merciless merriment; as he
contMued his observation of her, his interest deepened.

Lucinda's eyes blazed with so much anger that the man still holding
Nancy stepped back a pace.

"Let go of her," she fumed, reaching out and pulling Nancy from his
crude embrace.

The man's eyes opened wide in amazement, but then he lurched forward,
realising that here was an even greater prize.  "Now--don't be so
upperty, miss.  Come and have a drink with old Jake.  You'll find me
accommodating and more than obliging.  I know how to give a little lady
as pretty as you a good time."

Lucinda looked at him coldly.  "You're drunk and you're also
disgusting," she snapped and, as the man lurched towards her with his
hands outstretched, quite unafraid of his towering bulk she gave him a
shove which sent him sprawling to the ground, at which an uproarious
cheer went up from the spectators.

Lucinda reached out and snatched an amazed Nancy's wrist; turning on
her heel, she pulled her along after her.

"Come along, Nancy," she scolded, 'and don't you dare stray from my
side again,"

In a few seconds they had reached' the edge of the crowd where Lucinda
paused and looked at her maid.

"Are you all right?"

Nancy smiled faintly.  Her auburn-hair had come loose from its pins and
her dress was stained and crumpled, but apart from that she showed no
visible sign of suffering.

"Yes," she replied, wiping her perspiring forehead.  "Those louts
behaved much the same as other men hereabouts when in drink."

In spite of her pursed 4ips, Nancy sounded almost gay and there was a
sparkle to her eyes--making Lucinda wonder whether she had not rather
enjoyed the experience, for she was well aware that she kept an eye out
for hand42

some young men.  Nancy had become her maid when she had first come to
live at Burntwood Hall, a large rambling house and the ancestral home
of the Howards, on the edge of Rainborough town.  At first Lucinda had
missed Deborah, her maid back home on Barbados, but she had soon become
used to Nancy's ways.  She was a simple girl with never a serious
thought in her head.  Give her a trinket and a tryst with a
good-looking young man and she was blissfully happy.

"Come, Nancy, I think it's time we well!  home.  We must find Matthew
with the carriage-although it will not be easy in this crowd.  Father
was reluctant to let us come in the first place and will be so angry if
we are late back."

To find their way out of the fairground to where Matthew would be
waiting with the carriage, they had to pass by the front of the tent
and Laurence, still leaning against the tree.  Lucinda found her eyes
drawn by an irresistible urge to the spot where he stood, watching her.
She was about to look away but then stopped, speechless, her progress
checked by her amazement, for she recognised him immediately and was so
surprised at the sight of him that she could not for a moment believe
her eyes.

Their eyes met and locked, and, remembering their meeting in York,
Lucinda's opened wider and wider, expressing
astonishmentincredulity--but then she recollected herself and drew
herself up sharply, remembering the distress of the.  young foreign
woman with the child and this man's indifference, and also the
discomfort of her own sprained ankle caused by his recklessness.  She
also remembered the flowers but thrust the surprise and joy she had
experienced on receiving them to the back of her mind--that is, if he
had been the one who had sent them to her.  Yet she could think of no
one else and the boy who had delivered them had given her a fair
description of him.

That he must have been standing there for some time, watching Nancy
being harassed by that drunken oaf with some amusement she did not
doubt, being all too well aware of his indifference towards the
suffering of ladies.  He had done nothing to stop her torment, enjoying
the entertainment Nancy had provided as much as the rest.  He was
leaning.  lazily against the tree, tall and superbly built, wearing
black knee-length boots and tight dove-coloured breeches, a loosely
fitting white lawn shirt tucked into the waistband of his breeches and
his dark brown hair tied back with a black ribbon, a rebellious lock
blowing gently across his forehead.  Lucinda looked into his
sardonically smiling dark eyes.

"So--fate has decreed that we meet again," he said, abandoning his idle
stance and coming to stand before her, bowing politely but without
taking his bold appreciative eyes off her and smiling broadly.  "It is
a great pleasure to see you once more--and--if I may say so--you are
more charming than ever."

"Please--save your flattery for someone else.  I'm not interested--and
nor do I believe in fate, sir," Lucinda replied tartly.

Laurence laughed outright at her reply.  "I see you are recovered from
your sprained ankle--if not your temper."

"Yes--thank you.  I am quite recovered--and my temper is as it always
is when I'm in such disagreeable company."

He nodded, chuckling softly, thinking how vibrant she looked with her
flashing eyes and flushed cheeks--with the heat of the day or anger he
knew not which, but strongly suspected it was the latter.

"I thought I recognised your maid but for the very life of me I could
not remember where I had seen her before--but now I do remember," he
said, meeting her cool gaze.  His eyes appraised her, but not in the
way men's eyes usually appraised her.  This man's eyes saw inside her,
piercing through her clothes, seeking to find something other than was
obvious.

"So--you are a party to this.  While you were trying so hard to
remember who she was, did it not occur to you to rescue her from her
predicament?"

"It seemed to me that the young lady was more than capable of taking
care of herself."

"Then you were mistaken," Lucinda retorted, finding the faint twinkle
of laughter in the depths of his dark eyes infuriating.  "Surely you
could not fail to see--as I did myself--that when faced with a crowd of
drunken oafs any woman is quite defenceless.  I took you for a
gentleman, sir, and would have assumed that she would be free from
assault with such as yourself looking on.

"However," she said, squaring her chin and lifting her head imperiously
and throwing back her hair, which caught the golden light of the sun,
'when I remember our meeting prior to this--and the young lady who was
with you then, obviously in some distress, and of your lack of
consideration--then I should have known better than to expect it of
you.  "

For a second her words caused Laurence's lean face to darken and his
mouth to tighten, but he was momentarily distracted from her accusing
words by a soft breeze which blew a silken strand of her hair 'across
her face which became caught on her moist lips.  He watched as she
lifted up a hand and brushed it absently away.  Good Lord, he thought,
feeling a burning sensation deep in his loins, finding the gesture

4~

highly provocative in its simplicity, knowing she would be innocently
unaware of just how tantalising it was.  Admiration stirred inside him
for it was the first time in years that anyone hat dared accuse him of
unmannerly conduct.

"Then what can I say?"  he said with elaborat~ gravity.  "In the light
of your accusations I stanc rebuked.  It would seem that I have been
awa) from England with the army for so long that ] have forgotten how
to behave as a gentleman should.  I do promise to mend my ways."

"Whether you do or not has nothing whatsoever to do with me, sir," she
said, smarting beneath his narrowed gaze of cynical amusement "The
young woman I saw you with in York is fully recovered, I hope?"

"Perfectly.  As I said at the time--it was  nothing more than fatigue
after so long a journey.  After resting, she was fully recovered.  " "
Then I am glad to hear it.  "

Hearing the discourse between 'them a man, the one Lucinda had seen in
York on the landing at the inn, came to stand by his side.  His name
was William Fielding and he had faithfully served Laurence throughout
his military career, proving to be indispensable.  Reluctant to leave
his side, William had willingly come to Rainborough to continue to
serve him as his valet.  There was a slightly shocked expression in his
eyes, for evidently the young lady had no idea to whom she was
speaking.

"My dear young lady," he said, 'the gentleman you are addressing
is--'

Lucinda cut the man dead with the glance of a cobra.  "I am all too
well aware of what the gentleman is," she said acidly.

William would have said more but, with his eyes gleaming wickedly,
Laurence.  put a restraining hand on his arm at which he stepped back

Still protectively holding, Nancy's.  wrist, Lucinda turned from them.
"Come~along, Nancy, It is high time we were getting back.  I think you
have provided enough entertainment for these gentlemen for one
day--whoever they may be."

"Tell me," said Laurence, reluctant to see her go', 'did you receive
the flowers I sent you by way of an apology for my recklessness that
day in York--and to cheer you?  "

Lucinda halted in her tracks and turned in sudden confusion, her cheeks
flushed at the memory.  She was conscious of a sudden-feeling of
embarrassment for she recalled how flattered she had been to know that
he had still been thinking of her when he'd ridden off.  When their
visit to York had been cut short because of her sprained ankle, she had
taken the flowers back with her to Burntwood Hall, changing the water
in their vase regularly in order to maintain their freshness, and was
sad when they ha, wilted and died--but she would rather die that: let
him know this,

"Yes--thank you--but there was really n~ need.  I--I was not sure who
sent them.  There was no note--no way of knowing, you see."

Laurence eyed her questioningly.  "So--from what you say you imply that
there was someon~ else whom you thought might have sent them An
admirer, perhaps?"

"I never said that," Lucinda replied coolly disliking his easy manner
and steady gaze whic!  perturbed her.  Her temper began to rise again~
at his audacity.  "But if that was the case then i is entirely my own
affair."

"And doubtless he is more of a gentlemaJ than I," Laurence remarked
with irony, his eye narrowed with a hint of mockery in their dan
depths.

"From my observations where you are concerned sir, it would be
difficult for him to be less.  Whatever you may say--and whoever yot
may be--the proprieties required of a tru~ gentleman do not seem to be
your strong point.  Lucinda said hotly, turning from him one, again,
eager to be on her way.

"What?  Not even if I told you that I was the Earl of Rainborough
himself?"  Laurenc~

laughed with a hint of truth but also in jest, not in the least
offended by her heated remark.

"Ha!"  scoffed Lucinda, tossing her head in disbelief and striding off
across the grass.  "If that is so, then I am the Queen of England. From
what I have been told of the Earl of Rainborough he is a gentleman of
the highest order.  I am sure the two of you are worlds apart," she
threw back at him over her shoulder.

The two men watched them go with an expression of stunned admiration on
their faces.

"Whew," said William.  "That is some lady.  If I am not mistaken--isn't
she the young woman you encountered in York?"

"Aye--the very same."

"Then she must be from these parts.  She's spirited enough--that'.s
plain.  Wonder who she is?"

"I've no idea, William;' Laurence murmured, for the young lady was
clearly no milk sop of a miss and he felt a rush of envy for the man
whose task it would be to tame her: " If I were not on the brink of
becoming betrothed to Miss Henrietta Howard, then i'd sure as hell find
out.  "

CHAPTER THREE

HAYING left the noise of the fair behind, it was late afternoon when
Laurence paused beneath the leafy branches of a giant ash and gazed
around at his inheritance.  From his vantage point the landscape that
unfolded before him was mellow and peaceful, the stretches of open
moorland to the east broken here and there by clumps of trees and a
string of ponds curving along the bottom of a valley.

He looked to the north where the hills ~:ose skyward, their slopes
clothed with trees, and further still to the wildness and solitude
breathing from the high bare fells where the air was pure.  In winter
the heavy snow falls turned the land into a white wilderness, which had
cost many a man his life, but on summer days it became paradise on
earth.

At the bottom of the hill on which he stood he saw the loop of the
river where he had once fished and swam as a boy with Rupert.  He
allowed his gaze to follow its course, like a long sinuous artery
threading through and feeding the land, its flow broken by small
islands fringed by weeds between steep banks.  Here the water 51

was blue, reflecting the sky, but further on it would become grey from
the shadow of the castle walls.

He looked back in the direction of Rainborough town, the view around
the outlying hamlets one of small fields where moorland had been
cleared away, coarse with stubble now the reapers had done their work.
His eyes drank their fill, seeming to sooth the ache inside him that
the wrench from his regiment had left.

He sighed, letting his mind go back to his years in Spain.  After the
Battle'of Blenheim, which had been a resounding victory for the Duke of
Marlborough--an event which had saved central Europe from domination by
France--in 1705 he had gone' to Spain, where the War of the Spanish
SuccessIon: had been taking place for.  three years.

On the death of Carlo II of Spain in 1700, Louis XIV of France had
installed a French Bourbon, his grandson, Philip of Anjou, on the
Spanish throne.  The Spanish had accepted Philip, believing that Spain
would be better served by a Bourbon monarch who could count on Louis
XIV's support against the main trading nations of Europe and the
Colonies.  By so doing, Spain was no longer master of her own destiny
and had become a theatre of war.

Although Louis XIV had assured Britain that the Crowns of Spain and
France would remain separate and that he wished to avoid war, he had
sent French troops into the Spanish Netherlands and seized the frontier
fortresses, thus threatening Holland's independence.  Conflict had
become inevitable and England, Holland and Austria had banded together,
unable to countenance a Franco-Spanish alliance which would enable
France to dominate Europe and the Straits of Gibraltar from Spanish
ports like Cadiz and Malaga, which would strangle British and Dutch
trade with the Levant.

Laurence went out at a time when Gibraltar had been taken by the
English and Dutch fleet, and when the Habsburg claimant to the Spanish
throne, King Charles III, had arrived in Spain.  Laurence had been
based at the garrison at Gibraltar to help defend the rock from the
Spanish counter-offensive on land, and had also spent his energies
attacking trading towns and trying to deliver Spain from the French on
behalf of their rightful King, Charles III.

With a deep feeling of regret he directed his gaze towards Rainborough
Castle, his eyes travelling across the low meadowland, now clothed in
king cups and giant moon pennies, which the river always flooded after
heavy rain.  Followed by William he began to ride down the hill,
entering the castle grounds through a castellated gateway and riding up
a long sweeping

drive beneath the shade of giant elms which flanked him on either
side.

Rainborough Castle, built in the thirteenth century, was less of a
castle and more of a fortified manor house.  Although outwardly
defensive with its sturdy walls, sufficient to protect its inhabitants
from marauding bands in the past, it could never have withstood a
sustained attack.  " Laurence's ancestors, who 'had been granted the
lands and ca~.~. of Rainborougl~~ during the reign of '~Qu.een
Elizabeth, had made great changes to thews tie over the years,
combinings strength fort, seeing to it that it contained all the
~reqairements for grand: and graceful living.  Only in recent years had
it been allowed to fall into decay

When the castle rose before him, its windows lit up like a wall of
flame, as the lateafternoon sun caught the many panes, Laurence paused,
his mood somewhat despondent and thoughtful, for he was painfully aware
of the coufitless tasks waiting to be done.  in order to lest ore the
building to its former glory: Since his return he had discovered the
full extent of Rainborough's neglect and that Mr.  Sharol had been
correct when he had said a great deal of money was needed to put things
right.  Out of an army of servants once employed at the castle only a
few remained, which included the housekeeper and

5.

her husband, prepared to work for very littl~ out of loyalty to the
Dwyers.

Elevated to authority in the army, Laurenc~ was already accustomed to
people coming t~ him for advice, and as soon as word got arounc the
district of his arrival he was inundated wit callers--mainly wanting
remuneration fe unpaid debts.  With his bailiff he rode the lengt and
breadth of the estate, inspecting everythin with a keen eye.  Nothing
escaped his notice He visited disgruntled tenant farmers, whos, roofs
needed repairing, whose barns were tumbling down and who pointed out
that the bridges across the river were barely safe t~ cross.

Signs of disrepair were to be seen all owe Rainborough; when Laurence
had first seen the extent of the neglect for himself, the price he
would have to pay to dear the debts and rest or the estate weighed
heavily upon him.  H sighed, sorely tempted to pursue the delightft
young woman he had met in York and the: again today at the fair, but
common sense an~ hard-headed realism came to the fore, fe unless he
sold Rainborough then there was urgent need for a wife--a rich wife. 
For bette or worse, this was his home and he must accel: the conditions
as they were, yet, being the kin of man he was, he vowed to return it
to i~

former state.  He turned to William, a determined set to his face.

"I would like you to send word to Burntwood Hall, William.  Inform Sir
Thomas that I shall be calling on him at a time which is convenient.  I
think it is high time I became better acquainted with his daughter."

The impending visit of the Earl of Rainborough to Burntwood Hall
plunged the whole household into a turmoil.  Celia considered what
would be appropriate for both girls to wear for such an important
visitor while Henrietta flew into a state of panic; to her the
unthinkable was about to happen.  In desperation, she made an emotional
appeal to her father, begging him to allow her to marry Hal Ingram.

Thomas Howard was not normally a hard man but he was decisive in all:
things aloof and authoritarian.  He lived by an uncompromising code of
rigid moral principles and there was absolutely no way he would allow
his daughter to marry a man belonging to a family with such a dissolute
reputation.

Because he was always busy with plantation matters on Barbados,
Hearietta and Lucinda were not very well acquainted with their father
when they were growing up.  He was fond of them but had been happy to
leave their upbringing to their mother.  Only when she had died had he
begun to take a serious interest in their welfare.  In this matter of
Henrietta's future he remained steadfast, telling her that what one
wanted and what one might have were not always the same thing, and that
if the Earl of Rainborough was agreeable to the match, then she would
marry him and be happy.  It was his wish and he would not be denied
this.

After courageously telling her father that she would not marry the Earl
on any account, Henrietta hadn't dared contradict him further.

Tearfully she had fled to her room, swearing to Lucinda- who had
listened to the angry inter'

change between them, fearful as to her own fate--that if he insisted on
forcing her into marriage with the fearsome Earl of Rainborough then
she would run away.

Believing this to be nothing more than the ravings of her lovesick
sister, that she would think more clearly after a good night's sleep,
Lucinda thought little of her outburst just then, but when the Earl: of
Rainborough finally arrived at Burntwood Hall she was soon to realise
that Henrietta had made no idle threat,~

The Earl was to arrive during the afternoon, but when it was almost
time Henrietta was nowhere to be found, She had gone out riding with a
groom earlier.  There was nothing unusual in this as both girls loved
to ride, but when Henrietta failed to return in time for the

Earl's visit panic set in and servants were dispatched with haste to
find her.

In an effort to calm everyone down, Lucinda tried assuring them that
she was certain to turn up before the appointed time and she proceeded
to prepare herself for the Earl's visit.  But when her aunt, in some
anxiety, came to tell her that the Earl had arrived and her father had
requested their presence downstairs, Henrietta had still not been
found~

Realising there was nothing to be done 'other than hope and pray she
would turn, up, in the meantime, in a state of apprehension, Lucinda
made her way down to the drawing-room where her father was waiting
with.  the Earl of Rainborough.  When she entered-her father came
towards her, his face darkening with deep displeasure when he saw she
was alone.  He knew of Henrietta's absence from the house but did not
believe she would be so discourteous as to deliberately go against his
wishes and shun such an important guest as the Earl of

Laurence was standing in front of a large sofa with his back to
Lucinda, studying with interest a portrait of her mother which hung
above the fireplace.  He felt Lucinda's presence in the room before he
turned, having an odd, prickly feeling on the back of his neck.  The
sensation was so strong that he turned slowly and saw her.

Her stillness was like a positive force and there was something about
her, something vital, and she held his attention across the room by the
perfect picture she made, a lovely silhouette dressed in ,a modest gown
of the deepest blue.  He stared at her in astonished recognition,
instantly remembering their previous, somewhat turbulent meetings, and
he was unable to believe his good fortune--that this beautiful creature
must~ be Sir Thomas's younger daughter.

Lucinda froze when she suddenly found herself staring into the Earl's
face.  With a shock that drew the breath from her lungs; she saw it was
none other than the man she had met at the fair and, prior to that, in
York--handsome, tall and lean, and unlike the other occasions when
they'd met and his attire had been casual, today.  it was more formal.
He was wearing a dark grey frock coat and knee breeches, his white silk
waistcoat was delicately embroidered and a jabot spilled fine lace from
his throat.  Lucinda thought he looked more like a prince than an earl
and he was even more handsome than she remembered, As she stared at him
openly he regarded her with some amusement.

"May I present my daughter, Lucinda, Lord

Rainborough.  Lucinda, this is the Earl of Rainborough.  "

Quickly Laurence crossed over to her, bowing his head slightly but
without taking his eyes from hers.  There was a cool recklessness about
his swarthy intelligent face and an imperceptible smile played on his
lips--for he was clearly enjoying her obvious surprise and discomfiture
at finding out he was the Earl of Rainborough-after all.  Sir Thomas,
momentarily distracted by Celia entering the room, moved towards her to
enquire about Henrietta, leaving the two of them alone.

"So--it is you again!"  gasped Lucinda.

"It is.  This is indeed a pleasant--and if I may say so--unexpected
surprise," he replied quietly, his voice deep.

"F-forgive me if I seem startled," Lucinda stammered, but your presence
here today has taken me wholly by surprise.  Why--why did you not tell
me who you were?  "

"If I remember correctly, I did tell you.  But--as I also remember--you
did not believe me at the time.  Is that not so?"

Lucinda flushed, remembering those awful things she had said to ~him,
remembering, despite their contentious encounters, that as she had
walked away from him that day, all she had wanted was to see him again
and to talk to him.  And now here he was, and the irony of it was that
if her father had his way then he was about to oecome betrothed to her
sister.  She suddenly felt as if the whole world had been turned upside
down,

"Tell me, are you always so disagreeable?"  he asked with a wicked,
secretive twinkle dancing in his dark eyes flecked with green.

"Some might say so."

"Then I hope you are not going to be difficult today."

"Usually I'm impossible," ~ she smiled, unable to resist the
mischievous note in his voice.  "But not today.  Today I promise to be
on my best behaviour."  ~ .  ~' "Then I am relieved to hear it" he
murmured.

"You know my daughter?"  asked Sir Thomils, coming back to them.

"We met briefly at Rainborough fair but were not introducedi' explained
Laurence.  " I feel I must compliment you, Sir Thomas.  You have two
charming daughters, Where is your other daughter--Henrietta?  The young
lady!  met in London'the one we spoke of?  "

"Lucinda--where is Henrietta?"  her father asked, At the tight
stricture of~ her face he nodded slightly, understanding fully that she
had not as yet returned.  But this he could not divulge to the Earl,
"Still getting ready, I don't doubt.  The time these young ladies take
over their toilet beggars belief," he said to Laurence,

THE RAIN BOROUGH INHERITANC

laughing softly as he tried to make light of the situation, but the
tension inside him was evident to Lucinda.

"My sister went riding earlier and was late back, my lord," Lucinda
explained, finding it odd and strangely irritating at having to address
him as such, though it was correct, and hating having to make excuses
for Henrietta, but there was nothing else for it that she could see. "I
daresay she will join us shortly."

"Pray, do come and sit down, Lord Rainborough," said Sir Thomas.  ~Have
refreshments brought in, will you, Celia?  " he said to his cousin,
hovering in the open doorway.

Although Sir Thomas's thick dark hair was now sparse and liberally
streaked with grey and his once solid constitution, having lost its
robustness, was now thin and hunched, in his black frock coat and
polished black silver-buckled shoes and white silk stockings, he looked
every inch the gentleman he was.

Lucinda took a seat opposite.  their guest.  She was looking at him,
fully alert, and her spine was straight, not even touching the back of
her high-backed chair, graceful, registering everything that was said
between her father and himself while her Aunt Celia presided over the
tea things, an expensive beverage which her aunt had long since
acquired a fondness for.  Despite the ravages of the years and her ill
health, which was a constant worry to them all, Celia was still tall
and slim, looking regal in black silk.  The Earl sat with one long lean
black-booted leg crossed over the other, talking easily to Sir Thomas,
but as he talked Lucinda was aware that he studied her absently.

The conversation was mostly about Rainborough and local matters, of
anecdotes about acquaintances which were amusing and made both men
laugh.  They discussed politics--from the weary series of military
campaigns still going on in Europe, bringing no visible prospect of
peace, to (~ueen Anne's personal distaste for her ministers and
estrangement from the Duchess: of Marl borough Their conversation
somehow turned to Barbados and how things differed from life in
England.  At any other time Luc'lnda would have enjoyed imbibing such
casual talk, especially on a subject so dear to her heart--she did so
love hearing her father laugh and talk of his experiences as a
plantation owner on Barbados--but today~ she was anxious, too nervous
about what Henrietta was doing to concentrate on anything save how to
prevent her tea from spilling into her lap and how to overcome the
shock it had been on finding out who the Earl was.

The hands of the clock on the mantelpiece were creeping on and as time
went by she felt her tension increase.  Oh--where was

Henrietta?  Why was she not here to welcome the Earl?  Had she indeed
run off with Hal Ingram?  After all, she had implied that she might.
She told herself not to be absurd, but once the random thought had
entered her mind it gathered momentum and when she still did not appear
she began to think there was some truth in the suspicion.

She glanced towards the door and then at her father, feeling a stirring
of admiration for him; despite his displeasure over Henrietta's
disobedience his dignity, as always, showed through,

Celia was momentarily called out of the room ~by one of the maids~ when
she returned her face was composed but as white as chalk.  "What is it,
Celia?"  enquired Sir Thomas.  Quickly she crossed to where he sat and
handed him a note before going to stand by the window and looking out.
Scanning the words on the piece of.  paper Sir Thomas's face tightened
and he clenched his hand that held the note, finding what he read both
disturbing and intolerable.

"It seems my daughter will not be joining us after all.  What can I
say, Lord Rainborough, other than offer my deepest apologies?  It
appears she was taken ill whilst out riding and has retired to her
room.  She begs to be forgiven and sends her heartfelt apologies."

Lucinda saw the Earl's lips tighten and a small frown made a furrow
over the bridge of his nose, but then he smiled, cool and composed,
knowing full well that for some reason her father was lying, that
beneath the apparent calm of the room there was a tension that could be
cut with a knife.  But he was too much of a gentleman to mention it.

"Then what can I say other than I shall pray for her recovery.  Please
convey to her my good wishes."  He stood up suddenly.  "If you will
forgive me I think it is time I left.  I,would have come to Burntwood
Hall sooner but since coming to Rainborough there has been a multitude
of things to do--and besides, I did not wish to impose myself on you
uninvited."

"You would have been more than welcome had you done so," replied Sir
Thomas.

Lucinda rose but did not accompany her father, who escorted the Earl to
the door.

"I would like to repay your hospitality, Sir Thomas.  You must visit me
at Rainborough Castle and bring your daughter with you when she is
recovered."  Laurence turned, expecting to find Lucinda beside her
father, but when he saw she was still standing by her chair he retraced
his steps across the carpet and stood looking down at her.

"Goodbye, Miss Howard.  It has been a pleasure meeting you again."

"Goodbye, my lord.  I can only apologise for my rudeness on our
previous meetings.  Had I known who you were--' ~

"What?"  he interrupted sharply.  "You would not have accused me of
being unmannerly?  Because I am an earl--which, I might add, I am still
trying to come to terms with myself--does not mean you should not speak
the truth."

"Nevertheless, I should not have been so outspoken."

"But you would have thought it all the same--and been correct in doing
so.  I believe in people speaking their minds, Miss Howard, and it may
surprise you to know that I quite agree with you.  My behaviour was
unmannerly--and--like I said--I do promise to mend my ways.  To make
amends please allow me to invite you to Rainborough Castle along with
your father and sister."

"That is indeed kind of you, but there is no need for that," Lucinda
replied with a meaningful look.  "I am sure you would rather be alone
with my sister."

He frowned, studying her with those strongly arched eyebrows slightly~
raised His gaze was penetrating and Lucinda was beginning to feel
uncomfortable beneath it.

"So--you are still angry with me."

"No.  Of course not."

"Then come.  It will be a chance for us to get to know each other
better."

Lucinda met his eyes burning down into hers.  "But I don't think I want
to get to know you better."

"Why?"  he said softly, for her ears alone, not in the least
discouraged, for her reply did not surprise him in the least.  "Are you
afraid you might get to like me'?."

"Why should'I be?"  she replied, beginning to feel uneasy.  "Whether or
not I like you is not an issue-- and I am not afraid of anyone. Perhaps
the soldiers under your command might be afraid of you but I certainly
am not in that category."

He smiled, l a half-mocking, secretive smile.  "I do not mean it in
that sense and I believe you know it.  Goodbye, Miss Howard.  I look
forward to seeing you at Rainborough Castle."

With a faint smile curving his lips, Laurence turned from her and
crossed once more to where her father was waiting by the door.  Lucinda
watched them leave, deeply disturbed by his visit.  She had not known
many men in her life and the ones she had had been essentially gentle,
but this man was different.  He was arrogant and she had never liked
~arrogant men.  He was a man of power and used to obedience from those
about him.

Henrietta had been correct when she had said he was excessively male
and formidable.  He was also sensual and, by the way he regarded her,
Lucinda knew he was very much aware of her as a woman, which set her
body tingling.  She found him an attractive man and he was aware of
this also.  There was no doubt in her mind that she was disturbed by
him. He made her feel uneasy and yet at the same time stimulated and
excited.

If he were not a potential candidate for her sister's hand, then she
would have said that he was set on a course of seduction where she was
concerned, but she had no intention of falling victim to a philanderer.
No wonder Henrietta, with her timid nature, was terrified of him.  Her
own common sense told her to think dispassionately about the Earl of
Rainborough--especially if Henrietta was to marry him.

Lucinda's father returned to the room, his face grey and his eyes
deeply troubled.

"What was the note, Father?  What did it say?"

"It was from your sister.  One of the servants found it on her
dressing-table addressed to me.  It seems she has done as she said and
run off with Hal Ingram.  She must be brought back before her escapade
is the talk of Rainborough and her reputation in ruins."  He sighed,
looking closely at Lucinda.  "Lord Rainborough seemed much taken with
you, Lucinda.  I did not realise you two had already met."

"Well--as he said, our encounter was brief and not worth mentioning. We
were not aware of each other's identity at the time."  She lowered her
gaze, finding herself flushing beneath her father's searching gaze.
Excusing herself quickly she left the room and only then did her father
realise that he might have offered the wrong daughter in marriage to
the Earl of Rainborough.

Laurence' rode back to Rainborough Castle deep in thought.  Whatever it
was that had prevented ~Henrietta from meeting him that afternoon, : he
doubted very much that it had anything to do with ill health.  When he
had first met her in London he had admired her refine, merit of
character, her charm and sensibility; in fact, there was nothing about
her with which he could find fault, and he could not deny that he had
been tempted by her father's proposition that she become his wife.  ~

But since he had arrived at Rainborough, he had kept his eyes and-ears
open and there was not much that escaped his notice--especially not
when Henrietta's name was being linked by the gossips to that of Hal
Ingram from Carthwait.  Not for one moment had he thought that she
would reject him for some other--or that he would be untroubled by
it.

After making the acquaintance of her sister,

he had come to desire Lucinda more.  He had known that first moment he
had set eyes on her in York that she was different from any other and,
when she had walked into the room that afternoon, that his destiny was
'fixed.

Whatever Henrietta's reason for not being present that afternoon it did
not bother him in the slightest, for to him Lucinda was pure
perfection.  He had experienced many liesohs with the fair sex but none
of any significance.

Lucinda had: everything that was lacking in her sister-- while
Henrietta was timid and quiet, Lucinda was forthright and voluble.  Not
only did she possess beauty, a wonderful mane of fair hair and soft
violet eyes in which a man could lose all reason, but also a quick
brain.  She said what she thought, and, he suspected, at times spoke
the truth with an alarming disregard for whether the truth was
acceptable to her audience or not.

To him she was lovely and fascinating.  The unique qualities of her
spirit and beauty appealed to him in a way no others ever had~
promising a love beyond all his comprehension.  As he rode away from
Burntwood Hall, deep in thought for a man usually accustomed to the
satisfaction of all his.  needs, he had already made up his mind to
possess her.

CHAPTER FOUR

HENRIETTA had indeed taken flight from Burntwood Hall and the Earl of
Rainborough.  and after his departure Lucinda soon became aware of~ the
circumstances.  It seemet~ Henrietta, regardless of the hurt and pain
this would cause her father, had gone to Hal Ingram, pleading with him
to take: her away ant marry her before the formidable earl could be
foisted on her.  ~Though it smote his heart to dc so, Hal had
immediately returned her to hell father's fury,~ realising that to run
off and gel married in the heat of the moment would harm their cause
and endear him even less to Sil Thomas.

Angered by his daughter's behaviour, on her return to Burntwood Hall
Sir.  Thomas hac ordered her to her room directly and, loath he was to
do so, had thanked Hal Ingram fol refusing to pander to his daughter's
wishes.  He was grateful to him for refusing to marry without his
consent, even though, Henrietta was of age.  Reluctantly, Sir Thomas
found himself warming to this somewhat reserved young man, who bore
little resemblance to his brothers, and he began to wonder if he might
have misjudged him after all.

However, Sir Thomas was deeply worried and in a quandary as to what was
to be done with his eldest daughter, who was presenting him with a
wilful, stubborn side to her nature he hadn't known she possessed.
Celia watched what was happening with a keen eye.  Something must be
done, that was for sure, and she sought to offer a solution to the
unhappy affair, enlisting the aid of Lucinda, who was also sympathetic
towards her sister's situation.

Tactfully, Celia broached' ~the subject of Henrietta after dinner on
the same day as the Earl's visit, when a team Henrietta was still in
her room.  Lucinda noticed how her sat hunched over his plate
throughout the meal, with little interest for the food it held, He had
said little since the Earl's departure as sought a solution to what
seemed to him to be a terrible dilemma, for nothing was turning out as
he had planned.

"Forgive me, Thomas, if I speak out," said Celia softly, unable to
remain silent any on the subject.  "I'm sure you know what is for your
daughter--bin the way I see it: Henrietta should not be forced into a
marriage she does not want.  Oh, I know you have best interests at
heart--that the last thing want is to see her unhappy."

Sir Thomas raised his head and looked across the table at his cousin.
"What are you saying, Celia?"

"Let her have her way and marry Hal Ingram if that is what she wants,"
she suggested gently.  "You know how fond she is of him--and he is a
personable enough young man--not in the least like those incorrigible
brothers of his--and his manners and behaviour cannot be faulted."  She
sighed deeply.  "What's going to happen to this place when we're both
gone, Thomas?  Think of it.  It saddens me when I think that strangers
will come and live here.  Why, there have been Howards living at
Burntwood Hall for almost as long as Dwyers have been at Rainborough
Castle."

She sat back in her chair with a determined expression on her aged
face, resolved that the decision she had made was the right one and
would benefit them all.

"As you are aware, Thomas, when your father left England all those
years ago for Barbados, his actions angered his father to such an
extent that he cut off any claim he and his heirs might have to the
estate.  But now, seeing as the Howard estate belongs to me to dispose
of as I think fit, then should you consent to Henrietta marrying Hal
Ingram I shall bequeath it to them--making a settlement on Lucinda,
also--although," she said, looking across at Lucinda,

'you, my dear, I expect will make a prestigious marriage of your own.

"Being the youngest of four sons, Hal will have little to come from his
family, but from what I have seen of the Ingrams' land and the splendid
way Hal has worked it--no doubt providing the money which enables his
brothers and father to enjoy themselves so--then he has more than
proved his worth.  I feel sure that I would be leaving everything in
good hands~'

Sir Thomas sat and listened to her, realising there may be some sense
in what she was saying.

"If you're thinking of Lord Rainborough, Thomas, and the size of
Henrietta's dowry she will take with her into marriage With any man,
then I must tell you that Rainborough isn't the only estate that is
suffering from neglect.  Our own could do with some capital injecting
into it.  Come--what do you say?"

Lucinda rose from the table and went to her father, kneeling down
beside his chair and taking his hand.  Suddenly he looked very tired
and so old.  It had not escaped her notice that he had been coughing
more than usual of late, and it sounded much worse.  It tugged at her
heart to see him like this.  After a moment, a sad smile touched his
lips and he sighed.

"Listen to Aunt Celia, Father," she said gently.  "It does make
sense."

He sighed deeply, looking down into her upturned face.  "Dreams," he
murmured.  "Dreams.  When your mother died I realised how wonderfully
blessed I was to have two such beautiful daughters.  I had such dreams,
such high hopes for both of you.  But that was not enough.  What use
are dreams without you have the time and will to carry them through?
When I die, Lucinda, you and Henrietta will become extremely wealthy
young ladies--a catch indeed for any fortune hunter.  It is my
intention to save you from that.

J'My fortune 'has been acquired through ability and sheer hard work.  I
am determined not to let one penny piece go to a man whose first
instinct will be to squander it' on any form of gaming.  I will only
entrust you to men who will be worthy of you, who will take care of you
and will be answerable for your future.  Let it be understood' that the
reputation of the Ingrams' gives me cause to worry.  "

"I know that, Father, but Hal is different from his brothers."

"Yes--you may be right.  Perhaps I have done the young man an
injustice, judging him on the reputation of his family.  He did bring
Henrietta back today, refusing to do as she asked and marry her without
my consent.  He does have that to his credit."

He looked at Lucinda with such sad; resigned eyes that it tore at her
heart.

"I will talk to Henrietta.  If she is set on marrying Hal Ingram then
so be it--and--who knows--he might make her a good husband.  It will
also be a good thing to keep Burntwood Hall and the estate in the
family."  He sighed deeply as he continued to look down at Lucinda. "It
may be too late to arrange a prestigious marriage for your sister but
there is still you, Lucinda.  I will give my mind over to that."

Still kneeling beside his chair Lucinda stared at him and the decisive
tone of his voice caused all the colour to drain out of her face.
Before she had time to ask him what he meant he began coughing
violently, which caused Celia to cross over to him in alarm.  Slowly
Lucinda rose to her feet, and only when his fit of coughing had
subsided did she move away and leave them alone.  As she climbed the
stairs to her room, it was with a definite feeling of unease.

Lucinda's unease continued into the next day, for she felt the full
weight of her father's words.  What had he in mind?  Was he to find a
husband for her in the same way as he had tried for

Henrietta?  She became fearful and apprehensive.  Marriage was
something she hadn't given much thought to, feeling she wouldn't have
to consider this unpleasant situation until after Henrietta was
married.

But her father's health was deteriorating by the day and she envisaged
the man he chose not being agreeable to her--she had the sense to know
that should this be the case, and if she objected as emotionally and
stubbornly as Henrietta had done, then it could only hasten his demise.
This she could not bear to think of.  But one disturbing possibility
occurred to her: supposing her father had a mind for her to marry the
Earl of Rainborough instead of Henrietta?  What would she do then? What
could she do?

It was to escape these troubled thoughts that the following day she
rode into Rainborough upon an errand for her aunt, riding side saddle
on a spirited chestnut mare escorted by one of the grooms.  She wore a
pale green riding habit adorned with a deeper green braid and a
fetching hat to match sat on her glossy curls.

Reluctant to return home after leaving Rainborough, and thinking her'
horse could do with a gallop, she set off in the direction of the
woods.  The sun was hot as she followed a forest path, riding under the
luxuriant foliage of beeches and oaks, their dry leaves, some already
carpeting the path, tinted with autumnal yellow and gold.  Gaily she
galloped off, leaving her groom cantering easily behind.  Startled
birds, disturbed by the pounding of her horse's hooves, took flight,
fluttering and screeching into the sky.

She bent low over her horse's neck, revelling in the sudden coolness
and the soft wind on her face, riding deeper into the forest, unaware
that she had strayed further than usual until her surroundings ceased
to be familiar.  Suddenly the density of the trees brought a bitter
chill to this twilight world.

From somewhere within the forest she heard the deep, throaty barking of
dogs which she ignored until she heard them coming nearer.  She began
to feel uneasy, about to turn back when suddenly they burst out of the
undergrowth like demons from hell, yapping and snarling, terrifying her
poor mare so much that she bolted, carrying Lucinda, clinging on for
dear life, deeper still into the forest, the dogs close on her horse's
heels.

She was aware of someone following by the pounding of hooves behind
her, of someone calling to the dogs.  Suddenly her horse stumbled over
a raised tree root and she was thrown from the saddle.  Landing
heavily, she was momentarily stunned by the impact of her fall onto the
hard ground.  When she opened her eyes her heart almost ceased to beat
for she could only stare in horror as four huge ferocious hounds
approached slowly, looking extremely dangerous.  With their fangs bared
they snarled, the biggest one edging forward, its hackles raised.

Holding her breath, Lucinda stared at them, paralyzed with fear.
Terrified they would pounce and tear her limb from limb, knowing she
must keep still, she prayed their master would come and call them off.
As if in answer to her prayer suddenly a home and rider came thundering
through the trees, the man leaping from the saddle and hurrying towards
her.

"Stay," he roared at the dogs, but Lucinda barely heard the command
over the wild pounding of her heart.

Immediately the dogs obeyed.  They yelped and whimpered and sat back on
their haunches, amazingly looking as harmless and innocent as a moment
before they had looked like snarling monsters.

Lucinda closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the ground,
breathing a deep sigh of reliefi The man approached and knelt beside
her and when she opened her eyes it was to see the anxious face of the
Earl of Rainborough bending over her.

"Are you all right?"  he demanded.

THE RA!  "NBOROUGH INHERITANCE

"I--I don't know.  The--the dogs--'

"Don't worry.  They'll not harm you."

"A moment ago I believed they would kill me.  I might have known they
would belong to you," she said crossly.  "Do you not have any control
over them?"

"To me they are faithful and obedient.  The only people they usually
encounter in these woods are trespassers--not often as charming as
yourself, of course," he said in a. low voice and with a mischievous
look in his dark eyes, 'and poachers.  "

"Then the poachers have.  my heartfelt sympathy if they find themselves
confronted by such monsters," she retorted.  "Do.  you usually turn
them loose like that?"

"Yes, You are forgetting that these are my woods.  I am permitted to
exercise my dogs as I see fit on my own land and, Howard," he said with
mock had not been trespassing, then you would not have been set upon.
"

"Another minute and I dare say I would have been their dinner."

"They just snarl and look intimidating to scare unwanted guests off my
land."  He smiled faintly, his eyes narrowing.  "You do seem to have a
genius for falling at my feet, Miss Howard.  What am I to think?"

"Think what you like--only please make those dogs stop looking at me as
if I were their next meal."

Laurence clapped his hands and the hour retreated several yards away.
From where.  " lay Lucinda saw that on account of the he above his
tight, fawn-coloured breeches a knee-length boots, he was wearing only
a white linen shirt, open at the neck, will revealed his strongly
muscled throat.-Feeli disturbed and somewhat embarrassed by t~ suddenly
she made a movement to get up, t his brown hand on her shoulder pressed
I' firmly back onto the ground.

"Wait--don't get up.  Are you anywhere?"

"No--I--I don't think so."

She winced as she moved her head a Laurence noticed there was blood on
[ bonnet.

"Here--let me see," he said, gently placing 1 fingers firmly on either
side of her chin a turning her face to one side.  Careful to be any
alarm out of his voice, he undid the sa, ribbons and removed her
bonnet.

"What is it?  Is anything the matter?"

"It looks as if you've grazed the skin on t side of your face.  Does it
hurt?"

"No.  It's a little sore--that's all."

"Does your head ache?"

"I feel a little woozy--perhaps--but nothing more.  Please help me to
my feet."

Placing his hands beneath her arms Laurence helped her to stand, but
the effort caused her to sway against him.  She felt dazed and dizzy
with shock, with the ragged beating of her heart loud in her ears.
Laurence held her with some concern as she breathed deeply, closing her
eyes until it slowed to an even beat.  She tried to pull away but his
arms continued to hold her fast against.  him.  His face was close to
hers, making her all too aware of his nearness.

Her 'head reeled dizzily, mingling with other still more disturbing
sensations, not altogether unpleasant, and she wondered if it were from
the effects of the fall or suddenly finding herself in such close
proximity to him, for she was conscious of the hardness of his muscles
and of the masculine smell of his body--of leather and horses.

"I--I am so sorry," she said faintly, continuing to abandon herself to
his circling arms, for never had she been held in quite this way, with
such resolute strength or with such a sense of security.  "I am ashamed
to be so weak.  I have taken many a tumble b~ this was especially hard.
I shall be all right in a moment."

"Take as long as you like," he murmured with soft seduction, his lips
against her hair, his arms tightening in a way that left no doubt as to
the delight it gave him to hold her so close against him.  "For myself,
I am quite content to go on holding you for as long as it is
necessary."

His words and the tone of his voice caused Lucinda instinctively to
come to her senses and, breaking the spell, she disentangled herself
from his arms and faced him.  Drawn by the depths of her lovely violet
eyes and the freshness of her soft lips, parted to reveal her moist,
even teeth, noticing a little pulse beating madly beneath the whiteness
of her skin in the rounded column of her throat, Laurence had to master
a passion almost beyond his control not to draw her back into his
arms.

Lucinda caught the passion in his dark eyes as they fastened on her
lips, understanding all too well the innuendo behind his words.  What
she saw.  there was so obvious that she felt the colour rise in her
cheeks.  Because of her weakness, because her sudden attack of
dizziness had caught her off her guard, she had been defenceless.

"I am sure you would," she said coldly, trying to overcome her
weakness, 'but I must be getting back.  I have ridden further than I
intended.  I often ride into the woods--they are so beautiful--but I am
not very familiar with this part.  "

"Then you would have had difficulty finding your way back," he
reproached harshly.  "Surely

you were not fool enough to ride into these woods alone?  Don't you
know that it is the height of dangerous folly?  You could well have
been set upon by cutthroats.  "

"Not so fearsome to me as your pack of hounds," she snapped.  "Of
course I am not alone.  A groom is with me but I rod~ on ahead."

"Then it was reckless and irresponsible of him to let you out of
sight."

"Yes, I suppose it was," she said~ suddenly weary, turning to her
horse, she moved towards it.  Overcome by afresh wave of dizziness~ she
placed her head against its soft neck, holding onto the bridle.
Laurence went to her quickly, aware, of her distress beneath the ~1
facade she had tried to: present a moment before.  She turned, noticing
how extraordina~ tall and broad shouldered he' suddenly seemed as he
stood looking down at her, his eyes on her face, his expression grave
and serious.  ~

"Come--I will: take you to Rainborough Castle.  It isn't far and a good
deal closer than Burntwood Hall.  Mrs.  Foley; my housekeeper, will
clean your wound; After you have rested, I will send you home in my
carriage."

"No--please--I would rather go home," she said, her voice hesitant and
at the same time tremulous.

"I will not hear of it.  You will do as you're told and come with me,"
he commanded.  "I

cannot let you mount your own horse.  See--she is restive and
quivering.  The fall, and, I have to say, her fear of the hounds, have
unsettled her.  "

Lucinda did not resist as he scooped her up into his arms and placed
her on his magnificent black home, hoisting himself up behind her just
as a worried-looking groom emerged 'from the trees in search of
Lucinda.  Quickly Laurence told him what had occurred and that he was
taking her to Rainborough Castle, instructing him to return to
Burntwood Hall with her mount and explain what had happened, that Miss
Howard was shaken but unhurt and he would return her safely after she
had rested.

Followed by his hounds Laurence rode through the woods with his arms
about Lucinda to support her.

"We'll soon be there," he remarked, his lips close to her ear.  "As
soon as we leave the woods we'll be in the castle grounds.  Have you
been there--to the castle?"

"No.  I've never ventured further than the other side of the wood."

"Then it will give me pleasure showing it to you--such as it: is.  You
will see for yourself the neglect.  There is much to be done but it
will have to wait.  First I must take care of the tenant farmers who
depend on their farms for their livelihood.  Their needs are greater
than mine at this time."

The trees were thinning out.  As they rode into the glare of the
sunlight, ahead of them, sitting on the summit of a gentle rise, was
Rainborough Castle, the landscape being of undulating, uncultivated
fields before giving way to purple moorland, the river curling about it
on two sides like a lover's arm.  It looked enormous and so grand and
impressive, with flowering creepers and dark green ivy clinging in such
profusion to its ancient: walls that some of the leaded windows were
almost obscured from sight.

Just as Lucinda had been told, the grounds and castle, with its
surrounding wall ~tumbling down in places, were sorely in need of
attention.  But; strangely, in its neglected state she found a certain
charm, an endearing quality in its lost look, and she felt privileged
to have looked upon its beauty.  But suddenly she felt reluctant to
enter and could not say why.  Half-alarmed; she wished she had not
fallen in so readily Lord Rainborough's suggestion that she go
Rainborough Castle, for she felt a general comfort in going there.  ~

Sensing what she was thinking, Laurence pulled the horse to a halt.
"Please--don't

I know how forbidding it must appear to you.  "

"There I must contradict you.  Why--it's beautiful," Lucinda breathed,
almost forgetting his closeness.  "I've never seen anything like it:'

Laurence looked at her with a little smile, noting her parted lips and
shining eyes, happy that it had made a favourable impression on her.

"Iwish my cousin Rupert had thought so.  Maybe if he had it would not
be in such disrepair as it is now.  Sadly, he preferred the smoke of
London and the excitement of the gaming rooms to the peace and fresh
air of Rainborough."

As the horse resumed its walk, Lucinda hardly heard what he was saying
as she watched the castle coming nearer.  After crossing a hump-backed
stone' bridge over the gently flowing river, they 'rode beneath the
shade of the trees and through the gates, finally stopping at the
bottom of a wide stretch of stone steps leading up to two massive
studded oak doors.

Laurence jumped down and, reaching up, lifted Lucinda to the ground.
His warm strong grip disturbed her, making it more difficult to regard
him as a mere acquaintance, and now that she was on his territory, at
his home, she felt quite vulnerable.  As she met his eyes she felt a
sudden quickening inside her, which caused her to look away to where a
man had just emerged from the house.  It was William,

the Earl's valet, who came down the steps to meet them.

"Ah, William, allow me to introduce to you Miss Howard."

William greeted her politely with a smile of recognition.  "Ah, yes.  I
remember Miss Howard.  We met at the fair."  He looked at Laurence
sharply.  "Not Miss Henrietta Howard?"

"No.  This is her sister--Miss Lucinda Howard, William.  She's taken a
tumble from her horse and is slightly hurt.  I'll take her inside while
you go in search of Mrs.  Foley.  Ask her to come and attend to her,
will you?"

Inside the ancient impressive hall Lucinda looked around in wonder, at
the dark oak panelling, the walls hung with weapons and shields and,
above the massive fireplace, the Dwyer coat of arms.  As she stood
there she felt all the past closing in on her, and that Laurence Dwyer
was an important, essential part of it all--that without him all this
would surely crumble.

"Welcome to Rainborough Castle, Miss Howard.  It is without the pomp
and grandeur which existed during my ancestors' time, and the hordes of
servants employed to keep it going--but it's comfortable enough for the
time being.  Come into the drawing-room.  I'm sure Mrs.  Foley won't be
long."

"Mrs.  Foley?  She is your housekeeper?"

"She is, indeed.  Mrs.  Foley is the mainstay of Rainborough Castle and
has been the house, keeper for as long as anyone can remember--as her
mother was before that.  She rules like a matriarch and commands the
respect of servants and family alike.  As unruly, troublesome boys,
both Rupert and I were oft chastised by her, for like the servants we
were noL spared any infringement."

Inside the drawing-room, Lucinda gazed around at the gilt-framed
pictures and~ mirrors ado ming the walls, at the polished, ornately
carved furniture~ which had been in the: Dwyer family for generations,
at velvet draperies, at sofas and chairs, some beautifully upholstered,
some faded and worn with time but which could easily be renovated,

A small plump woman entered the room, carrying a tray on which were a
bowl of water, lint and a pot of salve with which to cleanse Lucinda's
wound.  She had bright grey-blue eyes and iron grey hair, drawn into a
tight bun beneath a white laced cap.  Her kindly face was wreathed in
smiles at the sight of Laurence.  It had been a sad day when the old
Earl had died, followed so closely by master Rupert.  But it had been a
happy one when master Laurence--always her favourite- had come to take
over, and she suspected that Rainborough was in for better times.  The
hopes and continuation of the Dwyers depended on him, and if anyone
could make a success of such an unenviable undertaking then he could.

"Miss Howard is from Barbados, Mrs.  Foley," explained Laurence when
they had been.  introduced and she had settled herself beside Lucinda,
beginning to tend her wound.

"Aye, that I know.  There's little one doesn't know in Rainborough,
especially when newcomers arrive.  How is your father, Miss Howard?  I
hear he hasn't been too well these past months."

"No: He--he doesn't enjoy the best of health, I'm sorry to say.
Although today is one of his better days."

"Then it's glad I am to hear it.  And Lady Celia?  How is she these
days?"

"Sadly, she also suffers from ill health--but she is not a complainer
and when you ask how she is feeling she always replies that she is
better today.  However--there are times when I know this is not so.
Lord Rainborough tells me that you have lived at the castle for a long
time, Mrs.  Foley?"

"Oh, aye, that I have.  I, was born here and no doubt I shall die here.
There's been members of my family at the castle in one way or another
almost as long as the Dwyers.  Is that not so, Master Laurence?"

Laurence laughed good humouredly.  That Mrs.  Foley continued to
address him as she had when he'd been a boy he found amusing and rather
touching, "It certainly is, Mrs.  Foley."

Lucinda saw that Mrs.  Foley enjoyed treating Lord Rainborough as she
had when he'd been a boy.  Observing him in this relaxed atmosphere,
she noticed that when he threw back his head and laughed at what Mrs.
Foley had said his face seemed much younger, less harsh and sardonic,
as it did when in repose.

"I remember your grandfather, Miss Howard.  A fine, handsome man he
was--and proud, too.  Oh--there was many a time he would come
here--with always a kind word for everyone.  I remember how he took off
for Barbados with his family all those years ago--and who could blame
him?  Better that, he said, than be ground down beneath the heel of
Cromwell's boot.  I was only a girl.  at the time but I remember it
well, That I do~ Now--how: did you come to fall off your horse like
that?"

Lucinda.  cast a reproachful glance in Laurence's direction.  He was
standing leaning lazily against an immense fireplace, one booted foot
resting on the hearthstone, watching as Mrs.  Foley gently cleansed the
Wound on her face.  A thick lock of hair fell rebelliously over his
forehead.  His gaze shifted to her eyes and, seeing her look of gentle
reproach, he arched his eyebrows with amusement and a smile curved his
mouth.

"I think his lordship is best qualified to answer that."

"I'm afraid that was all my fault," he admitted.  "The hounds startled
Miss Howard's horse, which caused it to bolt.  Unfortunately, Miss
Howard's horsemanship must be somewhat lacking otherwise she would not
have fallen off.  Do they not teach young ladies to ride properly on
Barbados, Miss Howard?"

Lucinda's eyes opened wide in amazement at his.  rudeness.  "Oh!"  she
exclaimed, "I resent that," but when she saw his crooked smile and how
his deep green-brown eyes danced then she realised he was jesting.  She
sighed and her lips broke into a smile.

"Why, there is no fault with my horsemanship, my lord--and the ladies
on Barbados ride as well as any English miss.  And, anyhow, as I
remember it my horse stumbled.  His lordship has a habit of making
accidents happen, Mrs.  Foley.  It is not my first encounter with his
reckless ways--is it my lord?  Why--the first time we met in York he
quite literally swept me off my feet--which resulted in a sprained
ankle that time.  I was not even mounted on a horse, either."

Laurence raised his eyebrows.  "Why do you smile?  I assure you it was
not deliberate."

"Deliberate or not--you did knock me over," she chastised.

Mrs.  Foley listened to their light banter with keen interest and
amusement, and if she did not already know that Master Laurence was to
make a proposal of marriage to Miss Henrietta Howard, this young lady's
sister, then she would have thought she was listening to a lighthearted
tiff between two lovers.

"Pay no attention to his lordship.  That's just like him," she said.
"He's acquired many peculiarities whilst battling with so many men of
different nationalities from all around the globe that he is lamentably
ignorant of the etiquette which should prevail while in the company of
a lady.  He's used to commanding a regiment--ordering what has to be
done and expecting his commands to be obeyed in an instant."

"Army life instils that kind of discipline into a man, Mrs.  Foley.  I
cannot change the habits of a lifetime."

"Habits or your manners, my lord?"  retorted Lucinda.

"You tell me, Miss Howard?"  he asked, his voice low, his eyes fastened
on hers.  "Is there hope, do you think, for a transformation from an
ill-mannered soldier to a gentleman?  Can I be anything else?"

"If a child can change its manners, then I dare say there should be
hope for you."  Lucinda avoided the direct questioning of his eyes and
gave Mrs.  Foley a brilliant smile, who had just finished cleansing the
graze on her face.  "Thank you, Mrs.  Foley.  You have been very kind.
I'm sure there won't be a sign of it in a few days."

"Aye--well--I hope you're right.  You've such a pretty face.  Now--you
rest there awhile and get over your fall.  I'll just go to the kitchen
and get you some refreshment.  I'm sure you could do with it."

"That would be very nice.  I'm feeling much better already."

CHAPTER FIVE

WITH Mrs.  Foley's disappearance to the domestic quarters Laurence's
mood changed.  He fell silent, his expression grave.

"As you are feeling better," he said at ~ength, moving towards her and
speaking somewhat harshly, 'come out onto the terrace.  There is a
matter Iwish to speak with you about.  "

Before Lucinda could reply he had taken her out onto the terrace where
a short flight of steps led down to the-gardens below.  A profusion of
delicate pink roses tumbling over a trellis caught her eye and she
looked at 'them dreamily, moving towards them, better to smell their
intoxicating scent, ~ .

"What are you thinking?"  Laurence asked after a moment, breaking in on
her reverie, seeing the softness on her face and a certain sadness
enter her eyes.

She sighed, "I was thinking of my home on Barbados.  We had roses just
like these."

"So--you are homesick," he remarked, correctly guessing the cause of
her sadness.

"Yes.  It seems so very far away now.  I was born there--I lived there
all my life and I shall 95

'

always regard it as my home.  I had no wish to leave- ever.  "

The memory of her departure from Barbados still hurt dreadfully, for
she remembered how, with each mile taking her further away, she had
experienced a strong sense of loss and isolation because she was
leaving her childhood and all the happiness she had ever known behind.
She had been swamped with an unhappiness so acute that it had been like
a bereavement, failing to understand her father's reasons when he had
told her and Henrietta that he had decided to sell everything and move
to: England.

But now she knew ~that, after the death of their mother, whom l~e had
adored, with his increasing ill health and his yearning to be back in
the land of his ancestors, nothing would have persuaded him to stay.
She could not tell Lord Rainborough that it had almost broken heart to
leave Barbados, far more deeply than any man ever could~

But she did not have to tell him; what she felt was there in her eyes
for him to see, and in a: strange way he felt an odd sense of identity
with her, as if they were two of a kind, trying to hold on to something
that was infinitely precious.

He nodded slowly, seeing her eyes suddenly swim with tears.  "Let me
show you the gardens," he sad brusquely.  "They are sadly in need of
straightening up but they are pleasant to walk through, just the
same."

Grateful to him for giving her a moment rid herself of her melancholy
and compo: herself, Lucinda followed him down the steg Despite the
neglected state of the gardens, t~ wild tangle of weeds and rampant
brambles covering the walls, she could see how it must have looked at
one time, and, if Lo: Rainborough had his way, would one day look
again.

They walked down a path past a flagged stor circle with a sundial,
framed by bay trees whiz had once been clipped short, moving through
rose-covered gateway into a walled garde where in times past rows of
vegetables would have awaited the cook's delicate touch in the kitchen.
Low hedges lined the pathways to henhouse by the orchard where chickens
wandered at will, and close by were beehive ensuring an extra crop of
apples and pea because of the pollination by the bees.

"This old kitchen garden has supplied t~ castle with fresh fruit and
vegetables for centuries.  As you can see, it will be some time befo~
it can be restored--as will everything els~ Laurence explained with a
note of regre " Much as I loved my cousin Rupert, most of has to be put
down to his own mismanageme~

He proved to be incompetent and extravagant to excess.  "

"I see you have much to do."

He gave her a wry smile.  "A new task is always a challenge."

Lucinda paused and looked up at him.  "You said you wanted to speak to
me.  What about?"

Her question caused his face to harden, bearing no resemblance to the
man who had welcomed her to his home just a short while before.  She
wondered what it could be that had brought about this change.  His dark
eyes glittered coldly and seemed to look deep into her heart,

"Yes, I did.  It is the matter-concerning your sister.  There is
something I would like you to explain--why she chose ~not to see me
when I called' on her at Burntwo0d Hall yesterday?"

"Oh!"  gasped Lucinda, somewhat put out, for this was a matter she
would prefer not to discuss.  "But she did.  She--she was indisposed,
that is all."

Laurence's eyes narrowed and his lips curled with scorn.  "Miss
Howard--do not take me for a fool.  What does this mean?
Come--some-thing has changed since I last saw her in London.  I have to
say that I have heard the gossip concerning her and Hal Ingram.  Has
this anything to do with her behaviour towards me?"

His eyes were on Lucinda, watching her face closely.  She was unnerved
by it and lowered her gaze to cover her confusion.

"Do--do you know the Ingrams?"  she asked hesitantly.

"Yes.  They always were a wild bunch.  I know Hal is a penniless fourth
son who, unlike his father and brothers, who have taken to gaming and
laying bets on anything in the hope of improving their affairs, is more
interested in running the farm.  Does your sister' have any romantic
notions for Hal?"

Beneath his direct gaze and close questioning Lucinda became flustered.
"This really is a delicate matter, my lord, one I do not think you
should be discussing with me~ It is my father you should be speaking
to.  But, as you ask, then yes; Henrietta is quite enamoured of him.
Unfortunately, before Father took her to London to speak with your
lawyer, she failed to convey to him the depth of her love for Hal--the
completeness of it."

"I see.  Your father does not approve of him, I take it?  Otherwise he
would not have approached my lawyers."

"My father has always been a careful man where money is concerned and
the reputation of the Ingram family is such that he has need to
worry."

"And Hal Ingram is different?"

"Yes.  He is considerate and kind and loves

Henrietta dearly.  Father will have to revise his opinion of him and
allow them to marry otherwise Henrietta will never be truly content.
She has gone through life with a serene acceptance of all things.  That
she is fighting now with tooth and 'nail reveals the depth and strength
of her feelings.  Father will have to let her have her way.  "

Laurence nodded grimly.  "I see.  It is clear to me that your father
made the proposal that I consider marriage to your sister without a
thought to her finer feelings.  However--nothing was signed and no
promises made.  But I cannot deny that this changes matters
considerably.  Should your father broach the matter again regarding
marriage to Henrietta, then I would be forced to refuse.  I would not
even contemplate marrying a woman whose heart was elsewhere."

"What?  Not even to save your precious Rainborough?"

"No.  Not even to save Rainborough," he said with icy calm.  "I am not
the mercenary you obviously take me for, Miss Howard.  Forgive me if I
am blunt but, without the dowry which your sister would have brought
with marriage, I will have to sell some land and build the estate up
gradually over the years.  But one thing I will not do--sell
Rainborough outright.  And yes, it is precious to me--as precious to me
as Barbados so clearly is to you."

"It is unfortunate for you that Henrietta's heart lies elsewhere--I can
see that--for I do realise that marriage to her would have been a
solution to your problems.  But I have to say that, if Father does not
treat her too harshly and allows her to marry Hal Ingram, I shall be
happy for her, for, as seems to be common among the English
aristocracy, I frown upon marriages arranged without reference to the
feelings of the bride--with sole regard to the increase of family
fortunes."

Laurence's face might have been carved out of stone when he fastened
his hard gaze on hers and there was a saturnine twist to his mouth.
"And what of yourself, Miss Howard?  Is this not what your father
intends for you?  An arranged marriage?  Finding yourself in your
sister's situation, how will you react if you do not approve of his
choice?  Will you also go against his wishes and fight tooth and
nail?"

Lucinda looked at him directly, "I have never defied my father, Lord
Rainborough.  I love him dearly and understand perfectly why it is so
important to him that Henrietta and I make suitable marriages.  Unlike
my sister, I am not in love with another--so--when the time comes it
will not be as difficult for me to accept.  But surely it is not all
that bleak for you?"

Laurence frowned, his eyes narrowing.  "What do you mean?"

"Why--there is nothing to stop you looking for another heiress to
marry.  A generous dowry in exchange for the grand title of Countess of
Rainborough.  There must be hundreds with ambitious parents who would
be only too ready to offer their daughters for an increase in
position."

"I do not doubt that for one moment," Laurence said dryly.

"In the light of Henrietta's reluctance to marry you, it might prove
beneficial for you to return to London where there will be any number
of suitable young ladies to choose from."

"Having only recently arrived from there, I have no desire to return so
soon.  I have far too much to do here at present.  Besides," he said,
sighing deeply as his eyes passed over the wild tangle of the gardens,
'before I bring any prospective bride to Rainborough I ought to set
about bringing some semblance of order to the place.  So much neglect
and disorder is enough to send' any well brought-up young lady running
back to her mother in despair.  "

His words caused Lucinda to smile, a softness entering her eyes as she
too looked about her.  "I don't think you need worry.  The stables may
not be filled with horses and the house may be in need of repair, the
gardens something of a wilderness--the encroachment of nature all too
evident--but beauty and charm has been born out of its 'neglect.
Mellowed by the years, it wears a look of welcome and warmth no one
could fail to be aware of.  I'm sure whoever you choose to marry will
fall in love with Rainborough."

Laurence's green-brown eyes rested on her face with genuine warmth. "Do
you really mean that?"

Lucinda met his gaze without embarrassment.  "Of course.  I would not
have said it if I did not mean it."

"Then perhaps I won't have to return to London after all, Miss Howard,"
he murmured, with a strange look in his eyes that Lucinda could not
comprehend just then.  "I may have exactly what I'm looking for right
here in Rainborough after all."

He was smiling now as Lucinda looked at him but before she could ask
him what he meant by that he took her arm, looking towards the house.

Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs.  Foley gesturing to them
from the terrace, indicating that she had prepared refreshment, but
later, travelling in Lord Rainborough's carriage back to Burntwood
Hall, Lucinda reflected on it and was deeply troubled.  The banter of
words

that went on between them as Mrs.  Foley had tended her wound had been
a kind of mental seduction she had never experienced with any other man
before, but since the moment she had told him he would have to look for
another heiress to marry he had been quiet and preoccupied.

Often she had found him studying her closely--as her father had done
when he realised that Henrietta could no longer be considered as a
prospective bride for the Earl of Rainborough: But it was absurd to
think he would even consider marrying her, The: Earl of
Rainborough--handsome, distinguished, hero of many battles abroad, who
could have the pick of any beautiful heiress he desired--why would he
even contemplate choosing her?

But what if he did suggest marriage to her?  What would she do?  she
asked herself in some consternation.  Her common sense ~told her that
she would have to think very dispassionately about it before she
entered into such a relationship, but there were so many conflicting
themes in her heart and mind that she was confused.  Why had she let
her emotions become involved?  The truth of it was that she had and she
greatly feared that she would become overwhelmed by him.

Not for the first time a mental picture of the young foreign woman he
had been with in York came to mind and she thought it strange that he
had not mentioned her.  Who was she?  She could not be his wife,
otherwise he would not have considered marriage to Henrietta.  He had
just returned from Spain, she was clearly of that country, and they had
seemed extremely familiar with each other.  Was it possible that she
might be his mistress?

Lucinda thrust this thought from her mind, afraid to analyse the strong
rush of resentment she felt towards the young woman just then.  But of
one thing she was quite sure.  He attracted her more than any man
before but also he emanated a power, a commanding personality, no doubt
due to his military training, which drew her to him.  He was also
proud, sardonic and harsh, which were traits which would have repulsed
her in anyone else--but all this was an irresistible element of the
attraction she felt for the Earl of Rainborough.

Lucinda arrived' back at Burntwood Hall in a thoughtful mood.  After
reassuring her father and aunt Celia that she was quite all right after
her fall, that she had sustained nothing more serious than a slight
graze to her face, she went to her room where Henrietta sought her
out.

"Here you are!"  she exclaimed, with her eyes sparkling and her pallor
of the past weeks replaced by a glow which tinted her fully

rounded cheeks, because her father had at last relented and allowed
Hal Ingram to call on her.  Clearly Lucinda's time spent at Rainborough
Castle had piqued her curiosity, for she was eager to know all that had
transpired between her and the Earl of Rainborough.  Throwing herself
onto the bed, she looked up at her sister excitedly.

"So--you have been to Rainborough Castle, Lucinda, with the fearsome
Lord Rainborough.  What's it like?  Is it as dilapidated as everyone
says?"

Lucinda shrugged slightly' irritated by the eager, inquiring expression
on her sister's face for she was in no mood for a barrage of questions.
~

"It's certainly in need of some repair--but it's a lovely old place all
the same,"

"Did Lord Rainborough show you around?"

"No, not really.  The time I was there was taken up by his housekeeper
tending the graze on:my face--although--he has promised to show me the
castle on another occasion?

Henrietta sat up and looked at her younger sister more keenly now:
"Oh--so you are to return?  I--I suppose it's safe to presume you're
not compromised by your visit there today?"

Lucinda stared at her, her face becoming suffused with a wave of
crimson and her thoughtful manner giving way to a most earnest
indignation.

"Of course not.  What on earth prompted you to ask that?"

Observing Lucinda's change of colour, Henrietta smiled mischievously.
"Well--you were gone for so long and you have to admit that he is most
eligible, Lucinda--but for his lost inheritance, of course."

"And the fact that he can be both arrogant and conceited--and has too
high an opinion of himself," Lucinda replied heatedly in her attempt to
conceal the confusion she was feeling since returning to Burntwood
Hall.

"Come now, you are a terrible liar, Lucinda.  Anyone can see you're
attracted by him--and I am sure you are more to his taste than I. As
for myself and the very idea that Father intended that I should marry
him--well--let's just say that I put that down to an unpleasant
experience."

"Henrietta!  How can you say that?"

"Why on earth not?  It's true, isn't it?  Oh, he is charming, though,
and incredibly hand-some--despite his polite reserve and the fact that
he terrifies me half to death."

"You may be terrified of him, Henrietta, but I certainly am not."

"Oh?  Then what are your feelings with regard to him?"  persisted
Henrietta.

Relenting, Lucinda sighed deeply, sitting beside her sister on the bed
and confiding some of the thoughts that were beginning to trouble her
so.

"I don't know, Henrietta.  Truly--I have no idea how I feel.  But what
I do' know is that there is something between us that seems to draw us
together.  He fills me with such confusion that I do not know what to
think.  He has a habit of encroaching on my thoughts when I least
expect it and, no matter how hard I persist in driving him out, he
returns.  Alas, Lord Rainborough is all you said he was, and much more,
and it seems I am not nearly as immune to his masculinity as I thought
I was--or as I wanted to be."

There was a note of such unhappiness in Lucinda's voice that Henrietta
leaned over and kissed her cheek affectionately.  "Then do not worry
about it, Lucinda.  Come--if it distresses you to discuss this then we
will talk of other matters--but are you sure you're not just a little
bit in love with him?"  she asked hesitantly.

"Henrietta!"  Lucinda exclaimed sharply.  "How could I be?"

"Well--it would be convenient if you were, wouldn't it?  At least then
Father would be satisfied."

"No, Henrietta, it would not be convenient.  I will not marry Lord
Rainborough.  I have no intention of becoming involved with any man who
will see me as little more than a means of paying 'his debts and
financially securing his future.  There has to be more to marriage than
that."

"But you said yourself that when you are together there are vibrations
between the two of you, so it is plain that he is attracted by you. Has
he given you any indication to suppose that he might want to get to
know you better?"

"Lord Rainborough has made no advances towards me whatsoever,
Henrietta.  And now I would be obliged if you would refrain from
discussing this matter further.  It has been a long day and my head is
beginning to ache."

Judging it advisable to do as Lucinda asked, Henrietta continued to
prattle on about the subject closest to her heart--Hal Ingram.  But as
Lucinda continued to think of Lord Rainborough during the days
following her visit to Rainborough Castle her manner became quiet and
subdued and she seemed edgy and out of sorts, which brought Celia's
observant eyes upon her.  Celia regarded her with careful scrutiny, for
she sensed that Lord Rainborough was somehow responsible for this odd
behaviour.

As the long summer days slowly slipped almost unnoticed into autumn, an
invitation arrived

from Lord and Lady Lampton, close friends of Celia's, inviting her to
spend a few days with them.  Their home, Easterlea' Manor, was situated
twenty miles away on the coast which, because of the poor quality of
the roads, was a good half-day's journey or more from Rainborough.  The
invitation was extended to include both Henrietta and Lucinda,
expressing a desire that they would be delighted to meet them both.

Celia was frequently invited to join small, diverting weekend parties
at neighbouring houses, but recently age and ill health often kept her
away.  However, this was one invitation she was determined to accept,
for she had a strong instinct that the visit could prove beneficial to
Lucinda.

"I have received an invitation from Lord and Lady Lampton," she told
both girls when they were together.  "They are old friends of mine. and
have recently returned to Yorkshire from London.  They have expressed a
desire that I go and stay with them for a short while--and they would
be delighted for you both to accompany me.  Come--what do you say? 
Does the prospect of going to Easterlea not appeal to you?"

Celia could tell by the expression in Lucinda's eyes that she was not
averse to the idea of spending a few days away from

Rainborough, but Henrietta's countenance fell at the very idea of being
so far away from her precious Hal--if only for a few days.

"That's very kind of Lord and Lady Lampton, Aunt Celia," said Lucinda.
"I hear Easterlea is quite magnificent and would love to see it."

"Good, then that is settled.  I will send word that we will be pleased
to accept their invitation."

Henrietta, who had remained unduly quiet, spoke out at last~ "Would you
mind if I didn't go?  I do not feel in the least like visiting at this
time--and nor do I like the idea of Father being left alone.  You go,
Aunt Celia, you and Lucinda."

Celia nodded, accepting her refusal to go without argument.  "As you
wish, Henrietta.  I do understand your apprehension and concern for
your father and you are right.  It would be unwise to leave him here
alone, Lucinda and I will go--just for two or three days--no more.  We
do tend' to live in comparative isolation here in the country,~ she
said to Lucinda, 'compared to city folk.  You have been looking rather
pale of late, my dear, and been far too quiet.  It will do you good to
be by' the sea for a while and to meet other people before winter sets
in."

Her aunt was right, Lucinda thought, for there had been little in the
way of entertainment since they had come to England--except

for the short time spent in London when they had first arrived, the
occasional visit to York and the odd diverting house party at one of
her aunt's acquaintances.  Last winter, as was usual most winters in
England, they had seldom gone abroad at all, except in the
neighbourhood of Rainborough, for travelling was both dangerous and
difficult, the roads being deep in mud and often impassable.  Visiting
friends for any kind of jollification was viewed with apprehension, for
it could mean spending the night with them or several nights if the
weather turned bad.

"What are Lord and Lady Lampton like?"  asked Lucinda, curious and
surprised by her aunt's eagerness to accept this invitation, since she
had been reluctant to undertake any form of travel of late because of
her ill health.  She could only assume that Celia was feeling a good
deal better and in need of a little recreation.

"Oh, you'll like them, I know.  Lord Lampton's hospitality is open
handed and he has an ardent love of horses and hounds, with a
gargantuan appetite for' beef and ale, while Lady Lampton, a good many
years younger than he, enjoys nothing better than indulging her passion
for entertaining--which she does superbly and on a truly grand scale.
No doubt there will be several guests from London staying at Easterlea
so we must go through your wardrobe to make quite certain you will be
suitably attired.  It is imperative that you look your best.  After
all," she said with a definite twinkle in her eye, 'there is no knowing
who one is likely to meet.  "

Contrary to what her aunt had in mind, Lucinda was not going to
Easterlea to meet anyone.  She merely wanted to be consigned to
oblivion for just a few days, to move away from Rainborough--away from
the disturbing presence of Lord Rainborough, for she found herSelf
thinking of him, thinking and dwelling on snatches of their
conversation 'and flushing softly when she saw again in her mind~s eye
the quiet, strange expression in his eyes when she had bade him
farewell at Rainborough Castle, and remembered the firm, warm clasp of
his fingers gripping hers as he had assisted her, up into the carriage
which was to take her back to Burntwood Hall.  Silently she reproached
herself for foolishly thinking of him all the time and forced herself
to concentrate on her visit to Easterlea.

CHAPTER SIX

SEatED across from her aunt Celia, Lucinda felt a curious thrill of
excitement as the carriage left the small town of Easterlea behind. The
long golden day spilled into evening, and the familiar salt sea smell
drenched the air like a balm to her whole being, starved as she was of
her island home where the sea had played such an integral part of her
life.

Easterlea Manor, ancestral ~home of Lord Lampton, lay beyond the town,
cupped in a little valley on the east coast.  Lucinda watched the house
draw closer.  Built of local stone in Tudor times, which had mellowed
to a rich gold, the immense, sprawling house, topped by turrets and
innumerable chimneys, was surrounded by a ring of trees which gave way
to gardens and terraces with dipped evergreens and leaden statues. Over
the rise of the hill stretched the shimmering waters of the North
Sea.

They were met by Lady Lampton in the wide welcoming hall which was
decked with flowers and pleasantly cool.  At thirty-five, Beatrice
Lampton was tall and regal and immaculately 114

groomed, her hair as dark as were her eyes.  There was a firmness about
her features and to the set of her jaw that revealed her strength of
character.  It was a similarity Lucinda had seen in someone else--that
someone else being Lord Rainborough.

Having determined to put a distance between Lord Rainborough and
herself, to banish him from her mind whilst spending a tranquil few
days at Easterlea, Lucinda was amazed at the intensity of feeling this
similarity evoked, and she rebuked herself severely for allowing her
mind to weaken so easily and think of him.

It was clear to Lucinda that there was a fondness between her aunt and
Lady Lampton as she watched them embrace warmly.

"My dear Celia," said Lady Lampton.  "How good ~it is to see you again
and how glad I am that you felt well enough to make the journey.  You
are feeling better, I hope?"

"Yes, thank you, Beatrice.  Some days are better than others--but," she
said with a note of wistful regret, "I am not getting any younger so I
suppose it is only to be expected."

Lady Lampton's eyes moved past Celia to where Lucinda stood and her
lips broke into a welcoming smile.

"And you, my dear, must be Lucinda."  Moving towards her she looked
down at her with a great deal of interest, studying her features
closely.  "It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Easterlea and
to say how delighted I am to meet you at last--having heard all about
you--and I must say that you are every bit as beautiful as I was told
you would be.  I am sorry Henrietta was unable to accompany you."

"It was kind of you to invite us, Lady Lampton," Lucinda replied,
thinking how cool and poised their hostess was, 'but Henrietta was
reluctant to leave Father alone.  He has not been at all well of late.
"

"Then I am sorry to hear it."

"Unfortunately, because of Sir Thomas's ill health, Beatrice, we are
unable to stay more than two or three days at the most," Celia told
her,

"Then we must see to it that your visit is made as enjoyable as
possible--otherwise the journey will hardly seem worthwhile."

"Are we the first of your guests to arrive?"  asked Celia.

"No--the last--apart from my cousin, that is.  No doubt he will arrive
some time tomorrow.  Along with other guests, Lgrd and Lady Skelton
arrived from Berwick yesterday, as did Sir Stephen Berrisford and his
wife Emily with their daughter Amelia.  You remember Sir Stephen, don't
you, Celia?  From Newcastle?"

"Of course--although it is many years since I last saw them."

"They are to spend a few days here with us at Easterlea before
travelling on to London for the winter months.  How I envy them," she
said, sighing wistfully, smiling softly when she saw Lucinda's
puzzlement at her remark.  "Life can be intolerably dull in the country
during the winter months, Lucinda," she explained: "Most of the gentry
migrate to London at this time--but Cedric, my dear husband, will not
hear of it."

"How is Cedric?"  enquired Celia.

"Better now he's back in his beloved Yorkshire.  How he detests the
constant round of masques and balls he has to endure when we're in
London.  As yet I am still 'unable to pry him away from Easterlea
during the winter months when hunting is at its best--and so I must
endure' the dreary ness of country life as best I can."  The
good-natured tolerance with which she endured her adored husband's love
of Easterlea caused her to smile softly.

"Cedric is never happy unless he's at the reins, hurtling over fences
in pursuit of stag or fox-- it matters not one iota which--in the wake
of a pack of hounds.  How he doesn't take a tumble and break his neck
I'll never know.  He says he sends his heart over first and follows as
best he can, so with that I have to be content.

"You'll meet him later, Lucinda.  At this time he is to be found
either at the stables with his hunters--which, I might add, he cos sets
as one would a child, or the kennels with his hounds--of which he is
immensely proud--declaring there isn't another pack like it in the
whole of Yorkshire.  Come," she said, moving towards the staircase,
'enough of Cedric.  I will show you to your rooms.  I'm sure you would
like to refresh yourselves after your journey and to rest before
dinner.  "

As Lucinda followed Lady Lampton and her aunt up a curving staircase to
a gallery above the hall she thought back to Lady Lampton's greeting
with some puzzlement.  She had mentioned that she had heard all about
her, which was curious, for she could only know what her aunt had told
her and, as far as she was aware, they did not correspond all that
regularly, although her-aunt often spoke of her.  But if it was not her
aunt who had told Lady Lampton about her, then who could it be?

She was puzzled and suspicious, suspecting that something was afoot,
but in her excitement at being at Easterlea she put it out of her
mind.

When Lucinda and her aunt emerged from their rooms and went downstairs,
refreshed after resting from their journey, it was to find a full
complement of guests already assembled.  The party was a definite
social event for Lady Lampton, who, unable to winter in London, had to
console herself with these gatherings at Easterlea.

Lucinda was presented to Lord and Lady Skelton, both stout and
middle-aged, who shared a love of country pursuits which endeared them:
to Lord Lampton, a squat, earthyqooking gentleman with a ruddy
complexion and such an easy, friendly manner, if somewhat bellicose,
that it was impossible not to like him:

And then there was the extremely wealthy Sir Stephen and Lady Emily
Berrisford;~ and their daughter Amelia--a perfect picture of sweetness,
nymph-like and demure, with soft, pouting lips and languishing
periwinkle blue eyes and a peach-like complexion.  Her thick golden
ringlets framed her angelic heart-shaped face and bobbed about
enchantingly when she moved and tossed her head--which she did
frequently for it achieved the desired effect of attracting everyone's
admiring attention- a movement which most men found irresistible.

Lucinda considered her to be a vain, silly, frivolous creature, often
given to uncontrollable fits of girlish giggles, and wheh she became
excited her voice rose to a high pitch which Lucinda found extremely
irritating.  She was watched over by her indomitable mother, a

thin, sharp-featured woman who realised the importance of getting her
only daughter introduced into society.  And where better than London,
where she would be launched onto the marriage market to display her
assets.  She was full of determination not to let her only daughter
languish away in the stultifying countryside when all the eligible
young men could be found in London, for she had high hopes that Amelia
would marry into the aristocracy.

Apart from Miss Amelia Berrisford, Easterlea suited Lucinda very well
and she made up her mind to avoid the young lady whenever
possible--which proved to be easier said than done.  The following
morning, when she was preparing to go into Easterlea with Nancy to do
some shopping and view the castle, to her dismay Amelia was ~of the
same mind, so the three of them went off together.  Celia preferred to
remain in her room and rest to recover from the rig ours of the
previous day's journey.

The town of Easterlea was dominated by its Norman castle, and its
muddle of cottages intertwined and clustered around the busy market
place from which cobbled wynds threaded from street to street.  It was
a beautiful morning, the weather pleasantly warm.  After leaving the
carriage and driver just on the outskirts of

Easterlea, Lucinda was content to stroll and browse, but she was never
free of Amelia's animated chatter about the wonderful time she was
going to have in London and the important families she would meet and
associate with, and the armies of young gentlemen who would be seeking
her hand in marriage.  Lucinda found it all so tiresome and was
beginning to regret her decision to visit the town, but somehow she
managed to maintain her calm and listened politely, answering in
monosyllables which seemed sufficient to make Amelia happy,

In the shadow~ of the crumbling castle they wandered through the narrow
cobbled streets looking in the shop windows, stopping occasionally to
go inside and purchase a trinket or two, When they threaded their way
among the busy market stalls clustered together in the town square,
Lucinda remembered they had passed a pond with some ducks on it on the
edge of the town.  This prompted her to buy some bread from one of the
hawkers, and they paused on their way back to the carriage to toss the
ducks some small chunks, watching with pleasure as the delighted birds
flapped and squawked as they fought greedily over the bread.

Lucinda was momentarily distracted when two men walking towards them
caught her eye.  Perhaps it was because they had dark, predominantly
foreign looks and seemed out of place

in this quiet Yorkshire town that drew her attention.  The taller of
the two was thickset, while the other had sharp, weasel-like features,
a hooked nose and lank hair.  They were both dressed in sombre black
and their swarthy complexions bespoke the Mediterranean, which made
them stand out among the ordinary' folk of Easterlea.  AS they passed
by they looked directly at Lucinda, their dark eyes meeting and
'locking on hers, interest 'flickering in their depths.  This brief'
contact, which: lasted no longer than a moment, sent a strange chill
down Lucinda's spine; and when they had averted their gaze and carried
on, her eyes continued to follow them, watching until they~ had
disappeared from sight, ~. A vague feeling of unease stole over her
which she could not explain.  She was curious as to their identity~ and
strangely it brought to mind the encounter she'd had in York when she
had first met Lord Rainborough and the Spanish woman with him~ A. frown
creased her brow when she turned back to the squawking ducks, and again
Amelia's chatter intruded into her thoughts.  For now the incident was
forced from her mind--but not forgotten.

Arriving back at the manor, they saw guests strolling in the grounds
around the~ house.  Climbing down from the carriage, Lucinda and

Amelia went inside--Lucinda having every intention.  of escaping to her
room immediately.  Lady Lampton was in the hall with a group of ladies
but, on seeing Lucinda, she excused herself and broke away, moving
towards them.

"So--you are back.  You enjoyed your visit to Easterlea, I hope?"

"Yes, thank you, Lady Lampton.  It'sa lovely town," answered Lucinda.
"Has my aunt been down yet--or is she still in her room?"

"In her room.  I went in to see her earlier and she told me she would
be down shortly, She promised to stroll down to the beach with me
later."

"I'll go and see if she needs anything.  Please excuse me."

"Of course, my dear, but just spare me a moment, will you?"  she asked,
placing a restraining hand gently on Lucinda's arm as she was about to
move away with Amelia still in tow, who, believing that now she had an
eager recipient for her chatter, was reluctant to be parted from her.
"My cousin has arrived and has been asking for you."

Following Lady Lampton's gaze, Lucinda turned and looked up to the
gallery to where a man, a magnificent figure, immaculate in a perfectly
cut black coat, was watching her.  Even at that distance she had no
trouble in distinguishing the handsome features of the Earl

of Rainborough, at which her heart gave a sudden leap of surprise and
consternation.  He smiled down at her, a slow self-assured smile, and
began to advance down the stairs.

In the surrounding haze Lucinda was no longer aware of anyone save him.
How positive his presence was, how tall and broad-shouldered, Colour
flooded her cheeks and then drained away, for his appearance' here at
Easterlea was completely unexpected.  She stared at him fixedly, with a
strange sensation of fatality, and the tidal wave of emotions caused by
his presence overwhelmed her.

For a moment she was thrown into a panic: Her first instinct upon
seeing him was to turn and run, to escape from this house in which she
had hoped to find a brief respite from Rainborough and his
disconcerting presence, yet at the same time she was unable to move.
Suddenly her visit to Easterlea had taken on a whole new aspect--for
better or worse?  At that moment she was So confused she knew not
which--but her heart began to beat with excitement and she felt a
thrill of anticipation.

Summoning all her resources, she managed to smile.  "Why, Lord
Ra~nborough, she said, greeting him with cool composure.  " It is
indeed an extraordinary coincidence to see you at Easterlea.  Or is it?
"

When he was close he looked at her, his smile'

12:

barely perceptible.  "Miss Howard!"  he greeted graciously bowing his
dark head slightly it acknowledgement, his magnificent eyes no leaving
hers for a moment.  "Make of it wha you will, but it is a pleasure to
see you here You are recovered?"

Lucinda looked at him, slightly perplexed "Recovered?  Recovered from
what?"

"Why, from the tumble you took from you horse the last time we met."

"Oh--that.  Forgive me, but for the moment could not remember the
occasion of our las meeting.  Yes, I am quite recovered--althougt if
you cast your mind back to the circumstance" it was hardly a tumble,"
she said defensively, '~.  have to say that I am wholly surprised to
see you at Easterlea, Lord Rainborough."

"A pleasant one, I trust?  Come--say you are pleased to see me?"

"I--I am," she stammered.  "Only--I did no expect to find you here."

"So--you thought to escape, did you?"

"Escape?  Why--I'm sure I don't know wha you mean, my lord.  Escape
from what?  You~ choice of word implies that I was running away There
is nothing at Rainborough I feel the nee to distance myself from.  I
assure you that escape was the last thing on my mind when accepted Lord
and Lady Lampton's kind an~ generous invitation to spend a few days a

Easterlea with my aunt.  We felt the sea air would benefit us both.
Henrietta would have come too, but considered it best to stay with
Father.  "

"Of course," he laughed, amused by the note of indignation in her
voice.  "Forgive me.  It was an ill-chosen word--but I am delighted you
did not refuse.  As for my being here--well, there is nothing unusual
in that.  Beatrice is my cousin, you see."  He turned to Beatrice, who
was looking from one to the other with a secretive smile playing on her
lips: "My appearance seems to have surprised Miss Howard somewhat,
Beatrice.  Did you not tell her you were expecting me?"

"Why, no;' she responded instantly with mild surprise.  " I was under
the impression that Lucinda knew.  Oh, dear, how remiss of me.  Do
forgive me, my dear," she said in a manner which told Lucinda that a
subtle game of deception had been played.  " I had no idea.  It was not
my intention to withhold such information.  "

"Perhaps I should' be grateful to you, Beatrice," said Laurence, his
eyes gleaming wickedly as they continued to hold Lucinda's wide-eyed
gaze.  "Had yofftold Miss Howard of my impending visit it might have
caused her to return to Burntwood Hall posthaste."

"Then for shame, cousin," admonished Lady Lampton, her voice
quizzically amused.  "For what reason, I ask?  What have you done that
is so terrible she would feel the need to?  But," she smiled, her eyes
holding Lucinda's, 'you underestimate her, for I am sure she would have
done no such thing and would be more than capable of holding her own
with you any day.  I am so sorry, Lucinda.  I should have told you that
my insufferable cousin was paying us a visit.  "

Lucinda looked from one to the other, at their blank features, and at
last she saw the cool calculation--of which she had been the object--of
a game which had been played on her innocence.  There had been a subtle
conspiracy to bring her to Easterlea--to bring her and Lord Rainborough
together, that was plain to her now.  But who had been the instigator,
and who had been a party to it?  Certainly her aunt and Lady Lampton
but what of Lord Rainborough?  Was he also a party to it or had he been
as surprised to see her at Easterlea as she was to see him?

Her instinct told her that this was not so.  When she recollected the
remarks Lady Lampton had made on her arrival--that she already knew all
about her and complimenting her on her looks, and of her own puzzlement
concerning this--she now knew that it was not from her aunt that she
had heard these things, but Lord Rainborough himself.

Now that she knew she felt like an absolute

attention Lucinda took her hand and drew her forward.  "Then where
better to begin than right here, Allow me to present Miss Amelia
Berrisford.  Amelia, this is the Earl of Rainborough."

Again she cast Laurence a triumphant, wicked smile, looking up at him
obliquely.  "I'm sure you two will get on fatuously and find you have
much in common," she said with meaning, which was not lost on Laurence,
for she was referring to the fact that Miss Berrisford was from an
extremely~ wealthy family and Lord Rainborough in need of a wealthy
wife, "Now, please excuse me.  I really must go and see if Aunt Celia
is all right."

Lady Lampton watched her go with admiration and a satisfied smile;
Lucinda's reaction, when her eyes had alighted on Laurence--her
expressions of disbelief, delight and wonder chasing each other across
her face in quick succession, how at first she had flushed crimson and
then seemed ill at ease in his presence--told her all she needed to
know: Celia had been correct in her assumption that Miss Lucinda Howard
had definitely fallen under Laurence's spell.  When Lady Lampt0n turned
and caught the look of total absorption on Amelia's face as she gazed
up at him, she saw Lucinda was not the only one.

1. 2

Lucinda entered her aunt Celia's room to find her still in bed, sitting
up and resting again.  the pillows, her hair loose about her shoulder
Her eyes were closed but she opened them ~ Lucinda approached the bed,
smiling and pal ting the covers for her to come and sit be sid her.

"Come and tell me what you have been doin this morning.  Beatrice tells
me you went into Easterlea with Amelia Berrisford.  Oh, and b the way,
she informed me there have been couple of disreputable-looking
characters lurking about the manor of late--beggars or gYF sies, her
husband suspects.  He has instructe, the servants to keep an extra
watch so don't g wandering off alone, will you, Lucinda?"

Lucinda sat on the bed and addressed he aunt quietly, a fleeting
picture of the two me she had seen in Easterlea springing to mind.

"As a matter of fact, I did see two men fittin that description in
Easterlea, and Lord Lampton is probably right.  They did look a bit
like gypsies--but there is another matter Iwis to discuss with you,
Aunt Celia."

"Oh?  Then it must be important for you t, look so serious."

"Did you know Lord Rainborough would b, here at Easterlea?"

Celia was surprised and slightly taken abac

by Lucinda's question and with a guilty look averted her eyes beneath
her penetrating gaze.  "Why, my dear--how could I?"

"Being Lady Lampton's cousin you suspected he might be, didn't you?"

"Well--the idea did cross my mind--I cannot deny."

"Then why did you not tell me of their relationship?"

"It did not occur to me that I should do so.  And why should I?  As far
as I am aware you have only met Lord Rainborough on the odd
occasion--and making an issue of it tells me you regard him as a little
more than just a casual acquaintance--and I can see why.  Lord
Rainborough is a splendid, fascinating man and devilishly
attractive--of the type to appeal to many a young woman's fancy.  He
knows what he is about, that one--I tell you that it has not escaped my
notice that he has his sights set on you."

"No, Aunt Celia.  You are mistaken."

"I may be old, dear girl, but I am not blind.  I saw it in his eyes
when he looked and spoke to you the day he came to Burntwood Hall--the
day Henrietta took off with ~Hal Ingram.  Whatever your father was
thinking of when he offered him Henrietta I will never know.  She would
never have been right for him--too timid by far.  Hal Ingram's more her
type.  Whereas you--'

"Oh?  And what about me, aunt?"

"You're a different matter entirely.  You have fire in your blood,
Lucinda--like I had when I was your age.  Oh--I wasn't always an old
spinster, you know.  Because I never married does not mean I led the
life of a nun.  I had my moments when I was your age--I can tell
you."

Lucinda stared at her in amazement for Aunt Celia had always been'a
rather private person, having divulged little of her earlier life.

"Aunt--you astonish me!  Was there never a man you wanted to marry?"

Celia leaned her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes, a
wistful smile on her lips.  "Yes, there was someone once i might have
married.  He was a sea captain."

"Did you love him very much?"

She nodded.  Her expression grew suddenly grave as she remembered the
handsome young man she had loved so deeply and lost so tragically. "Oh,
yes," she murmured.  "I loved him.  It was the sort of love that comes
only once in a lifetime--a love everyone hopes to experience'

but never dares to believe in.  "

"What happened to him?"

"He was killed fighting the Dutch--and--well--after that no one could
quite measure up to him."

"Oh, aunt, I'm so sorry."

She smiled and opened her eyes.  "Don't be.  It was all so long
ago--and, anyway--I have my memories to keep me warm now that I am
old--and when your father brought you and Henrietta to live at
Burntwood Hall it brought a new meaning to my lonely life.

"Oh, Lucinda," she said, reaching out and gripping her hand.  "You are
so full of the clear-cut beauty of youth.  Your whole life is spread
out in front of you like a glorious, rich tapestry.  Enjoy it.  Use it.
And if Lord Rainborough is your heart's desire then hold on to him,
although," she chuckled, 'from what I know and have seen of him then
you will not have to.  If you are the one he wants, then I doubt he
will let you go.  "

"So, aunt, you contrived to bring us together?"  "Yes.  Do you mind?"

Lucinda shook her head, a warm glow on her cheeks.  "No," she replied
softly.  "No, not really."

"When I received Beatrice's invitation to spend a few days here--and
her suggestion that you and Henrietta might care to come along,
especially you--it seems that when she and Cedric stopped off at
Rainborough on their return journey from, London, Lord Rainborough
specifically suggested inviting you.  I confess that I did conceive of
a happy notion of bringing you together," she divulged.  "I did not
tell you he was Beatrice's cousin--or

H pounds E~ D~C~"SO~ that he would be here--lest you refused to come.
Oh, dear.  I can see you are angry with me," she said, her eyes fixed a
little uneasily on Lucinda's unsm~ling, thoughtful face.

Lucinda sighed, looking deep into her aunt's eyes, and, reaching out,
she clasped Celia's hand in both her own.

"No, aunt.  Not really.  I could not allow myself to be angry with you.
One cannot be angry with someone for doing what they conceive is
right."

"Oh?  Even if I was being an interfering old woman?  I would scarcely
blame you if you were.  I know I would beat your age.  But--I am not
ashamed to admit that I consider you and Lord Rainborough to be right
for each other--and it goes without saying, if anything should come of
it, how happy it would make your father.  Now," she said beginning to
throw back the bed covers, 'send Nancy in to help me dress, will you?
It's high time I was up and about.  I promised Beatrice a stroll down
to the beach.  Be off with you now, otherwise Lord Rainborough will
find some other young lady to dance attendance upon.  "

At her aunt's dismissal Lucinda stood up, laughing lightly.  "You are
too late, aunt.  I think he already has."

"Oh?"

"Yes.  The moment Amelia Berrisford clapped eyes on him, I fear she
became quite besotted."

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHATEVER Celia's hopes had been of bringing Lucinda and Lord
Rainborough closer together at Easterlea, they were dashed by the
presence of the irritating Amelia Berrisford, who clung to Lord
Rainborough's side like a limpet clings to the rocks on the seashore.

Lucinda watched him being followed around by this empty-headed,
wide-eyed creature from Newcastle, boldly casting covetous glances in
his direction, her conniving mother hovering in the background,
watching her daughter with a keen eye, having cultivated in her all the
feminine tricks of simpering coquetry to capture just such a man as the
Earl of Rainborough.

To Lucinda, the strange thing was that Lord Rainborough did not seem to
object in the slightest to the attention being showered on him; in
fact, he did not seem to find Amelia at all tiresome and seemed to
encourage the irritating young creature.  Ma~ybe he was flattered by
her attention, for his manners where she was concerned were always
impeccable.  On the times when Lucinda was in his company, Amelia's
mother looked quite murderous, for 136

, pounds ~e~4 me~sorq she resented the fact that he and Lucinda were
already acquainted.

At first Lucinda was amused by it all, wondering why Lord Rainborough
didn't distance himself from Amelia, but as time went by and she
watched him being charming as they strolled together through the
gardens, responding politely to her flirtatious behaviour, accepting
his popularity gracefully, she felt an unaccustomed rush of resentment
for the intimacy that had developed between them.  His behaviour was
so' unlike him.

Why, she asked herself, if, as her aunt had told her, he had suggested
to Lord and ~Lady Lampton that they ~ invite her to Easterlea, did he
ignore her so blatantly?  Unless, of course, he was trying to make her
jealous?  But no, surely not.  A man of Lord Rainborough's intelligence
and personality would not stoop so' low as to indulge in such
discreditable behaviour.

However, contrary to how the situation between Amelia Berrisford and
Lord Rainborough must look to Lucinda, good manners dictated that he
could not ignore Miss Berrisford, however annoying he.  found her to
be.  Lucinda would have been surprised to know just how much Amelia
filled him With boredom.

But, the more they were together, it was plain to see that Lord
Rainborough had certainly caused a flutter in the breast of Miss

Berrisford and that she was completely infatuated by him.  His manner
towards Lucinda was always polite and considerate, though somewhat
reserved, which made her confused, causing her to question the signals
she had read emanating from him on their previous meetings, when she
had been certain that he was attracted by her.

But then, she considered, she really knew nothing about him.  Perhaps
he had a weakness for pretty women?  She had to admit that with his
looks and impressive personality she could see how attracted they would
be to him.  He was bound to have a strong effect on any
woman--especially when one was as weak and empty-headed as Amelia
Berrisford.  And then there was the Spanish woman he had been with in
York, whose identity still remained a mystery to her.  Who was she? she
asked herself.  And what had happened to her?

Aristocrat he might be, but if he were indeed a philanderer then she
would be better off without him.  Too proud to let him see that she was
confused and disappointed by his behaviour, she always schooled her
features whenever they were in each other'8 company--although they were
never alone, and she was as polite and reserved as he.  If her aunt was
disappointed by the way things were turning out, then she did not show
it.

Sitting in the garden with her aunt among a patchwork of
different-coloured blooms filling the borders, Lucinda watched Amelia
and Lord Rainborough during the long golden afternoon.  Amelia sat on a
bench and he stood, looking down at her in the shade of some well-blown
roses climbing in profusion over trellising and intoxicating them with
their strong perfume.

Seeing him bend his dark head crown to Amelia's upturned face, flushed
almost as pink as the roses, and hear her laugh gaily at something he
said, Lucinda felt a sharp flare of jealousy~ She.  turned away
angrily, telling herself it was absurd to feel jealous of this
empty-headed creature, but she was and the feeling caused her to feel
quite wretched and isolated.  She was inclined to think that she-would
be glad when her aunt decided it was time for them to return to
Burntwood Hall, which would be either tomorrow or the following day.
But first she had the ball which Lord and Lady Lampton had arranged for
that very evening to contend with.

Unable to continue observing the display of tenderness between the two,
Lucinda joined a group of ladies going to the beach.  Excusing herself
to her aunt, who was content to remain where she was, sitting in the
shade, she turned her back on them.

The bay was bathed in light and the sea a

green velvety depth, the air as soft as the flutter of a fairy's
wings.  The silver sun, hanging in a tranquil azure sky, cast its
sparkling rays across the waters of the bay, glancing off the tips of
the gently rippling waves like sharp, twinkling prisms of light.  The
burnt autumn colours, blanketing the hills along the coastline and
beyond, dipped gently into deep gullies in secretive shades of
darkness.

The sweet scents carried on the air stunned the senses and Lucinda sat
on the warm sand some distance away from the group of ladies she had
accompanied to the beach.  She leaned her back against the rocks and
closed her eyes against the searing brilliance of the sun, wishing she
could also close her ears to the high-pitched sound of the ladies'
shrill voices.

S. he listened to a stream rippling merrily over the rocks in a gully
close by, its silvery clear water running and fanning out over the sand
before meeting the sea.  The gentle sound of the sloughing of the surf
lulled her into a mood of unexpected peace and she would have drifted
into a gentle slumber had a shadow not fallen across her.

She opened her eyes, having to squint in the bright glare of the sun,
and when she saw the suave features of Lord Rainborough looking down at
her she struggled vainly to get her thoughts into some kind of order.
The memory of how she had just left him in close companionship with
Amelia Berrisford was still fresh in her mind.

To Laurence, Lucinda presented a tantalising, delightful vision, a
picture of grace and serenity, sitting on the sand with her eyes
closed, in a gown of the palest blue with a deeper blue overskirt.  But
now, as she looked up at him, he saw how her mouth softened and how the
violet colour of her eyes had deepened.  Her creamy skin had taken on a
rosy hue and her mass of fair hair was unbound, falling about her
shoulders in a thick mane.

How his fingers ached to touch it, to feel its softness.  He drew in a
deep breath, an excess of tenderness and longing rising up inside him,
wanting her more at that moment than he had before, and 'he meant to
have her--with' or without her dowry~

~So--this is where you are.  "

"And what if it is?"  she replied coolly.  "I came here to seek
solitude, my lord, and if you were a gentleman then you would leave me
in peace."

Laurence's eyes sparkled with mischief.  "Come--you do not mean that,"
he laughed, not put off by her remark.  "I wondered where you could
have got to when I saw your aunt sitting alone."

"Why?  Were you looking for me?  Surely you cannot have grown tired of
the delectable Miss

Berrisford already?  " Lucinda taunted, once again closing her eyes,
trying to seem indifferent to his presence.

Laurence smiled slowly, preferring to ignore the note of sarcasm in her
remark.  "May I sit down?"

"If you must," she replied idly, drawing her skirts about her which
were spread over the sand, leaning back and keeping her eyes closed as
she struggled to make her face impassive and calm.

Laurence stretched out beside her, not so much sitting as lying, his
long muscular body stretched sideways to face her,.  regardless of the
sand sticking to his suit.  Supporting himself on one elbow, his dark
eyes looked lazily up at her from beneath hooded lids, a heavy dark
brown' lock spilling over his forehead.  He was completely at his ease.
His very nearness made Lucinda's pulses quicken, for despite the
resentment she felt over his attachment to Miss Berrisford, the
strength of attraction that drew her to him continued to stun and amaze
her, shaking her faith in her self-knowledge as again she experienced a
delicious thrill--as she always did when confronted by his
masculinity.

"I was looking for you.  I thought you must have come to the beach.
When Miss Berrisford's mother called her away I decided to stroll down
here myself--and--in answer to

14.  "

your question--direct as it was--no, I have nol grown tired of the
enchanting Miss Berrisford Of her constant chatter, maybe, but you have
to admit that she is charming and delightful t( look upon.  "

"That would depend on one's taste.  I suppos~ she could be deemed
passable--if somewha~ silly and empty-headed," Lucinda could not hell:
adding, which caused Laurence to smile and Lucinda to regret her
impulsive, malicious out~ burst, which was most unlike her, but she
could not resist it.

"No doubt when she returns and finds yot gone she will seek you out.
But," she sighed seemingly unconcerned and trying to maintair an
expression of impassive calm, "I don't sup.  pose you will mind that,
will you?  After all, you do seem to be quite taken with her.  And l
suppose you are right," she conceded reluctantly.  "Along with her
other assets, she is delightful enough to look upon."

"Other assets?  "Laurence asked, looking at her with that half-mocking
expression whic~ Lucinda was getting to know so well.

"Mmm," she murmured, shifting herself into ~ more comfortable position
against the hardnes,~ of the rocks.  "The fact that she is Sir Stephen
Berrisford's only child--and considering his immense fortune, made from
coal, as I understand it--means that when she marries she will

come well endowed to her husband with worldly goods as well as with
beauty which, as impoverished as you appear to be, Lord Rainborough,
should suit you very well--should you consider her a suitable candidate
for a wife, that is.  "

Laurence looked at her incredulously before throwing back his head and
laughing loudly.

"You are incredible, Miss Howard.  Because I have spent a little time
with Miss Berrisford does not mean I am considering her for my wife."

"No?  Then you should make it plain' to her--and her mother who, I
suspect, has exactly this in mind.  You encourage her by the way you
look at her."

Laurence smiled, a slow, pleased smile, for he was beginning to
understand the reason for Lucinda's coolness towards him.  Was it
possible that she was in fact jealous of the empty-headed Miss
Berrisford?  If so, then he was beginning to feel thankful that the
attention he'd been paying her over the last twenty-four hours might
not have been in vain after all.

"I look at every pretty woman that way."

"You do?  Then you must take care, my lord, else you will have more
ladies vying with each other for your title than you bargained for."

Laurence looked at her.  Her eyes were very revealing and the
resentment he saw there brought a smile to his lips.

"And what of you, Miss Howard?"  he asked in a light-hearted, casual
manner, for her answer to his question meant more to him than she
realised just then.  "Does the thought of a title not appeal to you?"

Lucinda looked down at him sharply.  He was giving her a strange look'
she could not quite fathom, his dark eyes examining her as though
looking for an answer she could not comprehend, and she felt a sudden
twinge of alarm.

"Unlike Miss Berrisford, I do not look for a title, Lord Rainborough. I
have never sought it."

"And if one were offered to you?  Would you not find it appealing?"

Lucinda looked at him directly.  "That would depend on the man who came
with it," she replied tartly, beginning to struggle to get up.

"You are going?"  Quickly he stood up and taking her hand assisted her
to her feet.

"Yes, I must," she said,.  disengaging her hand quickly from his grasp,
for she found his touch quite disconcerting.  Lowering her eyes she
brushed the sand from her skirts.  "See--the other ladies are returning
to the house.  It would not be considered proper for me to remain here
on the beach alone with you.  People would get the wrong idea
entirely--and, anyway," she

said, lowering her gaze, "I would not wish to ruffle Miss Berrisford's
feathers by keeping you from her."

Laurence's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed suddenly.  "What Miss
Berrisford thinks concerns me not at all," he said in an irritated
tone, his forbearance to the way she persisted in referring to the
young lady beginning to wear thin.  "Now--come.  If you must return to
the house then I will escort you.  The last thing I want is to
compromise you."

"There is no need.  Stay on the beach a little while longer.  I can
make my own way."

"I insist.  It is easy to lose one's footing on the rocks.  It would
never do to injure yourself--rendering you unable to dance at the ball
tonight."

"I do not intend climbing any rocks, my lord.  But seeing that you
insist, then very well.  You may escort me back to the house."

It was as they climbed the steep path back to the house that Lucinda
had a peculiar feeling, causing her to raise her eyes to the hill
sloping up above them.  What she saw made her stop suddenly and her
breath catch in her throat.  Suddenly she experiencec[ a feeling as if
the hills on either side were closing in on her.  The two
foreign-looking men that she had seen in Easterlea the previous day
when she had been with Amelia, whom she had relegated to her
subconscious, now resurfaced and she knew a moment's panic, for there
they were, standing looking down at them, two grim, menacingly silent
figures.

"Lord Rainborough--stop a moment.  Look--up there.  Do you see?"

Laurence paused and followed her gaze.  Upon seeing the two men he
stiffened, his face darkening and becoming convulsed by a violent spasm
of rage.  Immediately he was galvanised into action and, with an angry
cry, attempted to run up the side of the hill but, hampered by the
steep sides and soft crumbling ground, he knew it was futile to try and
pursue them.  Immediately the two men disappeared, becoming swallowed
up in the thick woods crowning the brow of the hill.  Cursing under his
breath, Laurence returned to Lucinda.

His sudden change of mood had startled her for it was so unexpected.
His features had become dark and brooding and there was a quickening to
his stride as, without speaking, he took her arm in a bruising grip and
continued to climb the rugged path up to the house.  Only when they
were in the gardens did he release his grip and look down intently at
her white face, his body taut and his features tense.

Lucinda's heart was beating so fast she could scarcely speak as she
stared up at him in fear and incomprehension.

"Who were those men?"  she demanded.  "They looked at you as if they
knew you.  You do know them, don't you?"

"No," he answered very firmly.  His words were guarded and a veiled
look had come over his dark eyes.  "And do not concei'n yourself with
them.  Try and forget you ever saw them.  No doubt they are the gypsies
Beatrice told me have been hanging about the manor for days now."

His angry, violent reaction to the men told Lucinda they were not
gypsies, that their presence denoted something far more sinister.  He
did know them, she was sure of it, and would have liked to have pursued
the matter, but, sensing he would resent any intrusive questions, she
merely sighed and turned away, sighting

Amelia hurrying towards them.

"Yes-:-I expect you're right."

Amelia met them with unconcealed chagrin and claimed Laurence
immediately, throwing Lucinda a look of sullen resentment.  Quickly
Lucinda excused herself and, with an abruptness that surprised and
dismayed Amelia, Laurence did likewise.

As Lucinda prepared herself for the ball that evening it was with a
curious sense of foreboding, for the sinister sighting of the two men
had thrown her into fearful confusion.  What was the secrecy and
mystery that shrouded the Earl of Rainborough?  Contrary to his denial
of them, she was certain he knew them.  But what did they want?  She
was deeply disturbed by the incident for was it possible that there
could be some connection between those men and Lord Rainborough?
Something which involved the Spanish woman and the child she had
encountered in York?

The evening was unusually warm, the air oppressive, with all the signs
of a threatening storm.  Already the faint rumble of thunder could be
heard out at sea--but Lady Lampton was determined that it was not going
to spoil the ball after all the hard work which had gone into arranging
it, ensuring that it would be as successful as any other which had been
held at Easterlea Manor.

The celebrated parties and balls given by Lord and Lady Lampton were
echoes of the London social scene, helping to appease the isolation
felt by some of the gentry in the northern provinces, Embossed
invitations to all the neighbouring gentry and aristocracy had been
sent out, requesting their presence at the ball to be held at Easterlea
Manor that evening.  It was to be a lavish and grand affair.  The long
gallery on the first floor, embellished with tapestries and an
elaborate plaster ceiling, had

been transformed into a ballroom, its oak floor gleaming bright.  The
orchestra was to be stationed at one end.

Leading off from the ballroom was the supper room, lit by innumerable
candles which cast a golden pool of light over the buffet tables,
covered with snowy white linen cloths and laden with a wide variety of
foodstuffs and bottles of the finest wines.  Footmen in powdered wigs
with white stockings and green-and-gold satin livery hovered, ready to
dance attendance on the distinguished guests.  The whole house was
festooned with vases and baskets bursting with a wonderful array of
flowers, mainly roses in salmon pink and the deepest reds and pristine
white, filling the air with their intoxicating fragrance.

It was not Lucinda's first experience of a ball.  She and Henrietta had
attended several on their arrival in London, where they had spent some
time before coming up to Yorkshire.  For this event, and on the expert
advice of her Aunt Celia, she wore a dress of plain cream silk, the
overskirt of a slightly deeper shade than the petticoat, tightening at
the waist and caught back at the sides with pc~l clasps.  The sleeves
were short and edged with delicate ruffles of Flemish lace.  It
enhanced to perfection the soft swell of her creamy breasts rising
above the tightly laced stomacher which was low cut and elaborately
embroidered with tiny seed pearls.  Her hair was styled simply with a
long unravelling ringlet and entwined with pearls.

When the distinguished guests were all assembled--the men in elegant
frock coats and powdered wigs, the ladies sparkling with jewels and
dressed in some of the most sumptuous, fashionable gowns Lucinda had
ever seen--after being received by Lord and Lady Lampton, the evening
began with a minuet danced by the hosts, and thereafter a sequence of
minuets which was to be followed by a series of country dances.

Dancers whirled over the gleaming floor, the full skirts of the ladies'
dresses dipping and swaying in time to the music.  Lucinda had no
shortage of partners although she had to repress a feeling of regret
and disappointment that Lord Rainborough was not one of them.  Yet she
did not let this spoil her enjoyment.  Just seeing so many people
together enjoying themselves, the very noise of laughter, the colour,
the stimulus of the music, acted like a tonic.

The evening was well under way when Lord Rainborough appeared and
immediately began conversing with a group of elderly gentlemen, drawn
together by their military backgrounds.  They discussed the politics of
the day and the subject of the utmost interest to them all, the
exploits of the Duke of Marlborough and his

most recent victory at the Battle of Malplaquet on the Franco-Belgian
border.

It was one of the blood lest battles of the long war with France, as
once again King Louis XIV had failed in his misguided attempt to
subjugate Europe.  by force of arms.  His bid for supremacy had been
put down yet again and was due, in no small measure, to the victories
won by the Duke.

As the evening wore on, there was much laughter and frivolity.  The
next time Lucinda saw Lord Rainborough he stood alone, contenting
himself with observing the dancers, seeming unwilling to join in.  Used
to seeing him wearing his own dark hair, Lucinda was surprised to see
him wearing a full-bottomed powdered wig and looking striking in a
purple velvet coat over a waistcoat and breeches of silver damask, a
cravat of fringed muslin at his throat.  His features were stern and
there was a dark brooding look ever present in his eyes, telling her
that the sighting of the two men was still very much on his mind.

There were moments when she glanced his way and caught him watching her
swaying figure as she negotiated the small, intricate steps of the
minuet with her partner--just one of the many fellows clam outing to
dance with her.  But Laurence made no attempt to approach her, to
partner her in a dance--or anyone else for that matter-- not even the
delectable Amelia Berrisford, looking the picture of perfect sweetness
in a cloud of curls and pale pink lace, although somewhat down at the
mouth due to his neglect.

Later, Lucinda again looked for his tall figure but did not see him.
Beginning to feel hot after so much dancing, feeling her slippers
pinching her feet, and with the praises of many of the young gallants
ringing in her ears, she excused herself to her partner and went to
where her aunt was sitting with Lady Lampton and a group of ladies. She
could not help but be aware of a certain constraint between them.
Although they knew each other well enough, because of the splendour of
the occasion their conversation was somewhat formal and stilted.

Seeing Lucinda coming towards her, Celia smiled, glad to see she seemed
to be enjoying herself although disappointed that Lord Rainborough was
not present.

"Come and sit with us, Lucinda.  We are busy catching up on gossip."

"No--thank you, aunt.  I'm rather warm and quite worn out with so much
dancing.  I'll just take a little stroll if you don't mind."

"As you like, my dear."

"My cousin has not claimed you for a dance yet, Lucinda," remarked Lady
Lampton.  "Or, it seems, anyone else for that' matter.  For the life

of me I cannot think what's the matter with him tonight--or where he's
got to.  He hasn't been himself all evening.  "

"Maybe he's found his way into one of the card rooms, Beatrice,"
suggested Celia.  "I have observed several gentlemen heading that
way."

Lady Lampton sighed deeply.  "Yes, that is what I thought--and no doubt
many more before the night is out.  I tremble to think how much money
will have been lost before morning."

"If the rumours which reach us of entire fortunes lost in the
establishments in St.  James's and elsewhere are anything to go by,
then plenty," said Celia.  "Like the tolling of the graveyard bell,
gambling is hardly worth the candle;'

"Then I am thankful that my cousin does not have a fortune to lose,"
replied Lady Lampton with cynicism.  "But," she said, tapping Celia's
arm humorously with her closed fan, 'one never knows--for if he has
indeed found his way to the card rooms, and if he is clever enough and
plays his cards right, then he might even winsome.  Although, where he
is concerned, I have to say that I believe his, departure from his
regiment runs deeper than I realised.  "

"Why?  What makes you say that?"

"Since taking up his position at Rainborough he has schooled himself to
be an impersonal observer to all that is happening on the Continent,
but, with all this fresh talk of Marlborough and his recent victory
over the French at Malplaquet, it is bound to have affected him in some
way.  The army was his life and it must trouble him deeply that he no
longer has any part of it.  The fact that he has inherited Rainborough
and the title has done nothing to soothe his departure."  She smiled at
Lucinda.  "If you should see him, my dear, please tell him that I
expect to dance with him before the night is out."

With a smile Lucinda promised to do just that, before moving away and
out of the ballroom into the rooms beyond where several of the guests
were reclining on sofas and in chairs--men bewailing their losses at
the tables and women chatting animatedly to each other and glancing
across at the men, speculating on the delights of the rest of the
evening while being waited on by footmen balancing glasses of
refreshment on silver trays.  She passed through spacious rooms
elegantly carpeted and hung with crystal chandeliers until she came to
one which was dimly lit and obviously not in use.  Longing to remove
her slippers, which hurt her feet dreadfully, she stepped inside and
closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment before
moving further into the room.

With a deep sigh she sank onto a sofa and thankfully eased off her
slippers, flexing her aching toes with relief.  She was about to lean
against the upholstered back when suddenly she had a peculiar,
unnerving feeling that she was not alone.  Quickly she rose, looking
across the room which was in partial darkness.  At that moment a finger
of lightning ripped across the night sky, bathing the room in a
brilliant white light, followed by a rolling rumble of thunder.  Rain
began falling heavily as the storm, which had been threatening all
evening, finally broke.  Lucinda's breath caught in her throat, for in
the stark white light she made out a figure.  In another flicker of
light she recognised the posture and the sharp profile of Lord
Rainborough, sitting in a high-backed chair by the window, looking
out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

LUCINDA'S heart lurched uncontrollably for Lord Rainborough was the
last person she had expected to find there.  ~He sat very still,
obviously deep in thought, and Lucinda was struck by his stern profile
against the yellow glow from the candles.  Something was troubling him,
that was obvious.  Something he preferred to keep to himself.  Maybe
Lady Lampton was right in her assumption that his departure from his
regiment had affected him~ deeply, but Lucinda did not share her
opinion,

strongly suspecting that his change of mood had more' to' do with those
men they had seen watching them climb the path from the beach
earlier.

Sensing that his mind was elsewhere and that her intrusion would be
unwelcome, she turned, intending to leave, but it was too late.  Her
very stillness in the room communicated itself to him by some sixth
sense, and the soft whisper of her silk skirts as she moved towards the
door, which could just be heard above the noise of the rain beating
against the windows, caused him to turn his head.

"Wait," his voice commanded, shattering the silence of the room.

With her back to him and her heart thumping madly Lucinda stopped,
aware that he had risen from the chair and was slowly moving towards
her.  When he stood behind her she turned and looked up at his stern
features, wanting to turn and run from the room, but she could only
stand as if paralysed.  It seemed as if his eyes never left hers which,
on recognition, softened slightly.

"Why--my dear Miss Howard.  So--it is you.  Have you any idea how
lovely you look tonight?  For a moment I was half afraid you were a
ghost come to haunt me," he said with a caressing note to his voice.
"You startled me."

"I--I'm sorry, I did not mean to,"

When another flash of lightning lit up the sky Lucinda moved towards
the window, looking out and watching transfixed as ~the wind whipped up
leaves on the ground and sent branches swaying wildly in~ the trees,
causing torrential rain to lash with force against the windows.

Moving towards her and observing the faint smile on her lips and the
deep glow in her eyes, Laurence asked softly, "Are you not afraid of
the storm?"

"No.  I love storms like this.  We used to have them on Barbados.  I
find them exhilarating.

15!

This fury of nature forever fascinates and fill: me with wonder.  I
could watch it all night.  "

"What a strange person you are, Mis' Howard.  You never cease to amaze
me."

Drawn by the softness in his voice Lucind: turned her head and looked
at him, a questioning look in her wide eyes, but he merely ~mile~
crookedly.

"Tell me, why are you here?"  he asked, lettinl his dark, amused eyes
drift over her lovely face "Unless, of course, I am to assume you were
seeking me."

Hot colour flooded Lucinda's cheeks, for the deep resonance in his tone
a moment be for had almost seduced her into inertia.

"You assume too much, sir.  I was merci, seeking a brief respite from
the dancing and did not expect to find this room occupied.  I will go
for I have no wish to intrude upon you~ solitude."

She turned, intending to depart, but Laurence, unable to believe his
good for turn that she had found her way into his
sanctuary-intentionally or not--had no mind to let her g~ so easily.

"There's no need to do that," he said, at whicl she turned to face him
once again.  Hi~ expression was cynical.  "Solitude," he sighed "Let us
say that I too was seeking a brief respite

from the heat of the ballroom--and the persistent attentions of a
certain young lady.  "

Lucinda smiled knowingly.  "Am I to understand that you mean Miss
Berrisford?"

"The very same.  Why--what's this?"  he asked, indicating the slippers
she held in her hands.  A wicked light danced in the dark depths of his
eyes as he eyed her quizzically.  "Too many young men stepping on your
toes, is that it?"

"No," she smiled.  "My slippers are too tight, that is all.  I have to
confess that I've been dying to take them off all evening."

Laurence looked at her steadily.  "It's strange that you should appear
now."

"Oh?  Why?"

"Because I was thinking of you."

"I see.  Then I am honoured that you should occupy your thoughts with
me.  What were you thinking?"

"How charming you looked on the beach earlier.  Tell me, Miss Howard,
do you like Easterlea?"

"Yes--very much.  But then I like any place that is so close to the
sea.  Do you visit your cousin often?"

"No.  Oh--I used to in he past but the army took up so much of my time
that it changed all that.  When Beatrice and Cedric called at
Rainborough on their journey from London they insisted I visit them at
Easterlea--and when Beatrice commands," he said with sore amusement,
'it is tantamount to a royal summons.  Not 'having seen her or Cedric
for son considerable time, it would have been affront to refuse.  "

"Affront!"  exclaimed Lucinda.  "I cannot one minute believe that would
bother you."

"No?  Well, that's how it was.  But--I have confess that the very idea
of spending ar length of time at Easterlea surrounded Beatrice's
friends filled me with despondency.  and I got to thinking that, if
they were the usu mundane crowd of old whom they used to invito their
parties, then my time spent here could be enhanced by a couple of
pretty' faces."  H eyes gleamed wickedly.  "That was when thought of
you, Miss Howard, and your sister."

"Oh?  So it was you who asked Lady Lamptc to invite us?"

"It was merely a suggestion to my cousin the hope that a~ few days
spent away from: Burntwood Hall at this time would please you2

"Why you should feel the need to please me baffles me, Lord
Rainborough, but I thank ye for the thought.  Although did it not occur
you that, should I find out, it would cause me some embarrassment?"

"Embarrassment?  No.  That was not n intention."

"Then it was kind of you."

He frowned, his expression becoming ironic.  "Kind?  I think not.  It
is a rare thing indeed that I do anything without good reason.
However--if it makes you feel any better, then I will tell you that,
because she's a close friend of your Aunt Celia, you were already on my
cousin's list of guests.  You and your sister, of course."

"Oh'of course.  And how would you have felt meeting Henrietta, my lord?
After all, you were almost her betrothed."

"I did not ask to marry your sister, Miss Howard.  Do not forget that
it was your father who approached me with the suggestion that a union
between us could prove beneficial to us both."

The sudden harshness of his voice startled Lucinda and caused her to
ponder on the correctness of what he had said.

"You are right, of course.  I agree that my father was to blame for the
unfortunate affair and--thankfully, it has been happily remedied.  But
come, Lord Rainborough, you stray from the point.  As I understand it,
you came in here to escape Miss Berrisford.  Well--I am sorry to be the
bearer of unhappy tidings, but I must tell you that she is searching
for you."

Laurence's mouth twisted in a humourless smile.  "Then all the more
reason for me to remain in here--for the truth is that I am in no mood
for the frivolous girlish simperings of Miss Berrisford."

Lucinda's lips quirked with amusement.  "With your glowing reputation
as an experienced, battle-hardened soldier, my lord, surely you are not
to be intimidated by a mere female.  I agree that it is quite shameless
the way Miss Berrisford follows you around, but you cannot blame
her--after all, it is common kngwledge that you are seeking a wealthy
heiress," she said, slightly taunting.

"I did overhear her mother telling Lady Skelton that because Amelia is
having such a good time of it here at Easterlea then they may delay
their departure for London by a few days.  By the way you are
constantly in each other's company, and the way she seeks you out, it
is only natural that you arouse speculation among your cousin's guests,
for it could be construed that you are publicly acknowledging that Miss
Berrisford is suitable to all your requirements for a wife."

Laurence's expression changed and he was looking down at her as if he
had never seen her before--as if he could not gaze too long.  "They can
speculate all they like--where young women of Miss Berrisford's calibre
are concerned I never allow my head to be governed by my emotions."

He stepped closer, his dark eyes looking

directly into hers.  "But what of you, Miss Howard?"  he said in a
low, seductive voice.  "If you were to be seen in here--in a darkened
room, alone with me--could not the same be said of you?  That, like
Miss Berrisford, you sought me out?"  He smiled, leaving Lucinda in no
doubt as to his meaning.  "At least with Miss Berrisford, the time
spent in each other's company is done openly."

Lucinda drew in a deep breath.  In the dim light her tender, liquid
violet eyes darkened and her face was drawn into a white cameo, her
long ringlet of blond hair resting on her bare shoulder almost the same
colour as she stared up at this strong virile man who was so close. "

'l--I don't know what you mean," she stammered softly, noticing how his
dark brown eyes became almost black as they fastened on her face.

"Oh, come now, I think you do.  I think we understand one another
perfectly, don't you?"

They stood looking at each other, so close but without touching.
Laurence's face was suspended over her's, mysterious in the dark
shadows, His voice died away into the silence of the room, which, like
him, seemed to be waiting, poised for her answer.  When this was not
forthcoming, he took the initiative to seek her answer by drawing her
into his arms, his head descending to hers, to her lips, which wet
slightly parted and trembling.

He kissed her leisurely, deliberately, an~ Lucinda felt liquid fire
shoot through her body She did not resist his embrace and was power
less to do anything to prevent her lips from opening under his.  As his
arms tightened abot her, in that instant their bodies melted togethe
and she felt the hard muscles of his thigh pressed against her, causing
a sweetness to flox through her veins.

Deprived of strength, she leaned against him letting her slippers fall
from her grasp~ He ben her body backwards, his lips leaving hers am
travelling down to the soft warm hollow of he throat where a tiny pulse
was beating be neat her soft flesh.  With her head flung back Lucind
gasped in sheer delight, and once again she lifted her head and his
mouth covered hers.

With the noise of the storm raging outsid~ they remained pressed
together, time and plao evaporating into the shadows about them.  A
that instant there was a sudden commotio~ outside the room of loud
unrestrained mirth a young couples--having imbibed too much win, and
seeking dark intimate places where the' could be alone to experience
the mysterious sensual, bodily delights of each other, awa, from the
jollifications of the ballroom an~

prying, critical eyes of the older generation--came closer.

Only then, as the boisterous sounds outside the door penetrated her
senses, did Lucinda emerge from the trembling narcosis into which Lord
Rainborough's embrace and kisses had sent her.  The noise jolted her
back to reality, restoring her sanity.  With a gasp she twisted herself
from his arms and stood back, staring at him in bewilderment as the
door was flung open.

She spun round to see two young men, their wigs awry, each holding the
hands of two giggling young ladies with flushed faces and eyes wide and
sparkling in anticipation.  Seeing the room already occupied they
halted in the doorway.  Their jaws dropped open in amazement on
recognising the dark, forbidding features of the Earl of Rainborough.
Recovering almost instantly from the initial shock this unexpected turn
out had caused them, they did not trouble to hide their glee, or their
smirking lips, as their eyes flickered over him and his lady with
leering, knowing interest.

Lucinda flushed in an agony of shame and embarrassment at being taught
out in such a compromising situation, while Laurence's reaction at
being so rudely interrupted was one of anger.

"Have you not the decency to knock before you enter a room?"  he
~admonished.  "Have you no manners at all?"

"I do beg your pardon, sir," spluttered one of the young gentlemen,
while the two young ladies tried to stifle their giggles behind their~
fans without success, not in the least perturbed at having disturbed
them.  In fact, they considered the whole situation hilarious.  "We
thought the room to be unoccupied."

"Then you thought wrong.  Kindly leave us."  Before any of them could
make a move Lucinda picked up her slippers avoiding Laurence's dark,
angry gaze,

"Please--e-excuse me," she stammered.  "I must go."

Laurence reached out to try and stop her but' it was useless," She went
swiftly towards the door with as.  much dignity as she could muster.
The four young people stood aside to let her pass, but once out of
their sight, embarrassment and a sickening feeling in the pit of her
stomach sped her through myriad rooms, away from the gaiety and noise
of the ballroom and up the stairs to her room where she remained for
the rest of the evening..

Lucinda did not see Lord Rainborough at Easterlea again.  The following
morning when she learned that he had returned to Rainborough first
thing her feelings were confused--in fact, never had she felt so
confused in her entire life.  Was it relief she felt at not having to
face him or regret that she would not?  But in the clear light of day;
the full import of what had happened between them faced her accusingly,
and she shrank in perplexed embarrassment of what would happen when
next they met.

She had no clear recollection of how she had got out of that room and
found her way up the stairs, remembering only the angry face of Lord
Rainborough as she had left him and the humiliation she had felt on
hearing the unsul> pressed giggles of the girls and seeing the leering
expressions on the faces of their companions, who had borne witness to
the passionate incident between herself and Lord Rainborough--of which
the very thought brought a flush to her cheeks.  :

Lucinda did not doubt for a moment that, having come upon Lord
Rainborough and her: self in a darkened room with the door closed and
locked in a passionate embrace, and their tongues already well
lubricated with wine, the onlookers would be unable to keep quiet about
the incident.  No doubt news of it would be all over Easterlea by
morning--which was confirmed by Amelia Berrisford, whom Lucinda passed
whilst on her way down to breakfast the following morning and noticed
that she was

16!

dressed for travelling.  Amelia's expression was tight and she did not
return Lucinda's smile but paused when Lucinda spoke to her.

"You are leaving Easterlea, Amelia?"

"Yes.  Under the circumstances Mama think: it best that we leave for
London immediately."

She was about to turn away but rounded or Lucinda viciously, unable to
contain herself, he~ lovely beguiling face transfigured with malice a~,
she faced her rival--making it clear to Lucind: that the brief
camaraderie that had existe~ between them was over.

"This is all your doing, isn't it?"  she hisse~ fiercely.

"Mine?  But how can that be?"  asked Lucinda genuinely astonished.

"You were jealous, weren't you?  Jealou" because the Earl of
Rainborough preferred t spend his time with me.  You could not endure
it~ The moment you could contrive it--with scant regard for your
reputation--you well looking for him.  "

Lucinda's eyes opened wide at this surpris~ attack.  "Should that be
so--and if I did haw any such designs on the Earl of Rainborough-then I
would not try to gain his attentions b3 using your devious and
noticeably predator~ methods, Amelia.  As it is, I can assure you ] did
no such thing--and where the matter of m3

reputation is concerned, then that is entirely my own affair.  "

"Oh--you need not look so horrified or so innocent.  Everyone was
scandalised when the sordid incident was uncovered to become the talk
of everyone present at the ball.  I have never felt such humiliation.
You made a fool of me."

Lucinda stiffened and her eyes narrowed angrily at what she considered
to be an undeserved attack.  "Then I am sorry if you felt that," she
said tersely.  "But you are misinformed~ I did not go looking for Lord
Rainborough.  We met quite by chance--and what happened afterwards is
between myself and Lord Rainborough."

"Then you cannot have made much of an impression on him," Amelia
scoffed haughtily.  Lucinda paled.  "What do you mean?"

"Why--it is obvious, isn't it?"  she replied with a triumph am sneer.
"Lord Rainborough left Easterlea with some haste earlier--leaving you
to face the music alone.  Had you made any impression on him at all
then he would not have done so.  It would seem you scared him off." ~

Seeing Lady Lampton come sweeping along the gallery she turned on her
heel and flounced off, but not before Lady Lampton had heard her
parting remark and, sensing the hostility between them, understood the
situation at once.

"Oh, dear!"  she exclaimed watching Amelia's retreating figure.  "It
seems Amelia is quite put out.  Pay no attention to her, my dear.
Between you and me," she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial
whisper, 'she is furious that her nose has been pushed out of joint.
"

Amelia's unprovoked attack was forgotten in the light of what she had
told Lucinda.  "Is it true, Lady Lampton?  Has Lord Rainborough left
Easterlea?"

The sudden break in Lucinda's voice and her crestfallen face brought
Lady Lampton's observant eyes upon her.  "Yes.  At first light.  But,"
she said, smiling softly and patting her arm with understanding, 'you
may rest assured that it had nothing to do with you--or what happened
last night.  "

Lucinda felt the blood fly to her face in sudden embarrassment.
"You--you know about that?"

"Yes--as does everyone else," she laughed.  "Pay no notice.  Had it not
been my illustrious cousin they had come upon, locked in a passionate
embrace with a beautiful young woman, then the matter would not have
been worth a mention."

"But nothing happened, Lady Lampton--well," she murmured, lowering her
gaze, knowing she must look the picture of guilt to Lady Lampton, who
was eyeing her with amused suspicion, 'not really.  "

"I believe you, Lucinda.  My cousin is too much of a gentleman for
anything else.  You must think nothing of it."

Think nothing of it?  How could she not think of it?  What had happened
in that room between her and Lord Rainborough would remain with her'
till her dying day.  How could she forget how she had felt?  How it had
felt to have his arms about her, to feel his lips on hers, and how
shamelessly, wantonly, even, her own traitorous body 'had responded so
eagerly, betraying any resistance she had built up against him, her
forget so easily that she had no intention becoming involved with any
man who saw her as little more than a means of financially securing his
future.

Aware of the turmoil going on inside her, Lady Lampton took her arm.
"Spare me a moment, will you, Lucinda?  Let's take a turn about the
garden while it is quiet."

Lady Lampton's expression was natural but Lucinda was ~tssailed by
discomfort.  "Of course," she replied, and then added as if it were
some kind of protection, 'although I mustn't be away for too long. Aunt
Celia will be needing me.  "

"Don't worry.  We'll just take a stroll, that is all.  How is Celia
this morning?"

"Tired after so much excitement and staying up so late."

"That's only to be expected, but I do believe she enjoyed herself."

The morning had dawned bright and clear, with little sign of the storm
which had raged throughout the night, apart from severa} broken
branches and a few ravaged flower beds.  It was quiet strolling along
the paths.  The gardens were noticeably devoid of people, many of the
guests having risen late and still in the breakfast room.  Two
gardeners going about their work bade them a cheery good morning.
Lucinda was thinking of Lord Rainborough.  Why had he left Easterlea in
such haste?  Did he regret what had happened between them?  Lady
Lampton had tried to reassure her that it had nothing to do with
her-zbut if not then what could it be?  Once again she had a mental
picture of the two men they had seen on their way from the beach. 
Could they have anything to do with his departure?

"Why did Lord Rainborough have to leave?"  she asked suddenly.

"A letter arrived from Rainborough.  As to its contents I know not--but
one thing I do know is that it must have been urgent for him to take
off like that."

They walked on for a few moments in silence before Lady Lampton
continued, studying the serious expression on Lucinda's face with
understanding, sensing some of the puzzlement she must be feeling over
Laurence's behaviour.

"I can see that you have formed quite an attachment for my cousin,
Lucinda."

Lucinda paused, unable to look into Lady Lampton's eyes directly, for
she had an alarming way of reading the truth.  "No--at least not in the
way you mean, Lady Lampton.  As I said--we scarcely know one
another."

Laughing softly at Lucinda's sudden confusion, unconvinced by her
reply, Lady Lampton put her hand under her chin and turned her face up
to hers.  "One doesn't have to know someone well to fall in love, you
know.  Attachments of that kind are often made at first glance.  That
is how you feel, isn't it?"

Taken by surprise by Lady Lampton's frank speaking, Lucinda flushed.
Love!  What did she know of love?  She had never been in love so how
could she know what it was like?  Was it the sudden quickening of
excitement inside and the way one's eyes were irresistibly drawn to
someone else's?  She was, strongly attracted to Lord Rainborough--this
she was aware of, and whenever they were together he had a strong,
pulsating effect on her.  But love?  How could she answer Lady
Lampton?

"Perhaps if you had used your charms on him, flirted with him a little,
then more of his time would have been spent with you instead of
Amelia," Lady Lampton said gently.  "Amelia is a delightful girl and
her mother and I have been friends for many years.  She is an only
daughter and her parents mean for her to marry well.  To capture an
earl would have been a grand-sized feather in their cap indeed."

Stiffened by pride, for she was slightly offended by Lady Lampton's
suggestion that she should have behaved in the same frivolous,~
immature manner as Amelia Berrisford had done, Lucinda's expression
became tight,

"Yes--I can see that it would.  However--I am quite inexperienced in
the employment of such frivolous arts, Lady Lampton, and find little
joy in engaging in meaningless flirtations merely to capture a
gentleman's attention,"

Lady Lampton's dark eyes appraised her with admiration and
understanding.  "So I am beginning to realise.  You are far too
intelligent for that and Laurence is much too serious to play fast and
loose.  I know him well, Lucinda, and I was not taken in for one moment
by the attentions he bestowed on Amelia.  He was quite indifferent to
her charms, however it may have looked.  But nor am I so blind that I
cannot see for myself where his true affections lie especially when I
heard what occurred between you last night."

"I think that can be explained, Lady Lampton.  I believe Lord
Rainborough got quite carried away by the moment, for normally I would
say he is not interested in me but in a very different matter which
concerns my fortune."

"With your fortune you are a desirable asset, I agree, and it cannot be
easy for Laurence with a rundown estate to maintain.  He knows what has
to be done--what it will cost--and the sensible solution is for him to'
marry an heiress.  This he can do while ever his heart remains
unattached, But this I do know about my cousin, Lucinda--that if he
meets a woman and falls deeply in love with her, then all the money in
the world would be of no consequence whatsoever to that."

Beginning to feel slightly disturbed by this conversation she was
having with Lady Lampton, unsure as to where it was leading, Lucinda
averted her eyes and began to walk on slowly, Lady Lampton falling into
step beside her.

"You say you know Lord Rainborough well, Lady Lampton.  Are you his
cousin on his mother's side?"

"Yes.  Laurence's mother and my own were sisters," she explained.  "He
was an only child.

We spent a good deal of time together as children at his home on the
outskirts of York--and I have to say that when his parents died he was
still only a boy.  From then on--when he was not at Oxford finishing
his education--he lived at Rainborough with his uncle and Rupert until
he took up his commission, making the army his life.  The death of his
uncle, followed so soon by that of Rupert, making him sole heir to the
Rainborough estate, hit him hard.  Family honour and duty were
paramount to all else:~As he saw it, he had no choice but to resign his
commission.  He has a lot to learn about living his life away from the
army?

Lucinda paused and looked seriously at Lady Lampton.  "Why are you
telling me this, Lady Lampton?  Lord Rainborough and I live but a short
distance from each other.  Arthis moment we are acquaintances, nothing
more.  Why should you think any of this has anything to do with me?"

"Because Laurence is much taken with you--I do know that.  In fact, to
tell the truth, Laurence would not have asked me to invite you to
Easterlea if it were otherwise.  He is meticulous about such matters
and would not, I know, put forward such a request if he were not
serious.  He also told me that you were the most beautiful girl he has
ever met--and Laurence does not eulogise lightly."

"He--he said that?"  stammered Lucinda, her eyes open wide in
astonishment.  "But--I cannot credit it."

"Ah--but it is true.  I agree with him.  You are lovely, my dear."

Not wishing to add to Lucinda's confusion, or make it look as if she
were matchmaking, Lady Lampton did not add that as far as she was
concerned Laurence needed a wife and Rainborough a mistress--the sooner
the better--and that she would be delighted if he chose Lucinda whom
she was sure would prove more than capable of taking on both, for she
was intelligent and did not lack either sense or spirit.  Yes--she
would suit Laurence very well.

"For too 'long Laurence has had little time to include love in his
life," she 'continued, 'but that does not mean to say that ladies don't
live in hope," she laughed.  " I well remember the times--before the
army instilled into him the discipline necessary to make a good
soldier--when he wasn't-so stiff and formal and used to enjoy the
gaieties of the London season as much as the rest.

"When he came home from the Continent from some campaign or other, his
good looks and the fact that he was a soldier--a hero, even, and
thought highly of by the Duke of Marlborough himself--made him an
extremely popular figure indeed.  Women were forever at his heels.
But," she frowned, her dark eyes suddenly troubled, 'he has changed a
great deal from those days.  Oh--it isn't just his departure from the
army that has brought this about.  He has changed in other ways, too.
"

"What do you mean, Lady Lampton?"

"Laurence and I have always been close but he does not always confide
in me.  Since he returned from Spain there is an air of~ secrecy about
him--something mysterious that worries him.  Something happened over
there which has affected him deeply--I am certain of it.  It is
something he will not speak of."

Lucinda stared at her with interest, for she had just voiced her own.
thoughts.  These same suspicions were foremost in her own mind.

Lady Lampton looked at her intently.  "Do you know what it might be,
Lucinda?  Has he said anything at all to you?"

"No.  But then, if he hasn't confided in you he certainly wouldn't
confide in me.  I have told you--we scarcely know each other."

Lucinda had to admit that what Lady Lampton had said was true.  An air
of mystery did surround Lord Rainborough, but if he had wanted his
cousin to know the cause of it, then surely he would have mentioned it.
The fact that he hadn't probably meant the matter was serious and he
did not wish to give her cause to worry.

But ever since Lucinda had first become acquainted with Lord
Rainborough-since she had seen him in York with the young Spanish woman
and the child--she had been curious about him, her curiosity increasing
on the arrival on the scene of the two foreign-looking men, causing him
to react to their appearance violently.  And now there was the note
that had been delivered to him in the early hours from Rainborough.
What could it have contained to make him leave Easterlea in such haste?
Were all these incidents connected?

Lucinda did not divulge any of what she already knew to Lady Lampton,
feeling it was not her place to do so and not wishing to increase her
worry.  No doubt if there was cause for her to be concerned then Lord
Rainborough would sort it all out eventually and put her mind at
rest--but until such a time she would keep her own counsel.

"I think that maybe you worry needlessly, Lady Lampton.  It is
inevitable that Lord Rainborough's transition from the strict
disciplines of army life to that of running an estate on such a large
scale as Rainborough was bound to have had some effect on him."

Lady Lampton sighed, knowing Lucinda was trying to soothe her anxiety
where her cousin was concerned?  and she smiled gratefully, but she was
not mollified.  She smiled resignedly.

"Yes--I am sure you're right.  I do recognise the difficulties he must
face and think, perhaps, I'm being a little over-protective--which will
never do.  Come--let us head back to the house.  Oh--see--at last," she
laughed suddenly on observing a number of guests beginning to wander
out of the house.  "After sleeping off their excesses of the ball, I am
glad to see our guests are beginning to stir at last."

CHAPTER NINE

LAURENCE hurried to York faster than he had ever hurried anywhere in
his life before, mastering his impatience to spur the horses on.  The
closer he got, desperation, born out of pure fury, drove him on, but
resisting the overwhelming urge to leap out of the coach and take the
reins from the driver and drive the horses himself in his desire to
reach his daughter before it was too late.

Darkness had long since fallen by the time they crossed Monk Bridge
which spanned the River Foss outside the ancient city.  He had been on
the road since early morning, having left Easterlea immediately he had
received the note from William telling him that word had arrived at
Rainborough Castle from Anthony Metcalfe and his wife in York, that his
daughter was very sick and he must go to her at once:

Laurence breathed a sigh of relief when the coach finally passed
through Monk Bar, the tallest of the four gates which pierced York's
two-and-a-half-mile defensive circle of creamy limestone wall. Expertly
the coach driver negotiated the way through the city, interconnected
182

by narrow lanes between tightly-grouped, centuries-old houses, towards
Micklegate.  Thankfully few people were abroad, the streets devoid of
the congestion of wagons and people which prevailed during the day
time, when the journey within the city walls would have seemed
interminable.

After travelling down Ouse Gate, they crossed the humped-backed Ouse
Bridge, the only crossing over the river apart from the ferry upstream
near Barker Tower.  The coach climbed the steep incline of the bridge's
central bow and down the other side, passing St.  William's Chapel on
the Micklegate end of the bridge with its distinctive needle spire.
Across from it stood the most foul and dampest of York's gaols, where
during daylight hours--which lasted only until noon in its lower
parts--prisoners were in the habit of begging food from passersby.

After passing the Priory of the Holy Trinity along Micklegate, it was
with abject relief that Laurence saw Metcalfe Hall ahead--a large
timber-framed, two-storey house with three gables and jet tied tiled
roof.  It had elaborate, wooden, gothic windows and spandrels forming a
handsome porch facing the street.  The coach passed through an arched
gateway into a cobbled yard.  Metcalfe Hall was the home of Anthony and
Margaret Metcalfe, whom

Laurence had known since boyhood.  The three of them had grown up
together when Laurence had lived along The Mount, which was outside
York on the Tadcaster road.  The three of them had remained close over
the years and it had been a happy day when Anthony and Margaret had
married.  Unlike Laurence, who had been determined to make his career
with the army,

Anthony had entered his family's law firm, practicing in York.

On his return from Spain, and owing to events which had occurred in
that country making it almost impossible for him to take his three-year
old daughter to Rainborough Castle--and not knowing how run down and
neglected he would find things there--it was to Metcalfe Hall that
Laurence had brought her, for Anthony and Margaret to care of until
such a time when he could safely take her home,

The ~moment the coach pulled into the yard and Laurence climbed out,
Anthony was there to meet him.  He was a man of medium height with a
broad frame and blue, quizzical eyes which took in his friend's
appearance at once, causing him to wince at the haggard set of his face
and the tortured lookS'in his dark eyes.

"Praise be to God you are here at last, Laurence."

"I came as quickly as I could.  Unfortunately, when word arrived at
Rainborough I was over half a day's journey away visiting my cousin at
Easterlea.  How ill is Christina?"

"She has the scarlet sickness, Laurence.  We considered it best to send
for you when her condition deteriorated for we feared the worst.
Mercifully, her fever broke last night.  The news is hopeful."

"Thank God--but how Iwish I could have been with her during those
critical hours."

"Come along inside.  Some refreshment, perhaps--but first I will take
you to Christina."

They were met on the landing by Anthony's wife Margaret.  She was
carrying a pitcher of water which she placed on a table on seeing
Laurence, smiling suddenly and moving forward to greet him.  Margaret
was as tall as her husband, a quiet, attractive young woman with a
graceful bearing, auburn hair and intelligent brown eyes.

"Laurence!  How good it is to see you at last."

"I was telling Anthony that I came just as soon as I received word,
Margaret."

"I'm sure you did.  Come along inside.  No doubt you're anxious to see
Christina."

Laurence entered the chamber where his daughter slept, the light from
the candles and the fire glowing rich in the heat, bathing the room in
a gentle glowing warmth.  The still figure of Maria, Christina's
Spanish nurse, sat outside the circle of light, her eyes lowered and

her lips moving in silent prayer as her fingers passed over the beads
of her rosary threaded through her fingers.  When Laurence entered the
room she lifted her head, her eyes flooding with relief at the sight of
his familiar figure.

Laurence looked down at the frail, helpless child in the bed, his
throat constricting with pain when he thought he had almost lost her to
the Almighty.  Sitting beside her, he gently took one of her small limp
hands in his, finding it hard to imagine that this exhausted child was
the same warm, vital sprite he had left behind with Margaret and
Anthony when he had gone to Rainborough.  Golden candlelight touched
her cheeks and her dark-lashed eyes were closed as she slept, her face,
smattered with scarlet dots, pale now the fever had gone, her pallor
emphasised by the whiteness of the lace-trimmed pillow on which she
rested her head.  She was so small that the huge four-poster bed, hung
with lheavy azure brocade, almost swallowed her up.

Margaret came to stand beside him, looking down.  "She has been
fretting for you, Laurence," she -said quietly.  "Last night 1%r fever
bijoke and now she does not cry out or toss so much.  The doctor says
the danger is past, that she is over the worst.  He has great hopes for
her recovery.  The rash will 'fade gradually."

Realising the tremendous strain he must have been under since learning
of Christina's illness, she smiled softly, observing how his shoulders
relaxed at her words and the tension seemed to melt from his face when
he looked up at her questioningly.

"She's going to be all right, Laurence.  She's going to get better.
Now--come and take some refreshment.  You look quite worn out.  You can
sit with her later."  Her eyes moved fondly to where Mafia still sat.
"Perhaps now you are here, Maria can be persuaded to take some rest.
She has watched and nursed Christina constantly, afraid to take her
eyes from her for one moment.  Her devotion to the child is
commendable."

Leaning over, Laurence touched Christina's cool brow with his lips
before rising and following Margaret from the room.  Downstairs she
disappeared to the kitchen to arrange for refreshments to be brought
for their guest,.  leaving Laurence alone in the drawing-room with her
husband, who handed him a much-needed glass of Madeira.

The strong fortified wine flowing through his veins helped to relieve
the tension inside him, and he felt his body begin to relax.  Moving
towards the fireplace where a fire blazed in the iron grate, he gazed
down into the flames, realising how precious his lovely, beautiful
child

was to him, how close he had come to losing her.  He marvelled at her
resilience, while the full horror of what her loss would mean to him
entered his soul.

Gazing at his friend's brooding face, Anthony moved to stand beside
him.

"Christina will soon be well enough for you to take to Rainborough as
planned, Laurence."

"I cannot take her yet, Anthony.  It is not possible."  He sighed with
a weariness he had not felt in a long time.  "I am beset on all sides.
Everything is in such a mess at Rainborough and I am absent for most of
the time--overseeing what has to be done on the estate myself for the
present.  There would be no one to take care of her except William and
my elderly housekeeper.  I want a more settled environment to take her
back to.  You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course.  In any case, she will not be well enough to travel for
some considerable time.  Margaret and I are more than happy for her to
remain with us for just as long as it is necessary.  You know that.
With no child of our own as yet, Margaret positively dotes on her.  I
am only sorry we had to.  send for ~you.  Others have gone down with
the same ailment but have not been as fortunate as Christina."

Laurence turned and looked at him.  "Words cannot express my gratitude,
Anthony, to you and to Margaret for sheltering her--taking care of
her--but you know the other reason why I cannot take her back to
Rainborough, why her whereabouts must be shrouded in secrecy."

Anthony nodded grimly, remembering what Laurence had told him of his
time in Spain, how he had been caught in a compromising situation with
a young Spanish girl, Isabella de Silva.  Unbeknown to him, she was of
noble ~descent and, upon discovering the relationship, her father, Don
Philippe de: Silva, had been incensed with rage.  Accusing him of
disgracing his daughter, he had ordered them to marry.  Laurence had
done the honourable thing and married her but his duties with his
regiment had kept them apart.  Their union had been brief and Isabella
had 'borne him a daughter, Christina, before dying shortly after the
birth.

When Laurence had left Spain he had brought his daughter and her nurse
Maria with him.  His action had brought strong opposition from her
grandfather who, feeling cheated and heartbroken over the death of his
beloved daughter, had wanted to keep the child.  When Laurence had
insisted on taking her, as was his right as her father, Don Philippe
had sworn to hunt him down and get the child back.

In his native Cadiz, Don Philippe was a powerful man and Laurence did
not doubt for one moment that he would do his utmost to

carry out his threat and track him down in England.  Not knowing what
awaited him at Rainborough Castle, and with this fear in mind, he had
asked Anthony and his wife to take care of her for the time being.

"Already I have reason to suspect that my worst fears have been
realised that Don Philippe has sent men to England in an attempt to
abduct Christina," explained Laurence gravely.  "Two men--one I am
certain I have seen before in Spain--are watching me.  I saw them at
Easter!ca only yesterday and pray to

God they did not follow me here.  " " Is it possible?  " " There is a
chance.  "

"Then we will see to it that she does not leave the house.  Fear not,
we will take good care of her.  Now--tell me--have you given any more
thought to Sir Thomas Howard's proposal that you marry his daughter?"

Laurence shook his head wearily, "Miss Henrietta Howard was not
enamoured of the idea of marriage to me.  She wept and lamented
woefully at the very thought; It seems her heart was already elsewhere;
Sir Thomas has conceded to her wishes and; from what I understand, she
is to wed quite soon."

"Then I am sorry to hear it."

Laurence shrugged and smiled slowly, a softness entering his dark eyes
when Lucinda's image floated in his mind.  "There is no need.  It is of
no matter to me.  In fact, I was rather relieved, I can tell you."

"Ah!"  Anthony exclaimed, his interest aroused, for the tone of his
voice and the secretive smile hovering on his lips led him to believe
there might be good reason for his apparent unconcerned reaction to

Miss

Henrietta Howard's rejection.  "I see."

"You do?"

"Aye," he chuckled.  "More than you realise.  Tell me--who is the
fortunate lady who has captured your interest?"

"Henrietta's sister.  Miss Lucinda Howard."

"You speak her name like a term of endearment.  Does she resemble her
sister?"

"A little--but her character is so very different," said Laurence,
thinking with pleasure of the previous evening--of the ball at
Easterlea and what had transpired between them when they had found
themselves alone.  He remembered how it had felt to hold her, how warm
she was in his arms, how supple, how willingly she had yielded her
lips, opening them to receive his kiss.

He sighed, swallowing what remained of the Madeira in his glass as he
also remembered the shock and embarrassment in her eyes when they had
been so rudely interrupted, how she had turned from him and hurried
from the

room, horrified that their passionate interlude had been witnessed by
others who had derived immense pleasure in their discomfort.  Did she
regret her moment of weakness when she had surrendered to his embrace?
And what had she thought when she had found he had left Easterlea so
suddenly?

"Henrietta is meek and demure," he continued, 'and does not possess the
same vibrant qualities I find attractive and challenging in her sister.
Lucinda is stubborn and forthright with fire in her blood and a
rebellious heart.  "

"Then mayhap her rebellious heart will be chastened with marriage,
Laurence," smiled Anthony.  "At least marriage to her would bring you
the much-needed wealth to restore Rainborough."

"Aye--that I know.  But had she no dowry at all, I would marry her."

"And what does the fair Lucinda think of you, Laurence?  Does the
prospect of being a countess appeal to her feminine heart?"

"Not in the slightest.  She will not be swayed by prospects of
grandeur.  She thinks little of marriages arranged like commercial
transactions for the acquisition' of wealth, lands or power."

"Then she is a rarity indeed."

"Her dowry would be a desirable asset--that I am in no position to
deny.  Rainborough desperately needs a fortune spending on it to
survive.  But how can I convince her that I would marry her for herself
and not what she will bring?  That I would live in poverty for the rest
of my life just to have her by my side."

Anthony gave him a laughing sidelong look.  "From what I remember of
you, Laurence, you never had any problems in that quarter.
How-ever--there is only one way of finding out whether she will have
you or not and that is to ask her--for the sooner you are married and
some semblance of order has been restored to Rainborough then the
sooner you will be able to take Christina there.  Does Miss Lucinda
Howard know you have a daughter?"

"No.  Apart from her father, no one does.  As a prospective husband for
his daughter, he had a right to know my circumstances, but until I am
able to take Christina to Rainborough--when I am certain she will be
safe from abduction by her grandfather--then I asked for his silence.
The fewer people who know of her existence the better.  I want no word
uttered in idle gossip to lure any would-be kidnappers to her
whereabouts.  I would only have revealed her existence to Henrietta if
she had considered marriage to myself favourable."

"And should you decide to ask her sister instead?  How do you think she
will take the disclosure that you have a daughter?  Do you

THE RAIN BOROUGH INHERIl~ANCE

think she will be willing to take on the responsibility of a child? "

"That I cannot say.  But if I am to propose marriage then it is a
chance I shall have to take."

Lucinda was unusually quiet on the return journey to Burntwood Hall as
she pondered over the conversation she'd had earlier with Lady Lampton
in the garden, causing her curiosity over Lord Rainborough to deepen.
What was the mystery all about that caused his cousin to be so
concerned?  She sighed, staring out of the coach, passing scenery which
became a blur for she wasn't really seeing any of it.

Her short visit to Easterlea had certainly proved to be eventful--not
in the least like she had expected.  Where was Lord Rainborough now?
she wondered.  Why had he left so slid, demy and without a word to
anyone, leaving her to face the humiliation and whisperings at
Easterlea alone?  When would she see him again?  And when they did meet
how would things be between them?  At the thought of coming face to
face with him again after their shared, intimate momenL a soft,
embarrassed flush man tied her cheeks and a nervous feeling of excited
pleasure stole over her.

For the time it took to travel from Easterlea to Burntwood Hall, which
took two hours

19~'

longer than their outward journey owing to the wet and rutted condition
of the roads caused b) the recent rain, Celia dozed, saying little. She
had been made aware by more than one of Beatrice's guests, eager to
relate what hac transpired between Lucinda and Lord Rainborough the
previous evening, and she was neither shocked nor dismayed by it--in
fact she was rather pleased by the way events were turning out.

Clearly Lucinda was troubled and confuset by what had occurred so Celia
remained quiet on the subject, but her eyes were watchful, their powers
of discernment sharp, for she had ~ strong suspicion that it would not
be lone before Lord Rainborough paid Thomas a cal at Burntwood Hall,
requesting his permissior to marry Lucinda.  On this happy thought she
sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her heac against the soft
upholstery as the coach rumblec along.

On arriving back at Burntwood Hall it was t~ find Henrietta in a state
of euphoria, for her father had relented in all things where Hal was
concerned.  Not only had he become a frequen visitor to the-house but
Sir Thomas also gave the happy couple his blessing, permitting their
marriage to take place just as soon as it couk be arranged.  There was
no sense in waiting an~

he was eager for it to take place soon owing to his own failing
health.

Hal Ingram was a nice-looking, sensible young man--though in Lucinda's
opinion a trifle dull.  He always appeared rather awkward, his speech
slightly hesitant and he had an apologetic manner--due, she suspected,
to the fact that he lived in the shadow of his domineering father and
notorious brothers, well known for their disreputable, unrestrained
behaviour in the district.

She wondered what they thought about Hal's impending marriage to
Henrietta.  No doubt they would be rubbing their hands in glee, already
itching to grasp some of the wealth that would come his way.
Fortunately, both her father and Aunt Celia were astute business people
and would know what they were about.  With the help of their lawyer,
they would be very careful to draw up a settlement, making certain not
a penny of Henrietta's dowry found its way into their grasping hands.

Lucinda did not see Lord Rainborough for several weeks, nor did she
hear any news of him.  She did not know wh~re he was or, indeed," if
she would ever see him again.  But she did miss him terribly--more than
she dared admit to herself, for her feelings where he was concerned
filled her with confusion.  Whether or not he had returned to
Rainborough Castle she had no way of knowing.  Often she was tempted to
call for the carriage and visit Rainborough Castle, but her pride
prevented her from doing so or asking questions.

Doubts began to cloud her mind and she was bitterly wounded by his
treatment of her.  She had been so sure he had been attracted by
her--aware of her physically--and his conversation had led her to
believe that he was leading up to something.  Clearly she had been
mistaken.  Never would she trust her own instincts again.

Had the kiss that had woken all the passionate desires inside her meant
nothing to him after all?  Finding life dull in this quiet rural part
of Yorkshire, had he merely been 'playing with her affections for want
of something better, more exciting, to do?  She'd heard of men taking
advantage of innocent young ladies and then leaving them without the
slightest remorse.  But, no, she told herself, Lord Rainborough wasn't
like that.  Hadn't Lady Lampton told her it was not in his nature to
play fast and loose?

She tried telling herself that his absence did not concern her one way
or the other, that she could be as dispassionate as he was--but if this
was truly the case, then why did it hurt so much?

The house was .  a-buzz with wedding prep198

arations and Lucinda was grateful to have plenty to do to keep her busy
and her mind occupied.  But it was at night when Lord Rainborough's
image invaded her dreams, when he was seldom out of her thoughts.  She
didn't sleep well, tossing and turning night after night, remembering
the feel of his caress and his lips on hers.

The day of the wedding finally arrived, a cold but bright November day.
It was a simple, quiet affair--Sir Thomas being too ill to withstand
too much excitement.  There were few guests and the ceremony was
performed in the Norman church in the centre of Rainborough.
Afterwards, a small reception was held at Burntwood Hall for the guests
where everyone wished the happy couple well.  Henrietta, all silk,
ribbons and lace, looked radiant and gazed with pride and joy at Hal,
telling Lucinda that it was the happiest day of her life.

A week later, when the household had returned to normal-and with the
addition of another person to the family--just when Lucinda had almost
convinced herself that what had passed between o herself and Lord
Rainborough had meant nothing to him after all, feeling angry that he
had found it so easy to dismiss her from his life, she returned from
riding one afternoon to discover that this was not so, for while she
had been absent he had called at Burntwood Hall.

Lucinda went into the drawing-room where her aunt was waiting to speak
to her.  The meeting with Lord Rainborough had taxed her father's
strength and he had retired to his room.  Following the upheaval of
Henrietta's wedding, Celia was tired and would have liked to have done
the same but she waited for Luci~nda to return from her ride, hoping
that what she had to tell her would dispel the look of misery in her
eyes which had been present ever since their return from Easterlea.

She had been wan and listless, unable to hide her unhappiness brought
about by Lord Rainborough's absence and failure to communicate, no
matter how hard she tried.  Celia looked at Lucinda directly, wondering
how she would react to his reason for coming to Burntwood Hall today.

"You wanted to see me, aunt?"

"Yes.  Lord Rainborough called, Lucinda.  He has asked for your hand in
marriage."

Lucinda became, still, her eyes fixed on her aunt.  If this proposal
had come soon after her visit to Easterlea then it would have come as
no surprise--in fact, she had been half expecting it, but now, after
the multitude of doubts which had plagued her of late.  " it had come
as something of a shock to her sensibilities.  Her face

became drained of colour but, apart from that, her expression remained
blank.

"I sec.  What did you tell him?"

"That we would speak to you, of course."  "Could he not ask me
himself?"

"You were not here, Lucinda.  And, anyway--it was only right that he
should seek permission to do so from your father first.  However, he is
to call again when you have had time to consider the matter."

"How generous of Lord Rainborough," Lucinda replied, 'her reply
unusually testy.  "What is it to be?  One week?  Two weeks?  How long
is it before the bills have to be paid at Rainborough?"

"Lucinda," reproached her aunt, "That is hardly fair~ and it is not
like you to be so outspoken."

"Nevertheless, I strongly suspect that is the way of things, aunt.  I
am not so'.  naive as to see that he would not have proposed had my
father not settled on me a generous dowry--that, should we wed, I will
drop a fortune at his feet,"

"Your dowry will be quite substantial, of course."

"Of course.  If it were not; I very much suspect he would look for a
wife elsewhere."

A pained look entered Celia's eyes at this reaction to what she had
hoped would be a reason for rejoicing.  "You do Lord

Rainborough an injustice, Lucinda.  He is not as mercenary as you make
him out to be.  "

"I don't."

"Yes, you do.  I know what happened between the two of you at Easterlea
and I know that his hasty departure without a word to anyone and his
silence since then have hurt and angered you deeply.  But he had good
reason for leaving in the manner he did."

Lucinda looked at her sharply.  "You know?  He told you?"

"Yes.  But it is not my place to divulge to you what he told your
father and me in confidence.  I believe he would prefer to do that
himself."

Lucinda took in a deep breath, digesting her Aunt Celia's words.  "I
see."

"Lord Rainborough cares for you deeply, Lucinda.  I am sure of it."

"Even without my dowry, Aunt Celia?"

"Forget your dowry," snapped Celia, sounding unusually harsh, giving
Lucinda an unsympathetic look, 'and have the courage to take things as
they are.  Good' heavens!  What is the man supposed to do?  Can he help
it if his cousin died, leaving Rainborough in such a ruinous state?  He
gave up a great deal when he relinquished his career in the army.  Out
of a sense of duty and loyalty to his forebears and future generations
of Dwyers he is determined to do his utmost to preserve intact the
noble house of

Rainborough.  He is a proud and honourable man, Lucinda--and will
dislike the terms of the marriage contract as much as you.  But I
sincerely believe that such is his devotion to you he would wed you
without the fortune you will bring--should you accept his proposal of
marriage.  " She sighed and when she spoke again her tone was less
severe.  " Think how happy you could be living at Rainborough, Lucinda.
It's a wonderful place, You will consider Lord Rainborough's proposal
seriously, won't you?  "

Lucinda had the grace to look slightly abashed.  "Yes," she whispered.
"Of course I will."  ~

"Goodness--you'll .  be.  Countess of Rainborough--with your own castle
and manor and a husband who will love: you, It will be a far cry indeed
from Barbados.,

Where lies the beauty of the old days and the innocence of my lost
childhood, thought Lucinda wistfully,.  and her heart ached with .  a
sad hunger for them to return; "But what was the use of wanting them to
return?  Of looking back?  Those days were gone now, sweet memories
gone for ever.  They were nothing to her now.  ,

Now she must look to the future, Aunt Celia was right, She could be
happy living at Rainborough and she did understand, having seen the
castle for herself, Lord Rainborough's own deep love for the place, how
he could not bear to part with it.  She would have done exactly the
same in his situation and gone to any lengths to hold on to it--even if
it had meant marrying an heiress.

CHAPTER TEN

LORD RAIN BOROUGH gave Lucinda one week to consider his proposal of
marriage.  When Celia told her that he had arrived at Burntwood Hall
and awaited her in the drawing-room, she was overcome with relief and a
strange lightheartedness, her fears and uncertainties vanishing like
the morning mist.  She paused before entering the room, taking a
tentative step towards the closed door, for it was more difficult than
she had anticipated.  So much time had elapsed since their last
meeting-- the events of that meeting-of their embrace and how she had
fled from him, still vividly clear in her mind.  Nervously she entered
the room.  Seeing him, a wave of happiness swept over her, making her
forget the doubts that had assailed her during his absence, driving out
the anxieties of the past weeks.

He was dressed immaculately in plain black, the whiteness of his stock
emphasising his dark, lean features which wero drawn and lines of worry
and fatigue creased his brow.  Grave matters clearly worried him which
deepened Lucinda's curiosity as to where he had been for the past
weeks.

Laurence watched her enter the room and move gracefully towards him.
His gaze slid slowly over her face.  He inclined his head towards her,
feeling an instant response to her beauty, her femininity, seeing how
the sunlight lit up her hair like a silken sheath as she passed the
window.  He studied her with a degree of intensity, observing her
pallor and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

"I am delighted to see you again ~after so much time--although I must
say you are looking pale.  You have not been ill, I hope?"

"No, thank you for your concern.  I am quite well.  If I am pale, then
it can Only be put down to the upheaval of Henrietta's wedding.  It has
been quite chaotic for some time.  Only now has some semblance of order
been restored to the household."

Laurence's lips curved in a crooked smile and there was amusement in
his voice.  "I see.  And here was I thinking the reason might be
because you have missed me."

"Why, no," she lied, lowering her gaze lest he read the truth in her
eyes, 'finding his intense gaze unsettling.  "I've had far too much to
occupy my time."

"Speaking of weddings--you know why I am here, don't you?"

"Of course.  You have come for my answer to your proposal of
marriage."

Again that infuriating smile hovered on his lips.  "I thought you had
given me your answer at Easterlea," he said softly.

Lucinda tossed her head, angered by his conceit, and there was a
stubborn set to her jaw as she met his gaze directly, but Laurence saw
something move in the depths of her wonderful violet eyes.  A tiny
flame of triumph licked about his heart and he smiled.

"Then you thought wrong,.  sir.  It should not be assumed that one
kiss, given in the heat of the moment, is any kind of commitment.  Your
impudence astonishes me.  There has not been sight nor sound of you for
several weeks and you suddenly reappear out of the blue and come here,
seeking an audience with my father, making a proposal of marriage to
me--as though nothing unusual has occurred.  Really, my lord, what am I
to think?"

"You tell me, Miss Howard.  What do you think?"

"Why--that you might be hard-pressed for my dowry," she stated
bluntly.

Her words made Laurence want to reach out and shake her for he kn~w
that behind her bright expression and glib words the real passionate
Lucinda he had glimpsed that night at Easterlea was still to be found.
When he searched her face there was no longer any laughter in his eyes.
He frowned and when he spoke it was on a more serious note.

"The estate does make claims on me that I cannot fail to take care of.
That I cannot deny, And you may think what you will, but when I came to
see your father and made my proposal it was not of your wealth that I
was thinking."

Lucinda flushed scarlet, remembering that her Aunt Celia had told her
how deepJy Lord Rainborough cared for her.  Could this be true?  The
knowledge, that it could be so acted on her like an intoxicating
potion.

"And," Laurence continued, holding her eyes in a penetrating gaze, "I
have no intention of leaping into an alliance with some other offering
a golden dowry until I have your answer.  So, come.  What is it to be?
Will you be my wife?"  ~

Lucinda stared at him, 'swallowing hard, wanting so much to say yes,
that nothing would make ~her happier--but still she held back, feeling
a restraint in him: She had not imagined their: meeting to be like
this, wit ha distance between them.  She had waited for him to come for
her answer to his proposal with feverish anticipation.  Nothing had
prepared her for this polite, remote stranger who sto~ before her, If
only he had taken her in his arms and murmured soft, tender words of
love to give her confidence to overcome the: difficulties she found in
making her decision.  But there was nothing.  Perhaps marriage to him
would bring her all these things, but for now she must content herself
with things as they were.

The joy she had felt upon seeing him, which had temporarily obliterated
all else, had explained her feelings towards him--there was no point in
denying them any longer.  But she could not commit herself to anything
until certain matters had been explained.

"Forgive me," she said, endeavouring to keep her tone light, 'but I
feel that I cannot accept your proposal until certain matters have been
cleared up,"

He looked surprised.  "Which are??  " The--the woman I saw you with in
York.  The Spanish woman and the child.  You must understand that, if I
do agree to become your wife, it is only right that I know about her.
Is--is she your mistress?  "

At any other time Laurence would have thrown back his head and roared
with laughter at such a ridiculous suggestion, but the moment was too
serious to make light of.

He became thoughtful, his expression unreadable.  "You are right.  "
You should know--and you must 'believe me when I say that I had every
intention of telling you about them--and why I left Easterlea with such
haste.  " He continued to look at her hard, concern filling his eyes,
as though willing her to understand what he was.  about to disclose.  "
The child is my daughter.  Maria--the woman she was with--is her nurse.
"

Thrown completely off balance, Lucinda stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Your--your daughter?  But--but I don't understand.  Why didn't you
tell me?  Shouldn't you have told me of her existence before you asked
me to marry you?"

"Perhaps;' he said.  " But would it have made any difference if I had
to your: decision--as to whether or not you accepted my offer of
marriage?  "

Utterly confused, Lucinda frowned and turned from him.  "I--I don't
think so," she said hesitantly, 'but, nevertheless, you should.  have
told me.  Why all the secrecy?  "And where is her mother?"

His silence prompted her to turn and look at him.

"Her mother--my wife--is dead."  Laurence's eyes darkened with sadness
and his voice was flat and heavy with emotion.  "She suffered a
difficult birth and died soon after Christina~ our daughter, was
born."

"I see," whispered Lucinda, feeling a tightening around her heart.  "I
am so sorry.  Please--tell me what happened after that?"

"It is not a happy tale, but you have a right to

hear it.  Because of my commitment to the army, I was unable to take
care of her.  In any case, it was better for all concerned that she
remained in a stable environment--with her grand-father--Don Philippe
de Silva.  " He spoke the name with an underlying bitterness which did
not escape Lucinda.  " When word reached me of Rupert's death and my
inheritance--knowing I would have to return to England, I took
Christina away from her grandfather.  "

He moved away from Lucinda towards the window and stared out over the
garden, seeming to forget for the moment that she was there.  As he had
been speaking, his voice had become quiet and there was a softness to
his face she had not seen before.  For the first time she saw a
different side to him.

"Fortunately, Maria was as devoted to Christina as she had been to my
wife, Isabella.  I was grateful when she agreed to accompany us to
England."

"And Don Philippe, Christina's grandfather?  He must surely miss
her?"

Laurence's expression became grim, his eyes as hard as granite.  "Don
Philippe is an extremely rich, formidabl~ man and he has great power,
owning vast estates north of Cadiz.  He is lord of his domain and must
be obeyed by all.  Whoever disobeys him must be prepared to suffer the
consequences.  Many in Cadiz went in fear of him--many families he held
in the palm of his hand.  Isabella was his only child and Don Philippe
worshipped her.  When she died he was broken-hearted.  After that he
shifted all his affection to Christina--becoming quite obsessive about
her.  He did his best to prevent me taking her from him.  It was an
ugly scene--one I would not wish to repeat.  But as her father I had
right on my side--which is not a word Don Philippe is familiar with."

Laurence turned and looked to where Lucinda had gone to sit on the
settee, her hands folded on her lap as she listened to him.

"It is hard to tell you how different the Spanish are," he continued.
"Although I expect you may have encountered some out in the Indies.
There is a fierce, barbaric side to their nature' their Latin blood, I
expect, which Don Philippe has inherited in full measure.  He has sworn
to get Christina back whatever it takes--and I do not underestimate his
propensity to do so.  I believe he is capable of resorting to any kind
of treachery to accomplish this."  A murderous gleam entered his eyes.
"I am equally determined that he will not succeed."

A thought suddenly occurred to Lucinda, causing a coldness to creep
over her.  "Those men--the men we encountered at Easterlea--'

A savagery entered Laurence's voice, his words silencing her.  "Yes.
They have been sent

by Don Philippe.  I am certain of it.  Where they are now I know
not--but it proves that I was right to fear for Christina's safety. "

"Where is she now?  Why did you not bring her to Rainborough?"

"On my return to England, not knowing what awaited me at Rainborough,
my main concern was to ensure Christina's safety.  I left her with
Maria in York, where they are staying with trusted friends of mine for
the time being."

A silence fell between them, allowing Lucinda to take stock of what he
had told her.  It had all come as quite a shock.  She was relieved to
know the woman, Maria, was the child's nurse and not his mistress, but
the fact that he'd been married and that his wife had died, cast a
cloud over her.  And then another thought occurred to her.  Hadn't he
intimated that he had another reason for asking her to be his wife
other than her dowry, raising her hopes to believe it was because he
cared for her--when all the time his motive for doing so might be
because he wanted a mother for his child?

"From what I remember of your daughter, she is extremely pretty," s]ac
murmured.  "Is--is she like her mother?"

"Yes.  Isabella was a woman of exceptional beau tv " Since her loss,
Christina must have been a great comfort to you.  Is she the reason for
your absence these past weeks?  "

"Yes.  I received word at Easterlea that she had been taken ill--that
the worst was feared.  I thought of nothing else but getting to her as
quickly as I could."

Lucinda nodded slightly, understanding at last the reason for his hasty
departure from Easterlea.  "I can understand that.  She is well now, I
take it?"

"Yes--she survived, thank God.  She is quite well--but for a time " He
turned away~ suddenly his voice thickening with emotion as he
remembered how close she had come to death.

Lucinda would have liked to offer comfort--but he was remote from her.
Tenderness had entered his voice when he spoke of his daughter.  He
spoke lightly but she sensed ~his pain, the agony behind his words of
what he must have endured--fearful lest his daughter should die.
Lucinda was consumed with shame when she remembered how she had
selfishly thought of little else but her own unhappy predicament during
his absence.

"You must tell your cousin, Lady Lampton, what you have just told me.
From the conversation I had with her before I left Easterlea I gather
she is quite concerned about you especially when you left so hastily
without an explanation."

Laurence laughed softly, the faintly derisory gleam that she was
beginning to know so well back in his eyes.  "I'm sure she is.  It
wouldn't be Beatrice if she wasn't concerned.  Ever since my father
died she always did worry about me--rather like a big sister."

"Why did you not tell anyone about Christina?  Why keep her existence a
secret?"

"While ever there is a threat to her safety I could not take the risk
of exposing her.  The fewer people who know of her existence, the less
chance any would-be abductors, sent by her grandfather to England,
would have of finding her."

"Have you told my father any of this?"

"Yes.  He has known from the outset.  It was only right that he should
if I was to become Henrietta's husband.  Your aunt knows, also.  Now,
tell me?"  he asked quietly, a softness entering his eyes.  "Does what
I have told you make a difference to your answer as to whether or not
you will become my wife?"

Lucinda rose from the settee and moved a little closer to where he
stood, forcing herself to think calmly.  Gazing at his face, she knew
the answer.  She'd known it all along.  She loved him.  When she had
begun to love him she did not know.  It was something that had crept up
on her slowly, but she had never been more certain of anything in her
life before.

Yes, she loved this infuriating, unpredictable, insufferable man and
there was not a thing she could do about it.  The feeling was so deep,
so strong, that on a wild impulse she came close to confessing the
truth, but on seeing an image of his child and thinking of his dead
wife, whom he must have loved--might still love--she recollected
herself.

What difference did it make what his motives were for asking her to be
his wife--her dowry or to be a mother to his child?  The main thing was
that: he had and more than anything she wanted the love of this man.
Before he had told.  her any of this she had felt the promise of love
between them, that some strange chemistry had drawn them together.  Of
this she was not mistaken.  Her Aunt Celia had been right when she had
told her to have the courage to take things as they were in the hope
that one day he would come to love her too.

~ She summoned up the courage to smile.  "I cannot pretend that what
you have told me has not come as something of a surprise--but the
knowledge that you have a child will not make any difference to my
decision as to whether or.  not I accept your proposal of marriage."

"Then why do you frown?  ~ And why the troubled, unsure look in your
eyes?"

"Is there?  I didn't know.  Perhaps because I have difficulty sorting
out my thoughts just now.

I am confused by all you have told me, certainly.  "

"That is to be expected."  His voice was gentle.  He cupped her face in
his hand and stared down at her with an extraordinary tenderness.  "I
think you are finding it difficult to understand the reason why I have
asked you to be my wife, Is that it?"

His face was quite close to hers and Lucinda gazed up at him.  Seeing
in her eyes that this was so he sighed, smiling a little ruefully.

"You may rest assured R has nothing to do with your dowry.  Let us.  be
clear on that, shall we?  I find the idea of marrying someone for their
inheritance as loathsome as you do; Nor have I asked you to be my wife
because I feel my daughter is in need of a mother, Christina has ample
love and devotion bestowed upon her by myself and her nurse never to
want for more."

"So--neither one's your motive," Lucinda said softly, waves of great
happiness sweeping over her as she anticipated his declaration of
love.

"No.  You are a lovely, desirable woman, Lucinda," he said, addressing
her by her Christian name for the fix st time.  "Any man would be proud
to have you for his wife.  There is a fascinating, unique quality about
you that I find appealing--so--who else would I ask to be my wife but
the one who inspires me with emotions I have never felt before?
Besides," he smiled, "I believe you were destined to be a countess
whatever your feelings happen to be regarding the subject.  So what do
you say?"

Lucinda smiled, hiding the disappointment she felt by his omission of
the word love, and yet a sense of hope raced through her.  They would
come to know each other fully.  The promise was there in his eyes and
the hope that he loved her grew stronger.

"Of course I cannot pretend that life will be easy at Rainborough," he
continued, 'but in time things will improve.  Also, I have to tell you
that there will be occasions when I must be in London so I intend
reopening the house my uncle bought in Kensington; Does that appeal to
you?  "

"That isn't important.  I am of the same mind as Lord Lampton and
cannot understand why everyone should want to be in London all the
time--surrounded as we are by the delights and pleasures of the
countryside."

"Nevertheless, there will be times when you will hanker for the gay
life of the London social scene--for the theatre and the balls where
you can enjoy yourself.  It will be an exciting diversion from the
quietude of Rainborough where there are few distractions.  Arrangements
must also be made for you to be presented at court."

Lucinda looked at him with amused amaze E

ment, her lips quirking at the corners as she tried to suppress a
smile.  "I am well able to enjoy myself perfectly well here in the
country--although I would deem it a great honour to be presented at
court, I do admit.  But you are presumptuous, my lord.  As yet I have
not said I will marry you."

"No.  But I hope you will" he said quietly, "Then you will have to be
patient for I ~feel that I would like to get to know Christina a
little.  better before I commit myself."

Laurence nodded.  "That.  is understandable, I am to return to York: to
bring her to Rainborough before the: roads become too bad for me to
travel, I also fear that by rushing to be by her side when she was
taken ill I may have exposed her to danger--that the men we saw at
Easterlea--who had also been sighted in Rainborough before, that-may'
have followed me there in the hope that " I would lead them to
Christina"

"Why did you not bring her with you when you returned to Rainborough a
week ago?"

"She was still recovering from her illness and was too weak to travel
when I left, otherwise would have done so.  Per Imps you would care to
accompany me when I return?  If leaving your father concerns you, then
if you do decide to come with me we should not be absent for more than
two or three days at the most."

"Why-- Lord Rainborough'I--'

He held up his hand, reaching out and placing his fingers gently on her
lips, silencing her.  "No more Lord Rainborough, Lucinda.  I do find it
rather tedious.  My name is Laurence.  It is agreed?"

She nodded.  "Very well--Laurence.  I would very much like to go with
you.  When do you intend leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow.  Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly," she replied.  "I shall look forward to it."

Laurence and Lucinda travelled to York with Nancy accompanying Lucinda.
With the onset of winter the weather was cold but dry and fortunately
the roads were still passable.  Although Lucinda hadn't given Laurence
her answer as to whether or not she would become his wife, she
discovered a new kind of happiness which was a revelation to her.  The
sensation of being so close to him she found exciting and exhilarating,
although she still didn't know how he felt towards her.  Often she
would sense him watching her and when she turned her head and met his
gaze there was a warmth and an odd gleam in their dark depths which
would disappear instantly, leaving her wondering as to what was going
on behind his bland facade.

A new relationship had developed between

them.  He was kindness itself, showing her the utmost courtesy--in
fact it was as if all thoughts of that night at Easterlea had never
happened.  But often she found herself wishing to see a spark of the
insufferable Lord Rainborough of old.

It was dark when the coach trundled through the archway and into the
yard at Metcalfe Hall, where they were met by Anthony and his wife
Margaret.  Introductions were made 'quickly as they were ushered into
the warmth of the house, passing out of a long panelled hall and into a
large cosy room with a fireplace in which a welcoming fire glowed. Once
again Lucinda came face to face with Maria, the dark-haired Spanish
Woman she had met in York, and the child, Laurence's daughter, who was
leaping up and down with excitement.

"Christina should be in bed," explained Mafia in her heavily accented
Spanish voice, 'but knowing her father was to come, she has been
excited ~all day.  "

Whatever notions of constraint and aloofness Lucinda might have had
where Laurence was concerned, they were dispelled when she watched as
he scooped his daughter up into his arms.  His deep, protective love of
the child was evident, which brought a lump of emotion to her throat
and also a secret envy of the little girl, wishing it was upon her he
was lavishing all this love and affection.

Christina was so like her father that it was a wonder Lucinda hadn't
seen it from the outset.  Clearly she had inherited the same dark
colouring and gleaming black hair of her mother, but the brown eyes,
with their steady gaze, and the square set of her jaw, bore the same
marks of stubborn determination as her father.

When Laurence brought her over to meet Lucinda, who was hovering,
vaguely uneasy, in the doorway, it was not as difficult as she had
imagined making friends with Christina.  She was an adorable,
gregarious child who made friends easily,.

"This is Miss Howard, Christina," explained Laurence softly.  "She is a
very good friend of mine and would very much like to be your friend,
too, Come~say hello to her.  I have told her all about my little
Christina and she has been looking forward to meeting her."

Christina needed no further prompting from her doting father, for she
gave Lucinda a dazzling smile which melted Lucinda's heart, dispelling
any misgivings she might have had about meeting her.  When Christina
reached out from her father's arms and placed her~ own about her neck,
drawing her close and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, Lucinda's
eyes filled with tears.  Meeting Laurence's eyes, who was smiling with
concern and understanding, for he knew how much this moment had worried
her, she lowered her gaze quickly, ashamed of herself for showing her
emotions.

When Laurence had handed his daughter to Maria, promising to come and
see her the moment she was in bed, he turned to Lucinda.

"She is a truly delightful child," murmured Lucinda.

"Yes.  I am so lucky to have her.  I'm sure the two of you will become
friends--and I hope, in time, you will grow to love her as much as

I. "

Gazing up at him, Lucinda's eyes were captured and held by his and she
was stirred by the depth of warmth and sincerity in his voice.  She
felt that above all else it.  was important to him that she came to
love his daughter--that it was what he had intended all along.  She
realised that if she married Laurence then she would be needed--not
only by her husband but also by his daughter, and this thought warmed
and excited her.

At that moment Margaret came to stand beside them.

"A room has been made ready for you, Lucinda.  There is a room next to
it for Nancy, your maid.  Come--I'll show you the way myself and after
you have refreshed yourself we shall eat.  I'm sure you must be quite
ravenous."

Slightly perplexed, Lucinda looked at her.

"That is thoughtful of you, Margaret.  But, a room made ready for me,
you say?  How could you possibly know I was coming?"

Realising she had made a faux pas Margaret looked with helpless appeal
from Lucinda to Laurence, who stepped quickly forward to redeem the
situation.

"I took the liberty of telling Margaret and her husband that you might
accompany me when I returned for Christina."

"Oh!  You're very sure of yourself," she exclaimed.

His dark eyes danced with some of the old mischief and he grinned.
"Where you are concerned my dear Lucinda, I have to be,"

Margaret took her up to her room, which was low ceilinged with pale
green curtains at the window and matching ones on the canopied bed and
with warming pans already between the sheets.  It was a charming, well,
furnished restful room overlooking the street.  A fire burning in the
hearth generated a warmth Lucinda found welcoming.  She moved to look
out of the window, the faint moonlight outlining the rooftops and
steeples and towers of the many churches of York.

"I'm so happy that you agreed to accompany Laurence to York, Lucinda,"
said Margaret coming to stand beside her.  "He told us so much about
you when he came to see Christina."

Lucinda turned and looked at her, feeling somewhat surprised and
pleased to discover he had not forgotten about her altogether when he
had left Easterlea.

"He did?"

"Yes," she smiled.  "He also told us that you have lived for most of
your life on Barbados--that you did not come to England until about a
year-ago.  You will find it all so much different, I expect?"

"Yes: It's certainly colder~ but I am becoming accustomed to it."

"It's good, don't' you think," said Margaret changing the subject,
'that Laurence is taking Christina back to Rainborough?  There he will
be able to devote more time to her.  "

"Yes, although the threat from Don Philippe -- Christina's
grandfather-worries him considerably.  With the estate to run he'll
find it extremely difficult keeping his eye on her all the time."

"That I know, but for the time being he will have to put more work and
the management of estate affairs into the hands of his bailiffs.  Of
course he has William--his valet at Rainborough--who was with him
throughout his years with the army.  He's a worthy, trusty man, who
takes his duties seriously.  I'm sure he can be relied upon to watch
over Christina when Laurence is absent--especially with Maria at
Rainborough."

She smiled when Lucinda glanced at her questioningly.  "I got a
distinct impression when they first came to York--when Laurence left
William here until Christina and Maria were settled with us--that they
are extremely fond of each other.  BUt tell me, Lucinda, what do you
think of Christina?  She's an adorable child, don't you think?  Anthony
and I will miss: her terribly when she's no longer here with us."

"Wh-what do you know of her mother?"  asked Lucinda hesitantly.  "Does
Laurence ever speak of her?"

Margaret shook her head.  "No.  All we know is that she died almost as
soon as Christina was born.  It's sad when you think she never knew her
mother, I suppose Maria is the closest she has to one."  She frowned
suddenly, moving towards the bed and absently smoothing the covers.  "I
have to say that I'm quite concerned about Maria: She's been edgy and
quiet of late--not her usual sell " Of course she wore herself out
looking after Christina during her illness, refusing to leave her
bedside for a moment in case anything should happen to her.  I don't
suppose it's good for her being cooped up here all the time.  She's
become so restless," " Does she not go out of the house?  "

"No--at least, not often.  Laurence made it

absolutely clear that Christina must remain in doors at all
times--which is strictly adhered to.  But Mafia--just once or twice
this past week--has slipped out of the house to take the air.  "

"Maybe she will cease to be so restless when she goes to
Rainborough--and perhaps I will be able to help."

Margaret looked at her sharply, a gleam of hope entering her eyes.
"Forgive me if I am speaking out of place, Lucinda.  I--I know it's
none of my business--but--do you intend marrying Laurence?"

Lucinda met her gaze directly.  "I don't mind you asking, Margaret.  He
has asked me to be his wife but I have not, as yet, given him my
answer."

"I see.  I--I hope you will say yes.  He is a splendid man--a very
special person, and he speaks very highly of you.  " And I can see you
are head over heels in love with him.  Is that not so?  "

Ludmda sighed deeply, aware that Margaret and her husband had known
Laurence for many years, that they were close friends.  Since entering
the house, she'd had the feeling that Margaret had been assossing her
as to her suitability of becoming Laurence's wife, and she assumed, by
the pleased look on her face, that she approved.

"You are extremely perceptive, Margaret227

and you are right," she acknowledged honestly.  " I do love him a great
deal.  "

"Then why do you not tell him?"

"I cannot.  Not yet.  You see--I've only just become aware of it
myself--and also that Christina is his daughter--that he has a
daughter, in fact.  I've had no experience with children and wish to
get to know her a little before I commit myself."

"I can understand that," said Margaret softly, 'but it shouldn't be too
difficult.  Christina is a very loving, tactile child.  You'll soon get
to know her--if--as we all hope,~ you decide to marry Laurence, of
course.  "

"But of course," replied Lucinda, and the two laughed, already with
that close camaraderie of friendship.

Lucinda was wonderfully happy during the following day which was spent
with Laurence and Christina.  Laurence was indefatigable in his
attempts to please her and Lucinda gave herself up to the sheer
enjoyment of letting him.  She learned a great deal, not only about his
daughter but also about him--how knowledgable he was about music and
art, that he nurtured a long-held love of good horseflesh and country
pursuits and how, in the future, when he had put Rainborough back on
its feet, he intended filling the stables at Rainborough Castle with
fine blood stock He loved to talk at length about his time spent in the
army, serving under the great Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim and later
in Spain, although he took care to avoid any mention of his dead wife,
Isabella, showing a certain caution in speaking at all of that personal
side of his life.

They were to leave for Rainborough the following morning and although
Lucinda had felt there had been a certain restraint in Laurence
throughout-the day, nevertheless, by the time she went to bed she was
physically tired and extremely happy--a happiness which was brutally
shattered when she awoke the following morning to find the whole
household in turmoil.

Both Maria and Christina had disappeared from the house during the
night.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT WAS in the chill light of dawn when Laurence became aware of
Christina's disappearance.  Margaret's voice was frantic as she told.
him.  At first he stared at her wordlessly" distinctly feeling his
heart almost stop beating in his chest~ as he tried to comprehend her
words, but then, understanding that she was telling him that his worst
fears had been realised, that his daughter had been taken, his eyes
sprang to life.

He flung himself towards the door, his formidable anger bursting from
him and ~vibrating around the walls~ of the room, directed not~ at
Margaret or Lucinda,: who stood by in anxious silence, but at Don
Philippe and the men he had sent to abduct his daughter and ~Maria's
treacherous stupidity for allowing it to happen,

His face white with pain, Laurence left the house to go in search of
his daughter, while the only thing Lucinda and Margaret could do was
anxiously.  await his return.  Having left early for his office of work
in Petergate, close to the Minster, Anthony was unaware that anything
was amiss.  The nervous strain of Christina's disappearance was almost
too much for

Margaret, for she should have known, from Maria's strange behaviour of
the past week, that something was wrong, but she had trusted her
implicitly with the care of Christina, as did everyone.

When Laurence finally returned to the house, his face was set and grim.
Seeing his strained features, sensing his tortured frame of mind, his
grief and fury which he kept in abeyance, Lucinda was aware that
beneath his remarkable self-control, which his military training had
taught him to employ, he was a man in the grip of a nightmare.  All his
years as a soldier, of experiencing the horrendous, bloody realities of
warfare and witnessing the appalling sufferings of men, could not add
up to what he was suffering now.

Lucinda met him in the hall as he entered, placing a trembling hand on
his arm.  "Oh, Laurence, thank goodness you're back.  Tell me--is there
any news?"

"No.  None.  Have you checked to see if any of their clothes are
missing?"

"Yes.  Margaret is certain that some are gone."

"Then this in itself is suspicious, for it can only mean that Maria was
in league with the abductors--that she must have had contact with them
at some time."

"Margaret did say that she left the house twice in the past week and
that she has been quiet and withdrawn.  But why would she do this?"

"Normally she wouldn't--but I strongly suspect that Don Philippe has
threatened in some way her or her family, who live and work on his
estate near Cadiz.  I suspect that she agreed to their demands to give
them Christina out of fear of what Don Philippe will do should she not
comply.  I should have realised this would happen when I agreed ~ for
her~ to come~ to England as Christina's nurse, that he would use her
asa pawn in his.  game to get her back."  ~ .

"Dear Lord,; whispered Lucinda, ~'the man must be a monster.  Have you
been to.  the Black Swan in Coney Street to enquire as to whether or
not they boarded the London coach?

He nodded.  "It was the first place I went- to, There was no one
fitting their description on board.  The fact that they were not on the
London coach and.  that none of the wardens or constables have seen
them leave by any of the gates--for at the 6me: they left the city
would have been.  quiet; with hardly anyone: about--leaves me with a
flicker of hope-that they are still within the city itself--in hiding
until the hue and cry dies down before leaving.  Unless, of course,
they were well, organised and a conveyance was waiting, in which case
they will have made good their escape and could be well away from the
city by this time--on their way

to one of the country's ports--perhaps Bristol in the West Country.
There they will find a ship bound for Spain.  "

"Then maybe you should dispatch someone to check the roads, just in
case," suggested Lucinda.

"I have already done so.  The wardens and parish constables are also
searching and there is strict watch being kept on all the gates out of
York.  Anyone matching Maria and Christina's descriptions are to be
apprehended--as are the two Spaniards."  He sighed deeply, running his
fingers impatiently through his hair which had come loose from its cue,
the rain which had started to fall from a leaden sky having caused it
to curl in a thick wet mass.  "I must go.  I only returned to the house
to see if--by some chance--she had returned,"

"But you cannot go on aimlessly searching."

~A look of desperation entered his eyes.  "I

have to, Lucinda.  What else can I do?  "

"But where?  Where will you look?"

A thunderous frown drew his black eyebrows together in a single line as
he contemplated his daughter's plight, and when he thought of her in
the hands of Don Philippe's henchmen a red haze began to rise in front
of his eyes.

"I will turn York inside out if need be to find her."  Looking down
intently into Lucinda's upturned face, its whiteness emphasised by the
dark green colour of her dress, he suddenly reached out and took her in
his arms, burying his lips in her hair as he held her tightly in his
arms, the fear that he might be too late, that despite all his methods
to protect his daughter Don Philippe might succeed in getting back his
granddaughter, weighing him down so that he could hardly stand it.  "I
must find her, Lucinda.  I must."

Closing her eyes, Lucinda-melted against him, wishing with all her
heart that he had taken her into his embrace under different
circumstances.  She wrapped her arms around him, deeply aware of his
aching desolation and wishing she could find, words to comfort him. But
there were none.  Whatever words she offered would be sadly
inadequate.

"You will, Laurence~' she said softly.  " You will find her--and she is
with Mafia.  Whatever part she played in her abduction, she-loves her
as she would her own child.  She will see to.  it that she comes to no
harm.  "

Raising his head and gazing down into her enormous eyes, awash with
unshed tears of sympathy, they each uttered a silent passionate prayer
to God that she was right.

Their inner unease communicated itself to each other as the time
Lucinda and Margaret waited for Laurence to return to the house
dragged

slowly by, the tension in the air intensified by the wind which was
beginning to rise, and the rain steadily pattering against the window
panes.  Suddenly Margaret rose from the chair in which she was seated,
her hand going to her mouth in alarm as a thought suddenly occurred to
her.

"Oh, my goodness-- Anthony-- he- he doesn't know what's happened.  He
left so early for his office of work that he is totally unaware that
Christina is missing.  I must send someone to tell him."

Lucinda stood up quickly.  "No--wait, Margaret.  I know where Anthony's
offices are.

I'll go and tell him.  "

"You?"

"Yes.  I'll be all right.  I'll take Nancy with me."  Seeing Margaret,s
frown she sighed.  "I must do something," she explained, 'or else I'll
go mad if I have to sit and wait much longer.  "

And so, with Nancy to accompany her, Lucinda set off down Micklegate,
wrapped in a warm cloak with her hood pulled well over her head to
shield her from the gently falling rain, having to tread carefully for
the cobbles had become wet and slippery under foot.  Hurriedly they
made their way towards Ouse Bridge, crossing it and moving on up Ouse
Gate.  Here they had to pause and wait, unable to move on, for a Civic
procession was in progress--one of various official entertainments the
citizens were often presented with.  They stood at the side of the
street, watching as it passed by.  At any other time Lucinda would have
been fascinated to watch this diversion, more than likely the welcoming
of an important visitor to York, which entertained and enlivened the
streets.  Lucinda sighed, impatient for it to pass on so that she could
cross the street.

She let her eyes wander over the slow-moving procession, seeing the
Mayor and Aldermen in their distinctive scarlet gowns, the Sheriffs in
crimson and the wealthier citizens parading in their finest apparel.  A
number of Waits with silver chains and red livery coats provided
ceremonial music, their long woodwind instruments making a raucous
sound in the narrow streets.

The people began to disperse as the procession passed on.  As Lucinda
was about to move away, a movement in the crowd across the street
caught her eye; She saw a man shoving his way through--not that there
was anything unusual in this, but there was something about this man
that caught and held all her attention, for the black greasy hair,
swarthy skin and the narrow-beaked nose she recognised immediately as
belonging to one of the Spanish men she had seen at Easterlea--one of
the men they

were certain was responsible for Christina's disappearance.

Unable to believe her eyes, believing that providence had surely
stepped in, Lucinda stood as if rooted to the spot, causing Nancy, who
was impatient to move on and follow the procession along Pavement, to
look at her curiously.  She was quite unprepared when Lucinda, seeing
the man slip up a side alley, grasped her hand and began pulling her in
the opposite direction from the one in which they were supposed to be
heading.

"Miss Lucinda," she protested.  "Where are we going7 Petergate's the
other way."

"I know it is, Nancy, but I'm sure I've just seen one of the men we
believe is responsible for abducting Christina go up that alleyway.  We
must follow him.  He might lead us to where they axe hidingS her
Oh--please, come along," she pleaded, exasperated when Nancy began to
pull back, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in disbelief.

"Lord, Miss Lucinda- how can you be sure it's the same man?"

"Because I've seen him before.  I'm certain it was him.  Now hurry.  If
wE stand here arguing, we'll lose him altogether."

Under the determined pressure in her mistress's eyes and sensing the
urgency in her tone, knowing better than to utter any further objet
tions, Nancy did as she was told.  Together they hurried across the
street and entered the alleyway up which the man had just
disappeared.

One thought and one thought only drove Lucinda on--to keep the man in
her sights at all times, not to lose him at any cost.  She paid no heed
to the dark, twisting narrow alleyways they ran along, careful to keep
far enough behind so as not to arouse his suspicion that he was being
followed.

He hurried along ahead of them, a shabby black coat flapping about his
legs.  They crossed a bridge spanning the River Foss, entering the
gruesome, twilight world of Walmgate, a part of York Lucinda had never
imagined existed.  It was as if she had left heaven and descended into
hell.

Few places could be worse than this, where ugliness and poverty went
hand in hand.  Centuries-old, tightly packed, ramshackle overhanging
buildings rose on either side, with crumbling gables and plaster work
dingy and foul, housing the dregs of humanity--the poor, the destitute'
offering a refuge for villains and ruffians alike, away from the eyes
of the law.

Ill-humoured voices and cursing could be heard from within the
dwellings and people in rags, with lustre less eyes in deep-set
sockets, lounged in doorways, giving them no more than a passive glance
as they passed by.  Rain dripped

onto them from jet tied roofs and mud oozed up from between the
cobbles.  They kept their cloaks wrapped tight about them in an attempt
to stop them becoming soiled on the middens, but the streets were so
narrow it was almost an impossible task.

The stench of Walmgate was all-pervading, the reek of putrefaction
everywhere.  Lucinda had never seen anything like this before.  How
could people live in this place?  Both she and Nancy had to cover their
noses against the ageless odour from mounds of rotting filth and
garbage piled up outside doors, leaving nothing to the imagination of
their contents.  During warmer, summer months, when the air would be
thick with 'the buzz of blue bottles, it would be a haven for
disease.

Pigs squealed and cattle lowed miserably in the back yards of slaughter
houses, awaiting their fate, at which time their blood would flow out
into the congested gutters in the middle of the streets, where
grey-skinned, barefoot children, with matted hair and huge, deep,
ringed eyes in dirt-grimed faces, played, seemingly indifferent to it
all because they knew nothing else, sadly unaware there was another
world outside Walmgate.  If it were not for the man they were following
and the importance of her quest, Lucinda would have turned and run out
of this nightmare world which God had passed by.

The man entered a cobbled yard with heaps of straw piled high.  Pausing
and standing out of his view, Lucinda and Nancy watched him climb a
high flight of rickety wooden stairs to an upper storey of a tall
building and disappear through a door.  With hated breath they waited,
unsure what to do next as they watched the closed door, their eyes
scanning the one small grimy window next to it.  A movement from within
caught Lucinda's sharp eyes and suddenly she felt a surge of hope, for
she was sure it was a child's face she saw looking out.  Excitedly she
turned to Nancy.

"Do you see, Nancy?  There?s Christina.  I'm sure of it."

Nancy shook her head dumbly, her one thought to be gone from this foul
place.  "I don't know, Miss Lucinda.  It's hard to tell who it is from
down here."

"I'm sure it's her," she said, breathing excitedly.  "I want you to
hurry back to Metcalfe Hall, Nancy.  I'll stay here and wait."

At the full implication of her words Nancy gasped.  "Oh, Miss
Lucinda--you don't mean to go into that place?"

"Not unless I have to--which I will do if necessary.  Now, go and get
Lord Rainborough--and don't dawdle.  Tell him he

must come quickly.  " When she saw the terror staring out of Nancy's
eyes, for she was fearful of going back through those streets alone, in
irritation Lucinda gave her a push.  " Nothing's going to happen to you
if you hurry.  Go along, Nancy--and don't you dare get lost--do you
hear?  Remember that in all probability Christina is in that room.  Her
safety depends on how soon you can come back with Lord Rainborough.  Do
you understand?  "

Dumbly she swallowed hard and nodded and reluctantly, knowing better
than to argue and~ holding her skirts tightly about her, Nancy started
off down the warren of alleyways in the direction they had come.

Alone, Lucinda stood in the shadows watching the building, people about
her scarcely giving her a second glance.  After about half an hour the
door at the top of the wooden staircase opened and two men emerged,
causing Lucinda's heart to soar with a sense of triumph, for one was
the man she had followed and the other was the taller, stockier man she
had seen with him at Easterlea.

Together they descended the stairs to the yard, deep in conversation as
they came towards Lucinda, who stepped behind the stone pillar of the
gateway out of sight.  They passed close to where she stood and she
heard their voices, unable to understand any of what they said for they
spoke in their native Spanish.

She watched as they disappeared down the street before turning her
attention back to the room at the top of the stairs, where she
suspected Maria and Christina would be alone.  Dare she risk going up
there?  Without further hesitation, knowing there was no time to lose,
sheer determination galvanised her into action and she ran across the
yard and.  gingerly mounted the stairs, feeling they were none too safe
as they seemed to sway the higher she got.

The door gave way beneath her fingers as she pushed it and stepped
inside an upper room of a draughty, creaking house, straining her eyes
in the gloom.  It was cold and had a'sour, stale smell, the walls
peeling with damp plaster work and filthy curtains hanging at the tiny
unwashed window, letting little light into the room.

As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she stepped round a pail of
slops close to the door, seeing a woman sitting on a straw pallet next
to the wall, a small child with frightened eyes held close to her
breast.  Lucinda breathed a sigh of relief.  It was Christina, There
was no welcome in Maria's eyes whose arms tightened around her charge,
perhaps fearing Lucinda would attempt to snatch her from her.

"What are you doing here?"  she cried, rising from the pallet.  "Don't
you know it ees danger242

OUS for you?  If Alonso and Miguel return and find you here there ees
no telling what they will do.  Miguel--he ees my brother and ees not a
violent man but Alonso can do bad things when he ees angry.  You must
go back.  "

"No, Maria," said Lucinda, crossing over to her.  "Not without
Christina.  However, thank God you are both safe.  Whatever your
reasons for taking Christina from her father, you must come back. 
Please--I implore you.  Think of the grief your actions have caused
him."

"No.  I cannot return.  I think only of the pain and grief my own
family will suffer if I do not do this."

"Why?  Has Don Philippe threatened them, Maria?"  asked Lucinda gently,
trying to maintain an air of calm while having to resist the urge to
grab Christina from her and take her back to her father.

"Don Philippe ees a man to be feared.  He has promised to throw my
family--my mother and father and brothers and sisters, out of their
home--run them out of Cadiz if I do not comply with his orders and
return Christina to him.  Out of the love and duty I feel for them I
cannot let him do this.  " "Tears suddenly filled Maria's dark eyes as
she tried to make Lucinda understand the sheer hopelessness of her
situation, that she had no choice but to obey Don Philippe.

"You cannot know what this will mean to them.  They are poor people,
Miss Howard, and rely on Don Philippe for everything--for the food they
eat, their work, their very existence.  You do not know what he ees
like--how cruel he can be.  If my brother returns without Christina he
will be made to suffer terribly.  He will be made to suffer the penalty
Don Philippe will inflict upon him for my disobedience.  Don't you see?
I have no choice.  We have to go back--to do this thing."

Lucinda stared at her, beginning to understand the enormity of the
problem Don Philippe de Silva had placed upon this woman and her heart
went out to her.  But she must think of Christina.  She was foremost on
her list of priorities.  She could not let Maria's sad plight detract
her from getting the child out of that room and back to her father
before Alonso and Miguel returned.

"If I could do anything at all to help you, Mafia, believe me I would.
But at this moment my main concern is Christina.  You must know that
what you are doing is wrong.  She belongs with her father--with Lord
Rainborough--not.  Don Philippe."

The mention of her father's name made Christina begin to whimper softly
and she rubbed her eyes from which tears were beginning to fall.
Clearly she was distressed by all

that had happened.  Lucinda looked on in alarm as Maria tried to
comfort her, but she would not be comforted and began to cry louder.

"You must see it is useless," persisted Lucinda.  "None of you can
escape.  Lord Rainborough has every thoroughfare out of York
watched."

"Alonso will find a way.  He has gone to arrange for a conveyance to
take us out of here."

At that moment Lucinda heard footsteps in the cobbled yard below.  Her
heart lurched and she felt sick with terror, fearing the Spaniards,
Alonso and Miguel, had returned, and she shuddered at what they would
do to her when they found their hiding place had been discovered.

Her thoughts turned in desperation to Nancy, and she prayed she'd
managed to reach Metcalfe Hall and Laurence.  She became frozen to the
spot as she heard the thud of boots on' the wooden boards of the stairs
outside, edging backwards as they came ever closer, uttering a cry of
alarm when the burly figure of Miguel--the one she thought must be
Maria's brother because ~of facial similarities--stood in the
doorway.

Uttering some sort of curse in Spanish upon seeing her, the man quickly
strode inside, followed by Alonso, the man Lucinda had followed.
Despite Lucinda's determination that she would not succumb to despair,
she felt her spirits sinking when she looked into the cold, cruel eyes
of the Spaniard, knowing she could expect no mercy from him.  With
hindsight, how she wished she'd resisted the impulse to come rushing up
to this room.  Why hadn't she remained where she was and waited for
Laurence to arrive?

His thin face expressionless, Alonso came further into the room and,
without meaning to do so, Lucinda felt herself shrink as he approached,
watching her with his cruel gaze.  Suddenly he smiled thinly, which
Lucinda thought was more like the grimace of an animal.

"So, set~orita, you have found our hiding place," he said in almost
perfect English, with just a hint of Spanish.  "How clever of you.  How
did you manage to do that?"

Lucinda's throat went dry as she struggled to keep her voice on a
level, determined not to let her fear get the best of her.  "I saw~ you
in the town and recognised you.  I followed you here."

"Ah--so--you have a good memory," se~orita.  I congratulate you.  I
must have made a strong impression on you that day you saw Miguel and
me at that place by the sea.  Tell me?  What did you hope to achieve by
coming here?  Did you hope to persuade Maria to listen to you?  To
return the child to her father?  Is that it?

Because if so, then you are wasting your time.  Maria has made up her
mind to go back to Spain.  "

"Christina belongs here, in England, with her father," replied Lucinda
stiffly.

Alonso laughed, a thin, discordant sound which made Lucinda's blood run
cold.

"Don Philippe does not think so.  He thinks it best that she is brought
up in Spain, in his home where her mother grew up, also."

"Tell me?"  Lucinda ventured bravely.  "Are you afraid~ of Don
Philippe?  Does he have a hold over you, too, in order to ensure that
you do his bidding?"

Her-words caused anger to flare in the Spaniard.  His eyes became drawn
together like slits, their sooty depths glowing like coals.  Alonso had
suffered all his life from a sense of frustration born out of poverty.
Don Philippe de Silva had offered him a great deal if he could
successfully locate his granddaughter in

England and take her back with him.  in Spain.

Seeing a. chance of becoming rich beyond his wildest dreams, he 'had
sworn that if anyone should dare to cross or defy him they would soon
learn that he possessed a cruel ruthlessness which stopped at nothing.
Miss Lucinda Howard was just an interfering chit of an English girl. If
necessary he would kill her.

"No one has a hold over Alonso Gonzalez.

No one," he hissed fiercely.  " You are very bold, se~orita.  Too bold
for your own good.  But your request to Maria that she returns the
child to her father comes a little late.  I told you.  She has no
intention of giving her up.  "

"Then you are out of your mind if you think you will succeed in getting
her out of the country.  Have you not thought what the consequence of
your actions will be when ~you are caught?"

"If we are caught," he growled, thrusting his face closer to hers,
'which will not happen.  We will be gone from here quite soon, and
should you have any notions about raising the alarm then you can forget
them.  You should not have come here alone, se~orita, for Walmgate is a
notorious haven for criminals of every sort, Looking as you do there
will be those who will remember seeing you.  Many people who enter are
never heard of again so no one will think it strange if you disappear.
No one is going to find you for quite some time--if ever.  The waters
of your River Ouse are deep, the currents strong and fast.  Your body
will remain submerged for long enough and will be washed up far away
from York.  "

The overriding menacing threat of his last words smote terror in
Lucinda and she froze.  Her heart appeared to stop and she felt an icy
shiver course over her skin, feeling the walls of

Because if so, then you are wasting your time.  Maria has made up her
mind to go back to Spain.  "

"Christina belongs here, in England, with her father," replied Lucinda
stiffly.

Alonso laughed, a thin, discordant sound which made Lucinda's blood run
cold.

"Don Philippe does not think so.  He thinks it best that she is brought
up in Spain, in his home where her mother grew up, also."

"Tell me?"  Lucinda ventured bravely.  "Are you afraid of Don Philippe?
Does he have a hold over you, too, in order to ensure that you do his
bidding?"

Her words caused anger to flare in the Spaniard.  His eyes became drawn
together like slits, their sooty depths glowing like coals.  Alonso had
suffered all his life from a sense of frustration born out of poverty.
Don Philippe de Silva had offered him a great deal if he could
successfully locate his granddaughter in

England and take her back to him in Spain.

Seeing a. chance of becoming rich beyond his wildest dreams, he 'had
sworn that if anyone should dare to cross or defy him they would soon
learn that he possessed a cruel ruthlessness which stopped at nothing.
Miss Lucinda Howard was just an interfering chit of an English girl. If
necessary he would kill her.

"No one has a hold over Alonso Gonzalez.

~EI~ pounds t~IC~"SON No one," he hissed fiercely.  "You are very bold,
se~qorita.  Too bold for your own good.  But your request to Maria that
she returns the child to her father comes a little late.  I told you.
She has no intention of giving her up."

"Then you are out of your mind if you think you will succeed in getting
her out of the country.  Have you not thought what the consequence of
your actions will be when ~you are caught?"

"If we are caught," he growled, thrusting his face closer to hers,
'which will not happen.  We will be gone from here quite soon, and
should you have any notions about raising the alarm then you can forget
them.  You should not have come here alone, se~orita, for Walmgate is a
notorious haven for criminals of every sort.  Looking as you do there
will be those who will remember seeing you.  Many people who enter are
never heard of again so no one will think it strange if you disappear.
No one is going to find you for quite some time--if ever.  The waters
of your River Ouse are deep, the currents strong and fast.  Your body
will remain submerged for long enough and will be washed up far away
from York.  "

The overriding menacing threat of his last words smote terror in
Lucinda and she froze.  Her heart appeared to stop and she felt an icy
shiver course over her skin, feeling the walls of

the room beginning to close in on her, for she was in no doubt that
his threat was serious.  That he meant to kill her.

"So--you would kill me!"

"Let me say that we did not come all this way to have our plans foiled
by anyone.  I would not wish to kill a woman, but by coming here you
have got in our way, sego rita I have no choice."

Uttering a cry of alarm, Maria dropped Christina onto the pallet to go
to Lucinda's aid but her brother, who had 'remained in the shadows,
unable to converse with Lucinda for he knew little English, caught hold
of her arm, indicating that she should not interfere.

Anger was beginning to overcome Lucinda's fear as she began to think
about self-preservation.  Sensitive to the tension, the threatening
atmosphere that prevailed inside the room, Christina's whimpering once
again changed to a loud wailing.  Maria again scooped her up into her
arms to quieten her, tightening her hold on her as her dark eyes
apprehensively watched Alonso and Lucinda.

It was then that Lucinda became aware of the sound of voices in the
yard below.  Her eyes flew to the door for she was sure she could hear
someone calling her name.  Thinking that it had to be Laurence, that
Nancy had managed to reach him, she made an involuntary move towards
the door, opening her mouth to call out his name, but Alonso seized her
by her slender wrist and clapped his claw-like hand over her mouth,
silencing any sound she might have made.

A fearful struggle broke out between them, for at that moment Lucinda
saw the flash of a blade appear in his hand as if from nowhere.  Never
before in her whole life had she been so stricken with terror as when
she realised he wanted her life.  Once again Maria tried to go to her
aid, but her brother held her fast.  No matter how hard she continued
to struggle against him he did not release his hold, himself too
fearful of Alonso to interfere.

Strength born out of fear and desperation came to Lucinda's aid and she
fought like a tigress, twisting and clawing at his face.  Alonso was
surprised by the strength of her resistance but Lucinda was no match
for him.  She' felt a searing hot pain in her side and knew she was
wounded but she paid it no heed as she continued to fight.

Just when Alonso thought he had her within his grasp and was about to
sink the blade into her soft flesh once more, she bit the hand that
wielded knife so hard that he howled with pain and dropped it.  Tasting
his blood on her lips, Lucinda took advantage of the split second when
he slackened his hold on her and darted towards the door, but he
reached out and

yanked at her hair, pulling her back.  A strangled cry of pain broke
from her just as Alonso gave her a brutal push' and flung her to the
floor.  She fell heavily, hitting her head hard against the wall.

At that moment pandemonium broke out in the room and the last things
Lucinda was aware of before darkness swirled over and engulfed her, was
a 'terrible pain in her side, Christina's loud, frightened sobbing and
Laurence's tall shadow falling across the doorway.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHEN Nancy had arrived at Metcalfe Hall, Laurence had just returned in
a desperate state.  There seemed to be nothing he could do but just go
on aimlessly searching.  Nancy was breathless, having run all the way
from Walmgate.  It was several moments before she could speak
coherently, but at last what had happened came out in a torrent of
words, tumbling over each other.  With Margaret standing anxiously
beside him Laurence listened, hardly believing what she was saying, but
if she was telling the truth, then this was the first dawning of hope
since Christina's disappearance.  But Lucinda?  What of her?  Why was
she not here with Nancy?

Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders hard.  "Where is Lucinda?  Why
is she not here with you?"

"I--I left her there--in Walmgate."

"What?  You came back here without her?"  Laurence's shocked and
incredulous voice brought tears to Nancy's eyes.  "I had to.  I didn't
want to but she made me," she wailed, almost as afraid of the ice-cold,
formidable look in

Lord Rainborough's eyes--the same that he would employ on a
battlefield, she thought--as she had been of coming back alone through
the alleyways of Walmgate.

"You say the man went-up some stairs to the upper storey of a house in
Walmgate?"

She nodded.

~"And.  he~ was:~;still up there when you left Lucinda?~

"Yes:.  Miss Lucinda said she would wait out-side--where I left
her--that she wouldn't go in unless she had to.."  ~

"Dear Lord," said Laurence, his hands dropping down by his.  sides. ~"I
pray she hasn't done anything so foolish.~'

:'~He 'turned -away to hide the anguish, the naked agony in his eyes.
What was Lucinda thinking of?  ~'he.  asked himself, and he, cursed
her: stubborn rebelliousness.  Why hadn't she returned vdth Nancy
'to-find him instead of trying to deal with this thing alone?  Did she
not realise the danger she had placed herself in?  Wasn~tit enough that
he had come so close to losing Christina, without losing her, also?

He was under no illusions as to the kind of men Don Philippe would,
have sent to abduct his granddaughter.  They would think nothing of
killing Lucinda if she dared to get in their ways: When he got her back
he would never let her out~ of his sight again--ever, not as long as he
lived, for he loved her, he worshipped her, and he would fight to keep
her.  He turned back to Nancy, again placing his hands on her shoulders
and looking at her in earnest.

"You say she is certain it is the same man she saw at Easterlea?"

"Yes, sir.  She--she was also positive it was Miss Christina she saw at
the window looking out."

"Then listen, Nancy," Laurence said firmly, his grip on her shoulders
tightening, forcing her to look at him: "You must show me where she is~
Can ~you remember?"

She nodded, alarm filling her eyes at the horrifying prospect of having
to return to that dreadful place.  "Oh, my lord-- don't ~ make me go
back there.  I can't."

~You have to.  I am familiar as to what Walmgate is like, nothing but a
rabbit warren of festering alleyways.  While you're trying to tell me:
where the house is we could be half way there: Lucinda's life and, my
daughter's may depend on you, Nancy.  You do understand that, don't
you?  "

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good--then come along."  He turned, to Margaret.  "I left two
constables out in the street, Margaret.  I'll take them with me.  It is
imperative that we get to Lucinda as quickly as possible so we'll have
to go on foot.  With all the

congestion on the streets at this time a carriage would be too slow.
Not knowing what I shall find when I get to this house in Walmgate,
order the carriage to follow on behind, will you?  Have it wait at the
bridge over the Foss.  "

Before Margaret could wish him well, to tell him to go with care, he
was gone, dragging a reluctant Nancy behind him.

With Nancy to show him the way, for he would never have found it alone,
and the two constables doing their best to keep up with him, Laurence
finally stood in the yard in Walmgate where Nancy said she had left
Lucinda.  Now she was nowhere to be seen.  In desperation, fearful for
her safety, he.  called her name, looking around him, his eyes coming
to rest on the wooden staircase running up the side of a building.
There was an open doorway at the top.

Suddenly a cold chill travelled down his spine for somewhere, up there
in that room, a woman screamed.  Lucinda!  He plunged towards the
stairs and climbed up, maddened almost beyond reason, his heart
hammering violently in his rush to reach the source of that scream.  He
paused in the doorway, just in time to see the Spaniard knock Lucinda
to the floor and hear the sickening thud as her head hit the wall.  She
lay perfectly still.

Laurence's eyes swept the room, taking in the squalor.  His heart
soared with relief on seeing his daughter huddled on the dirty pallet
sobbing miserably, clearly distressed but seemingly unhurt, and the
other Spaniard holding Maria to prevent her from going to Lucinda's
assistance.  Seeing Lucinda lying senseless on the floor, hurt by the
hands of this Spaniard sent by Don Philippe, he was filled ~with a
blazing fury.  His eyes were deadly when they came to rest on the
Spaniard wielding the knife, having retrieved it from the floor where
it had fallen in his struggle with Lucinda: .

Alonso was slashing the air in.  an arc with the knife to keep Laurence
at bay, his breathing guttural, his lips drawn back over his clenched
teeth in a snarl as he waited for him to attack.  Still holding Maria,
who was watching the scene in a stunned silence, Miguel backed towards
the wall, reluctant ~to partake in the violence which had erupted
within the room.

Suddenly Alonso lunged towards Laurence with the knife, but his slight
build was no match for his opponent's sheer physical strength, and he
was unprepared when Laurence sprang towards him, grasping the hand
which held the knife, causing Alonso to pitch Over backwards.  Laurence
stamped on his wrist with such pressure that the hand opened and the
knife became loose.  He kicked it to the other side of the

room.  Alonso leaped to his feet, panting, looking for a way of escape
and moving towards the open doorway, but Laurence was too quick for him
and Alonso yelped as his hand shot out and fastened on his throat,
jerking him up and slamming him against the door post.

Alonso's eyes rolled upwards, and lines of sweat were running down his
cheeks and neck as he clawed at Laurence's hand squeezing his throat.
Thrashing his legs, he knocked over the slop bucket and, grunting
painfully, looked into Laurence's eyes.  What he saw there made him
realise that this man would show him no mercy, for they shone with a
pitiless, deadly cold.  rage.

Suddenly Laurence released him.  Slipping on the slops which had
spilled over the: floor, gagging, Alonso reeled backwards out of the
doorway, hearing the splintering of wood as the loose balustrade gave
way beneath the impact of his body falling against it.  At first,
surprise registered in his eyes, but then, with a strangled cry and
frantically clutching at the empty air, he tumbled down into the yard
below--where the constables and Nancy looked on in stupefaction-missing
the foul heap of rotting garbage which would have, broken his fall and
saved him, and instead landing on the hard cobbles, the impact
splitting his head in two.

Casting just a cursory glance at the Spaniard's body splayed out
beneath him, Laurence shouted to Nancy and the constables to come up,
Back inside the room, after seeing that Christina was all right and
ordering Nancy to take charge of the frightened child and take her down
to the yard, while the constables bundled Miguel and Maria out he went
to Lucinda, who still had not moved.

Kneeling beside her, he raised her head onto his arm.  She was
unconscious but alive.  ~ A thin trickle of blood oozed out from
between the fine strands of her pale blond hair from a gash on her
head.  Looking down at her exquisite face, he was shocked by her pallor
which was touchingly shadowed by her dark lashes.  Gently he picked up
her inert body, standing and cradling her in his arms, carrying her as
easily.  as if she weighed nothing at all out of the room and down into
the yard, ignoring the grisly corpse of the Spaniard, his head spilling
blood onto the cobbles, not daring to think at that moment how badly
Lucinda was hurt.  Not until he felt the sticky wetness which stuck the
sleeve of his jacket to his arm did he realise that the blow to her
head was not the only cause of her unconscious state.

Holding Christina in her arms, Nancy stared anxiously at Lucinda, being
held like a rag doll in Lord Rainborough's arms.  "Will she be all
right?"

"It is worse than I thought.  We must get her

to a doctor and quickly.  She is losing a considerable amount of
blood.  Clear a way for us," he instructed one of the constables while
the other took charge of Miguel and Maria.  Their expressions were
sullen and tears were flowing down Maria's cheeks as she cried
silently.  Their shoulders drooped in sad resignation to accept
whatever fate awaited them.  " A carriage should be waiting for us on
the other side of the bridge.  "

When Laurence arrived back at Metcalfe Hall pandemonium broke out.
Margaret almost wept with joy to see Christina had been found safe and
well but, on seeing Laurence's stricken face and the sorry state of
Lucinda when her cloak was removed and the amount of blood oozing from
a knife wound in her side, she knew something terrible had happened and
sent for the doctor immediately.

Fortunately the wound in Lucinda's side was only a flesh wound, the
knife having missed any of her vital organs.  It had almost stopped
bleeding as the doctor cleaned and bandaged herr but she showed no
signs of regaining consciousness and he feared that the injury to her
head was more serious.  Only time would tell.

For the next few days Lucinda lived in a subconscious nightmare world,
her mind too tired to think of anything but pain and death which
prevailed all around her, in a darkness which went on for ever.  She
was afraid and wanted Laurence so much, for him to come to her and make
her fear go away.

Perhaps if she had been aware of his presence in the room she would
have been comforted, for he remained by her side almost constantly,
waiting for some sign to tell him that she would recover.  Her slender
body moulded the bedclothes beneath which she lay, her face ashen and
her soft lips slightly parted as she breathed, her hair spread over the
pillows like a pale, silken halo.  At~ times a great weariness would
sweep over Laurence and he would bow his head, cursing his own
helplessness as he waited, praying for Lucinda's recovery, overwhelmed
by a savage tide of love and anguish when realisation that she might
die invaded his mind in cold waves, sapping the strength from him.

It~ was just after midnight on the third night when she began burning
with fever and she groaned and tossed, threshing about the bed, trying
to throw back the covers.  Margaret placed a moistened towel on her
burning brow and at last Lucinda opened her eyes, glassy and vacant,
calling out Laurence's name in her delirium.  It brought an instant
response, for Laurence took her hand, bending over her, murmuring
softly"--I'm here, Lucinda.  I'm here," choking back the emotion which
rose inside him.  Whether she heard him or not he had no way of
knowing.

She rambled quietly, her fingers picking nervously at the bed covers,
but towards morning she grew quieter and less feverish and seemed to
sleep peacefully.  It was only then that Laurence rose and went over to
the window, looking down at the street below which was just coming to
life as people began going about their daily business.

His face was pale and drawn with fatigue, his eyes bloodshot and tired.
The past three days, which had started with the disappearance of
Christina, had been the longest three days of his life, but for the
first time since he had carried Lucinda into the house a feeling of
lightness, of peace descended on him, for he felt that the crisis had
passed, that she would live now the fever had abated.

It was mid-morning when Lucinda finally regained consciousness.
Laurence was beside her, looking down, and he smiled with relief when
she opened her eyes, those wonderful, luminous violet eyes, clear now
the fever had passed.

"At last," he murmured.  "I was beginning to wonder when you would
wake."  Lucinda looked at him for a long moment,

trying to recollect her thoughts, wondering why she was lying there
with Laurence sitting beside her bed.  She felt a stab of pain in her
side and a dull throbbing inside her head, then she remembered why she
was lying there and the full horror of all that had happened in that
room, in that house in Walmgate, came rushing back--of the Spaniard and
how he had tried to kill her, how he had stabbed her with his knife
before flinging her against the wall.  The only memory that remained
after that was of the moment she was lifted by someone's arms, and
beneath her flickering lids she had seen Laurence, his face white and
devoid of any expression save a hideous fear in his dark eyes, before
pain had engulfed her and darkness had claimed her mind.

"How long has it been since...?"  "Three days."  "How is Christina?"

"She is well, thanks to you, Lucinda.  Without you we would never have
found her.~' " And--and the man?  Alonso?  ": " He is dead.  "

Lucinda swallowed hard, accepting this without any remorse for what he
had done--for what he would have done to 1ier if Laurence had not
arrived in time.  She did not doubt for one moment that he would have
killed her and thrown her body into the Ouse.

"And Maria?"  she asked quietly.  "And her brother?  Where are
they?"

"In prison-- awaiting trial."

Lucinda closed her eyes tight, feeling a deep sadness, for no matter
what Maria was guilty of she wished her no harm.

"Am--am I going to be all right?"  she asked, her voice weak.  "I
remember so little of what happened."

"The doctor says you're out of danger now.  The wound in your side
isn't serious--it was the injury you receiged to your head that had us'
all concerned.  You'll have to rest until you get your strength
back."

Lucinda summoned up a smile and raising her hand traced a line across
his face.  "You look tired, Laurence.  I do hope I ha venit caused you
too much trouble."

Gently he took her hand and turning it over placed his lips on the
softness of her palm.  "You will never do that," he said, his voice
hoarse with emotion.  "I thank you with all my heart for giving me back
my daughter--and I thank the Lord that he saw fit to save you.  I could
not have borne it if anything had happened to you."

"There was a moment when I thought I would surely die," she whispered.
"When I saw the knife in Alonso's hand."

"Then there is a part of me that would have died also, Lucinda.  I love
you, you see.  Never have I met a woman who inspires me with such
emotions.  I have endured all the torments of hell ~these past days so
you must promise me never to expose yourself to such danger again.  Do
you promise?  Otherwise I shall be forced to keep you under lock and
key at

Slowly Lucinda let her eyes travel over his face and her mouth softened
as waves of great joy swept over her.  Surely what he had said couldn't
be true?

"So--you have made up your mind 'that I'm going to marry you?"  she
said softly.

"Yes.  I will not allow you to refuse.  There," he said, his lips
curving in a ~crooked smile, 'it is well that you understand the kind
of man who will be your husband and, anyhow, you owe it to me after
what you have put me through these past few days.  "

She sighed.  "And here was I--thinking you wanted to marry me for my
wealth."  ~

He frowned and his voice was deadly serious when he spoke, her hand
still locked in his.  "No.  I do not deny that your dowry will be
welcome to help restore Rainborough--that Christina will have a mother
and stability in her life, but.  these are only secondary issues to
what is most important--which is that you will be my wife.  " The
'first time I set eyes on you in York I knew you were different from
any other woman I had ever met.  I wanted you then--even though I had
no idea as to your identity.  I was relieved when Henrietta chose not
to marry me--for I had already decided that you were the one I wanted.
I want you for my wife, Lucinda.  I want you--all of you--to be my
lover for always.  If you were penniless, I would marry you and live
the rest of my life in poverty--whilst being the happiest man on earth.
"

Tears welled unbiddenin Lucinda's eyes and she was suffused with
happiness, From where she lay on the pillows she gazed wonderingly at
him, scarcely able to believe what he had said.

"Oh, Laurence.  You have no idea how much I have wanted you to say
that.  I will be glad to be your wife."  She closed her eyes, sighing a
deep contentment.  "I love you, Laurence Dwyer, and you will make me
the happiest woman on earth," she murmured, suddenly overcome with
tiredness.  She lifted his hand her lips, breathing in the very essence
of him.  was only a small part of the man she was with for the rest of
her life but it would suffice for now.  It would become a part of his
love that she would feel about her whilst she slept.

Not wishing to overta:{ her strength Laurence leaned over and bent his
head down to hers,: placing his lips gently on hers, He kissed very
slowly and tenderly, without passion, almost as though he were kissing
a child.

he straightened up she was already asleep and with one last lingering
look at her face he well!  in search of Margaret.

Lucinda's recovery was slow and it was a further four days before the
doctor would allow her to get out of bed.  The wound in her side was
healing nicely and no longer troubled her.  and her head no longer
ached quite so much.  She was eager to be well again, well en6 ugh to
travel, for she knew how anxious Laurence was to return to Rainborough
before the roads became impassable.

Christina was giving Laurence cause for concern.  She missed Maria
terribly, which was to be expected, for she had looked after Christina
since birth.  Margaret did her best to console the child but it was to
Lucinda's sick room that she always strayed, climbing up onto the big
bed and seeming to find comfort in her nearness.  Perhaps it was
because her father seemed to spend a lot of his time with Lucinda but.
whatever the reason, Laurence was pleased to see his daughter and
future wife were growing used to one another.

Lucinda enjoyed Christina's visits to her room.  Although she'd had no
experience of children, the child was so adorable she experienced none
of the difficulties she thought she would have in getting to know her.
She liked the feel of her little body pressed against her own, taking
pleasure in the fact that she genuinely wanted to be with her, putting
her small hand trustingly into hers.

She was an active, inquisitive child and Lucinda would tell her
stories, the ones her own mother used to tell her and Henrietta when
they had been children on Barbados.  Christina would listen wide-eyed
with wonder and when she became drowsy Lucinda would sing her a lullaby
and cuddle her as she went to sleep:

On one such occasion Laurence happened to enter the room to see
Lucinda's cheek resting on Christina's black curls, her arms holding
the child close.  Both were asleep and a sense of peace hung over them.
Moving closer to the bed, he looked down on them, enthralled by the
perfect picture they made, grateful for the efforts Lucinda was making
in getting to know his daughter, the poor motherless mite.

Ever since he had taken her from the only home she had ever known with
her grandfather in Spain, he had had to get to know her and learn how
to take care of her.  Now he felt a strong sense of responsibility for
her and loved her deeply.  Smiling softly, well satisfied at the way
the two were becoming close, he went out of the room, softly closing
the door.

On the first day that Lucinda left her room to come downstairs, she was
alone in the drawing-room when Laurence entered, having just returned
from the Sheriff's prison where Maria and her brother were awaiting
trial.  His face was grim.  Lucinda crossed over to him: She had been
concerned about Maria, determined to do all she could to persuade
Laurence to see to it that she and Miguel were released.

After a lot of persuasion, for Laurence had wanted them punished for
all the suffering they had caused, he had finally acceded to her
wishes, provided they returned to'Spain, though agreeing with her that
they'd had no choice but to do as Don Philippe had ordered, and that
they'd had no intention of harming Christina.  "You saw Maria?"  asked
"Yes."

"How is she?"

"Quite distraught and frightened at finding herself in that place.  You
will be pleased to know that I have dropped all charges against her and
her brother."

"Oh, Laurence--I am so relieved.  I have been so worried about her.  Of
course, I deeply regret what she did--but I cannot find it in my heart
to condemn her.  After all, she has loved and taken care of Christina
since she was born.  I dare say she will suffer from her loss as much

as she will from Don Philippe's retribution.  What will happen to
them?  "

"With Maria's suitability as a nurse to my daughter I could find no
fault.  The tenderness and care she bestowed on her was exemplary and
I, also, deeply regret what has happened.  But they will have to return
to Spain--and face the wrath of Don Philippe.  I shudder to think how
William is going to take this when I return to Rainborough and have to
tell him."

Lucinda looked at him curiously.  "William?"

"Of course--you do not know of the strong feelings he had for Maria.
Because of my marriage to Isabella, they got to know each other quite
well in Spain.  I was well aware that when he agreed to come to
Rainborough with me, as my valet, he did not do so purely out of
loyalty to myself, but also knowing that Mafia in all probability would
accompany Christina to Rainborough.  Now do you see?"

"Clearly--and I remember Margaret telling me they were fond of each
other.  Oh, dear.  Poor William.  When he learns what has happened he
may decide to go to her assistance--to make sure she has come to no
harm."

"I don't think that will happen.  I have a letter to give to him from
Maria, explaining everything."

Lucinda paled when she thought of their sad plight, feeling she had no
right to feel such happiness in her new-found love with Laurence.  "I
pray that when Maria and her brother return to Spain, Don Philippe
shows them some compassion."

"That I doubt," replied Laurence with some cynicism.  "Don Philippe is
a man possessed of a fiery temperament--which I myself found out to my
cost--and which, I suspect, after witnessing a tantrum being thrown by
my daughter when I entered the house, she must have inherited through
her mother."

His words caused Lucinda to laugh lightly with a hint of mock sarcasm,
looking at him obliquely.  "From what I am learning about her father,
it is more probable that it has been acquired from him."

He grinned.  "Is that so?  And it is said that one does tend to
recognise in others that which is in themselves--which is probably why
I found myself irresistibly drawn to your charming self.  Think what
children we will make, my love," he said, his eyes twinkling
mercilessly.  "

Lucinda flushed at the soft seduction in his tone but before he could
make any more teasing remarks she said on a more serious note, watching
him closely, "Tell me about Christina's mother, Laurence?  I know so
little about her and you never speak of her."

Abruptly his expression changed and he turned away, moving to stand by
the window

and looking out.  Clearly her request 'to know more about his first
wife had touched some hidden chord.

"Did you love her very much?"  asked Lucinda quietly, apprehensive at
what his answer would be.

He turned and in his eyes she saw pain in their depths as he remembered
the beautiful Isabella de Silva.  "No.  At least not in the way I love
you.  We had a mutual liking and respect for each other, that I do not
deny, but our marriage was a mistake--we both knew that,

but her father insisted on it.  "

"But--why?"

"Because one night, after spending a hazardous few weeks chasing the
French out of Spain--and taking advantage of a well-earned rest on our
return to our garrison at Gibraltar, exhausted and carried away by the
warmth and the wine of that country--and finding ourselves in the
company of some charming Spanish ladies, my fellow officers and I
availed ourselves of their services.  Unbeknown to me, Isabella--who
had escaped the strict confines of her home--was of noble descent, the
daughter of Don Philippe de Silva.  I4e was incensed with rage when he
found out, accusing me of disgracing his daughter, demanding that I do
the honourable thing and marry her."

"And you did."

"Yes.  Had I known that Rupert was to die and that I would inherit
Rainborough, maybe that might have complicated matters.  But as it was,
the army was my life.  I had looked no further.  Marriage had never
been an issue, but if it was to be, then why not to Isabella?  There
was no opposing Don Philippe but I made it clear to him and Isabella
that I would not give up my career.  They understood this and accepted
it and so we were married."

"Even though you were both against it.9 " Yes," he said, turning back
to the window, staring out, unseeingly, his voice coming quietly to her
across the space that divided them.  " But Isabella was very beautiful
and I was fond of her and thought that perhaps, with time, we could
make our marriage work.  But my many duties with my regiment kept us
apart.  Our union was brief.  As you know, Isabella bore me a
daughter,

Christina, and died shortly afterwards.  ~

"I see," whispered Lucinda.

"The rest you know.  " When Isabella died, I was consumed with guilt
because I had not loved her as a husband should--but I loved our
daughter and was determined to care for her--even though I was
apprehensive about bringing her to England and knowing that Don
Philippe would do his utmost to get her back.  " He sighed, coming to
stand close to where she stood.  In his

and looking out.  Clearly her request 'to know more about his first
wife had touched some hidden chord.

"Did you love her very much?"  asked Lucinda quietly, apprehensive at
what his answer would be.

He turned and in his eyes she saw pain in their depths as he remembered
the beautiful Isabella de Silva.  "No.  At least not in the way I love
you.  We had a mutual liking and respect for each other, that I do not
deny, but our marriage was a mistake--we both knew that,

but her father insisted on it.  "

"But--why?"

"Because one night, after spending a hazardous few weeks chasing the
French out of Spain--and taking advantage of a well-earned rest on our
return to our garrison at Gibraltar, exhausted and carried away by the
warmth and the wine of that country--and finding ourselves in the
company of some charming Spanish ladies, my fellow officers and I
availed ourselves of their services.  Unbeknown to me, Isabella--who
had escaped the strict confines of her home--was of noble descent, the
daughter of Don Philippe de Silva.  He was incensed with rage when he
found out, accusing me of disgracing his daughter, demanding that I do
the honourable thing and marry her."

"And you did."

"Yes.  Had I known that Rupert was to die and that I would inherit
Rainborough, maybe that might have complicated matters.  But as it was,
the army was my life.  I had looked no further.  Marriage had never
been an issue, but if it was to be, then why not to Isabella?  There
was no opposing Don Philippe but I made it clear to him and Isabella
that I would not give up my career.  They understood this and accepted
it and so we were married."

"Even though you were both against it?"

"Yes," he said, turning back to the window, staring out, unseeingly,
his voice coming quietly to her across the space that divided them.
"But Isabella was very beautiful and I was fond of her and thought that
perhaps, with time, we could make our marriage work.  But my many
duties with my regiment kept us apart.  Our union was brief.  As you
know, Isabella bore me a daughter,

Christina, and died shortly afterwards.  ~

"I see," whispered Lucinda.

"The rest you know.  " When Isabella died, I was consumed with guilt
because I had not loved her as a husband should--but I loved our
daughter and was determined to care for her--even though I was
apprehensive about bringing her to England and knowing that Don
Philippe would do his utmost to get her back.  " He sighed, coming to
stand close to where she stood.  In his

eyes there was an involuntary tenderness.  "There--you know it all
now.  Do you feel better knowing about Isabella?  Did it matter to you
so much?"

"Yes.  I had to know," she said, lowering her eyes so he would not see
the relief she felt in knowing he had not loved his Spanish wife as
deeply as she had thought.  For even though Isabella was dead she would
always have thought of her as a rival.

Taking her in his arms and tilting her face up to his, Laurence smiled
at the relief she was unable to hide in her eyes, but there was no
laughter in his own as they searched her face.  "You little fool.: You
are as transparent as day.  Believe me when I say that never before in
my life have I known ~a love like this--and never will again.  I love
you, Lucinda, and only you."

He drew.  her close, folding her in his arms, pressing her body close
to his, his lips on her face, kissing her softly, seeking her mouth
where they fastened and kissing her deeply.  Trembling with joy within
his embrace, Lucinda abandoned herself to his arms, returning his kiss
with long awaited ardour and tenderness and twining her arms about his
neck.  They clung together as if there was no quenching their passion,
their desire for each other growing almost beyond their power to master
it.  In that one blissful moment the excitement of the unknown was
there--the joy and wonder which would be theirs when they became one.

When they finally drew apart, Laurence placed his finger beneath her
chin and tilted her face to his, looking deep into the velvety depths
of her eyes, darkened by passion.  "There will be no more secrets
between us, my love.  Tell me you are happy to be marrying me?  That
there will be no regrets--no secret yearnings to be back on that island
home where you spent the best part of your life?"

Lucinda gazed wonderingly into his eyes, dazzled by the revelation of
her love.  "There will be no regrets, Laurence.  My life on Barbados is
over.  There is nothing left of that life any more but sweet memories
to cherish--and I know the best part of my life is yet to come."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Soo~q after returning to Rainborough, Lucinda became the Countess of
Rainborough.  The wedding was a quiet affair, hardly the kind befitting
an earl, but this was how they wanted it to be.  Only one.  vthing
marred the weeks following the wedding: the death of Sir Thomas, but he
died content, knowing both his daughters were happy in their
marriages.

With Henrietta and Hal living at Burntwood Hall with Aunt Celia,
Lucinda devoted all her time to Laurence and Christina, whom Laurence
felt was still under threat from abduction from Don Philippe.  Taking
no chances, he made sure she was watched at all times.

Lucinda learned to love Rainborough Castle more with each passing day.
She adored the old place and understood fully why Laurence had been
unable to bear parting with it.  Already, with some of the money from
her dowry, the estate as a whole was beginning to benefit, and the
castle itself was showing signs of improvement, with a veritable fleet
of workmen both inside and outside the building.  Christina was happy
there, either running about the labyrinth 274

of passages and rooms or playing in the w tangle of garden.  As yet
Laurence had given thought to employing a new nurse for her Lucinda,
with the help of Mrs.  Foley, who w delighted to have a child in the
nursery on~ more, was content to take on the.  responsibili herself for
the time being.  It was an opportuni for her to get to know Christina a
little better although the two of them had become almc inseparable.

William, who had hoped Maria would ha~ come to Rainborough with
Christina, was subdued by her absence.  Laurence had given him the
letter she had written before leaving Yor but it had done little to
appease his misery.  ~ man of William's controlled tempera met seldom
gave vent to his feelings, but what Marl had done affected him
deeply.

"I am grateful for the way you have handle the situation," he said to
Laurence when the were alone and he'd had time to digest Maria letter.
"After what she did, you could ha washed your hands of her completely
and lel her to rot in gaol."

Laurence regarded him seriously.  "You abov, all people know I could
not have done that Content yourself, William.  I realise that, to say,
her family from any suffering Don Philipp, would inflict on them, she
had no choice but to do what she did.  She meant no harm to com~

re Christina.  I could no more see her spend time in prison than you.
Alonso Gonzalez, the man who died, he was the villain Don Philippe sent
to abduct Christina.  Miguel, Maria's brother, was only sent as added
weight to persuade her to comply.  "

Dejected, William nodded.  "I see that."

"They have both returned to Spain, William.  What,will happen when they
confront Don Philippe I cannot say--but I am sorry.  I know your
feelings concerning Maria, that you were looking forward to the time
when she would come to Rainbor~enough with Christina.  Have you read
her letter?"

"Yes, She explains everything and asks me to understand why she did
what she did--and begs my forgiveness~' he finished quietly.

Unable to offer any kind of solace, Laurence had squeezed his shoulder
in understanding and left him ~atone, hoping that with time his pain
would ease.

After her wedding, in the bedroom which would henceforth belong to them
both, Lucinda found herself alone with ~Laurence, with the beauty of
Rainborough all around her.  Often she had dreamt of what it would be
like to love and be loved by such a man as he, but those dreams now
seemed like unsubstantial shadows to the reality.

Although she knew the magnitude of her feelings she was anxious,
vulnerable, excited yet fearful of what was to come.  Divining her
thoughts, sensitive to her feelings, Laurence took her trembling hands,
coveting them with his own to reassure her, drawing her close.  She did
not take her eyes from his, their feelings clearly mirrored for each
other to see.

Laurence reached up and gently caressed her face, his finger deftly
drawing the silken~ strands of her.  hair from her face,

"The life I lived until I left Spain scarcely taught me gentleness,
Lucinda, but I have an earnest desire to be the gentlest of lovers this
night."

"Because you love me?"  she whispered~ "Deeply?  .

Reaching up, Lucinda locked her arms around his neck, bending his head
down to hers.

"Then show me."

At first Laurence seemed to understand her body better than she did
herself.  He was gentle and coaxing, but at the peak of their
lovemaking he became a different person, the gentleness turning almost
to aggression, demanding something from her which she felt she could
not possibly endure, but she did and none the less was willing to give
until fulfilment consumed them both.

'

Those winter days were almost like summer days, full of bliss as they
got to know each: other, their relationship unfolding gently.  They
talked at length, they laughed, they touched--and then there were times
when they argued, when disagreements arose, and they would quarrel
heatedly and Lucinda would accuse him of being disagreeably arrogant,
insufferable and conceited.  They were both strong-willed with fiery
temperaments and Lucinda could bring Laurence to boiling point--but
these disagreements added excitement and spice to their otherwise
peaceful lives, making the moments of making up all the sweeter.

There were times when they felt a total isolation from the world in
which they lived, when they would fall into each other's arms and make
love with an intensity which surprised them both and which neither of
them understood, when Laurence would glory in the nakedness of
Lucinda's body and she would learn how it was to give--as much as she
was capable of giving--and receive love.  Laurence's desire for her was
unquenchable, which she would return a hundredfold, with a fiery,
wanton abandon, loo sings any reticence she might have had.

She gloried in her present happiness which was in perfect harmony with
everything around her--Laurence, Christina and Rainborough,

~EL pounds ~!  C~CSON with Henrietta and Aunt Celia close by, unable to
believe that anyone could be so happy--but it was a happiness
temporarily shattered when a coach arrived unexpectedly at Rainborough
Castle one day during the spring, its occupants being a white-haired
old man and an apprehensive-looking Spanish woman,

The man was Don Philippe de Silva and the woman was Maria, Christina's
nurse.

With Lucinda by his side, Laurence met Don Philippe on the steps of his
home, reluctant to let him inside.  He began to tremble with a fierce
anger, scarcely able to believe his eyes--that Don Philippe had the
effrontery to~ come to Rainborough.  Now the trembling had ceased and
he was in control of himself.  He.  looked at his daughter's
grandfather and his eyes were cold, his hatred for this man like a
physical pain.

Lucinda could only stare at the Spaniard, overcome by a turmoil of
feelings, remembering the horror he had inflicted on her, that because
of his insatiable desire to recover his granddaughter she had almost
died.  In her mind she thought of him as the devil who had tried to
destroy Laurence.  But seeing him for the first time in the flesh, she
could not believe that this stooped, white-haired old man was the
all-powerful Don Philippe de Silva.

"So," said Laurence, 'it is you, Don Philippe.  "

He was changed--no longer upright with the proud bearing of a de Silva,
with none of the arrogant vitality in his now-lustre less eyes.  His
stature was diminished, his shoulders drooped and his head bowed
slightly.  It was as if something had broken inside him.

"You are somewhat changed," Laurence went on icily, 'but I had no
difficulty recognising you.  You are a long way from Spain.  Am I to
understand that the purpose for your being here is to see myself?  If
so, then I am somewhat surprised, for you normally employ others to do
your bidding--as my wife and myself found out to our cost.  What is it
you want?  " he demanded " To see my granddaughter.  "

When he spoke in his strongly accented Spanish Laurence noted that his
voice was older, strained, perhaps, but still the same.

"Why--what a reversal of the situation," he scorned.  "Why do you think
I should grant you anything when only a short time ago you sent a
villain to abduct my daughter--which almost resulted in the death of my
wife?"

"Then for that I am sorry.  When I discovered my plan had failed--when
Maria returned without Christina--my sorrow was made worse because I
knew my grandchild was in a land without the comfort of anyone from her
own country."

"This--England, is Christina's country now,

Don Philippe.  You have to come to terms with that.  Accept it.  I am
her father--and Lucinda, my wife," he said, placing his hand firmly on
her arm and drawing her forward, 'is her stepmother."

Don Philippe's eyes shifted to the young woman by his side.  He saw she
was slender and fair-haired, with a loveliness that could match the
dark beauty which his own beloved Isabella had possessed.  He nodded in
acceptance.

"Aye--so be it.  Gloat over my sufferings if you must--it matters not.
I did you a great wrong--and though it is difficult for me to do so, I
admit it.  But after Isabella died Christina was the only thing that
mattered to me.  When you took her away I did the only thing I could
think of doing,"

"By resorting to your usual devious methods and attempting to have her
kidnapped," said Laurence contemptuously.

Don Philippe nodded.  "Perhaps the death of Isabella and you taking
Christina from me was the price I had to pay for the wrongs I inflicted
on others.  My father and his father before that became rich and
powerful by devious means, by the sufferings of others.  Perhaps I
failed because that' was the way it was--how I was brought up by my
father.  Maybe if I had been raised in poverty then I would have been
different-who knows?  I am no longer a proud man,

 E

Lord Rainborough, and you will never know how much it has cost me to
come here.  But the teachings of my own father and the habits formed
over a lifetime are hard to break.  " " What are you saying, Don
Philippe?  "

"Strip away all my money and power and what is there?  What have I got
left?  Nothing.  My life has fallen apart.  People in my native Cadiz
have become strangers to me.  I do not ask for your forgiveness for the
wrong I have done you--only your understanding.  You are within your
rights to refuse me permission to see my granddaughter but I ask you
not to."

Laurence looked at him hard, for if there came a time for revenge then
surely this was it.  But he could not triumph over Don Philippe now,
feeling that if repentance were indeed possible for such a man then he
would not divert it from its path by any actions of his.

The sad, even tones of Don Philippe affected Lucinda more deeply than
she cared to admit.  He was nothing now but a defenceless, vulnerable
old man with nothing left in life save the love he so clearly felt for
his grandchild.  She was glad that Laurence saw this also and stood
aside to let the old man pass.

"Then come inside.  Christina is in the garden."  Was it a trick of the
light, Lucinda wondered as Don Philippe passed her upon entering the
house, or were they tears she saw shining in his eyes?  She looked
towards Maria where she still sat apprehensively in the carriage,
waiting to b spoken to.  Smiling, Lucinda went to her.

"I'm so happy to see you, Maria.  Come alon inside.  Are you here to
see Christina?  Or is William?"

Grateful to her for her kindness, Mari stepped down from the
carriage.

"Oh, Miss Lucinda--'

"I am no longer Miss Lucinda, Maria.  Lord Rainborough and I are
married now."

"Then I am so happy for you.  Can you forgiv me for what I did?  I am
so ashamed."

"Of course we forgive you, Maria.  We unde~ stood that Don Philippe
left you no choic~ He--he did not punish you?"

"No.  When Miguel and I returned to Spain without Christina, he became
a changed mar Sick with grief.  He ees so different now, yo~ know.  I
came with him to see Christina.  I have, missed her so much--you do not
know ho~ much.  But William I would like to see, also she said, unable
to conceal the eagerness in he dark eyes.

Lucinda smiled when she saw William appea out of the doorway, smiling
broadly for the firs time in months.

"Then go to him, Maria."

She left them to make their reunion in private, going to seek Laurence
and Christina i

the garden where she was becoming quainted with her grandfather.

rca When a happier Don Philippe left Rainborough alone--Maria was to
remain at Rainborough with William and resume her duties as Christina's
nurse Lucinda promised to send him frequent reports on Christina's
progress--and that, perhaps, in the future, a further visit could be
arranged.  The gratitude in his eyes almost made her weep.  Laurence
placed his arm about her shoulders, drawing her close.

"People are so strange.  Who would ever have guessed that the rich,
all-powerful, ruthlessly ambitious Don Philippe could be brought to
such subjection by the love he beam a child?  No longer is he a man to
be feared--more a man to be pitied."

Lucinda sighed, for there had been neither exoneration nor forgiveness
in the visit, but with Don Philippe coming to Rainborough there had
been a kind of reconciliation.

"Yes," she said softly.  "He's a sad man.  But I'm glad he came."

Laurence looked down at her curiously.  "Glad?"

She nodded, watching the retreating carriage.  "Yes.  Because now we
can begin to build our lives at Rainborough--no longer will we have
cause to expect him to snatch Christina from

28~

us.  Now the ghosts of the past have been laid t~ rest.  "

Leaning down Laurence placed his lips o~ hem.  "You're right," he
murmured.  "It is time t~ forget the past and for us to start savouring
the joys of the future."

Lucinda swung back in his arms and looke~ up at him.  His eyes were no
longer cold as the, had been upon seeing Don Philippe.  Now thef were
warm and his lids drooped seductively His lips lifted slightly in one
corner.

"Have I told you recently that I love you?  "

"Then convince me," she murmured, pullint his head down to hers.

Lucinda adored this man, discarding all else He eclipsed everything
that had gone before The serene, joyous acceptance of life as it had
been for her on Barbados, and that painful parting from her beloved
home he had eradicated, restoring to her a serene contentment She had
reached a happiness she had never dreamed possible and in that she was
con ten to leave the unfolding of their future--their lives
together--to fate.