Page 45 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

Dozing at last, she nevertheless awoke early the following morning and, feeling restless, both at the thought of confronting her father and at what they might discover at Seacourt Head, she went for a solitary ride on the moor, leaving Clemons in the dust when he attempted to keep up with her.

But even Cloud’s fast pace, and the exhilaration of the moor wind blowing through her hair did nothing to erase thoughts of Deverill from her mind.

She could not seem to stop searching the horizon for a centaur.

Returning to the house, determined to take some action, if only to allow herself a pretense of accomplishment, she was glad to find St. Merryn alone in the breakfast parlor.

Taking a seat opposite him, she said to the footman who came to discover her wishes, “Nothing now, Jago. I will ring when I want you.”

The footman vanished, and St. Merryn said, “What the devil are you about, girl? I wanted more herring.”

“I’ll serve you, Papa,” she said, getting up and looking under lids on the sideboard until she found the kippered herring.

Putting a generous portion on a fresh plate, she handed it to him, saying, “I want to know about the feud, sir, and I hope you will not try to fob me off again, because it will be easier for me to respect your dislike of the Deverills if I can discover what caused the dissension in the first place. Do you know?”

“Upon my soul,” he exclaimed, smearing jam on his toast with lavish abandon, “what can that matter now?”

“Aunt Ophelia says no one knows the cause,” she said, hoping he would respond as he would to any sporting challenge if the matter was put to him this way.

He sneered. “No reason that dratted female should know. No business of hers. She wasn’t even a part of the family in those days, not that she probably wasn’t as damned nosy and interfering then as she is now.

Probably was. I don’t know. Wasn’t born yet, was I?

Only thing I know is that my father said when old Tom Deverill quoted Smollett about making the monarchy stronger, he was not speaking of the present royal house. ”

“He was a Jacobite?”

“So they say. Can’t really have blotted his copybook, though. Those who did lost most of what they owned. Then, too, most folks around here held by the true line then. Not that it did them any good. We’re all stuck with the same mad king and his precious offspring now, aren’t we?”

“Was my grandfather a Jacobite?” Daintry asked.

“Upon my word, girl, how should I know? He would not have told me. All secrets and plotting, it was. I just mention it because since the feud began when your aunt was young, it must have begun when there were still a few Jacobites hanging about, and I remembered that bit about Tom Deverill.”

“But surely your father told you something about the feud.”

He shrugged. “When I married your mama, he said it put him ahead of Deverill, but what the devil he meant, I can’t tell you, for he never told me.”

“Then why do you persist with the feud?” she demanded.

“That you can ask such a fool question just proves what I’ve said all along,” he said with a snort.

“Females don’t understand simple facts of life.

A feud grows, girl, and it’s a matter of family loyalty.

Just look at what happened in Launceston—my daughter calling down a magistrate in his own courtroom.

Jervaulx probably thought you held him cheap because of the feud, so then he bent over backward to show he wasn’t cut from the same bolt of cloth.

Gave him a point to the good, that did. Once before, when we battled it out over a boundary line, I won the point. It all feeds into the whole.”

“It’s ridiculous, and the pair of you ought to mend matters,” she said bluntly.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.

” He got to his feet and threw down his napkin.

“I’ve business to see to. All these mines shutting down have made difficulties for my tenants.

” He paused at the door. “Mind you don’t forget to take Melissa home today.

Charles and Davina ought to have done it on their way to Wilton, but Ophelia insisted she was taking her.

In any case, I want to hear no more complaints from Seacourt about your interference in his family affairs. You understand that?”

“Yes, Papa.” She ate her breakfast and went up to change out of her riding habit, knowing her great-aunt and Melissa would soon be ready to depart for Seacourt Head.

They did not leave until ten, but the roads were dry, and they arrived at Seacourt Head shortly after noon.

Melissa passed most of the journey staring out of the window, responding politely when she was addressed by either of her companions, but initiating no conversation of her own.

Daintry chatted with Lady Ophelia about the book the older lady was reading, but soon gave up any attempt to draw the child into the conversation and began to wish they had brought Charley along, after all.

Their reception was warmer than they might have expected, for Geoffrey, apparently on the lookout for them, came to the door while his servants were still collecting Melissa’s baggage.

“Come in,” he called. “Susan was hoping you would arrive in time to take a light nuncheon with us. Hello, darling. Come and give Papa a big hug.”

Melissa ran to him at once and put her arms around his neck, whereupon he lifted her, whirling her so that her skirt billowed around her slender legs.

Then, setting her on her feet again, he kissed her cheek and said, “Let us go find your mama and Cousin Catherine. They have been anxiously awaiting your return.”

Surprised by his easy manner, Daintry wondered if he truly believed he was in everyone’s good graces again. He seemed to do so, and to her own amazement, she found herself automatically smiling back when he turned his flashing grin in her direction.

Lady Ophelia allowed her footman to help her down from the carriage, and they went inside to find Susan in her pleasant drawing room, looking perfectly well and happy to see her daughter again.

Daintry searched her sister’s face for any sign that she had been hurt again, but although her earlier bruises could still be detected, she could see nothing newly amiss.

Lady Catherine Chauncey, standing near one of the two tall windows and looking as beautiful as ever in a pale green, flowing robe of India muslin, smiled and greeted them.

“We were just gazing out at the sea,” she said, gesturing toward the magnificent view.

Sunlight sparkled on the foam-crested waves of the Channel, while gulls darted and drifted on capricious breezes.

“Hello, Melissa, did you have a pleasant journey?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mama, may I be excused now?”

Seacourt said, “Of course you may, darling. You will want to put all your things back where they belong and tell Miss Currier all about your visit to Tuscombe Park. She has missed you, you know. She had little to do when you were not here.”

The little girl ran away without another word, and Seacourt said to Lady Ophelia, “Her governess is very fond of her, you know, though I daresay she has begun to wonder if Melissa really lives here or not; however, we shall say no more about that.”

He continued to converse cheerfully with Lady Ophelia, and Daintry moved to stand by Catherine at the window.

The view was spectacular, for the house was perched out on the headland, and she could see across St. Merryn Bay, all the way to the park, but she could not see the house.

Some windows of its upper stories had a partial view of the sea, but by and large, Tuscombe’s views were of its parkland.

Realizing that Catherine had spoken, she said, “I’m dreadfully sorry. I was not attending.”

“That view is hypnotic, is it not? My bedchamber faces the sea, and I get up early in the morning just so I can look out and see what sort of day the sea is having. Usually,” she added with a sigh, “it is as gray as any day in Yorkshire.”

“I had forgotten you come from the north,” Daintry said.

“Well, I don’t really, but my husband did.

My family is from Lincolnshire, which is much the same—fens in place of the moors, but very bleak.

My parents are dead, and my brother and his wife have too many in their own family to welcome me.

I simply couldn’t stomach the thought of Yorkshire at this season.

Gray days notwithstanding, Cornwall is much more pleasant. ”

“I believe you said you had cousins in St. Ives,” Daintry said, hoping the remark was not too pointed.

Evidently it was. Flushing, Catherine said, “You are thinking of the dreadful accusations Susan made, and believe I ought to leave, but she has apologized to me, you see, and I am quite willing to forgive her, for she must have been utterly furious with Geoffrey. I have told him he mustn’t look to me for sympathy, either, for in my opinion, he was much too harsh with her.

Men do tend to forget their own strength, do they not? ”

Susan was smiling at her husband, and just then he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. For the first time, Daintry’s convictions were shaken.

“You see,” Catherine said softly. “He loves her very much and is truly sorry to have hurt her. He will not do so again, for he has promised us both that he will not.”

At the table, Daintry saw nothing to indicate that Susan was not content in her marriage.

Nothing at all was said about the day before, and when she said Charley had been disappointed not to be allowed to accompany Melissa home, Seacourt said she could visit whenever she liked.

“And you must come often yourself,” he added.

“Here we are, so near, yet so far that Susan sometimes begins to think she lives in quite another county altogether.”

Later, as they were driving away, Lady Ophelia said with satisfaction, “That looks to be going well now, very well indeed. We have taught Sir Geoffrey a valuable lesson, I think, my dear.”

“Perhaps,” Daintry said, but she decided to put him to a more severe test. In the weeks left before Christmas, instead of attending house parties as she had planned to do, she would visit Seacourt Head often, with or without Charley, to discover for herself if what they had seen today was truth or illusion.

She had turned to confide this simple plan to Lady Ophelia when the first shots rang out.