quite wrong for each other and that I would find happiness
in my turn. It was then I knew for certain that it could not have been Laura
who sold us out to Lackingtons. I'd had my doubts for a long time. It was so
completely out of character, and besides, she must have known that the
finger of suspicion would point straight to her. She wasn't stupid. And if she
had done such a despicable thing, her conscience would not have allowed
her to write to me as she did.'
'But why didn't you try to put matters right?'
Nick Trevennon shrugged and his face grew harsh under the lines of strain.
'Expediency,' he said simply. 'If Laura was innocent, it meant that someone
else was guilty, and such a limited circle of people knew of the design's
existence, and our hopes and plans for the Lady Laura. I thought then it
would be better to remain silent and allow her to take the blame rather than
open a new line of enquiries with possibly disastrous results. I felt then I
would rather not know who hated Laura enough to do this thing to her. I
thought in time the bitterness would die down, but my brother kept it going,
urged on by his wife. There were others involved too. And our losses were
considerable. I'd gambled on expansion, you see, and it didn't happen. So, all
in all, I needed a scapegoat.' He stared down at the carpet. 'Long after, when
my initial bitterness began to subside. I was sorry, more than sorry for what
I'd done. My only comfort was that your mother would never know about it.
When I didn't reply to her letter, I knew she would never risk a second
rebuff.'
He looked up and regarded Morwenna steadily. 'My dear, if you want to
revenge yourself on me on your mother's behalf it would be very easy. You
could just take up your paintings and go out of this house and out of my life
without another word. But I'm hoping very much that you won't do that.'
There was a silence, then Morwenna gave a short, unhappy sigh. 'No, I shan't
do that,' she answered. 'I think there's been too much bitterness already, and
in a way I can understand why you acted as you did, although I don't
condone it.'
'So you'll stay?'
She was startled by the eagerness in his voice. She spread her hands in a
negative gesture. 'Well, only for a little while longer. I have a train to catch
and…'
'No, no.' Nick Trevennon dismissed trains and their timetables with a testy
shake of his head. 'You misunderstand me. I want you to stay here, child.
You have nowhere to go, no definite plans—you admitted as much to my
nephew last night. I want you to consider Trevennon as your home.'
'Oh, no!' Morwenna's hand strayed to her cheek in pure horror. 'I couldn't
possibly do that.'
'Why not?' The weariness and pain had gone from his eyes now. They were
keen and piercing beneath the grizzled brows*
'For all sorts of reasons.' She tried to steady her voice. 'For one thing, your
nephew dislikes me. He wouldn't want me here, I know.'
Nick Trevennon laughed. 'One of the compensations of being an invalid is
that one's whims are pampered in a way that never happened when I was
well,' he said. 'If I want you to stay, there will be no arguments from
Dominic. If his attitude has upset you, you must make allowances. His
opinion of Laura was much influenced by that of his parents.'
'But that's not all,' Morwenna said hastily. 'I—I really do need to get a job. I
have to support myself. I'm not a charity case, however well-meant the offer
might be.'
'Who's talking about charity?' Nick Trevennon barked. 'And there is a job for
you. I need an assistant to help me with my Trevennon chronicles.'
'But I have no secretarial experience whatsoever,' Morwenna protested.
'You can write, can't you? That's all I ask.' He lifted his right hand from his
lap with difficulty. 'I'm recovering some use in my hand, but I can't hold a
pen yet, and my attempts to write with my left hand have been ludicrous. I
need someone to write to my dictation, and you
in my turn. It was then I knew for certain that it could not have been Laura
who sold us out to Lackingtons. I'd had my doubts for a long time. It was so
completely out of character, and besides, she must have known that the
finger of suspicion would point straight to her. She wasn't stupid. And if she
had done such a despicable thing, her conscience would not have allowed
her to write to me as she did.'
'But why didn't you try to put matters right?'
Nick Trevennon shrugged and his face grew harsh under the lines of strain.
'Expediency,' he said simply. 'If Laura was innocent, it meant that someone
else was guilty, and such a limited circle of people knew of the design's
existence, and our hopes and plans for the Lady Laura. I thought then it
would be better to remain silent and allow her to take the blame rather than
open a new line of enquiries with possibly disastrous results. I felt then I
would rather not know who hated Laura enough to do this thing to her. I
thought in time the bitterness would die down, but my brother kept it going,
urged on by his wife. There were others involved too. And our losses were
considerable. I'd gambled on expansion, you see, and it didn't happen. So, all
in all, I needed a scapegoat.' He stared down at the carpet. 'Long after, when
my initial bitterness began to subside. I was sorry, more than sorry for what
I'd done. My only comfort was that your mother would never know about it.
When I didn't reply to her letter, I knew she would never risk a second
rebuff.'
He looked up and regarded Morwenna steadily. 'My dear, if you want to
revenge yourself on me on your mother's behalf it would be very easy. You
could just take up your paintings and go out of this house and out of my life
without another word. But I'm hoping very much that you won't do that.'
There was a silence, then Morwenna gave a short, unhappy sigh. 'No, I shan't
do that,' she answered. 'I think there's been too much bitterness already, and
in a way I can understand why you acted as you did, although I don't
condone it.'
'So you'll stay?'
She was startled by the eagerness in his voice. She spread her hands in a
negative gesture. 'Well, only for a little while longer. I have a train to catch
and…'
'No, no.' Nick Trevennon dismissed trains and their timetables with a testy
shake of his head. 'You misunderstand me. I want you to stay here, child.
You have nowhere to go, no definite plans—you admitted as much to my
nephew last night. I want you to consider Trevennon as your home.'
'Oh, no!' Morwenna's hand strayed to her cheek in pure horror. 'I couldn't
possibly do that.'
'Why not?' The weariness and pain had gone from his eyes now. They were
keen and piercing beneath the grizzled brows*
'For all sorts of reasons.' She tried to steady her voice. 'For one thing, your
nephew dislikes me. He wouldn't want me here, I know.'
Nick Trevennon laughed. 'One of the compensations of being an invalid is
that one's whims are pampered in a way that never happened when I was
well,' he said. 'If I want you to stay, there will be no arguments from
Dominic. If his attitude has upset you, you must make allowances. His
opinion of Laura was much influenced by that of his parents.'
'But that's not all,' Morwenna said hastily. 'I—I really do need to get a job. I
have to support myself. I'm not a charity case, however well-meant the offer
might be.'
'Who's talking about charity?' Nick Trevennon barked. 'And there is a job for
you. I need an assistant to help me with my Trevennon chronicles.'
'But I have no secretarial experience whatsoever,' Morwenna protested.
'You can write, can't you? That's all I ask.' He lifted his right hand from his
lap with difficulty. 'I'm recovering some use in my hand, but I can't hold a
pen yet, and my attempts to write with my left hand have been ludicrous. I
need someone to write to my dictation, and you
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