whenever we went to balls in Paris. For not many men have ever asked me to dance, and when I was with you it was in the role of chaperon, so it was not at all appropriate. As for the horse, it is true that I cannot ride.'
'Should you like to learn?'
'Do you wish me to?'
'I should never object to any activity which would give you pleasure, Heloise,' he said wearily. It was clear that he was not going to win his wife's trust overnight. And her mention of how he had neglected her, whilst showering attentions on her sister, reminded him she had a deep well of resentment from which to draw. 'I bid you goodnight.'
He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and retreated before things deteriorated any further. She might declare she did not hate him, but she had withdrawn sufficiently to start calling him 'my lord' again.
All he could do was keep sufficient distance for her to forget to regard him as a tyrant, whilst maintaining a watchful eye on her. She would learn, eventually, that she could trust him.
Wouldn't she?
London was not at all like Paris. The streets and squares through which their carriage passed were so clean and orderly, giving an overall air of prosperity. She frowned. Although perhaps it was just that her husband inhabited one of the better areas. This, she surmised as the carriage drew to a halt outside an imposing mansion, whose doorway was flanked by two massive pillars supporting a portico, was probably the equivalent of the 'court' end of Paris. There were probably overcrowded and dirty alleys somewhere. It was just that as an English countes she would never set foot in them.
A footman dressed in blue and silver livery handed her from the coach, and she entered her new home on her husband's arm. Oblivious to the interested stares of the servants who had gathered to greet their new mistress, Heloise gazed in awe at the lofty dimensions of the hall. A marble staircase swept upwards, branching at a half-landing to serve the two wings of the first storey, then continued up by several more flights, as far as she could see. Light flooded in through a domed skylight at the very top. Walton House reminded her of one of the better hotels in Paris, though it was shocking to think one man lived here alone. In Paris, a house like this would be divided into several apartments, which would be leased to tourists to provide an income for the impoverished nobles who clung to the upper floors.
An upper servant approached, bowing. 'Begging your pardon, my lord, but Captain Fawley has requested the honour of making the acquaintance of your Countess.'
'Has he, indeed?' Handing over his gloves and hat, Charles wondered what new start this might be. 'How does the Captain fare today?'
'Restless, my lord,' the footman replied, wooden-faced.
'My lady,' Charles said to Heloise, placing his hand under her elbow. 'A word in private, if you please?'
Drawing her into a little ante-room, he shut the door to ensure total privacy. 'I have little time to explain, but I would request a further favour of you. I had planned on sparing you the worst of Captain Fawley's temper, but on this one occasion I would ask that you bear me company and back me up in whatever I say. Can you do that for me?'
'This Captain Fawley...he is the man you wished me not to meet, who lives here with you?'
'I have no time to explain it all, but the salient facts are these: Captain Fawley is my brother. He hates me. He hates the fact that since he was invalided out of the army he has been forced to depend on me. I fear he will use your presence in my life as an excuse to try to strike out on his own. He must not do so, Heloise.'
He took her by the shoulders, his eyes burning with an intensity she had never seen before. 'He must stay in Walton House!'
'Of course I will do whatever it takes to prevent him from leaving, if that is your wish,' she replied, though it all seemed very strange to her. Whatever could have gone wrong between them? Was
'Should you like to learn?'
'Do you wish me to?'
'I should never object to any activity which would give you pleasure, Heloise,' he said wearily. It was clear that he was not going to win his wife's trust overnight. And her mention of how he had neglected her, whilst showering attentions on her sister, reminded him she had a deep well of resentment from which to draw. 'I bid you goodnight.'
He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and retreated before things deteriorated any further. She might declare she did not hate him, but she had withdrawn sufficiently to start calling him 'my lord' again.
All he could do was keep sufficient distance for her to forget to regard him as a tyrant, whilst maintaining a watchful eye on her. She would learn, eventually, that she could trust him.
Wouldn't she?
London was not at all like Paris. The streets and squares through which their carriage passed were so clean and orderly, giving an overall air of prosperity. She frowned. Although perhaps it was just that her husband inhabited one of the better areas. This, she surmised as the carriage drew to a halt outside an imposing mansion, whose doorway was flanked by two massive pillars supporting a portico, was probably the equivalent of the 'court' end of Paris. There were probably overcrowded and dirty alleys somewhere. It was just that as an English countes she would never set foot in them.
A footman dressed in blue and silver livery handed her from the coach, and she entered her new home on her husband's arm. Oblivious to the interested stares of the servants who had gathered to greet their new mistress, Heloise gazed in awe at the lofty dimensions of the hall. A marble staircase swept upwards, branching at a half-landing to serve the two wings of the first storey, then continued up by several more flights, as far as she could see. Light flooded in through a domed skylight at the very top. Walton House reminded her of one of the better hotels in Paris, though it was shocking to think one man lived here alone. In Paris, a house like this would be divided into several apartments, which would be leased to tourists to provide an income for the impoverished nobles who clung to the upper floors.
An upper servant approached, bowing. 'Begging your pardon, my lord, but Captain Fawley has requested the honour of making the acquaintance of your Countess.'
'Has he, indeed?' Handing over his gloves and hat, Charles wondered what new start this might be. 'How does the Captain fare today?'
'Restless, my lord,' the footman replied, wooden-faced.
'My lady,' Charles said to Heloise, placing his hand under her elbow. 'A word in private, if you please?'
Drawing her into a little ante-room, he shut the door to ensure total privacy. 'I have little time to explain, but I would request a further favour of you. I had planned on sparing you the worst of Captain Fawley's temper, but on this one occasion I would ask that you bear me company and back me up in whatever I say. Can you do that for me?'
'This Captain Fawley...he is the man you wished me not to meet, who lives here with you?'
'I have no time to explain it all, but the salient facts are these: Captain Fawley is my brother. He hates me. He hates the fact that since he was invalided out of the army he has been forced to depend on me. I fear he will use your presence in my life as an excuse to try to strike out on his own. He must not do so, Heloise.'
He took her by the shoulders, his eyes burning with an intensity she had never seen before. 'He must stay in Walton House!'
'Of course I will do whatever it takes to prevent him from leaving, if that is your wish,' she replied, though it all seemed very strange to her. Whatever could have gone wrong between them? Was
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