Carrying The Gentleman's Secret. Helen Dickson

Brook.’

      ‘Well, you did try to warn your sister against marrying him.’

      ‘Since when did Miranda listen to anything I have to say?’ Alex retorted crossly. ‘I sometimes wonder about the family she married into—that the very fabric of the Seymour line is flawed in some way. As you know, I have no particular liking for my sister’s choice of husband, but I did not imagine he was capable of this. His father had a dubious carry on—a gambler and a womaniser who left a pile of debts. There’s a dark thread running through that family, Harris, and who knows where the devil it will appear? I pray to God not in my as-yet-unborn nephew or niece.’

      ‘I very much doubt it,’ Harris said.

      ‘Let’s hope not. I would protect Miranda from this—but when she gets a bee in her bonnet she won’t give up until she is in full possession of the facts. She knows he’s been seeing another woman—but not the extent of it. For her sake I would like to keep this whole thing quiet. Should the story get out the dirt will stick and the unsavoury backlash will cause her unbearable hurt.’

      Alex strode into the house, meeting Henry coming out. Alex was a serious individual and known as a hard, unyielding taskmaster by those subordinate to him. He was also a ruthless businessman who had made a large fortune in shipping and mining in the north of England and an even larger one in clever investments in the railways and abroad. He had settled a more-than-generous dowry on Miranda, knowing of Henry’s debts and his run-down estate which would benefit. Alex looked at him with contempt.

      His normally arrogant brother-in-law was now subdued, demoralised by the events that had overtaken him, existing in a numbing vacuum of his own uncertainty. ‘Well?’ Alex demanded. ‘Things have ended this way because of a miscalculation on your part—Miranda’s failure to remain in Surrey and your friends’ willingness to talk. It was a stupid mistake, the sort of error that could cost you your marriage. What have you to say for yourself?

      ‘What can I say? You appear to know everything.’

      ‘Quite. You care for nothing but your own self-indulgence. How dare you treat my sister in this despicable manner! You disgust me.’

      ‘You must listen—let me explain...’

      Alex shot him a look that would have stopped a racehorse in its tracks. ‘Hold your tongue! I don’t have the stomach for it now. I would like to spare Miranda the details of what you have done, but I do not see how it can be avoided. She will be deeply wounded by your betrayal, but no doubt she will forgive you eventually—foolish girl. You are undeserving of her devotion. I believe you hired a coach to come here?’

      Scowling and tight-lipped, Henry nodded.

      ‘I want you to leave here without delay, even if it means travelling through the night. You will go straight home to your wife, where you will confess what you have done and beg for her forgiveness. Is that understood, Henry?’ Henry flinched before his cold anger. ‘Damn it all, Henry, I will not rake over the sordid events that have brought you here. My anger will probably get the better of me and I won’t be responsible for my actions. I have to remain in the north for a few days. When you reach Surrey you will remain at home—close to your wife—and keep a clear head. Where your friends are concerned you will maintain a discreet silence. I expect your full cooperation in this. You and I have important matters to discuss.’

      ‘Lydia—Miss Brook, she...’

      ‘Has no wish to see you. You will not try to approach her. Is that understood?’

      Henry nodded and swallowed audibly. ‘Yes.’

      Alex turned and walked away.

      * * *

      Alone in her room at the hotel and hidden from prying eyes, Lydia felt her whole body tightening as something tried to escape her, yet as fierce as she tried to suppress it, it was to no avail. Tears started to her eyes and began to flow, in sheer frustration and desperation. She wept for the present, in which her dreams and every wish seemed to be shattered, and she wept for the future, which now looked empty and bleak.

      Henry’s appearance into her life and his proposal of marriage had meant a liberation from a life that had held her chained to Alistair’s workshop. Alistair, who had been her mother’s lover and her employer, worked her hard, the constant pressure he put on her making her long to be free, to own her own establishment and create her own designs. Her dream had been her mother’s dream, too. Before she had died she’d said it didn’t matter that she hadn’t realised her dream because she, Lydia, would carry forward her dream. Through her she would live on.

      Henry had been a means of escape.

      As his wife Lydia would have had a freedom from responsibility she had always dreamed of. Marriage to him promised great changes in her life. If she did actually marry him, her circumstances would alter dramatically. In short, she thought bitterly, he was a means to an end. But it had not been like that and now, with hindsight, she saw how he had skilfully manipulated her during the time she had known him. Determined to possess her, he had used patience, cunning and ruthlessness to gain her trust and devotion to get her into his bed.

       Chapter Two

      From his vantage point inside the dining room of the hotel, Alex watched Lydia enter. She stood in the doorway, her gaze doing a slow sweep of the room. Seeing him rise from the table, she walked towards him. Instead of the pale, humiliated woman he’d feared to see, she had lost none of the quiet, regal poise that had struck him earlier. She was the personification of calm, giving no indication of what had transpired earlier—or the tears that unbeknown to him she had shed in her room. Alex felt his admiration for her grow. He reacted to her. It was automatic after too long a period of celibacy.

      Her body moved serenely as she crossed the room. Her ivory skin was flawless. In contrast to this, her hair, parted in the centre with a profusion of heavy corkscrew curls on either side, with the rest of her thick hair braided and pinned at the back, glistened like polished jet. Her eyes, surrounded by a heavy fringe of dark lashes, were large and luminous green. She was darkness and light, shadows and moonlight. Completely enchanted, he stepped round the table and held out her chair. As she took her seat and thanked him he breathed in the heady scent that came from her. She really was quite stunning. Little wonder Henry had been unable to resist her. How could any man with blood in his veins withstand her?

      ‘My compliments,’ he remarked softly, his eyes appraising her as he took his seat across from her. ‘You look lovely. How are you holding up?’

      Lydia’s flesh grew hot and a tremor passed through her now she was face to face with him once more. A smile of frank admiration gleamed in his eyes when he looked at her, his sternly handsome face stamped with nobility and pride, his powerful, muscular body emanating raw power and sensuality. She smiled at him, the smile lighting her eyes with intelligence.

      ‘I am very well—considering what has happened,’ she replied, frustrated by the slight quaver in her voice. ‘Where is Henry?’

      ‘You will be relieved to know he has left Gretna.’

      ‘Yes, I am—extremely relieved. I trust he has gone back to his wife?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And the gentleman you were with earlier. I do so hope I have not deprived him of your company at dinner.’

      ‘You mean Harris. He’s my valet—secretary—whatever he wishes to call himself on the day and he’s been with me for longer than I care to remember. What I will say is that he’s indispensable. I am a busy man, Miss Brook. Harris takes care of my needs. At present he’s making the most of some time to himself.’

      The hotel dining room was filled with elegant, fashionable people. But it was these two that caught the eye and drew the most attention. They were a striking couple, Lydia still attired in the dress she had designed and made herself for her wedding. She knew light-coloured gowns were popular for brides,