Master of His Fate. Barbara Taylor Bradford

and she had been kind to them all after their mother’s death, extremely caring. Claudia’s two younger sisters, Lavinia and Marietta, loved her as much as she did, and their father adored her.

      At this moment Thea, as she had always been called, was sitting with Sebastian near the bay window in the parlour; Claudia was at the other side of the room, seated near the fireplace. Even on this late afternoon in July, the weather had already cooled, and the fireside was a warm and welcoming place to relax.

      Although Aunt Thea was a widow and well taken care of by her husband’s considerable estate, Claudia was aware that she was a shareholder in the family’s private bank, which her father ran. His sister was also on the board of directors and had been for years. Of course she was. Her father protected those he loved.

      Close together, chatting animatedly, Claudia saw them objectively for a moment. Anyone would know they were brother and sister, so alike were they in appearance. Although Aunt Thea had brighter blonde hair and pale blue eyes, their features were similar, cast no doubt.

      Dorothea Trevalian Rayburn was fifty years old, but did not look it. Her husband, Martin, had died fifteen years ago in a riding accident. He had been thrown by a new stallion he was attempting to break and train. It was an instantaneous death; he broke his neck in the fall.

      Aunt Thea had once told her that she was glad it had been so quick and that he had not been left wheelchair-bound for life. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to tolerate that,’ Aunt Thea had explained, ‘being such an athletic man, a hunting-shooting-fishing man.’

      Claudia saw the truth in that, but then she was down-to-earth, just like her aunt. She glanced around whilst her father and aunt went over more bank papers.

      As always, she admired the way Aunt Thea had furnished the room in light pastel colours. The upholstered sofas and chairs were filled with cushions and were comfortable, and there weren’t too many small occasional tables. But Aunt Thea’s were tall tables, chosen to accommodate the crinolines the women wore. Because of their height they didn’t get knocked over.

      Her thoughts went to Alexis, who had been dressed in a tailored gown, the kind she herself now preferred. The purple suit she was wearing today was the most comfortable outfit she owned, and she decided there and then that she would have another one made by Madame Valance. Alexis. Her image hovered in her head. She had liked her the moment they had met at Delia’s house earlier, had thought her quite beautiful. No wonder her father had looked at Alexis twice. That she understood. What had puzzled her was his blatant moving in on Alexis, the way his eyes had been riveted on her the entire time she was with them.

      Turning in the chair, Claudia stared at the fire, watching the flames flying up the chimney. She was remembering how, when they were in their carriage, finally coming here to Kensington, her father had been silent, looked preoccupied, gazing out of the window most of the time. Hardly speaking. And she had noticed he appeared to have been genuinely affected by Alexis, which was something she had never ever seen happen with any other woman before.

      In fact, there had not been many women around him since her mother’s death. He had certain women friends of longstanding, whom he invited to join him on special occasions or to go to events, but she was aware they were merely friends. If he knew any other women, with whom he might have more intimate relationships, she did not know about them …

      ‘Claudia, here we are.’ His voice brought her out of her thoughts as he strode across the room, followed by her aunt, who said, ‘I’m afraid I’ve neglected you, my dear,’ and sat down in a nearby chair.

      Claudia smiled at her. ‘It’s nice just being here in this lovely room, Aunt Thea. And I think I’ve spotted a new painting, haven’t I?’

      ‘You have indeed,’ Thea answered, and immediately rose, beckoning Claudia to follow her.

      Sebastian said, ‘It’s the John Everett Millais you mentioned to me, isn’t it?’

      ‘It is indeed.’

      The three of them stood grouped in front of the painting on a side wall. It took pride of place, hanging alone, without any other paintings to crowd in on it.

      ‘What a beautiful little boy blowing bubbles,’ Claudia said, staring at the painting, her face full of smiles.

      ‘It is called Bubbles, my dear. The perfect name, I think,’ Thea replied. ‘The artist started it in 1885, and finished it in 1886. I was so happy to acquire it.’

      Sebastian stared at the painting for the longest moment, before saying, ‘Millais is the best of the current painters, in my opinion, and his attention to detail is quite amazing. I think that if I touch the boy’s trousers, I’ll actually feel the velvet, it’s so realistic. And congratulations, Thea, I know how much you longed to own this.’

      ‘I did. And I’m going to let it hang alone, Sebastian. I think it needs space, nothing competing with it.’

      ‘I know what you mean,’ Claudia said. ‘People make their rooms far too cluttered these days, in my opinion. They hang too many paintings on one wall, then they add a palm tree in a brass pot, and soon you can’t move in the room, or know which painting to look at.’

      They both laughed and agreed, and Thea said, ‘I haven’t offered you any refreshments. Won’t you have something before you leave?’

      Sebastian shook his head. ‘No, thank you. Reviewing the bank papers took longer than I expected. I have a guest arriving at the house very shortly, and we must leave now, I’m afraid.’

      Claudia hid her surprise, wondering who he was expecting, and merely smiled. She moved closer to her aunt, kissed her cheek. ‘My congratulations, too, and I’d like to talk to you next week, if I may? About a charity I’ve become involved with.’

      ‘Then you must come for lunch. Any day you prefer?’

      Once they were in their carriage and driving to Sebastian’s house in Grosvenor Square, Claudia spoke out.

      ‘Who are we expecting, Papa?’

      ‘My dear friend, Uncle Reginald,’ Sebastian answered, settling back against the seat, crossing his long legs. He was taller than many of his friends.

      ‘Did you invite him for supper, Papa?’

      ‘Yes, I did. However, I have a feeling he may wish to go to the club, although I would prefer to remain at home. I must dine alone with him if we stay. It was my understanding he needs to discuss something private with me.’

      Claudia nodded. ‘Whatever you wish, Papa, that is fine.’

      Sebastian looked across at his eldest daughter, responded in a warm voice, ‘You always say that, and have ever since your mother died. I don’t know what I would have done without you by my side, Claudia, over the past ten years.’ He shook his head almost wonderingly. ‘I’ve leaned on you a great deal; perhaps made you grow up far too quickly by sharing some of my problems with you.’

      ‘I wanted to be by your side, to help you if I could, Papa. And so did the others, but they weren’t old enough then.’ She began to laugh. ‘And I don’t mind if I’ve become more grown up. And I am twenty now, Papa. Don’t forget that.’

      His quirky smile played around his mouth for a moment, but he remained silent, looked out of the window for a while. Then he brought his gaze back to her. ‘How old is she?’

      Claudia had known he would discuss Alexis with her, and she was prepared for his questions. ‘Delia told me she is twenty-five.’

      ‘Oh, I thought she was older.’

      ‘She doesn’t look it, not to me.’ Claudia frowned as she spoke.

      ‘Nor to me. But I’ve realized exactly who she is whilst we’ve been at Thea’s. She is extremely well known. Works with her father and has a reputation for astuteness and acumen. So twenty-five, not much older than you.’ He turned his face to the window, looking out, remained silent, tautness in his shoulders.

      When