Lord of the Far Island by Victoria Holt (romance book recommendations TXT) 📗

we'll have the house in Finlay Square. It's the best we've seen. You must admit it."

"I'd like to look at it again, Philip."

"Oh come, Ellen, if we don't decide soon someone else might snap it up. Where are we going to live when we're married if we haven't a house? We'll have to be in my father's house for a while as it is, because I doubt everything will be ready by June."

I felt a little shiver of apprehension then. June. It was so near and I was very uneasy.

When I went to bed that night I remembered the man's face and where I had seen him before.

It was in the Park. He was the man I had thought was watching us.

We were going to a musical evening at the Carringtons'. Lady Emily had engaged a famous Italian pianist who would entertain us. Cousin Agatha was delighted to be going. "Half London will be there," she said. "At least anybody who is anybody will be."

"I suppose," I retorted, "everybody is somebody, and I doubt whether even Lady Emily's drawing room would accommodate more than seventy people in comfort."

I could never resist the temptation to be what she would have called "pert" in the old days. I shouldn't have been human if I could have resisted exploiting my situation a little. It was amusing how my stature grew daily, particularly since I had been such a frequent visitor to the house in Park Lane. In fact, my visits were quite informal.

This state of affairs I knew was a complete mystery to Cousin Agatha. Rose reported to me that she had heard her say to Cousin William Loring that I seemed to have bewitched not only Philip—which was understandable, for he was but a callow boy— but Lady Emily and Mr. Carrington too. Of course Lady Emily had always been oddly vague and Mr. Carrington was so immersed in affairs. . . .

Tilly was sewing all day long and far into the night making garments for both me and Esmeralda, because there was no doubt that Esmeralda was going to profit from the situation. I was determined that she should. I would give parties for her, I promised myself, and I would select the right sort of husband—someone kind and gentle and undemanding.

I said to her once: "All this fuss should really be for you." And she retorted: "How thankful I am that it is not. I couldn't do it half as well as you do. Mr. Carrington frightens me. He's so clever, isn't he? And I can never follow what Lady Emily's saying."

It was a relief to know she was not heartbroken.

I talked to her of the fun we should have in the country. She should come and stay and we'd have pleasant parties. We'd ride together just as we used to when we were children.

She said: "I'm so glad it's happened the way it has, Ellen. That Mrs. Oman Lemming is a dreadful person. Bessie told me that she is quite beastly to the servants there and particularly the governess. She can't wait to get away."

"What a miraculous escape I had!" I cried. "Thanks to Philip."

Somewhere at the back of my mind was the knowledge that I was trying to reassure myself. In the beginning it had all seemed so wonderful but now it occurred to me that everything had worked out too easily and that in itself was vaguely disturbing.

A few days later the Carringtons gave the musical soiree. I stood with Philip and people kept coming up to congratulate us. There was a photographer for the press. "Such a bore," said Philip, "but they catch my mother and she doesn't like to refuse them."

The recital was one of Chopin's pieces beautifully rendered by the Italian pianist. Dreamy, romantic, then militant and stirring.

"We're negotiating prices about the house," Philip told me. "They take their time, I can tell you. Lawyers and things. Rollo's most interested in concluding it all as soon as possible."

I nodded, scarcely listening.

"We'll go on the Continent. What do you think of Venice? Rome perhaps? Will you like that, Ellen?"

I said I thought it would be lovely.

"Perhaps the house will be ready by the time we come back. Rollo's taking over arrangements for it now he's in London for a spell. My father hasn't time. They seem to think I'm not capable of doing it, and they're probably right."

"It's good of Rollo."

"Oh, he likes doing that sort of thing."

The recital was over and there was a buffet supper to follow. Everyone was discussing the music, and Philip, having caught sight of an old friend, went over to have a word with him, leaving me temporarily alone.

A voice behind me said: "I've been wanting to meet you all the evening."

I turned sharply and looked up at one of the tallest men I have ever seen. I knew at once that I had not met him before at any of the Carrington gatherings because if I had I could not have forgotten him. It was not only his unusual height and broad shoulders, but there was something else about him—an aura of power. His eyes were dark, deep-set, heavy-lidded, but very bright and expressive, though what they expressed it was not easy to decide. His nose was longish and arrogant-looking; his mouth could be either cruel or gentle, I was not sure which. All I can say is that even in those first moments I thought his was one of the most interesting faces I had ever seen.

"I haven't met you before," I said.

"I arrived just before the recital started. I have seen your picture in the papers. May I say that none of them does you justice."

"That's kind of you rather than truthful," I replied. "They are most flattering."

"Ah, I see you are modest as well as attractive. It's a nice combination but a rare one."

"Are you a friend of the family?"

"A connection."

"I hope you enjoyed the recital."

"I am enjoying it very much, thank you. Have you