‘That’s true.’
‘Even though it’s yours now?’
‘Is it?’ The words of his father’s letter flashed into his mind before he pushed them aside. ‘I’ve nothing against the estate itself. When I was a boy, the only freedom I had was riding about the fields, pretending I was running away, but the house itself has always felt like a prison. There’s no joy or happiness there. I hate it even more than Cassie does, which is saying something.’ He gave her a sideways look. ‘She’s told you about her great escape, I take it?’
‘Yes. She said she left as soon as she could.’
‘We both did. After I finished at Oxford, I moved into my own house in Cornwall.’
She gave a small jolt of surprise. ‘Cornwall?’
‘Yes. It was where my mother’s family came from. The house had been a part of her dowry and she left it to me.’ He smiled, thinking about the white house on the edge of Truro. ‘It wasn’t large. You could probably fit the whole place into the drawing room at Rainton Court, but it was big enough for me. The gardens were beautiful too, filled with magnolias and camellias and rhododendrons.’
‘It sounds lovely. What did your father think about you moving there?’
‘I think he was relieved. Rainton was always his great love, not his family, and he would never have allowed me to help run the place, not while he could do it. We weren’t estranged exactly, but I couldn’t bear the idea of living under the same roof as him again and he had no interest in me beyond as his heir. As long asI knew what my duty would be when the time came, he let me do what I wanted. And the house in Cornwall was all mine. I could do as I pleased and be independent.’
‘So you were happy there?’
‘Very. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could breathe properly. My friends from university visited often, and…’ he paused, clearing his throat at the memory of a certain widow with whom he’d enjoyed an occasional, casual dalliance ‘…I enjoyed my life,’ he concluded.
‘How long were you there?’
‘About three years.’ He stretched an arm out, draping it along the back of her chair, surprised to hear himself still talking. ‘I still had family in the area, so I got to learn more about my mother too. Just being there made me feel closer to her.’
She smiled sympathetically, her posture softening until her back was almost, but not quite, touching his arm. ‘What was she like?’
‘A lot like Cassie. Kind-hearted. Generous. Loving. Everything my father was not. From what I’ve heard, they led separate lives.’ He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump in his throat. ‘That’s one benefit of Rainton Court. It’s easy to avoid people if you wish.’
‘Yes.’ A shadow passed over her face. ‘I suppose it is.’
He winced, remembering how he’d successfully avoided her for two whole weeks before her accident. ‘In any case, I knew that my freedom couldn’t last forever and that I’d have to go back to Rainton eventually, but I enjoyed my life for a while.’
‘That must have made it very hard to leave.’
‘It was, but I knew my duty. I couldn’t shirk it.’ He was aware of a sudden heaviness in his chest. It didn’t help that a group of ladies had gathered close by and were now paying more attention to them than they were to the painting. ‘Once I inherited the title, I had no choice.’
‘What about your house in Cornwall?’ Thankfully, Florence seemed oblivious to their audience. ‘Have you been back since?’
‘No. I gave it away.’
‘You…’ She sat upright again. ‘You what?’
‘Like I said, I had family in the area. Some of them were quite distantly related, but they were all good, kind people. One of my cousins was in love with the local doctor, but their income wasn’t sufficient for them to marry.’
‘So you gave them your house?’
‘I knew I wasn’t going back.’
‘That’s very generous.’
‘Not really, when you consider the size of Rainton Court.’ He tilted his head. ‘You sound surprised.’
‘Actually…no. It just seems like Cassie isn’t the only one who takes after your mother.’
He smiled, feeling the warm glow again, despite the openly curious looks of the ladies. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were moving slowly but steadily closer too, obviously attempting to eavesdrop.
‘You know, speaking of Cassie, maybe she’s right and we ought to show ourselves at the Jenners’ ball,’ he said, directing a glower at the ladies that stopped them abruptly in their tracks. ‘It would help to counteract whatever stories the Wadlows have been spreading about us.’
