His Christmas Countess

‘I realise there are sentimental reasons why it would be difficult, but it is a large suite, and if we were thoughtful with the decoration and furnishing, there need be nothing to remind you,’ Kate continued. The sensible, slightly nervous voice flowed on, the remarks perfectly reasonable. Grant hauled himself back from the edge of his waking nightmare and made himself stand still, listen to her.

‘How do you know it is a large suite? Have you been in there? I told the servants that the door was never to be opened except for a monthly cleaning.’

‘I know.’ He realised that Kate was standing her ground with an effort of will, that he was probably frightening her. He made himself step back, widening the space between them, and saw her make the effort to relax her hands from their tight grip on her skirts. ‘But...I assumed, from the space I have been given for my suite. And it is obvious the areas that those rooms occupy, one only has to look at the adjoining rooms.’

‘No,’ Grant said. ‘No, it is not obvious.’ The angle of the external walls was deceptive at that point, the arrangement of the inner rooms, confusing.

Kate was not blushing now. She was pale and stammering, the picture of guilt. She made no attempt to deny that she had entered the suite. ‘But...sooner or later Charlie is going to wonder why that door is locked. What will you tell him? Do you want to make it into some s-secret chamber of horrors to give him nightmares?’ Kate was regaining her confidence now, he saw, driven by the force of her argument. She took two rapid steps forward, caught his hands in hers. ‘Grant—’

‘That room is a chamber of horrors,’ he said between lips that seemed frozen. ‘And it gives me nightmares. You’ve been in there, I don’t know how, but you have been, against my expressed wishes. Now, do you want to probe any more? Do you want to dig out secrets that don’t concern you, pry into my feelings and thoughts? Because the answer will be no, I tell you now.’ He flung his hands apart, dislodging hers. ‘You had no right, have—’

Grant broke off at the sound of a very heavy footstep outside the door. As he turned, Grimswade appeared in the opening. Somehow he bit back the demand that the butler go to the devil. ‘Yes?’

‘A carriage is approaching, my lord. I believe it is Lord Weybourn’s conveyance.’

‘Thank you. We will be down directly.’ He followed Grimswade along the corridor without turning to see if Kate was following him, without a word to her. He was dimly aware, through the crashing headache that had descended as he lost his temper, that he should go back, apologise to her. Try to forgive her, if he could, for that intrusion. He kept going, down the curves of the front stairs, across the marble floor, the percussion of his boot heels on the stone like daggers stabbing behind his eyes.

Footmen flung back the double doors as he approached and sunlight streamed in, blinding him. Instinct took him out on to the top step, the swirling lights that distorted his vision revealing the shape of the approaching carriage like an image that had been torn across and reassembled out of true.

He was conscious of a presence at his side, of Kate’s delicate scent. She made no move to touch him. Then the shape that was the carriage stopped. Footmen hurried down the steps, Grant fixed a smile of welcome on his lips. His vision was failing as the circle of broken, dancing lights enclosing nothing but blackness moved inexorably outwards. In a moment he would be blind.

‘Grant! Are we the first?’ It was Alex.

‘Yes, you are. Welcome.’ A figure in green wavered beside Alex and he broadened the smile, painfully. ‘Tess, you are more than welcome to Abbeywell. Come and meet my wife.’

Then they were up the steps and beside them. He managed not to retch at the waft of rose scent as Tess stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Alex gripped his hand and, turning, tucked it through his own. ‘Migraine?’ he murmured. Then he raised his voice. ‘And this must be Lady Allundale, you clever devil, Grant. Ma’am, I am Alex Tempest and this is my wife, Tess. I am delighted to meet you at last.’

Alex swung round, taking Grant with him to stroll into the hall. ‘Ladies, you will excuse us, but I must be off to consult Grant’s valet this minute—I have a hideously uncomfortable nail working through the sole of these new boots.’

Grant found himself climbing the stairs and managed to get out, ‘What the blazes—’

‘You are blind with a migraine, Lady Allundale is as white as a sheet and Grimswade looks as though he has sat on a poker. What’s wrong? No, don’t try to talk. Same room as usual?’