Page 17 of Vows of Revenge

‘Now, that,’ Damos said, ‘is impressive!’

He gazed at the huge bulk of Blenheim Palace, now revealed in all its massive glory after their walk from the car park.

‘It is,’ Kassia agreed.

She still couldn’t quite believe that Damos had followed through on his casual suggestion that she accompany him here—and yet here she was. He’d picked her up in a hire car—a very swish one—from outside the college where the conference attendees had been staying. She’d felt shy at first, and awkward, as they’d headed out of Oxford, but Damos had been relaxed, and clearly putting himself out to put her at her ease.

In return, she would do her best to be a helpful guide for the day, she told herself firmly.

‘Didn’t you tell me over tea the other day that it’s the only non-royal palace in England?’ Damos asked her now, as they strolled into the huge and impressive Great Court in front of the grand entrance, along with the many other visitors the palace attracted.

‘Yes—though ironically it’s sometimes used in films as a substitute for Buckingham Palace!’ she replied.

‘Remind me why it’s got a German name,’ Damos said.

‘It’s named after the first Duke of Marlborough’s most famous victory, at the Battle of Blenheim, in Bavaria in 1704. England and Austria were fighting the Bavarians and Louis XIV of France. It was designed by John Vanbrugh and took over ten years to build. It’s so large that apparently the first Duchess, the infamous Sarah Churchill, bossy confidante of poor Queen Anne, hated it. She complained the kitchens were so far from the dining room the food was always cold!’

Damos laughed, turning his head to look at her. ‘You know all this stuff without even consulting the guide book—it’s amazing!’

She made a self-deprecating face. ‘Well, I guess history overall is my subject, really—if you like one period you like lots. I’ve been here before, too, when I was a schoolgirl. Though not since.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘It’s good to come again—thank you for inviting me,’ she said politely.

‘Thank you for accepting my invitation,’ he responded promptly.

There was a glint in his eye. She could see it.

‘I can tell you not that many females of my acquaintance would think this a fun day out!’

She looked away. No, the kind of women he ran around with—those beautiful and glamorous TV personalities, models and socialites—wouldn’t be seen dead playing tourist like this. Her thoughts flickered. It wasn’t the kind of outing a man like him would be likely to enjoy either, she’d have thought. It didn’t exactly compare with sailing around on his private yacht...Oneof his private yachts, she reminded herself tartly.

But maybe I’m just overthinking it. OK, he’s rich now, but he wasn’t born to it, so he probably doesn’t think it beneath him to be a tourist. After all, I don’t think it beneath me—and I was born to wealth.

Not that she lived that kind of life. She far preferred the low-profile existence she had—working as an archaeologist, having as little to do with her father as she could. Most of the time he let her alone, but from time to time he summoned her to Athens to play her role as his daughter, such as it was, and attend dinner parties, functions—that kind of thing. Her father made it clear to her on such occasions that she was not to put herself forward, but to be meek and docile, and not bore people with all her ‘archaeology nonsense’, as he called it.

‘It’s bad enough being saddled with a daughter as plain as you,’he would say dismissively.

She would have preferred not to be summoned, but was mindful that her father had made himself a patron of the museum she worked at—to defy him would be to lose that patronage, she knew. So, since he didn’t often want her in Athens, going along with his demands didn’t seem too onerous an obligation, although she was always glad when it was over. Her father was not pleasant company...

Of her two parents, she far preferred spending time with her mother—not that her butterfly of a mother, affectionate though she was, ever had much time for her in between her constant social engagements and flitting abroad on holidays with her husband. Kassia was fond of her mother, and indeed her stepfather, whose stolid patience was a good foil for his flighty wife, but she didn’t see a great deal of them. It had been good, though, to spend a few days with them on this visit, before they’d headed out to Spain.

‘OK, where are we going first?’

Damos’s question interrupted her thoughts.

‘Can you face a tour of the palace?’ she asked. ‘The state apartments are as impressive as the exterior.’

‘Why not? Then we can explore the grounds afterwards.’

They made their way to where the tours began. Inside, Damos gazed around the magnificent rooms appreciatively, and gave a low whistle.

‘That first duke certainly made good for himself!’ he murmured admiringly, pausing to take in all the splendour.

‘He got to the top from relatively humble beginnings. He was very ambitious—as was his wife,’ she commented dryly.

‘There’s nothing wrong with ambition.’

The acerbic note in Damos’s voice was audible. Kassia looked at him.

‘Without ambition, hard work gets you nowhere,’ Damos said. ‘With it, anything can be achieved.’

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