Page 9 of A Sense of Fate
‘Ha! That I very much doubt.’
She exchanged a perplexed look with Archie. ‘Then how did they come to be acquainted? Mr Conrad’s family comes from Yorkshire and his work is in London. Papa is based in Salisbury.’
‘Something to do with whatever it is that you think your father is anxious to keep out of the public domain, one assumes. You have said more than once that you think he has a secret that he will go to any lengths to keep…well, secret.’
Flora nodded. ‘Something that he thinks I know about, which probably explains his desire to regain control of me. But I have thought and thought, and there is absolutely nothing that I have overheard or seen written down that is the slightest bit contentious.’
‘Something your grandmother told you, perhaps. You have said they were at odds and that your father discouraged your closeness.’
‘Yes, but I always thought that was because…’
‘You can say it to me,’ Archie said softly. ‘We have spoken of your inherited abilities before.’ He sent her a softly intimate smile and squeezed her gloved hand. ‘Be assured that I am not a doubter.’
She smiled at him in an unaffected manner. ‘I am glad that you are enlightened enough to accept there is more to this universe than we are ever likely to comprehend, and I am certainly not referring to heaven and hell.’
‘I didn’t suppose that you were. Luke is very short-sighted in that respect.’
‘Luke has his reasons. I respect his opinions and beliefs, even if he cannot say the same about mine.’
‘Your grandmother left you papers?’ Archie reminded her.
‘Yes, but mostly just notes on her herbal remedies, the maladies she tried to cure and how successful she was. Ideas that she hadn’t put into practice. That sort of thing.’ She looked up at him. ‘You have my grandmother’s wisdom to thank for your improved mobility.’
‘In her absence, I shall have to make do with thanking you.’
‘There were diaries, which is how I discovered that Papa had killed his own father, supposedly accidently during the course of a violent disagreement.’ Archie raised a brow but refrained from comment. ‘He knows that I am aware of that fact and that I haven’t revealed it to anyone…well, other than you. I could destroy his career, or at the very least his reputation, if I chose to tell the bishop and allowed him to exact revenge. Fortunately, I am not the vindictive type—and anyway, Papa knows I wouldn’t deliberately make things difficult for my sisters by tainting the family’s reputation, so that can’t be what’s worrying him.’
‘Look at her diaries again when you feel so inclined,’ Archie advised. ‘Something might jump out at you on a second reading.’
‘I shall.’ She smiled at him. ‘What would I do without you to advise me?’
‘I hope you never have to find out.’
Presumably the intensity in his gaze unsettled her. Her cheeks warmed and she turned her head abruptly to stare out of the window. Archie cursed his occasional inability to keep his feelings under better check. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her away.
‘Ah, we are almost home,’ she said in an over-bright voice. ‘Will was going to collect me at the station but we are far ahead of the train I would have caught so we have saved him a trip. Shall you come in for tea, Archie?’
‘Thank you, if it is no trouble.’
Flora smiled. ‘You know how much Beatrice enjoys spoiling you with her cakes and generally making a fuss.’
The carriage rattled to a halt in front of Flora’s cottage. Pawson let the steps down and helped Archie to alight before providing the same service for Flora.
‘Do go through to the kitchen, Mr Pawson. I dare say Beatrice will have baked a cake this afternoon, and I expect Polly will be pleased to see you as well,’ she added with a capricious smile. ‘And bring your driver into the warm too. The poor man will freeze to death out here.’
Polly, Flora’s young and very pretty maid, opened the door to the cottage on cue, and blushed scarlet when Pawson winked at her.
‘Do tell Will that Lord Felsham gave me a lift, Polly, so that he doesn’t set out to fetch me.’
‘Very good, miss.’
Flora took off her hat, stripped off her gloves and handed them to Polly. She waited for Archie to divest himself of his outdoor garments and pass them to Pawson before leading the way into the drawing room.
‘Come in and get warm, Archie. I declare, the cold gets into one’s bones at this time of year and I expect your poor leg suffers the consequences.’ Archie raised a brow, still sometimes startled by her bold references to his disability. ‘Polly, please ask Beatrice to serve us tea.’
The fire danced up the chimney, warming the pleasant room into which Archie followed Flora. Zeus, the countess’s cat whom Flora had taken on after the old lady’s death, lay stretched out full length in front of the blaze. He opened one imperious green eye, swished his tail as though blaming them for disturbing his dreams and returned to his slumbers.
‘Good afternoon to you too, Zeus,’ Flora said, smiling at the cat and running a hand down his sleek back.
