Greg shook his head and turned towards the door, but Amber moved faster, getting there first, closing it, leaning on it and looking determinedly at him.
‘You’re not leaving this room until you tell me, Greg.’
‘You won’t like it,’ he prophesied. ‘I know I wasn’t keen when she told me that I’ve got to be an MP, but you know Grandmother, and she holds the purse strings.’
Their grandmother made no secret of her preference for her grandson, and Amber had always assumed that Greg got everything he wanted. It was a new idea to her to realise that that might not be the case, and a disturbing one, like suddenly finding that the calm waters of the estate’s pretty lake concealed dangerous currents.
‘But if you don’t want to be a Member of Parliament then why—’
‘It isn’t as simple as that, Amber – nothing ever is.’
Greg sighed and sat down on one of the elegant Sheraton chairs set either side of the fireplace, the sharp sunlight cruelly picking out the faded chintz cushions.
‘Come and sit down,’ he told her, leaning forward to pat the seat of the chair opposite, then stretching his long legs out in front of him. ‘We’ve got a few minutes yet before you have to go down and see Grandmother.’
Obediently Amber did as he asked.
‘Grandmother isn’t sending you to London to go to art school. She’s sending you there to be finished.’
‘Finished?’
‘Yes, as in prepared to make your social entrance as a débutante, and find yourself a titled husband.’
It took several seconds for Amber to absorb the meaning of his words, but once she had, she shook her head in denial.
‘No. She can’t do that. It’s impossible. I don’t want … I won’t …’ She had left her seat without even being aware that she had moved, and was standing in front of Greg, her hands bunched into small fists. ‘You’re wrong, Greg. She can’t mean to do that. She couldn’t, anyway, since there is no one in the family who could present me.’
Amber had learned all about the arcane process of becoming a débutante, and the rules attached to it, at boarding school, where it had been impressed on her that the granddaughter of a mere mill owner, no matter how wealthy, did not have the right kind of pedigree to be accepted as a member of the exclusive club that was the aristocracy. That was fine by her. She couldn’t think of a worse fate than being forced into the kind of dynastic marriage she knew would be the fate of most of the girls with whom she had been at school.
‘Grandmother will always find a way to do whatever she wants to do, Amber.’
‘But why would she want to?’
Greg shrugged. He felt sorry for Amber, but he had not intended to get involved in this kind of discussion. Now, though, it was too late to wish he had left well alone.
‘Barrant de Vries,’ he told her succinctly. ‘That’s why.’
‘Jay’s grandfather? I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a long story, and one I’ve only heard pretty recently myself, but from an impeccable source.’ Greg paused, wondering how much he should say. Amber was naïve and trusting, and he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. Amber did not need to know the source of his information.
‘When she was a young girl Grandmother set her sights on marrying Barrant de Vries and she didn’t make any secret of it either.’
Amber gasped, but Greg ignored her reaction and continued hurriedly, ‘Of course, the fact that the whole county knew that Barrant and his father thought she wasn’t good enough or rich enough to marry into the de Vries family would be a bitter blow to Grandmother’s pride. I dare say there were plenty to laugh at her behind her back for her ambitions.’
‘But she must have known? I mean, everyone knows that Barrant de Vries is obscenely proud.’
‘Well, yes, I don’t doubt she did, but she was a great beauty, of course, and Great-grandfather was pretty well-to-do. I’d wager she convinced herself that she would land him. She was accepted socially by the county set, from what I’ve been told, and that must have made her think that she stood a good chance of becoming Barrant’s wife.’
‘The county set?’ Amber queried. ‘Like the Fitton Leghs and the Bromley Davenports?’
‘Well, the Bromley Davenports, certainly; I’m not so sure about the Fitton Leghs, seeing as Barrant de Vries eventually married a Fitton Legh.’
‘But Grandmother socialises with the Dowager Marchioness of Cholmondeley now. They are on the same charitable committees, and—’
‘There is a vast difference, my dear Amber, between socialising with a person and allowing them to marry into one’s family,’ Greg told Amber in such a good imitation of their grandmother’s voice and manner that Amber couldn’t help but smile.
‘One day Grandmother will hear you doing that and then you’ll be in trouble.’
‘You’ll be the one in trouble if you go downstairs talking about art school.’
‘But I still can’t see what Barrant de Vries not wanting to marry Grandmother has to do with her wanting me to be presented, Greg.’
‘Well, you should. She’s not the kind to forget a slight or an insult, is she?’
Amber shook her head. What Greg was saying was true. Their grandmother could be ruthless when it suited her. She had certainly never forgiven Amber’s own mother for marrying Amber’s father against her wishes.
Amber gave a small shiver.
‘Knowing what I do now, it’s my belief that Grandmother only bought this estate because it’s right next to the de Vrieses’ lands, and to let Barrant de Vries know that she owns more land and a bigger house than he does,’ Greg went on. ‘She’s even employing his grandson as her estate manager. It’s her way of humiliating Barrant for humiliating her. Everyone knows that Barrant de Vries lost virtually everything after the war, including his only son – who died without producing an heir. But that’s not enough for Grandmother, Amber. She wants us to get for her what she could not get for herself. Especially you. I cannot, after all, marry a title, but you can. The war has beggared any number of aristocratic families. You only have to think of how many of them are marrying off their sons to the daughters of American millionaires to know that.’
Amber did know it. After all, their neighbour, Lord Fitton Legh, had married an American heiress the previous year, and it was widely accepted that the marriage had been brokered to provide him with money and the bride with a title.
As though he had read her mind Greg teased her, ‘You should think yourself lucky that Grandmother obviously didn’t think the Fitton Legh title good enough. But then, of course she’ll want one that outranks the de Vries title, you can bet on that, and that’s why she’ll want you to be presented at court.’
Before Amber could say anything Greg went on, ‘Grandmother may have the money to buy a title for you, but it ain’t that easy. What I mean is, you’ll need to be mixing with the right people, and you can’t do that unless you’ve got the right credentials, and for a girl that means a court presentation. What Grandmother wants is a granddaughter who will have a title far, far better than the one that Barrant de Vries denied her, and that she can flaunt in front of everyone who laughed at her behind her back when Barrant rejected her.’
It was almost too much for Amber to take in.
‘Greg, please don’t say things like that. It isn’t nice,’ she begged her cousin. ‘I know you like to play jokes on me but—’
‘Amber, I’m not joking.’
‘Has