The Master of Stonegrave Hall. Helen Dickson

at his brother, he could see in his eyes that which must not be spoken between them, not named, not defined, for fear it would become an active, swift, deadly danger, rather than something still contained, locked away, for as long as possible.

      Struggling with his emotions, Nathan stared at him hard, then abruptly turned and strode to the door where he paused and looked back at his brother. ‘I will not set foot in this house until Mrs Lewis and the girl have left.’

      ‘If you wish to take it like that, Nathan, then it is up to you. You’ll always be welcome here, you know that.’

      Too angry to reply, Nathan went out, leaving his older brother glowering after him. Closing the door behind him, he almost bumped into the very person who was at the heart of his fury and frustration. For a moment he was taken by surprise and shock and bewilderment—or was it fear that clouded his eyes?—but he quickly recovered.

      ‘I don’t believe it! Aren’t you the girl my wife and I met in Malton yesterday?’

      ‘Yes,’ she replied tightly, his words still hammering painfully in her brain. ‘The same.’ Having heard quite enough, with humiliation washing over her in sickening waves, Victoria had been about to flee to her room, but now she stood her ground and looked him directly in the eyes. Unlike his brother, he was only a little taller than she was and perhaps five years older. He did not resemble his brother, his hair being fair and his features more refined. He also lacked the aura of power and authority that seemed to surround Laurence.

      ‘I take it you are Miss Lewis?’ His angular face was etched with slowly deepening shock.

      ‘I am.’

      ‘And by the look on your face you must have overheard what my brother and I were discussing.’

      ‘Yes—at least, most of it.’

      ‘In which case I won’t have to repeat myself, so before you go any further you should know where you stand,’ he told her coldly. ‘When anything happens to your mother you will leave here. Is that understood?’

      ‘Don’t be absurd! After what I have just heard, why would I want to remain here a minute longer than is necessary? I make my own way in life,’ she said, her tone sharpening as she showed him her determination. ‘I won’t starve.’

      ‘You have cheek, I’ll give you that.’

      ‘I give as good as I get, that is all.’

      ‘Your impudence is most unappealing!’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry. Your comments don’t bother me. But next time have the decency to say them to my face.’

      ‘My brother may be acting a little soft in the head where your mother is concerned, Miss Lewis,’ he said coldly, ‘but as far as I am concerned you would be wise not to outstay your welcome. It is a warning.’

      Victoria arched her brows. ‘Welcome? It is hardly that. And as far as issuing a warning—why, it sounds like a threat to me. However, it is what I intend,’ Victoria told him, equally as cold.

      ‘Good. Then we are in agreement.’

      ‘Absolutely. And for your information,’ she said, her voice low and shaking with anger, ‘I am not a beggar nor am I a charity case. My mother did not ask to come here and I most certainly did not. I do not know why Lord Rockford insisted on bringing my mother to the Hall. One thing is certain. Had I not been away it would not have happened.’

      ‘As long as that is clear.’ Grim faced, the look of hatred in his eyes was as potent as a spoken curse. Without another word Nathan Rockford strode across the hall and out the door—but not before Victoria had seen the tortured, fractured look in his eyes.

      She stared after him. It was not his reaction to her presence at the Hall that unsettled her. It was his reaction to her, as a person. It was as if she meant something to him. She had surprised him—she had more than surprised him—seeing her had frightened him. There was something there. Something very strange—and she had to find out what it was. It was too important to ignore.

      ‘I’m sorry you had to hear that,’ Laurence said, watching her closely, having followed his brother out of the room.

      ‘I’m not,’ she retorted, beside herself with fury. ‘And before you say another word I was not eavesdropping. Your brother was assassinating my mother’s character and my own in a voice that could be heard in Ashcomb. How dare he? He insulted my mother and I will not allow anyone to do that. She is the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited as your brother would never understand. It is your fault that this has happened. I hate being here and I do not stay where I am unwelcome.’

      Turning on her heel, her arms rigid by her sides, her hands clasped into tight fists, she marched to the stairs and up to her room, where she began shoving things into her bags, which had been delivered to the Hall earlier. The thought of staying in this house a moment longer was anathema to her. Suddenly the door was pushed open.

      Victoria glanced up. Lord Rockford’s eyes touched hers—coolly arrogant, he raised his brows. Looking away, she carried on packing. ‘Someone should have taught you that before entering a room you should knock.’

      ‘Why, when the door was partly open?’ Laurence said with dry mockery.

      ‘Well-bred young ladies do not entertain gentlemen who are not their husbands in their bedchamber, but since I do not come into that category I don’t suppose I count,’ she retorted drily.

      Laurence was aware of his own transgression in being there. He chose to ignore the issue in favour of speaking to her. He glanced at the bag and gave her an arched look. ‘Going somewhere?’

      ‘To Ashcomb,’ she replied, stuffing her hairbrush into the bag.