Read Online Aunt Dimity Takes a Holiday by Nancy Atherton - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Atherton
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resentments could spring from being ignored, overlooked, and dismissed as second best. Perhaps Oliver had finally had enough. Perhaps he’d decided to grab some of the spotlight for himself by casting a shadow over Simon. Oliver was a definite possibility.
Last, but not least, there was Gina. Had she grown tired of watching her husband offer his arm—and who knew what else?—to other women? Had she sent the death threat to punish him? Or was someone else wandering the halls, unknown to the rest of us?
I pulled the covers up to my chin and gazed into the fire. I’d never admit it to Dimity, but the thought of spending more time alone with Simon held a certain thrill as well. I wasn’t drawn to him simply because of his beguiling manner or his enchanting good looks, or even because I needed someone to distract me from whatever might be going on between my husband and his wife.
In truth, I felt a sense of kinship with him. We were both out of step with the vulgar, mass-produced, disposable world into which we’d been born. My cottage might be humbler that Hailesham, but I treasured every hand-hewn joist and floorboard. On a more personal level, we share the fate of spouses who were left alone too often, and we were, each of us, passionate creatures.
I couldn’t forget the tender look he’d given me when I’d urged him to be careful. He hadn’t been playacting. His suave mask had fallen away, revealing the face of a man so starved for affection that a simple gesture of concern caught at his heart. It seemed pathetic that a man with so much charm could be so lonely.
“Poor little rich boy,” I murmured. “Could it be that you have everything you desire except someone who cares about you?”
I rolled onto my side and looked at Reginald. His black button eyes gleamed softly in the dying firelight.
“Simon thinks that he and I are birds of a feather, Reg, but he’s wrong. Poor Simon’s stuck with Gina, while I’ve got my own sweet Bill.” I frowned distractedly at the faded grape-juice stain on my bunny’s snout. “At least I think I’ve got him. . . .”
Eight
Oliver Elstyn was alone in the dining room when I went down for breakfast. Bill had risen at an ungodly hour to spend the morning huddled with Gina, Derek, and Lord Elstyn in the earl’s study, but I’d slept until half-past seven before showering and getting dressed. I intended to carry on as if I’d never heard Bill whisper Gina’s name.
Dimity had directed me to a demure twinset and a tweed skirt in heathery shades of green and lavender. The conservative outfit made me feel like a country-house veteran, and I was relieved to see that Oliver’s clothes were equally informal: a herringbone tweed jacket over a beige shirt, and brown wool trousers.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, noting the empty chairs.
Oliver looked up from his food. “Emma, Nell, and Claudia have gone riding and Simon’s gone with them. He’s putting his new hunter through its paces.”
He nodded toward the twelve-paned windows and I saw a row of ivy-covered hurdles on the great lawn. As I scanned the grounds, four riders came into view, galloping along the edge of the ornamental lake. Three rode past the hurdles, but the fourth, a tall figure on a huge dappled gray, sailed easily over the first hurdle and took the rest without breaking stride.
I thought the lead rider must be Simon but couldn’t be sure. I recognized Emma as the shortest of the four, but at a distance the cousins were indistinguishable—long-legged, slender, and dressed in black velvet helmets, tall black boots, fawn breeches, and black riding coats.
“Better them than me,” I said, shaking my head. “Riding’s right up there with emergency dental work on my list of favorite activities.”
The quip won a tentative smile from Simon’s younger brother.
“You’re not fond of horses?” he inquired.
“I’m fond of them,” I said, “as long as I don’t have to climb up on
Last, but not least, there was Gina. Had she grown tired of watching her husband offer his arm—and who knew what else?—to other women? Had she sent the death threat to punish him? Or was someone else wandering the halls, unknown to the rest of us?
I pulled the covers up to my chin and gazed into the fire. I’d never admit it to Dimity, but the thought of spending more time alone with Simon held a certain thrill as well. I wasn’t drawn to him simply because of his beguiling manner or his enchanting good looks, or even because I needed someone to distract me from whatever might be going on between my husband and his wife.
In truth, I felt a sense of kinship with him. We were both out of step with the vulgar, mass-produced, disposable world into which we’d been born. My cottage might be humbler that Hailesham, but I treasured every hand-hewn joist and floorboard. On a more personal level, we share the fate of spouses who were left alone too often, and we were, each of us, passionate creatures.
I couldn’t forget the tender look he’d given me when I’d urged him to be careful. He hadn’t been playacting. His suave mask had fallen away, revealing the face of a man so starved for affection that a simple gesture of concern caught at his heart. It seemed pathetic that a man with so much charm could be so lonely.
“Poor little rich boy,” I murmured. “Could it be that you have everything you desire except someone who cares about you?”
I rolled onto my side and looked at Reginald. His black button eyes gleamed softly in the dying firelight.
“Simon thinks that he and I are birds of a feather, Reg, but he’s wrong. Poor Simon’s stuck with Gina, while I’ve got my own sweet Bill.” I frowned distractedly at the faded grape-juice stain on my bunny’s snout. “At least I think I’ve got him. . . .”
Eight
Oliver Elstyn was alone in the dining room when I went down for breakfast. Bill had risen at an ungodly hour to spend the morning huddled with Gina, Derek, and Lord Elstyn in the earl’s study, but I’d slept until half-past seven before showering and getting dressed. I intended to carry on as if I’d never heard Bill whisper Gina’s name.
Dimity had directed me to a demure twinset and a tweed skirt in heathery shades of green and lavender. The conservative outfit made me feel like a country-house veteran, and I was relieved to see that Oliver’s clothes were equally informal: a herringbone tweed jacket over a beige shirt, and brown wool trousers.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, noting the empty chairs.
Oliver looked up from his food. “Emma, Nell, and Claudia have gone riding and Simon’s gone with them. He’s putting his new hunter through its paces.”
He nodded toward the twelve-paned windows and I saw a row of ivy-covered hurdles on the great lawn. As I scanned the grounds, four riders came into view, galloping along the edge of the ornamental lake. Three rode past the hurdles, but the fourth, a tall figure on a huge dappled gray, sailed easily over the first hurdle and took the rest without breaking stride.
I thought the lead rider must be Simon but couldn’t be sure. I recognized Emma as the shortest of the four, but at a distance the cousins were indistinguishable—long-legged, slender, and dressed in black velvet helmets, tall black boots, fawn breeches, and black riding coats.
“Better them than me,” I said, shaking my head. “Riding’s right up there with emergency dental work on my list of favorite activities.”
The quip won a tentative smile from Simon’s younger brother.
“You’re not fond of horses?” he inquired.
“I’m fond of them,” I said, “as long as I don’t have to climb up on
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