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Authors: Gloria Gay
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beckoning passion.
They talked of other things and on the way back to her home the duke talked of Cynweir Castle and through his words the castle came to life for Violet.
He told her how the sun's light slanted through arbors in the dense foliage and bathed beds of wildflowers with silvery rays. How both sunrise and sunset were different heady experiences each time and sometimes almost too much beauty to bear.
"Just as you sometimes are Miss Durbin," he added, "unbearable beauty."
"Do go on about the arbors," she said. "You convey much with words."
He had a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled the wonderland of snow and ice the woods became in the winter and he talked of riding over meadows fragrant with the scent of new grass after the snow had melted and spring had broken through. He talked of bluebirds and thistle and bracken and the warm rays of the sun making the earth and the new grass fragrant.
Violet could smell the grass and the laurel and pine and could feel bracken and thistle and pine cones under her feet. She could see the hawks and falcons soar above the treetops, swirling under a blue canopy of sky with decorative puffs of clouds that seemed to be there only as props in a play.
She wanted so much to see Cynweir Castle now that the duke had made it come alive for her.
CHAPTER 7
"Now let me understand you perfectly, Hawk," said the Marchioness of Deckworth, with a stunned voice. "You actually expect me to be hostess at a house party in which, horror of horrors , your intention is to invite 'Lady' Kelly and her daughter Violet, two Cyprians that were incredibly lifted from the dregs by that fool, Kelly? You must not be serious!"
"On the contrary, my dear sister, I am in earnest. "
"Well I still don’t believe it," said the marchioness. "I am afraid I will have to see it in writing. Such a leave from your senses must be written for me to believe it."
"Written?" asked, Hawk, leaning forward a little at the breakfast table. "Yes, I believe you do like things written, dear Arabella. For such reason I have also brought another written missive and one I know you will appreciate even more than the wish I have just disclosed to you."
"And what is that, may I ask?" said the marchioness, although Hawk detected the fluttering of a nerve under the marchioness' bad eye: a good sign, to him . He knew his sister better than she knew herself.
"A vowel?" asked the marchioness, the nervousness of her voice giving her quickly away, "Surely not—"
"Surely yes, " said the duke. "Arabella, my dear, even I had not suspected the depth of your gaming. I believe you have gone from bad to worse in the few months I have lost sight of your gambling. Does Deckworth know of your—ah— little problem?"
"No! My dear Hawk, it isn't a problem. You mustn't make it seem as though I—"
"Gamble?"
"No—”
"Arabella, surely you cannot attempt, feebly, if I may add, to pretend that three thousand pounds is a 'little' problem."
"How did you—how did you recover the vowel?" Arabella was extremely agitated now. Her hands on the arm rests of her chair were taut.
"I haven't recovered the vowel for you, Arabella—yet," said the duke. "But I can be persuaded to do so. As it is, I had Lady Ressling make a copy of it for me. I must say, she was very accommodating. She believes your vowel has gone on for much longer than it should have and her patience is waning."
"Lady Ressling is a fool—"
"No, Arabella," said Hawk, his voice terse as he gazed at his sister; "it’s you who are the fool. It appears you have a serious gambling problem of which even I did not know. Is Deckworth aware of the extent of your gaming?"
"No! He is not! Please Hawk, you mustn't tell him. I may be able to—oh, Hawk, you cannot mean to tell him—"
"Of course I have no intention of telling Deckworth about it, for now ."
"For now?" asked Arabella, a tremor in her voice.
"Ordinarily I don’t inform your pedantic husband of anything at all,
They talked of other things and on the way back to her home the duke talked of Cynweir Castle and through his words the castle came to life for Violet.
He told her how the sun's light slanted through arbors in the dense foliage and bathed beds of wildflowers with silvery rays. How both sunrise and sunset were different heady experiences each time and sometimes almost too much beauty to bear.
"Just as you sometimes are Miss Durbin," he added, "unbearable beauty."
"Do go on about the arbors," she said. "You convey much with words."
He had a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled the wonderland of snow and ice the woods became in the winter and he talked of riding over meadows fragrant with the scent of new grass after the snow had melted and spring had broken through. He talked of bluebirds and thistle and bracken and the warm rays of the sun making the earth and the new grass fragrant.
Violet could smell the grass and the laurel and pine and could feel bracken and thistle and pine cones under her feet. She could see the hawks and falcons soar above the treetops, swirling under a blue canopy of sky with decorative puffs of clouds that seemed to be there only as props in a play.
She wanted so much to see Cynweir Castle now that the duke had made it come alive for her.
CHAPTER 7
"Now let me understand you perfectly, Hawk," said the Marchioness of Deckworth, with a stunned voice. "You actually expect me to be hostess at a house party in which, horror of horrors , your intention is to invite 'Lady' Kelly and her daughter Violet, two Cyprians that were incredibly lifted from the dregs by that fool, Kelly? You must not be serious!"
"On the contrary, my dear sister, I am in earnest. "
"Well I still don’t believe it," said the marchioness. "I am afraid I will have to see it in writing. Such a leave from your senses must be written for me to believe it."
"Written?" asked, Hawk, leaning forward a little at the breakfast table. "Yes, I believe you do like things written, dear Arabella. For such reason I have also brought another written missive and one I know you will appreciate even more than the wish I have just disclosed to you."
"And what is that, may I ask?" said the marchioness, although Hawk detected the fluttering of a nerve under the marchioness' bad eye: a good sign, to him . He knew his sister better than she knew herself.
"A vowel?" asked the marchioness, the nervousness of her voice giving her quickly away, "Surely not—"
"Surely yes, " said the duke. "Arabella, my dear, even I had not suspected the depth of your gaming. I believe you have gone from bad to worse in the few months I have lost sight of your gambling. Does Deckworth know of your—ah— little problem?"
"No! My dear Hawk, it isn't a problem. You mustn't make it seem as though I—"
"Gamble?"
"No—”
"Arabella, surely you cannot attempt, feebly, if I may add, to pretend that three thousand pounds is a 'little' problem."
"How did you—how did you recover the vowel?" Arabella was extremely agitated now. Her hands on the arm rests of her chair were taut.
"I haven't recovered the vowel for you, Arabella—yet," said the duke. "But I can be persuaded to do so. As it is, I had Lady Ressling make a copy of it for me. I must say, she was very accommodating. She believes your vowel has gone on for much longer than it should have and her patience is waning."
"Lady Ressling is a fool—"
"No, Arabella," said Hawk, his voice terse as he gazed at his sister; "it’s you who are the fool. It appears you have a serious gambling problem of which even I did not know. Is Deckworth aware of the extent of your gaming?"
"No! He is not! Please Hawk, you mustn't tell him. I may be able to—oh, Hawk, you cannot mean to tell him—"
"Of course I have no intention of telling Deckworth about it, for now ."
"For now?" asked Arabella, a tremor in her voice.
"Ordinarily I don’t inform your pedantic husband of anything at all,
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