Trondelaine Castle (5 page)

Her initial pleasure turned to irritation. All of the
books were apparently light novels. True, they were the
best of their kind and the sort she generally enjoyed.
But she liked to read other books, as well, and she had a growing suspicion that the selection offered was meant
to be an insult. He must have seen her reading the
volume of history. Well, the matter would have to wait
until morning. If it was meant as an insult, she couldn’t
let it pass.

Soon she went to bed with one of the novels. She was
thoroughly engrossed in the plot and quickly lost track
of time.

Wendy woke to the sound of someone tapping at her
door. A quick glance at her watch confirmed her
suspicions. It was nine o’clock. “Come in!” she called.

The maid entered, carrying the breakfast tray. Like
the perfectly trained servant she was, she showed no
reaction to the sight of Wendy still in bed. And this
morning, there was no message from Lord Pellen-no,
he had said to call him Lord Richard, hadn’t he?

At any rate, as soon as the maid had gone, Wendy
pulled her wrapper around her and hobbled to the
table. She sipped the hot tea gratefully, for though it
was July, the castle was chilly in the morning.

It was nearly ten o’clock before she was ready to
emerge from her room. The library door stood open
and, as the room was deserted, she entered without hesitation. She soon found the section she was
interested in, one she had noticed the day before.
Wendy was so intent on the volume in her hand that she
did not hear the footsteps.

“Good morning, Wendy,” came a deep voice from
behind her.

She started, then turned clumsily on her crutches to
face Lord Richard. “Good morning.”

“I rather thought the books I had sent to your room
would eliminate the need for you to visit my library,”
he said casually. Wendy did not reply and he added, “I
believe they are rather more suitable than”-he looked
at the book she held-“than Voltaire.”

“Lord Richard,” she replied evenly, “there is no need
to repeat the insult. I perceived it the first time I saw the
selection of books you had sent to my room. Not one
history, philosophy, or even biography. Not one
informative book. I grant you that the ones you chose
are the best of their genre, and that I enjoy them. At the
moment, however, Voltaire interests me more.”

“I do not like bluestockings,” he warned her.

Wendy met his eyes firmly. “You know, it must be
nice to have such a high opinion of yourself that you
know everything anyone does is for your benefit! Well,
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I-don’t care what
you like or dislike.”

Lord Richard drew himself up to his full height. His
eyes flashed and his mouth was held tight. “Nevertheless, Miss Pratt, you will oblige me by leaving the
library at once! I have need of it in the mornings and
you are intruding. It will be at your disposal at two
o’clock.”

Without answering, Wendy turned and reshelved
her book. She then stared at the Earl pointedly until he stepped aside to let her pass. Then she calmly hobbled
toward the library door. As she reached it, his voice
halted her for a moment. “Wendy, the books in your
room are the only sort not kept in the library.”

Without looking back, she nodded, then continued
to her room. To Wendy’s relief, the room had already
been tidied and she knew she need not fear the maid’s
intrusion. Under normal circumstances, Wendy would
have begun pacing. With crutches, that was impractical. Instead, she stood by the window and gloomily
contemplated the garden.

How she wished she could go exploring or riding!
Perhaps this stay in a castle wasn’t going to be so
wonderful after all. But then, had she been fit, she
would not be here at all. At last, with a sigh, she pulled
a novel from the bookcase and settled into a
comfortable chair to read. She was still reading when
lunch arrived.

It was after two when she proceeded to the library. It
was deserted. Lord Richard was avoiding her again, it
seemed. Wendy found that amusing and she was
actually smiling as she pulled the desired volume from
the shelf. And again she was deaf to the sound of
footsteps. When she turned, it was to find Dr. Witler
watching her.

“Hello.” he grinned. “Richard told me you were in
here. How are you feeling?”

Wendy grinned in response. “Fine. Except when I’m
careless and hit something with my foot.”

“You look better,” the doctor said with open
admiration. “Now that I’ve seen you tidied up, I
understand why Richard wants to keep you here. Well,
let me have a look at the foot.”

Wendy sat down in the nearest chair and Roger knelt to work. He slipped off the superfluous sandal and
unwound the bandage. He soon satisfied himself that
nothing had changed.

He looked up impishly. “How does it feel to have a
man at your feet?” Then, more professionally, he said,
“Watch as I wrap the bandage so that you can do it
yourself later. You should rewrap the foot once a day.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Call me Roger.” He smiled.

“All right, Roger. Call me Wendy.”

Roger was getting to his feet when Lord Richard
entered the room. “How is she?” he asked curtly.

“The same,” Roger answered, just as curtly.

Lord Richard nodded without surprise. “Will you
stay until after tea? I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“That’s because all your people are too healthy,”
Roger teased. “Certainly I’ll stay for tea. Shall we go
out in your garden? I’m sure Wendy could use the sun.
It’s too nice a day to sit in a library!”

Lord Richard nodded, but he was frowning and
Wendy guessed he had not wanted her to join them.
She reached for her crutches. “I’m still a little clumsy
on them,” she apologized.

“In that case, for once, don’t use them,” Roger said.

He stepped forward and picked her up easily.
Laughing, Wendy held onto her crutches with one
hand, the other arm around Roger’s neck. “Lead the
way, Richard,” the doctor said airily.

They went out by way of the door in the billiard
room. By the time they reached the lawn chairs in the
garden, Roger was beginning to find Wendy heavy and
he said so as he set her down. She laughed with him and
could not help comparing Lord Richard’s aloof
sarcasm with Roger’s genial manner.

“I seem to be de trop,” Lord Richard observed.

“Oh, no. Don’t go!” Roger said quickly.

Richard shrugged and sat down. “How goes your
practice?” he asked Roger.

“Well enough. I’m busy all the time, as usual. There
aren’t many people hereabouts,” he said for Wendy’s
benefit, “but someone is always having a baby or
getting hurt on a farm. And I am the only doctor within
a thirty-mile radius. More important, I’m the only one
with a full lab setup and X-ray equipment for a much
greater area than that. Actually, Richard helped
finance my clinic.”

Wendy glanced at Lord Richard in surprise.
Somehow, this seemed out of character. He was
glancing the other way, saying, “Well, you and I were
friends at Cambridge.”

It was Roger’s turn to be surprised. “Yes, but that
doesn’t explain Mrs. Gregg’s new sc-”

“Roger, I am sure Miss Pratt is not interested,” Lord
Richard interrupted with a commanding tone.

“Yes, milord,” Roger said irreverently. Then he
turned to Wendy. “No matter what he tries to tell you,
he is not an ogre.” He turned back to Lord Richard.
“Will you be taking my patient back to London with
you tomorrow?”

“No. She and I will both be staying here for the next
two or three weeks until her foot is completely
recovered. I’ve arranged to have the necessary papers
sent to me and I can work as easily here as in London.”

“But you hate staying here,” Roger pointed out.

Lord Richard shrugged. “I feel the need for a
change.”

“Well,” Roger said, “if Wendy doesn’t mind, I’m just
as pleased, for I shall have an excuse to drop by. What
will you do to keep from being bored?” he asked her.

“First, I’ve asked the publishers I work for to send me some material I was working on. I’m a translator. I
hope they will. But I’m also having a friend send up
some of my clothes and some needlepoint work I’m
doing,” she explained.

“The domestic sort, are you?” Roger asked.

Wendy felt a moment’s irritation. “Why do men
assume women fall into nice neat categories? I certainly
don’t. I like to do needlepoint and sew and all the other
sorts of things around a house. But that’s not all I want
in life. I want to travel-and do interesting work.”

“So you’re a career woman?” he suggested.

“There you go again. Categories!” Wendy said in
disgust. “I like my job. But there are other things I find
very important. Like being loved and finding someone
to share my life with.”

“You sound quite decided,” Lord Richard drawled.

“In a way I am. I’m not just parroting someone else’s
ideas, if that’s what you mean. Everyone’s got to decide
for themselves what matters and stick to it-and know
when to compromise without losing what’s more
important.”

“Of course your fiance is in perfect accord?” Lord
Richard asked with a smile.

Wendy was aware that Roger was looking at her
with some surprise. She was annoyed that Lord
Richard had mentioned Kevin in front of him. On the
other hand, what did it matter?

She forced herself to smile sweetly at the Earl. “I
don’t make a habit of discussing my private affairs with
strangers. However, yes, Kevin and I are in accord on
this matter.”

She would not, she told herself firmly, admit to him
that this was a question she felt uneasy about. Wendy
was sure that in time Kevin would come to understand. And only then would she agree to marry him. Well,
only if he seemed close to understanding, anyway.

Roger interrupted her thoughts. “And you’ve
already set a date?”

“No, we-we haven’t even told our families yet,”
Wendy said uneasily. “There hasn’t been time to
discuss when or even where.”

Lord Richard was smiling broadly now. “If you will
excuse me, I’ll give the orders for tea.”

Wendy and Roger nodded and he strode away.
Roger said, hesitating, “You don’t have to talk about it,
of course, but it sounds to me as though you’re not very
definite about this engagement.”

She smiled wryly. “I’ll be honest, Roger. I’m not
really engaged. Lord Richard was accusing me of
hurting my foot to get into the castle so I could chase
him. That made me angry, so I told him I was engaged
so he needn’t worry. But please don’t tell him that. In
fact, Kevin and I will probably be engaged soon,
anyway.”

Roger laughed. “Not to worry, I won’t betray you.
Actually, I rather enjoy seeing him tangle with a
woman who isn’t interested in him. The setdown will
do him good!”

“If,” said Wendy gloomily, “he ever accepts the fact
that I’m not interested.”

Roger laughed again. “Even if he doesn’t, he’ll find
your behavior very puzzling. And that will shake his
complacency.”

Lord Richard, coming out of the castle, saw them
laughing together. As he watched the sun glinting off
Wendy’s chestnut hair and the green eyes dancing
under long lashes, he had to admit that under other
circumstances he might have found her attractive. She was tall and slender with long, shapely legs and a gently
curved figure. And her laughter was pleasant as it
floated out to him.

How much easier it was to be a country doctor than a
lord who always had to be on guard! Richard shook his
head as though to shake off his mood and stepped
forward. He even managed to smile as he said, “The
two of you seem to be having a jolly time of it.”

Roger smiled. “I always enjoy myself when I’m not
working, and sometimes even when I am.”

“By the way, it has been some time since our last
game of chess. I have taken the liberty of asking
Charles to bring out the board,” the Earl said casually.

Roger sat upright. “By George, I’d forgotten! You
promised me another crack at you and I certainly mean
to have it.”

From under the lashes of her half-closed eyes,
Wendy watched as Charles set the wooden table
between the two men. The top of the table was inlaid
with rosewood. The pieces looked hand-carved,
perhaps also of rosewood. She observed with amusement as the two men bent over the board. Wendy knew
the rules of the game, but she did not particularly enjoy
chess. Occasionally, she played very well; more often
she was careless. But then, Wendy had never been
fascinated by games. They existed to be enjoyed, and
what difference did it make who won? In her more
honest moments, she sometimes wondered if this
philosophy grew out of a fear of considering games
important and then losing.

Roger and Lord Richard, however, were obviously
serious about chess. They did not even look up as a
maid brought the tea tray and set it on a lawn table. The
young woman looked rather timidly at Lord Richard, and Wendy guessed it was not an unfamiliar situation
to her. “Lord Richard,” the woman said gently. “Lord
Richard!”