As she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, she asked, "Could we take an indirect route? I particularly want to see the famous water garden."
He knew that he should return her before her chaperon became concerned. Yet when he looked into her glorious eyes, he found himself saying, "Very well, Miss Vangelder."
As they started down the pine-needle-carpeted path, he was very aware of the light pressure of her hand on his arm and the luxuriant rustle of her petticoats. And her perfume, a delicate fragrance reminiscent of violets…
He took a deep, slow breath. "I assume you are related to Admiral Vangelder?"
''You've heard of my grandfather?"
"It would be surprising if I hadn't." He held a branch aside so that she could pass without endangering her deliriously frivolous hat. "He was one of the great American success stories."
"Yes, and something of a robber baron, as well, though he was always a darling to me. I miss him." She chuckled. "He liked people to think that he was called Admiral because of his magnificent yachts, but actually, he got the nickname because his first job was tending mules on the Erie Canal."
"Really?" Justin said, amused by her artlessness.
"Really. In fact, there are grave suspicions that his papa was not married to his mama." She bit her lip guiltily. "You're dangerously easy to talk to, Lord Justin. I shouldn't have said so much-my mother would be horrified if the Admiral's dubious parentage became common knowledge." She grinned again. "Her own family has been respectable for at least a generation longer."
"Your secret is safe, Miss Vangelder," he assured her.
She gave him another entrancing smile that struck right to the heart. For a mad instant, he felt as if he was the only person who existed in her world. She had charm, this gilded girl, a quality as unmistakable as it was hard to define. He drew a shaken breath and returned his gaze to the winding path.
Though she had said lie was easy to talk to, in fact he found himself talking more than usual as they strolled through the park. He told her about the history of the estate, answered questions about the crops and tenants. Together they stood in the gazebo that was designed like a miniature Greek temple, and when they visited the picturesque ruins of an old monastery he described what the community would have been like in its heyday.
She was a wonderful audience, listening with a grave air of concentration that was occasionally punctuated by au incisive question. After she asked about the effects of the agricultural depression on the farm laborers, he remarked, "You have a wide range of interests, Miss Vangelder."
"Education is something of an American passion, so my father insisted that I have a whole regiment of tutors. Shortly before he died, he had me take the entrance exams to Oxford and Cambridge. He was quite pleased when I passed with flying colors." She sighed. "Of course there was never any question of me actually going to a university. That would have been shockingly bluestocking."
At least she had been well taught, like most English girls, his own sisters had received the sketchiest of educations. Only Alexandra, who loved to read, had a well informed mind. The man who married Sunny Vangelder would be lucky in more ways than one.
Justin had chosen a path that brought than out of the park's wilderness area right beside the water garden. It was an elaborate series of pools and channels that descended across three levels of terraces before flowing into the ornamental lake.
Sunny stopped in her tacks with a soft exhalation of pleasure. "Exquisite. The proportions-the way the statues are reflected in the pools-the way the eye is led gradually down to the lake. It's masterful. And the grass surrounding it like green velvet. How do the English grow such perfect grass?"
"It's quite simple, really. Just get a stone roller and use it on the lawn regularly for two or three hundred years."
She laughed and gave him a glance that made him feel as if he was the wittiest, handsomest man alive.
His heart twisted, and he knew that he must get away from her before he started to act like an utter idiot. "I really must take you back now."
"I suppose so." She took a last look at the water gar den. "Thank you for indulging me, Lord Justin."
Their walk had taken them around three sides of the palace, and it was only a short distance to the Versailles garden where the fete was being held. As they approached the festivities, a tall man saw them and walked over swiftly. It was Paul Curzon, who had gone to Eton with Justin, though they had never been more than acquaintances. Curzon had been active in the most social set, while Justin had paid an unfashionable amount of attention to his studies.
After giving Justin a barely civil nod, Curzon said, "Lady Westron has been wondering what happened to you, Miss Vangelder."
Justin glanced at his companion and saw how her face lit up when Curzon spoke to her.
"I was in no danger, Mr. Curzon," she said, her voice proper but her eyes brimming with excitement. "I'm an avid gardener, you see, and Lord Justin very kindly consented to show me some of the lesser-known parts of the park."
In a careless tone that managed to imply that Justin was scarcely better than an under gardener, Curzon said, "You could not have chosen a better guide, for I'm sure that no one knows more about such matters than Lord Justin." He offered Sunny his arm. "Now I shall take you to Lady Westron."
Sunny turned to Justin and said with sweet sincerity, "Thank you for the tour, my lord. I enjoyed it very much."
Yet as soon as she took Curzon's arm, Justin saw that she forgot his existence. He watched them walk away together-two tall, blond, laughing people. They were like members of some superior race, set apart from the normal run of mankind.
For the first time in his life, Justin found himself resenting Gavin for having been born first. The Sunny Vangelders of the world would always go to men like Gavin or Curzon.
His aching regret was followed by deep, corroding anger. Damning himself for a fool, he turned and headed toward the house. Gavin's fete could progress to its conclusion without him.
Chapter Two
Swindon Palace
Summer 1885
Justin stared out the study window at the dreary landscape, thinking that rain was appropriate for the day he had buried his only brother. After a gray, painful interval, a discreet cough reminded him that he was not alone. He turned to the family solicitor, who had formally read the will earlier in the afternoon. "Why did you ask speak with me, Mr. Burrell?"
"Though I'm sorry to intrude at such a time, your grace," the solicitor said, "there are several pressing matters that must be addressed without delay."
Justin winced inwardly. Five days of being the ninth Duke of Thornborough was not long enough to accustom him to his new status. "I assume that you are going to tell me that the financial situation is difficult. I'm already aware of that."
Another little cough, this one embarrassed. "While you are extremely well-informed about estate matters, there are, ah, certain other items that you might not know of.'
With sudden foreboding, Justin asked, "Had Gavin run up extensive personal debts?"
"I'm afraid so, your grace. To the tune of… almost a hundred thousand pounds."
A hundred thousand pounds! How the devil had Gavin managed to spend so much? Justin wanted to swear out loud.
Seeing his expression, Mr. Burrell said, "It was unfortunate that your brother's death occurred just when it did."
"You mean the fact that he died while on his way to marry May Russell? It certainly would have been more prudent to have waited until after the wedding," Justin said bitterly.
It would have been even more prudent if Gavin had stayed in the private Thornborough railway car. Instead, he had been taken by the charms of a French lady and had gone to her compartment. When the train crashed, the duke and his inamorata had both died, locked in a scandalous embrace. If Gavin had been in his own car, he would have survived the crash with scarcely a bruise.