Page 104 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘Of course not. I shall resist any attempt to marry me off, to her or anyone.’

‘But what use will it be, if I’m abroad?’ Rachel said in despair.

‘It’s only France,’ he tried to comfort her. ‘Biarritz is a holiday place. Nobody stays there for ever.’

‘But who knows when I’ll be able to come back? My aunt’s going to be there, the one I stayed with last year, and my mother might decide to go back with her to Germany. And that horrid old prince is going to be there, and I’m afraid she wants me to marry him.’

‘Remember what I told you, that the law says you can’t be married against your will.’

‘But that’s in England. It might be different in Germany. And if I’m stuck over there, and can’t get away, and they go on and on at me . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope I can be strong,’ she said, with a sob in her voice. ‘I hope I can. But if I never see you again . . .’

‘We’ll write to each other,’ he said, holding her hand against his chest. ‘And if you thought that was going to happen, I’d come over and get you.’

‘How could you, with no money of your own?’

‘I’d find a way. But it won’t come to that. We just have to hold out, darling. When they see that we won’t change our minds, and can’t be forced, they’ll give in. They’d sooner have us married to each other than not married at all. We just have to be strong.’ He drew her against him, and she rested in his arms, her head against his neck.

‘When I’m with you like this I feel strong,’ Rachel said. ‘But I’m still afraid.’

‘Just don’t marry that old prince,’ Angus said. ‘Leave the rest to me.’

Rachel wasn’t sure there was any ‘just’ to it. And she was afraid that when she was abroad and far from him, she wouldn’t be able to get back. It all seemed black and hopeless. But then there was kissing, and when she was kissing him, everything seemed a lot better. Surely they could not be kept apart for ever. Surely.

‘Afton!’ Giles said sharply.

Afton started. ‘My lord?’

‘I’ve asked you three times for my cufflinks.’

‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’ He stepped forward with the links and began to insert them.

‘You were in an absolute daydream,’ Giles remarked.

‘Nothing so agreeable, my lord.’

‘What is it, then?’

Afton hesitated, and decided the moment had come. He could not get any further alone. ‘I have been investigating the disappearance of Mr Moss’s stamp album, my lord, and I have hit a snag,’ he said.

He told Giles the story so far, while finishing the dressing process. Giles listened, frowning, and at the end of the exposition said, ‘It seems to me you have no proof at all. Your suspicion of Hook is based on nothing but dislike of him. I grant that he’s a dislikeable fellow, but “a tall, thin man”? That could be anyone.’

‘Indeed, my lord. I can’t make him go and be recognised by Pogrebin, and I can’t go and find the dealer in London who bought the stamps. I believe only the police can take the matter further forward.’

‘The police?’ Giles turned away irritably. ‘You take too much on yourself. Why was it your business to go asking questions in the first place?’

‘I beg your pardon, my lord. But there is talk and unease below stairs.’

‘You put me in an awkward position. You’ve planted suspicion in my mind, without my being able to do anything to prove or disprove it. I don’t want to suspect an innocent man – and I don’t want to harbour a thief in my house. What the devil am I supposed to do with this knowledge?’

His mother, he thought, would magnificently ignore ‘servant tattle’. Or would summon the chief constable and order him to investigate. Or would she just dismiss Hook out of hand? He wasn’t sure. But he was not his mother. He couldn’t act without due process. Should he confront Hook with the accusation? But if he was innocent, to be told he was suspected would be devastating. Speak to the chief constable? But that would be blackening Hook’s name and, innocent or guilty, he would always be under suspicion after that. He put down his hairbrush with an impatient bang.

‘You’ve put me in a damned awkward position,’ he said again.

‘I’m sorry, my lord.’

Afton finished putting things away in silence. But when he reached the door, he turned back and said, ‘My lord? There is perhaps one thing that could be done, quite discreetly.’

CHAPTER NINETEEN