King Of Swords

Julia felt as if a hand had closed round her throat. She knew him at once, of course. It was the man she’d seen in the lower paddock and taken for a tinker.

No wonder he’d laughed at her! she thought dazedly.

Only this time he wasn’t laughing at all. As the hooded dark gaze swept her from head to foot, she felt as if the flesh had been scorched from her bones by some swift and terrifying flame.

It was all she could do not to fling up her hands to defend herself.

The Tower struck by lightning, she thought, from some whirling corner of her mind, and the King of Swords, coming to cut down her pride and separate her from everything she loved.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SAPPHIRE dress looked superb. Julia regarded herself critically in the full-length mirror, making a minute adjustment to the seams of her stockings, and tucking an errant strand of hair into place in her carefully casual topknot.

She looked elegant, poised and sophisticated—just as the daughter of the house should, she thought bitterly. But she was only attending the party under protest, and after the most thunderous row she’d ever had with her father. Even the thought of it now could still make her shudder.

‘How dare you, Julia!’ Sir Philip’s voice had been glacial, when they were finally alone together. ‘I’d hoped your time with Miriam might have cured you of your tendency to impulsive and inopportune reactions. You realise nothing is signed yet between Constantis and myself, and you could have jeopardised the negotiations by your insolence?’

‘Then I’m glad,’ she had answered defiantly. ‘Daddy, you can’t sell Ambermere to a man like that! There must be some other way.’

‘If there was, then I’d have found it.’ His tone sharpened. ‘You’re a child, Julia—a spoiled child. I’ve done you no favours by sheltering you from life’s realities.’

‘Is that how you categorise Alex Constantis?’ Julia’s laugh broke in the middle. ‘Then I’m glad you did—shelter me. He can’t have Ambermere—he can’t!’

‘He can—and I desperately hope he will.’ She had never seen her father look so stern. ‘And you, madam, will do and say nothing else to put the sale at risk.’

‘Well, you have no need to worry about that.’ Julia glared back at him. ‘I’ll make very sure our paths don’t cross again!’

‘In fact you’ll meet him again this evening,’ Sir Philip told her grimly. ‘He’s dining with us, and staying on for the party.’

Julia’s lips parted in a despairing gasp. ‘You can’t have invited him!’ she wailed. ‘Not someone like that. Our friends will think we approve of him—that we’re endorsing him in some way.’

‘And why shouldn’t we?’ Sir Philip slammed his desk with a clenched fist. ‘My God, Julia. Where did you learn to be such an appalling little snob? Alex Constantis may have inherited money initially, but he’s made another fortune on his own account since he became head of the Constantis empire. And in today’s world, it’s money that counts, my dear, as I’m afraid you’re going to find out. So far, he’s been reasonably accommodating. I just pray you haven’t ruined everything with your muddle-headed stupidity. He has a reputation for being a tough operator.’

‘For being a bastard!’ Julia flung back at him. ‘Which is, of course, exactly what he is.’

‘And what have we, precisely, to be so stately and moral about?’ Sir Philip demanded. ‘If the first Julia Kendrick hadn’t caught the Prince Regent’s eye, then we would never have owned Ambermere in the first place. Perhaps you should remember that.’ He paused, surveying her defiant, tight-lipped face. ‘And remember this too, Jools. Tonight I expect you to be civil to Alex Constantis—beginning, perhaps, with an apology.’

‘Will a plain “sorry I spoke” do, or would you like me to grovel—lick his shoes even?’

And so it had gone on, covering the same wretched ground, the same recriminations, until finally they had reached a kind of armed truce. Julia did not have to apologise in so many words, but she wouldn’t be allowed to feign a headache and miss the party either. And she would be polite to Alex Constantis.

‘I know it’s a terrible situation for you, darling,’ her father had said more gently, just before she went up, reluctantly, to change. ‘But we’re still a family, and that’s what matters in the end. Bricks and mortar, however historic, aren’t that important.’

The trouble was, Julia thought dispiritedly, her father had right on his side. She had been abysmally rude about Alex Constantis. But how could she have known he was lurking about in the study doorway like the Demon King, ready to pop up at just the wrong moment? And if she had known would she honestly have behaved differently? Somehow, she doubted it.

And where rudeness was concerned, honours were about even, she thought. He had snubbed her totally and succinctly, after her father had awkwardly attempted to introduce them, reminding Sir Philip coolly that they were due to visit the Home Farm, and walking off with him without deigning Julia a second look.

But that was all to the good, Julia thought, her mouth suddenly dry. Because if the second look lived up to the first, she might end up permanently singed.

There was little doubt that the evening ahead was going to be an ordeal. Her father had made it clear that he intended to introduce Alex Constantis to their neighbours and friends as the future owner of Ambermere, and Julia wasn’t at all sure she could bear it.

She had almost decided against wearing the new dress, telling herself that it didn’t matter what she looked like—that the oldest rag in the wardrobe would do for a—awake like this evening promised to be.

But her pride had reasserted itself. Her ship might be sinking, but she would nail her full colours to the mast—and she would let no one, but no one know how much she despised and resented Alex Constantis. Her innate realism told her that too many avid eyes would be watching for any sign of grief or distress. Their friends would understand and sympathise, she thought with a sigh, but there were others in the neighbourhood, less well disposed towards the Kendricks, who had been prophesying doom and disaster for years.

And now the doom had come upon them in the unwelcome shape of this—Greek upstart, she thought wretchedly.

Paul Constantis had been philosophical about the enforced change in his circumstances, but Julia had sensed an underlying bitterness. She’d sympathised with him, without feeling too involved, but she was concerned now all right. Because by some incredible, nauseating coincidence, Alex Constantis was going to take Ambermere from her, just as he’d preyed on the Constantis family fortune. He was going to steal her home.

‘Bricks and mortar aren’t important,’ Sir Philip had said.

Not to you, Daddy, Julia thought in aching silence. Never to you—but to me.

She was aware that her love for Ambermere was a local byword, could imagine the shock waves when people realised this would be the last Midsummer party. But no one would pity her tonight—or laugh at her either, she told herself almost savagely, as she lifted her scent spray and misted herself with fragrance before turning resolutely to the door and making her way downstairs.

It was still quite early, and the special guests who had been invited to dinner before the party proper began had not begun to arrive yet, so Julia expected to have the drawing-room to herself for a while.

But to her horror, Alex Constantis was there before her, standing on the hearthrug, staring up at the enormous portrait of the Regency Julia Kendrick which hung above the fireplace. Twentieth-century Julia had never cared for this constant reminder of how her family had acquired Ambermere. She had always been vaguely embarrassed by the pride of place given to a woman who had shamelessly betrayed her husband, and behaved like a tart with Prinny. And she loathed the lighthearted family tradition of drinking a toast to the first Julia as a climax to the Midsummer party. But perhaps, in the circumstances, that particular ritual could be forgone this year.

She hesitated in the doorway, wondering whether she could steal away before he saw her, but the wretched man must have had eyes in the back of his head, because without turning, he said, ‘Come in, thespinis, and tell me about your ancestress.’

Julia came forward with deep unwillingness, strongly tempted to repudiate all knowledge of the flame-haired beauty in her shockingly fashionable transparent draperies.

But before she could speak, he added drily, ‘And do not try to deny the relationship. The family resemblance is there—and the colour of the hair.’ He turned and looked at her fully, the glittering dark gaze sliding with unabashed interest over the untrammelled cling of the midnight dress. ‘And the fact that you both wear so little,’ he ended silkily.

In spite of herself, Julia felt dull colour rise in her face. The cut of the dress demanded a minimum of underwear, but it infuriated her that this stranger—this interloper, should be so immediately aware of the fact—and be graceless enough to refer to it.

At the same time she was forced to acknowledge that his voice was attractive—low-pitched and resonant, with barely a trace of an accent. Not, she thought, what she would have expected from someone of his background.

She said coolly, ‘As you’re a stranger to Britain, Mr Constantis, perhaps I should warn you that sexist remarks are no longer welcomed here.’

‘Sexist?’ Alex Constantis repeated the word as if it were utterly new to him, then shrugged. ‘Yet we are still born male and female, thespinis. The human race does not yet allow for neuters. Nor will it continue for much longer unless a man is able to tell a woman that he finds her desirable.’

To her fury, Julia felt her flush deepen. Did this person actually mean … No, of course he didn’t. He was simply getting his own back by deliberately setting out to embarrass her.

She said crisply, ‘You were asking about the portrait, I believe. She was the wife of the first baronet, and her name was Julia.’

‘You were named for her?’

‘Yes.’ Julia forbore to add ‘unfortunately’, knowing it would involve her in explanations which she didn’t wish to give. Alex Constantis’s grin was far too insolent already.

He glanced back at the portrait. ‘She is very beautiful. To possess such loveliness would be a rare acquisition.’

Again Julia had the uneasy feeling that his remark was a loaded one, intended to needle her. At this rate, she thought crossly, I’ll be spending the entire evening blushing like a schoolgirl!

She forced her voice to remain level. ‘I’m afraid the portrait isn’t for sale, Mr Constantis. You’re buying a house, not a family history.’

He said softly, ‘The past does not concern me, thespinis—only the present—and the future. And it is not altogether certain that I shall buy Ambermere.’

Julia groaned inwardly. Aloud, she said stiffly, ‘If you’re having second thoughts because of anything I’ve said or done, then I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’ He spoke in the same reflective tone, but Julia felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine—as if he’d threatened her in some way.

Oh, I’m being ridiculous, she thought with exasperation.

She tried to speak lightly. ‘Perhaps we’d better declare a truce. May I offer you a drink?’

‘Thank you. Do you have Bourbon?’

‘Of course. It’s what my father drinks.’ Julia moved to the side table where the decanters stood, and poured a measure into a glass, angrily aware that her hands were shaking.

‘Come on, Jools,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Get it together.’

To add to her self-consciousness, she felt certain Alex Constantis had spotted her nervousness, and was amused by it, although his expression when she handed him the glass was enigmatic.

‘You are not joining me?’ he asked, and Julia shook her head.

‘It’s going to be a long evening,’ she excused herself, with a bright smile which only touched her lips.

‘Then—yiassou.’ He raised his glass to her, then drank.

Julia began to wish she had in fact poured herself a drink as well. It would have given her something to fidget with—to concentrate on—anything rather than just having to stand here, the object of his undivided attention.

‘So, tell me more about your namesake,’ he said, after a pause. ‘She was the mistress of the Prince of Wales—isn’t that right?’

Julia’s lips tightened. ‘You seem perfectly well informed already.’

‘There is a small bookshop opposite my hotel in the village. I bought a local guide book, and such a story was mentioned.’

She shrugged. ‘Then what more is there to tell?’

‘Her husband—this first baronet. What kind of a man was he?’

‘He was one of the Prince’s circle,’ Julia said reluctantly. ‘Though not a close friend. He was a gambler.’

‘So that is where the tendency comes from,’ Alex Constantis said meditatively. ‘Was he also as unlucky as your father?’

Julia shot him a look of indignant surprise, annoyed at the implied criticism in his words. ‘I don’t think I want to discuss that with you.’

‘Yet it has a certain relevance.’ The dark eyes were hooded. ‘If your father had been luckier in his wagers—in his speculation, then your family home would not be for sale to the highest bidder—and we would not be here together now.’

She said tautly, ‘Please don’t remind me.’

He laughed. ‘The truce did not last long, thespinis. But no matter. My instinct tells me that to war with you might be more interesting than to make peace.’

‘And your instinct, of course, is never wrong.’ Julia was heavily sarcastic.

‘Where women are concerned—rarely.’ He was still smiling. ‘Another sexist remark!’

Julia bit her lip. ‘Could we change the subject, please?’

‘Certainly.’ He drank some more Bourbon. ‘Shall we talk about the weather, or shall I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, and how much I would give to see you without it?’

Shame and anger welled up inside her, as if she had indeed been stripped naked in front of him. If she had had a drink in her hand, she would have thrown it straight into his mocking, arrogant face, she thought savagely. She wanted to hit out, to beat at him with her fists, but she knew, somehow, that such a gesture would only amuse him.

My God, she thought. He’s demanding a full pound of flesh in return for my having called him a peasant!

From somewhere she managed to conjure up a light laugh. ‘Would you give me Ambermere, Mr Constantis?’

His brows lifted slightly, as if her reaction had surprised him, and he said, ‘No.’

Julia shrugged again. ‘Then the deal’s off.’ She made herself meet his gaze. ‘You’ll just have to—eat your heart out.’

His smile widened, and he shook his head slowly. ‘Don’t count on it—Miss Kendrick.’

For an endless moment his eyes held hers. Julia was suddenly, terrifyingly conscious that she could neither move nor speak—and that every pulse point in her body seemed to be beating with an alarming independence.

She wanted to say ‘No.’ To assert her separateness from him, her rejection of him, and his degrading jibes, but the muscles of her throat refused to obey her.

It was the external sound of other voices, and footsteps approaching down the hall, which broke the spell at last. And if she’d burned before, Julia now realised she felt icily, deathly cold.

As Alex Constantis turned to greet her parents, she crossed to the empty fireplace and stood staring down at it, as if there were flames there which could warm her, and stop the wild, inner shivering which threatened to tear her apart.

Lydia Kendrick was polite to her unwanted guest, but there was none of her usual warmth in her manner, and Julia surmised that she too was under orders.

Her father seemed his usual ebullient self, laughing and talking as if Alex Constantis was an old and valued friend, but Julia could see the lines of strain round his mouth, and thought how they would deepen if the offer for the house was withdrawn.

She felt as if she was living through some kind of nightmare.

She had hoped the situation would be eased when the other dinner guests arrived, but among the first-comers were the Bosworths, and Vivvy Bosworth lost no time in drawing Julia into the morning-room.

‘Jools, there are the most amazing rumours all over the place. People are saying your father’s sold the estate to some Greek millionaire. Surely it can’t be true?’

Julia pinned on a smile. ‘We’re certainly hoping the deal goes through.’

‘Oh, don’t con me, Julia Kendrick!’ Vivvy gave her a minatory look. ‘I’ve known you far too long—we swapped rattles in our prams, remember? You’d rather lose your right arm than this house.’

Julia’s smile wavered and collapsed. She said wretchedly, ‘Oh Vivvy, the house is going to be sold whatever happens, but I honestly don’t know whether Alex Constantis is going to buy Ambermere or not.’ She swallowed. ‘What I do know is I’d sooner see it burn to the ground than belong to him. He’s the most hateful man I’ve ever met!’

Vivvy gave her a limpid look. ‘Darling Jools, no man with all that money could possibly be hateful!’ She sobered, giving Julia a quick hug. ‘There’s nothing I can say to make you feel better about this, but I felt I had to warn you. Stepmother’s on the warpath. She was smirking to herself all the way here, and that’s always bad news for someone.’

Julia received the news with a grimace of dismay. Gerald Bosworth’s first wife had been a warm and smiling woman, popular with everyone, and genuinely mourned when she died after a long illness. It was generally agreed locally that Gerald, who had nursed her with total devotion, should marry again in due time, but no one, least of all Vivvy and her brother Alastair, had expected it to happen so soon, or to find themselves with a young and glamorous former actress as a stepmother. Tricia Bosworth at first bewildered her new neighbours, who tried to make her welcome for Gerald’s sake, and later aroused their resentment with the deliberately poisonous sweetness of some of her remarks. Because she was Gerald’s wife, and everyone liked Gerald, it was impossible to exclude her from social gatherings, but there was always an edge when she was around.

‘An actress!’ Julia had once said bitterly, smarting from Tricia’s smiling comments about adolescent gaucherie. ‘What’s she ever been in, for heaven’s sake?’

‘She claims to have been in an RSC production of Antony and Cleopatra,’ Vivvy had returned dejectedly. ‘Probably playing the asp.’

Tricia had always gushed about Ambermere, its beauty and its history, but she wouldn’t be shedding any tears over the Kendricks’ loss, and the thought of her openly probing their wounds over dinner was unbearable.

What else can go wrong? Julia asked herself unhappily. How could the passage of a few hours change one’s entire life so fundamentally?

‘Cheer up.’ Vivvy linked an arm through hers. ‘She may choke on a fishbone and die before she can start.’

Julia smiled reluctantly. ‘Can’t we arrange for two fishbones?’

‘Never kill off a millionaire unless you’re mentioned in his will,’ Vivvy warned solemnly. ‘What’s he like—old, fat and repulsive?’

‘No,’ Julia said colourlessly. ‘I suppose he’s attractive—if you like that sort of thing.’

‘I’m sure I could learn to,’ giggled Vivvy. ‘Lead me to him!’

As Julia took her into the drawing-room, she gave vent to a soundless whistle. ‘Attractive? My God, Jools, are you crazy? He’s gorgeous!’

Unwillingly, Julia had to concede that Vivvy spoke with a certain justice. In the casual clothes he had been wearing when she first encountered him, he’d looked a force to be reckoned with. Now, in the dark formality of dinner jacket and black tie, Alex Constantis possessed a disturbing, charismatic presence which was drawing every female eye in the room.

Well, they said wealth and power were aphrodisiacs, Julia thought savagely, then bit her lip. She was being unfair, and she knew it. Even if he were penniless, any woman with blood in her veins would look at him, and look again. Except me, she reminded herself grimly.

But that was not as easy as it seemed. To her chagrin, Julia found she was placed opposite him at the long oak table in the dining-room, and no matter how rigorously she limited her attention to the companions on either side of her, she was still uneasily aware that he was watching her across the heaped bowls of early roses, and the flickering candle flames.

Tricia Bosworth leaned forward. ‘So you’re going to be the new master of Ambermere,’ she said in her husky drawl. ‘Do tell us—has Julia persuaded you to change your name to Kendrick yet?’

Julia put her knife and fork down, her mouth suddenly dry.

Alex Constantis’s brows lifted. ‘I do not quite understand.’

Mrs Bosworth laughed. ‘Oh, it’s been a standing joke locally for years. Julia has always sworn that the family name should continue here—either by finding another Kendrick from somewhere to marry her, or forcing some other unsuspecting soul to change his name. I wondered if she’d started her campaign with you yet. She’s always claimed to be prepared to go to any lengths to keep Ambermere hers.’

‘So I have already gathered.’ The faint irony in his voice, and the flickering glance he sent the deeply slashed bodice of the midnight blue satin dress, were not lost on Julia.

‘I’m sure you have,’ purred Tricia then she paused, smiling. ‘Are you married, Mr Constantis?’

The dark face was shuttered. ‘No.’

In the hideously embarrassed silence which followed, Julia prayed for the floor beneath her chair to open, and swallow her for ever. She heard Gerald Bosworth mutter, ‘Tricia, for God’s sake!’ and saw Vivvy’s appalled and sympathetic grimace.

Into the silence, Sir Philip said pleasantly, ‘As you say, Mrs Bosworth—a standing joke. But I don’t think Julia, as a woman, should have a silly childhood boast held against her. Now, may I offer you some more duck?’

Conversation around the table resumed again in an atmosphere of relief, which Julia could not share. If Tricia Bosworth had openly gloated that Ambermere had to be sold, it would have been bad enough, but the other woman had deliberately set out to humiliate her in front of Alex Constantis. If she’d received a blow-by-blow account of the day’s events she couldn’t have planted her barbs more effectively, Julia thought, wincing.

And only he would not be aware that Tricia Bosworth made a speciality of such malice.

And somehow she had to smile and go on, pretending it didn’t matter. She took a surreptitious glance at her small gold watch, wondering how long it would be before she could make some excuse and seek the refuge of her room.

Tonight, as never before, she found herself welcoming the duties as hostess with her mother which kept her perpetually on the move from group to group as the house filled with guests.

She had half expected, half dreaded that Alex Constantis would seek her out with some taunting reference to Tricia’s words. But perhaps he too had been embarrassed by the exchange, for he never came near her.

Her father was almost always at his side, guiding him through the crowded rooms explaining, making introductions, while their friends loyally strove to mask their surprise and dismay at the news.

And even now it could all be for nothing, Julia thought with misgivings. Wouldn’t it be hysterical if Tricia proves to be the final straw, and the whole deal falls through? But she didn’t feel much like laughing. Even if Alex Constantis withdrew from contention, another buyer would come along. Ambermere could not be saved, and she had to come to terms with that.

As midnight approached Julia realised that the toast to the first Lady Kendrick was going to be drunk as usual.

‘Oh, God, I can’t face that,’ she muttered to herself, slipping through the partially open french windows on to the terrace.