Lord of Misrule Read online

  SALLY WENTWORTH

  lord of misrule

  verity couldn’t quell her suspicions

  True, the Lavton family had welcomed Paula, verity’s closest friend, to their home. The two women had come to the countryside to view Paula’s inheritance from her late husband. And they actually seemed thrilled about Paula’s coming baby.

  in fact, even Sebastian Kent could not have been more charming to the woman who was displacing him. Yet verity wondered If he had hidden motives— especially when Paula’s life was threatened.

  And, what made things more complicated was Verity’s growing attraction to Sebastian, a man she now felt unable to trust.

  Chapter one

  Heathrow Airport was as busy and noisy as always. Verity Mitchell stopped to let a harassed woman pushing a loaded trolley go past, and then weaved her way through the throng until she stood in front of the Arrivals board. Her eyes ran down the list until she reached flight number BA from Bahrain. The expected arrival time was slightly ahead of schedule. Verity glanced at her watch and gave a little nod of satisfaction; allowing for the plane to land, and Paula to collect her luggage and get through Customs, she probably had only about half an hour to wait. Time for a coffee, anyway.

  It was quieter in the coffee shop and she was served quickly, but Verity was unable to relax as she drank it; she kept remembering the last time she’d been at Heathrow, when she had returned from Bahrain after supporting Paula through her husband’s funeral. It had been an extremely harrowing time and Verity had felt terrible about leaving her friend behind, but now Paula was coming home at last. Restlessly, Verity glanced at her watch—still another quarter of an hour to wait. But then it occurred to her that Paula was pregnant and the airport authorities might have given her a ride from the plane in one of their motorised conveyors. That thought made her hurriedly finish her coffee and walk briskly down the stairs to the narrow exit where arriving travellers emerged into the main concourse.

  There was the usual crowd of waiting people pressing against the barriers, some holding up placards with names printed on them. Verity found a space and stood as patiently as she could, her eyes on the emerging passengers. A plane must have come in; a small crowd of people came through and Verity leaned forward eagerly, but Paula wasn’t among them. Then there was a short gap before some Arabs in robes and white head-dresses walked by, to be met by a uniformed chauffeur holding a placard with the indecipherable curves of Arabic writing. And there was Paula at last, looking as beautiful as ever and wearing a loose-fitting jacket that completely hid her pregnancy. She was walking along in her unhurried, elegant way beside a man who pushed a trolley piled high with cases—a man whom Verity didn’t recognise. Verity waved and Paula waved back, the two girls rushing to hug one another as soon as Paula was clear of the barrier.

  ‘Are you all right? You look great! Oh, Paula, I’m so glad you’re back.’

  ‘It’s great to be here,’ Paula smiled.

  Verity looked at her anxiously. ‘You’re not too tired from the journey?’

  ‘No, I’m fine.” But then Paula shivered. ‘But it’s so cold here.’

  The man beside her laughed and Paula turned to him with one of her best smiles. ‘Thank you so much for coming to my rescue; I’d never have been able to manage all that luggage myself. Verity, I met this kind man on the plane and he gallantly collected all my cases together for me.’

  The stranger nodded to her and Verity smiled vaguely back, not in the least surprised; Paula had a

  deceptively fragile air that always brought people rushing to help her. ‘My car’s in the short-term car park. If you wouldn’t mind…?’ Verity had learned from experience to take full advantage of the muscle-power that Paula attracted.

  So the cases were crammed into Verity’s car and Paula’s rescuer retrieved his one small holdall and waved them off, rewarded with a glowing smile from Paula.

  They talked only of things that didn’t matter during the drive to Verity’s tiny terraced house in North London: of girls they had known at school, of films they had both seen and books they had recommended to each other and read. Luckily the house had a lockup garage that took up most of the minute garden at the back, so they were able to drive the car in and leave all but one of Paula’s suitcases inside. There seemed little point in lugging them all into the house when they would be leaving again in a couple of days. It wasn’t until Paula had kicked off her shoes and was relaxing in the cosy sitting-room, the curtains drawn to shut out the world and the fire blazing to take off the chill, that she began to tell Verity of the weeks since the funeral.

  ‘Everyone was so kind,’ she murmured as she sipped a pre-dinner sherry. ‘All our friends rallied round to help, winding up Simon’s business affairs, and organising the sale of the bungalow and then the furniture.’

  ‘It must have taken some time,’ Verity remarked. ‘It’s been over four months.’

  ‘Yes, it did take a while. But to be honest I wasn’t in any great hurry to come back.’

  Verity gave her a quick glance and then smiled. ‘You never did like the English weather.’

  ‘No.’ Paula made no attempt to return the smile. ‘But, as I told you when I phoned, I’m scared of going back to Simon’s family home.’

  ‘That’s rather a strange word to use. Why should you be afraid?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Paula frowned and moved restlessly in her seat. ‘I don’t want to go there. I wish I hadn’t inherited it.’

  ‘But you haven’t, have you? I mean, it will belong to the baby, not you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Paula instinctively put a hand on the growing roundness of her stomach. ‘If I hadn’t been pregnant the house would have gone to Simon’s stepbrother, Sebastian Kent.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember his mother—Simon’s stepmother—came to Simon’s funeral, didn’t she? Wasn’t her name Margaret Layton?’

  Paula nodded. ‘Yes, but she told me to call her Maggie.’

  ‘She seemed all right. Quite nice, in fact,’ Verity remarked.

  ‘Yes—but at the time she didn’t know I was pregnant. She thought that her son was going to inherit Simon’s house.’

  ‘Has her attitude changed, then?’

  ‘She kept on at me to come back to England. As soon as I told her about the baby she kept writing and then phoning me. She said that the baby must be born at Layton House, that it was the family tradition.’

  There was resentment in Paula’s tone, but uncertainty too, and Verity realised that her friend was suffering from the problem that had dogged them both since their childhood—that they were orphans and had no parents or family to turn to for advice. They only had each other and the close friendship that had grown out of their loneliness and need to matter to someone.

  ‘Traditions don’t have to be kept up, you know,’ Verity said lightly as she got to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.’

  She had made a casserole, which they ate in Verity’s optimistically named dining-room, an area opening off the kitchen which was only just big enough to hold a pine table and four chairs as well as an old Welsh dresser that held her collection of antique teapots on its shelves.

  After they’d eaten Paula immediately went to sit by the fire again. ‘I hope it isn’t going to be freezing cold all the time at Layton House,’ she remarked fretfully. ‘From what I’ve read, those big old houses in the country are always full of draughts.’

  ‘Hasn’t it got central heating?’

  ‘I don’t know. Simon never talked about the place

  ry much. He was much more interested in setting up his business.’

  ‘But his stepmother, Maggie, she always lived there nd looked after it for him, didn’t she?’

  Pau
la nodded. ‘Yes, with her son. That’s why I’m sure she will resent me; it’s far more their home than it could ever be mine.’

  ‘Yes, it could be awkward,’ Verity agreed. ‘Especially if you decide to live there yourself and you want them to move out.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Paula sighed. ‘And I can’t even sell the place if I don’t like it, because it will be in trust for the baby until he’s twenty-one.’

  ‘He?’ Verity queried teasingly. ‘I thought you were a feminist.’

  ‘Pregnancy changes your attitude to life,’ Paula answered. Her eyes shadowed. ‘And so does bereavement. Oh, Verity, I miss Simon so. Physically, of course. And he always took care of everything. I really miss not having a man around to look after me. You don’t know how wonderful that is.’ She lifted her head to look at her friend. ‘You must promise to come to Layton House with me. I can’t possibly face it on my own.’

  She began to cry a little and Verity quickly crossed the room and put her arm round her. ‘You’re tired after the flight. Why don’t you go up and have a bath and go to bed? And I’ll put a hot-water bottle in so that it will be warm for you.’

  Paula agreed willingly enough, and within an hour was fast asleep in the spare room. Verity looked in on her before going to bed herself, and the next morning she moved quietly about the house until Paula came down at about eleven o’clock. She looked better, but then she always did look good, tiredness only shadowing her face so that she seemed more fragile. It was warmer today, the late September sun still with enough heat to make walking outside pleasant, but Paula was used to the equatorial temperatures of Bahrain and borrowed one of Verity’s winter coats when they strolled down to the local pub for lunch and a drink.

  The pub had an open area at the back, with so many flowering tubs and hanging baskets bright with winter-flowering pansics that you could almost believe you were in a garden.

  ‘I’d almost forgotten what an English pub was like,’ Paula said with a nostalgic smile. ‘It must be more than two years since I was last in England.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll stay here now?’

  ‘I suppose it depends on how things go at Layton House. But I must admit I’d like the baby to be born in England.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t like the place you don’t have to live there. You can always come back to my house,’ Verity pointed out.

  Paula reached across the table and touched Verity’s hand. ‘I know,’ she said gratefully. ‘And don’t think I won’t. Although you might not be so eager to take me in if I have a crying baby to keep you awake at nights.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Verity answered briskly. ‘I shall enjoy being an adoptive aunt-It will be fun.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re taking me down to Layton House. Will you be able to stay for a while?’ Paula asked. ‘Did you manage to persuade your company to let you have some time off?’

  Verity shook her head. ‘No, they wouldn’t wear it. I’d already had two weeks off when I went over to Bahrain for the funeral, so I only had two more weeks’ holiday due to me this year.’

  ‘You can only stay for two weeks?’ Paula exclaimed, a look of horror in her eyes. ‘But I want you to stay with me at least until the baby is bom.’

  ‘No, it’s OK; I quit the job. I can stay as long as you need me,’ Verity reassured her.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness. I couldn’t stand being there without you, Verity. I just couldn’t.’

  ‘You’ll probably love it,’ Verity said heartcningly. ‘Simon’s family will welcome you with open arms, and in two weeks you’ll be so much at home that you’ll wonder what on earth you were worrying about.’

  ‘I only wish it could be like that,’ Paula said wistfully. ‘But I just have this terrible feeling about the place. Simon was never happy there, and I’m sure that I’m going to hate it too. But with you there it won’t be anything like so lonely. I’ll phone Maggie up tonight and tell her you’re definitely coming with me.’ She looked at Verity tensely. ‘I’m sorry that you had to leave your job; I know how much you loved it.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, it was only a job. There are

  thousands of companies, probably far better, that are

  just waiting to beg me to walk in and work for them,’

  Verity answered lightly. ‘And, besides, a holiday in

  the country at this time of the year will be wonderful.

  Just think of all the trees turning to gold and‘

  ‘And the wind howling round the house and frost on the windows,’ Paula broke in.

  They looked at each other and grinned, their deep friendship ruling out any feelings of sacrifice or indebtedness. What Verity was doing for Paula would have been done just as willingly the other way round. They both knew that the friendship was the closest and most trustworthy relationship they would ever have, short of marriage, and that they could always turn to each other in time of need. Even Paula’s marriage to Simon and being so far apart had made no difference; it had been Verity whom Paula had called and wanted with her as soon as she’d heard of Simon’s death in a car crash.

  In the afternoon they went shopping for warmer clothes for Paula, and were unable to resist buying several delightful outfits for the baby. ‘They’re so tiny,’ Verity marvelled. ‘Are babies really as small as that?’

  ‘I suppose so. I really don’t know very much about babies or looking after them,’ Paula admitted. ‘I’ll have to buy some books.’

  ‘I thought it was all supposed to come naturally.’

  ‘Maybe it does. I hope so. Sometimes the thought of giving birth and being responsible for another human being scares me to death.’

  It wasn’t the first remark of that nature that Paula had made. In the past she had always been very sure of herself and had sailed happily through life, her beauty and warmth giving her everything she wanted. But Simon’s death had obviously shaken her very badly, leaving her nervous and vulnerable, and Verity realised that her own role during the next few weeks was not only going to be that of companion, but she ould also have to try and boost Paula’s self-confidence.

  In the evening they went to a concert, and afterwards for a meal at an Italian restaurant, so there was no time for Paula to worry about what the next day might bring. And Verily deliberately forgot to set the alarm clock the next morning, so that they were both busy with last-minute jobs and packing, and it wasn’t til they were in the car and on their way that Paula began to show signs of anxiety again.

  ‘How long will it take us to get there, do you think?’ she asked when they had only been driving for about half an hour.

  ‘Well, at the rate my old car travels at the best of times, and loaded down with all this luggage, I should think we’ll be lucky to get there at all,’ Verity answered cheerfully. She glanced across at Paula. ‘Stop worrying. Everything will be fine. If Maggie Layton and her son didn’t want you at Layton House they would hardly have kept writing to ask you to come, now would they?’

  ‘It was only Maggie who wrote and telephoned. I’ve never met her son.’

  ‘But you must know something about him. Didn’t Simon talk about him?’

  ‘Not much. He only said that Sebastian was older, and an only child like himself.’

  ‘But surely as stepbrothers they must have seen quite a lot of each other?’

  Paula shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. Simon was sent away to school after his mother died, and he so loved to travel that he went on school trips abroad nearly every holiday and was seldom at home. Then, after he left university, he went to a business college in America for a couple of years, and after that started the company in Bahrain.’

  ‘Which is where you met him,’ Verity said when Paula fell silent. ‘I’m surprised he never took you back to England to see the house after you were married.’

  There were so many other places to visit that I hadn’t seen,’ Paula answered with a shrug. ‘We thought there would be plenty of time for going back to England.’

 
; ‘So you really don’t know very much about Sebastian.’ Verity quickly reverted to their previous topic before Paula could get upset again.

  ‘No. Simon said he was in business, but he was pretty vague about it.’

  ‘And he didn’t come to your wedding—or the funeral?’

  ‘No. But then we got married so quietly that you were about the only person who came to the wedding.’ Paula paused and then said heavily, ‘And you know ow quickly funerals take place in hot countries.

  Maggie said that Sebastian was abroad somewhere and she hadn’t been able to notify him in time for him to come with her.’

  ‘Well, that’s quite possible. Stop worrying; he’ll probably turn out to be very nice. Is he married?’

  Paula shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘ln that case I was wrong, he’ll probably turn out to be either a sports freak or a workaholic,’ Verity said dolefully.

  ‘Why on earth do you say that?’ Paula asked in amazement.

  ‘Because that’s the only kind of unattached man I ever seem to meet nowadays. If they’re not jetting off somewhere to pull off a business deal, then they’re ing part in some sports tournament in a men-only club.’

  Paula laughed delightedly, as she was meant to. ‘I see I’ll have to take you under my wing. I quite fancy myself as a matchmaker.’

  ‘Heaven forbid!’ Verity exclaimed with a shudder. I still have nightmares about the last man you tried to pair me off with.’

  They began to tease each other, and from there mooved on to reminiscences about their adolescence, which kept them laughing for another fifty miles or so. But then the worst happened and the car splutered to a halt and refused to start again. Verijy had to walk over a mile to a phone, and then it took a couple of hours before the breakdown service came to tow them into a garage, and another hour before a new part was fitted. So, instead of arriving at Layton House in time for lunch as they’d intended, it was the afternoon when they drove down a treelined country lane and at last came to the entrance.

  Verity stopped the car and they both looked across at the stone pillars supporting heavily ornate wrought-iron gates. On one pillar there was a copper plate deeply etched with the words ‘Layton House’.