Sara Craven - Inherited by Her Enemy

Lady Welburn came to her rescue. ‘Where in Burgundy do you live, Monsieur Duchard?’

‘A village called Terauze, madame. ’

‘Terauze?’ Sir Malcolm mused. ‘That name’s familiar. Are you involved with the wine industry, Mr Duchard?’

‘I work in the Domaine Baron Emile, monsieur .’

To Ginny’s horror, the look Rosina sent Lady Welburn could not have stated, A peasant. I knew it , more obviously if she’d shouted it aloud. But her air as she turned to Andre Duchard was gracious.

‘Are you one of the people who tread the grapes, Mr Duchard?’

‘ Non, hélas. ’ His dark face was impassive. ‘They are no longer crushed in that way. Although still picked by hand.’

‘Ah,’ Rosina said vaguely. ‘Then I suppose you have little to do at this time of year.’

‘Perhaps, at this precise moment, madame. ’ He shrugged. ‘But after the feast of St Vincent, the patron of vignerons, in ten days’ time, we begin pruning.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Rosina, and turned back to Lady Welburn with a query about the Women’s Institute.

While Andre Duchard, still smiling, resumed devoting his attention to Cilla.

Or as it was better known, blatantly flirting with her under the nose of her fiancé, thought Ginny furiously. And her ‘beautiful sister’ was responding, all sideways glances under her darkened lashes, and little soft giggles.

She’d once heard flirting defined as ‘making love without touching’ and here was a practical demonstration, as Andre Duchard smiled into Cilla’s eyes. Murmured to her, his lips just a breath from her ear...

Very different, she thought, a sudden strange pain twisting inside her, to the way he treated me. Grabbing me and kissing me—like that.

Which is something I’ve decided not to think about again, and to behave as if it never happened.

The Welburns, she could see, were studiously pretending not to notice what was going on at the other end of the table. However, one glance at Jonathan told her he was wearing his normally pleasant expression like a mask.

She turned to him, nailing on a smile, asking him about the horse she’d heard he was buying.

‘I’m paying a hefty price for it,’ he returned tersely. ‘I just hope it turns out to be worth it.’

Ginny found herself suddenly remembering Andre Duchard’s mocking reference to village gossip about Jonathan paying for his pleasures—which she’d almost forgotten in its disturbing aftermath. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to issue a sisterly warning at the earliest convenient moment.

Every scrap of food disappeared, so Ginny presumed she was the only one who’d felt that the tender flavoursome beef was like chewing old leather gloves. And the champagne jellies decorated with frosted grapes provided a delicate and perfect finale to the meal, with only Sir Malcolm and Andre Duchard opting for cheese as well.

‘Coffee in the drawing room, I think.’ Rosina rose, smoothing down her dress. ‘See to it, please, Virginia dear.’

Ginny suspected she was being got out of the way, but there was nothing she could do about it.

While Mrs Pel made the coffee and set the tray, she cleared the dining room table and loaded the dishwasher before setting off grimly for the drawing room, only to have her worst fears confirmed when she got to the door, and heard Rosina saying in tones of outrage, ‘No? You’re refusing my perfectly reasonable request without even considering it? When it was your father’s express wish that Lucilla should be married from this house? That he intended to give her away?’ Her voice throbbed. ‘Oh, this is disgraceful—unbelievable.’

Heart sinking, Ginny pushed the door wide and went in. Not that anyone noticed her arrival. Everyone was staring transfixed at the furious woman and cold-eyed young man confronting each other from opposite sides of the wide fireplace.

‘My father’s wish, madame ?’ Andre Duchard queried coldly. ‘I hardly think so. Perhaps you are not aware that only a few weeks ago he arranged for this house to be leased for three years from the end of next month, or that he himself was planning to move to France. En effet to join me in Terauze.

‘The agreement with the tenants has been signed and it would not be in my power to terminate it, even if I wished to do so.’ He added flatly, ‘Which I do not.’

In the astonished silence which followed, Ginny set the coffee tray down carefully before she dropped it. Keeping her hand steady, she picked up the heavy cafetière and began to fill the cups, her mind whirling.

Somehow, she heard herself say quietly, ‘Would you like cream, Lady Welburn?’

As if a thread had been snapped, the atmosphere in the room changed from high drama to the prosaic.

Lady Welburn said gratefully, ‘Thank you, my dear,’ then turned to her future daughter-in-law, who had started to cry. ‘Calm down, child. It’s hardly the end of the world.’

‘But we’ve ordered this really pretty marquee in pink and white stripes, and we were going to have flowers to match,’ Cilla wailed. ‘Oh, it’s too cruel of Andrew. How could he have done such a thing, and not told us?’

Probably to avoid a scene like this, Ginny thought drily.

‘Well, I don’t believe a word of it,’ Rosina said furiously.

Andre shrugged. ‘Then I suggest you consult Monsieur Hargreaves, who will confirm the details.’

‘Hargreaves?’ Rosina gave a metallic laugh. ‘I’ll find a proper lawyer of my own who won’t let me be cheated out of my rights.’

‘Cheated?’ Andre Duchard echoed musingly. ‘Perhaps, madame , that is the last argument you of all people should pursue.’

Ginny saw the high colour suddenly fade from her mother’s face and Sir Malcolm move quickly to her side.

‘Sit down, Mrs Charlton.’ He led her firmly to a chair. ‘Naturally, this has all been most distressing for you, but I’m sure Andrew had every intention of discussing his plans with you, but sadly had no time to do so.

‘It could have been a most exciting change for you both,’ he added encouragingly. ‘A whole new life.’

‘Live in France? With his bastard?’ Rosina’s voice shook. ‘I would never—never have agreed. As he should—he must have known.’

‘And my wedding,’ Cilla broke in with sudden energy. ‘What’s going to happen about my wedding—all my plans? They’re ruined,’ she added with a sob.

‘No, Lucilla, they’ll just have to be changed,’ said Lady Welburn. ‘Something we can discuss at another time when you are more composed.’

But Cilla was not to be pacified, glaring up at Ginny who was approaching with her coffee.

‘Did you know about this? I bet you did. And you can take that away. I don’t want it.’ She flung out a petulant hand, knocking the cup from Ginny’s grasp to the carpet, and spilling its contents down the taupe dress in the process.

Lady Welburn’s mouth tightened into a line of disapproval.

She said to her husband, ‘I think perhaps we should be going, my dear.’

Andre Duchard walked forward. ‘ Au contraire, madame. Please do not disturb yourself. I am clearly de trop and the one who should leave. My apologies for spoiling a pleasant evening, although the cause of the disagreement was not of my choosing. Bonsoir. ’

He offered a tight-lipped smile and walked to the door, where he turned to look back at Ginny, down on one knee retrieving the cup and saucer from the rug.

‘I wish I could regret also the damage to your dress, mademoiselle ,’ he said softly. ‘But, hélas , that is impossible. I see it rather as an act of God.’

And, with that, he went.

She should have felt insulted, she realised as she stared after him. Instead, incredibly, she had to fight to control the great gust of laughter suddenly welling up inside her.

‘You see, Lady Welburn.’ Rosina’s voice throbbed into the startled silence, reminding her there was nothing to laugh about. ‘You see how impossible it is to deal with this—creature. God knows what pressure he brought to bear on my poor Andrew. I know he would never have given up this house of his own free will, not when he knew how much it meant to me.’

She rounded on Ginny, who had risen to her feet, holding the unbroken china. ‘This is all your fault. I knew that inviting this Duchard here would be a disaster.’

Lady Welburn rose too. She said quietly, ‘I hardly think Virginia can be blamed for her late stepfather’s decisions, Mrs Charlton. Like you, she probably wasn’t consulted.’ She paused. ‘I feel we should leave you to think quietly about the situation.’ She gave Ginny a kind smile. ‘Why not go upstairs and take off that dress, my dear. Perhaps soak it in cold water.’

Or throw it in the bin, thought Ginny. Quite apart from its lack of appeal, it would always be a reminder of an evening best forgotten.

Up in her room, she quickly exchanged it for the ruby velvet robe which had been Andrew’s last birthday gift. She’d have given anything simply to go to bed, but there was still clearing up to be done, so she waited at the top of the stairs for the Welburns to depart before she ventured down again.

But as she reached the hall, the front door opened and Jonathan came in, white flakes of snow clinging to his hair and dark overcoat.

He checked when he saw her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Dad forgot his scarf.’

‘It’s there on the hall table.’ She paused as he retrieved it. ‘Jon, please apologise to your parents. I—I had no idea the evening would turn out like this.’

He gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘That goes for me too. What on earth was Cilla doing—coming on to that man like that?’

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