A Seven Year Hitch by Mary Beeken Page A

and then gave himself a vigorous mental shake. Of-course it wasn’t. She was merely an annoying termagant, whom he found diverting. That was all. Enough said.
    On making his way back to the drawing room, Trevellyn discovered that Erica had not put in an appearance.
    “There you are, Trevellyn. Was Erica outside with you?” asked Gerald.
    Deciding that half a truth was better than an outright lie, he answered, “Yes, we were both studying the night sky and I managed to put out the constellations to her. But that was quite a while ago. I thought she was coming here.”
      “She’s probably consulting with Boodle and Mrs. Kavanagh about the activities for tomorrow ,” piped up Aunt Hebe. “She is always such a conscientious hostess.”
    “My dear boy, would you care t o partner me in a game of cards,” The Duchess asked Trevellyn, rising from the sofa and heading towards a little card table that Stephen was setting up.
    “Of-course mother, anything to oblige,” he graciously agreed and followed her down the room.
    Charlotte wants to teach Sophie how to play so we must be gentle with them,” she explained as all four of them took their seats.
     
    It was around twenty minutes later when Erica, having regained a level of composure, entered the room. She was pleasantly surprised by the calm and quietness of the room and glanced around at her extended family and close friends. Obviously the gala had tired them for they were content to enjoy each other’s company whilst pursuing their own activities. Several were engrossed in books, the younger ones having discarded their shoes and curled their feet up under them. Fiona and Stephen were sitting close together watching Michael, Charlie and Great Uncle James building an elaborate and somewhat unstable house of cards. Others were gently snoozing whilst waiting for the tea tray to be brought in. She felt such an intense wave of love for them that warmed her insides and soothed her tumultuous emotions. She smiled, fighting the urge to grin.
    Trevellyn watched her enter the room and felt the now familiar stir of emotion that happened whenever she was near. He watched her glance around the room, and witnessed her love for her family in the smile she bestowed upon them. His breath caught in his throat and he knew what he wanted. He would do everything in his power to have her smile at him like that. He wanted her love and nothing less would do.
    “Ross Devereaux, will you pay attention,” The Duchess admonished in her sternest voice, which happened to carry around the room.
    “When you call me that mother, I know I have seriously erred ,” laughed Trevellyn.
    Gerald, who was in the act of replenishing his drink, spun around spilling brandy on the floor and down his clothes.
    “Bloody hell!” he swore.
    Sir Richard looked askance and Erica, who still remained on the threshold, snapped her head round to stare at Trevellyn in total disbelief and shock. She visibly blanched and looked to be in imminent danger of collapse.
    Trevellyn was strongly aware of the instant tension that had rippled around when his mother had used his given name rather than his title.
    He had not survived seven years as a spy in France without developing certain skills including observing several events at once. He witnessed Gerald’s shocked reaction and took in Sir Richard’s sudden alertness but most of all he was honed in on the deathly white figure of Erica.
    He began to raise, intent on reaching her before she fainted, but sat again when he saw Sir Richard stride towards her. He wrapped an arm around her and talked earnestly to her in a lowered tone that only she could hear. She had not removed her gaze from his face but whatever Sir Richard was saying seemed to have some impact for she eventually nodded and allowed him to lead her out. Gerald received a nod and he too made his way towards the door.
    “Language young man, there a re ladies present you know,” Aunt Clara chastised her nephew.