Nicola Cornick by True Colours Page B

direction of the drawing-room.
    ‘Unfortunately I have a prior engagement to go riding, but there is plenty of time, and I know Papa hopes for the chance of a chat! Perhaps we might stay until after dinner? Or indeed until tomorrow, since I do not suppose you to wish to travel after dark?’ She made it all sound comfortably domestic and cosy, and her gaze was bright and innocent. There was no reason for Alicia to feel the same vague uneasiness stir within her, but she did and she could not place the reason. Perhaps it was Annabella’s deliberate insouciance, or perhaps she was simply imagining things.
    ‘I would prefer to leave today,’ she said, a little stiffly. Above all, she wished to be home at Chartley to achieve a little peace. ‘I had made no arrangements for an overnight stay.’
    ‘Oh, very well.’ Annabella seemed to dismiss it as of little importance. ‘But tell me about London! We hear much about you, even buried here in the country! We are so dull.’ She pulled a face. ‘I saw Severn’s heir when he was staying with the Milburns at Stoakely Manor. You must have had windmills in your head to refuse his proposal, sister dear—a Viscount, and so handsome! Thirty thousand a year! Why, Ideclare, if I had half your chances I should not waste them as you do! Lud, to think—’
    ‘Annabella—’ There was something in Bertram Broseley’s voice which brought the colour rushing to Annabella’s face. She paused in the drawing-room doorway.
    ‘La, here I am running on so, and you must be fagged to death after your journey! I will ask Mrs Rivers to send in refreshments, and—’ she turned to the maid with a dazzling smile ‘—Castle will escort your maid to the housekeeper’s room whilst you wait. Until later, then, sister dear!’
    She swung out of the main door, shouting for her groom, and Bertram Broseley took Alicia’s arm in a firm grip and guided her into the drawing-room. She found that she had to make a conscious effort not to brush him off, so strong was her feeling of distaste. The atmosphere of constraint in the house seemed very strong; this visit was proving even more difficult than she had imagined. She had seldom felt so uncomfortable, although her father seemed quite unaware of her feelings.
    ‘Do you ever see your cousin Josiah?’ he enquired sociably as they crossed the threshold and the door was shut on Annabella’s demanding voice.
    Alicia sighed. It was scarcely a happy choice of question with which to start the conversation rolling after seven years. Josiah Broseley, the son of Bertram’s younger brother, was foolish and feckless, and aspired to live the life of a gentleman in London. Alicia seldom saw him unless he came begging for funds, but despite her exasperation with him she found she could not dislike him, for he had a surface charm that was engaging. What worried her more was the knowledge that, in his more impecunious moments, Josiah had undertaken some work for Bertram Broseley. He was not discriminating when it came to funding his more questionable habits, nor was Broseley selective if he felt he could use someone to his advantage.
    Alicia returned some slight, negative reply to his enquiry and looked about the room with interest. It was dark and oppressively hot. There were heavy curtains which all but hid the windows. It was an ugly room, and Alicia realised that it had not been altered since the last time she had been in it. Now the furnishings looked old and outmoded, the wall-hangings a threadbare shadow of their former rich show. An huge fire was burning in the grate and added to the overpowering warmth. The heat and tension between them were combining to make Alicia’s headache much worse, but Bertram Broseley seemed totally unaffected.He had spent much of his life in tropical climates, and no doubt felt the cold, particularly during an English winter.
    Alicia took a seat on one of the puffy sofas which had looked so elegant twenty years previously, but now