The Lady Who Broke the Rules by Marguerite Kaye Page A

sarcastically, though, in fact, she was impressed, and shamefully excited by his strength. She wondered what he would be like naked, and gave a little shiver which she quickly covered up, pushing the door back on its protesting hinges. A sensible woman would conclude that kissing Virgil again would be extremely foolish. Dangerous, even. So why was she thinking that the very impossibility of kissing Virgil again was what made it—well, possible. Safe? Not that, but…
    Like swimming naked, as she sometimes did under cover of the night. It gave her a vicarious thrill to know how appalled her aunt would be, how outraged everyone would be, a thrill she could savour all the more for knowing she was highly unlikely to be caught. Kissing Virgil would be that kind of safe and a whole lot more exciting. Too exciting. She had to stop thinking about it and concentrate on the task in hand.
    Shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom through the fanlight above the door. Their boots rang out on the chequered marble of the reception hall. Dust motes danced, stirred up by the sweep of Kate’s skirts. The place smelled musty, though there was an acrid undertone. ‘Cats,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Cousin Frederica had at least a dozen of them. They get in and out through the stillroom window. At least it should mean that there won’t be any mice.’ She stirred the pile of leaves and twigs which filled the hearth of the large fireplace with her boot, disturbing the remnants of a bird’s nest. ‘We’ll need to have all the chimneys swept. And if this is anything to go by,’ she said, gazing up at the cobwebs which swung in silver threads from the wrought iron chandelier, ‘it will take an army to clean.’
    The room to the right was the drawing room. Virgil threw open the creaking shutters which guarded the window, flooding it with light. The furniture was draped in Holland covers, the carpets rolled in one corner, but the room was pleasantly proportioned, the plain wall panelling and cornicing painted in pale shades of green. ‘At least it doesn’t smell damp.’ A cloud of dust flew out of the window hangings when Kate shook them, making her sneeze.
    Across the hall again there was a dining room and a small music room. To the rear of the ground floor, the windows of the study, another salon and the breakfast parlour, which opened out onto the wilderness of the garden. Virgil opened the catches and walked out into the late-morning sunshine. The fountain was clogged with ivy. A mangy brindled cat eyed him malignantly from the muddy basin. Another was washing itself perched atop a stone lion which guarded the entrance to what had once been a rose garden. ‘I hope your new relative likes felines,’ Virgil said, as yet another of the furry creatures twined itself around his legs.
    ‘They seem friendly enough,’ Kate said, ‘and she’s going to need some friends. Should I arrange to have the guttering cleaned, do you think?’
    ‘You’re going to a lot of bother for this woman. I thought you said she was just coming for a visit.’
    ‘If her claim is proved, her son is my father’s heir. Castonbury Park will be her home.’
    ‘Unless she marries again.’
    ‘Well, I suppose—I hadn’t considered that.’ Kate looked thoughtful. ‘She is only just widowed, but I believe she is quite young, and according to my cousin Ross she’s pretty so—Lord, that really would set the cat amongst the pigeons.’
    ‘How so?’
    ‘My father wants his heir here at Castonbury. He certainly won’t tolerate the child being raised by another man. Giles says he’s already set his lawyers onto sorting out a legal guardianship for the boy. If his mother is not careful, she will find that she has signed away her rights to her child.’
    ‘Surely she would not be so foolish?’
    Kate shrugged. ‘Since Jamie did not see fit to inform the family that he was married, there was no settlement made for her. She is wholly dependant upon my