The Art of Love by Lilac Lacey Page A

confines of the tiny room. Rodney’s letter, inviting him to Wallingford, lay on the beaureau taunting him. Tara had made it obvious that she would be there. Had she changed her mind about Rodney? It seemed likely if she was now planning a sojourn to his home. In frustration Leo snatched up the letter and crumpled it, then something caught his eye. The ammonite fossil he used as a paperweight had been moved from off the stack of papers it held down and now sat impotently on the top of the desk. Furthermore the papers were no longer in a tidy pile, it looked very much as if someone had read his letter from Rodney and then leafed through his correspondence looking for further information.
    She knew he had been invited to Wallingford and she wanted to know if he would be there! Now what exactly had she said to Rodney? Leo made himself review the conversation dispassionately. Rodney had commented that it would be nice for his father to see Tara again and she had replied ‘Yes.’ It was hardly Romeo and Juliet. Suddenly life looked rather less bleak. He would go to Wallingford and spend a whole week in Tara’s company. Yes, things looked rather less bleak indeed. Whistling softly Leo penned a quick reply to Rodney.
     
    Dear Hulme,
    Delighted to join you at your home on the fifteenth,
     
    Fosse

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Tara had been to Wallingford six years earlier, shortly before her come out and while her father was still alive. Lord Penge had been a friend of old Lord Hulme and while the two families had not met often, Tara had always thought of Rodney’s father as a sort of grandfather and was sure he viewed her as a daughter or granddaughter in return. He would have liked to have seen a match between herself and Rodney, but she was quite sure he would be equally taken with the prospect of pretty Lady Susannah Maxwell as a daughter-in-law instead. She hoped Rodney would propose and announce the engagement while she was visiting, it would be fun to share in the excitement of a betrothal. She couldn’t help thinking a little wistfully though, of the last time she had been here, with her mother and father and her little brother Richard, not so little now, and in his fourth year at Eton. It was almost the last thing they had done as a family - her father had succumbed to the depression which had plagued him for many years and taken his own life a scant month later. This time she was travelling here quite unchaperoned, with only her maid Betty for company on the journey.
    The road ran parallel to the Thames, which, once away from London, sparkled and danced in the June sunlight. The journey was not arduous, but Tara was pleased when at last the carriage rounded a corner and Wallingford Manor came into sight. Its long lawns swept down to the edge of the river and a double row of elms marked the arrow-straight driveway. Briskly the horses crossed the stone bridge and then trotted up to the house. With a toss of her head Tara shook off her gloomy thoughts. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself last time she had visited and this week held the same promise of luxury and fun - tinged with the possibility of so much more if Leo were there too. She gazed at the house, he could already be inside, but its many windows twinkled blandly in the sun and told her nothing.
    Her carriage drew up in front of the Manor and the Hulme’s butler came out to greet her, trailed by two footmen who at once started unstrapping her luggage. ‘Lady Tara, welcome to Wallingford,’ the butler said and Tara wondered if he had recognised her or had simply been well briefed as to the appearance of each guest. With a guest list as small as this one it was quite possible.
    She was shown into an exquisite peach-coloured room, its walls lined in pale peach paper and the curtains and bed covering in a darker peach satin. There were tiny cushions, patterned with little pink flowers, on the white sofa and there was a sampler on the wall, its verse in praise of the