Page 63 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

What is it? she thought. Is it love? Is this what it feels like? It wasn’t what she had read about, or heard other girls discuss. They talked about ‘falling’ in love, but there had been no falling. She had been struck by some force – a jolt, it had seemed, like a silent, painless earthquake that had shifted all her perceptions an inch to the left and into another dimension. This feeling, this difference, was where she lived now, an entirely separate place, and there was no going back. She had seen girls in love giggle and blush and whisper to each other, but she had no urge to do anything of the sort. This feeling of hers was profound and rather solemn. She needed to discover first if she could still breathe.

‘What—?’ she managed to say.

‘I didn’t mean—’ he said.

She looked at his mouth and had an overwhelming desire to kiss it; and she knew, somehow or other, that he was thinking the same thing.

Voices drifted towards them from the people following and, at the same time, they realised what a spectacle they were providing. Nina glanced back. Fortunately it was still Miss Courtlandt and Mr de Grey, whose attention was all for each other. The others were even further behind.

‘We had better walk on,’ she said, and was amazed to hear her voice sound quite steady, though distant.

‘Yes,’ he said. He released her hand, and she felt a rush of hollow coldness as if life itself were being withdrawn from her. He was Lord Stainton and she was Miss No-one-at-all, as she had said lightly in the world Before. The irony was not lost on her. He was still Lord Stainton, but now he was also him. And she was host to a passion that, like a parasite, she was afraid would consume her, because there was nothing she could do either to feed it, or end it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The day passed in a dream: luncheon; a walk round the walled gardens for the ladies, and a visit to the stables for the gentlemen. Conversation, music, cards. She was not at any time particularly near him, but she knew where he was in the room. She chatted with other people, listened, lubricated the conversation as she always did, but was not really aware of what anyone said. She knew without looking when he went out of the room to play billiards, saw without seeing when he came back. She knew, without having to verify it, when he was looking at her: his eyes on her face were like a physical touch. And when their eyes met, it caused a pang deep in her stomach.

Tea-time. More conversation.

She found herself alone on a settle with Kitty, balancing teacup and plate. For the moment, no-one else was nearby.

Kitty said, ‘I envied you your walk back from church.’

‘Were your mama and papa difficult?’ Nina asked. The words seemed to arrive at random, as though some other Nina – the one in the Before world – were sending them through.

‘They asked me about the people I danced with last night. That’s all. Wanted to know what they’d said to me. Really, they want to know if anyone wants to marry me,’ she concluded abruptly.

‘My Mr Cowling admired you greatly,’ Nina said. ‘He said you reminded him of his wife, whom he loved.’

‘Oh, Nina, don’t,’ Kitty said, hurt. ‘Don’t make fun.’

‘I didn’t mean to. Does anyone want to marry you?’

‘If they do, they never say so, not to me. I don’t even know if they like me. They like you. They’re so easy with you. Why are you so different?’

‘It’s because I don’t matter,’ Nina said, ‘so they can say anything they like. But they do like you, Kitty, only I suppose they have to be careful what they say, because marriage is an important thing for people like them, and like you.’

‘I hate being people like me,’ Kitty said passionately. ‘I wish I could swap lives with you. You’d be so good at mine. What use is all this money to me if I can’t have the person I want – or even speak to him?’

‘So there is someone you fancy?’ Nina said.

‘I don’t think he even knows I’m there. When I dance with him, I can’t think of a single thing to say, and we go round and round in silence. But you – I’ve seen him talking to you. He’s like a different person. Annabel Courtlandt said you never stopped talking all the way back from church.’

Nina felt a cold chill on the back of her neck. ‘Lord Stainton?’ she said in a faint voice. ‘You’re in love with Lord Stainton?’

‘You see? You say it as if it’s the silliest thing ever,’ Kitty said bitterly.

‘No, no – just that you’ve never said anything.’

‘What would be the point?’ Kitty said. She stood up. ‘I’m going up to dress.’

‘The bell hasn’t gone yet,’ Nina said automatically.

‘I just want to be alone for a bit,’ Kitty said, and was gone.

Nina sat for a moment, rigid. Why should she be surprised that it was Stainton Kitty preferred? Wasn’t he the most worthy of being loved? And hadn’t he always been kind to Kitty – gentle and thoughtful of her – when they were all together?

Kitty loved Stainton. Something twisted bitterly inside her. She might have enjoyed her newly discovered love for a while, even if it was hopeless, thought about him secretly, talked to him when opportunity arose. But Kitty loved him, and loyalty to Kitty dictated that she must not think of him at all, not any more. She was only here for Kitty – otherwise, she would never have met him.