Stranger in My Arms(40)

“Captain and Mrs. Tyler!” she exclaiined, greeting them warmly.

“Welcome to Hawksworth Hall.”

Mrs. Tyler murmured shyly and curtsied, while Captain Tyler, a dark-haired gentleman with a neatly trimmed black mustache, made their replies. “How do you do, Lady Hawksworth?” He bent smartly over her gloved hand. “We were honored by your invitation. It was a very great kindness for you to include us.”

“Not at all. We are in dire need of new friends to enliven the neighborhood.” She cocked her head and smiled at him inquiringly. “I had heard that you have recently returned from service in India.”

“That is true,” he acknowledged. “It’s good to be back on English soil again.”

“You’ll have a great deal in common with my husband, t~en, as he lived there for a time.”

“I’m afraid I never had the pleasure of making Lord Hawksworth’s acquaintance, though I had heard of him. We moved in quite different circles.”

Although Captain Tyler was expressionless, Lara had the feeling that the last comment had been intended as a bit of censure. Being a military man, Tyler had probably disapproved of Hunter’s lifestyle, living in a large household with at least fifty Indian servants, all of them devoted to one man’s pleasure. No doubt Hunter had been a well-known roue’, indulging himself freely in a land of beautiful women and sensual delights. The rumors of the endless parties and orgies held in Calcutta were rampant in London, and Lara was well aware that her husband had been no saint.

The thought of Hunter’s sexual indulgences gave her a sour, unpleasant feeling, and she sought to cover it with a bland social smile. “‘If you haven’t met Lord Hawksworth,” she said, “we must rectify the matter immediately.” Glancing around the room, she saw Hunter talking to Lord Lonsdale. No doubt the two of them were involved in some conversation about hunting, drinking, or other masculine pursuits.

She caught Hunter’s eye, and he excused himself from the private conversation in order to welcome the newcomers.

Dressed in a gleaming white waistcoat and cravat, cream breeches, and a chocolate brown coat with gilt buttons, Hunter looked every inch the aristocrat with centuries of breeding behind him. Only the deep tan of his skin and the tigerish grace of his movements distinguished him from the man he had been before.

He approached them with the congenial smile of a host performing his duty … until he saw Captain Tyler’s face.

His steps slowed, and Lara thought she saw a flash of recognition in his gaze before his features were schooled into an inscrutable mask.

Captain Tyler wore the same impassive facade, but his face had turned pale, and his entire body was tense.

They knew each other-Lara was certain of it. She would have staked her life on it.

But they behaved as if they had never met.

Stunned, Lara introduced them and witnessed their stiff attempts at conversation.

Captain Tyler stared at her husband as if he were seeing a ghost.

“Congratulations on your miraculous return to England, my lord. It is the stuff of legend.”

Hunter shook his head. “You’re the legend, Captain, not I. Your accomplishments in India, particularly in suppressing the thuggees, are to be lauded.”

The captain inclined his head. “Thank you.”

Lara glanced at Mrs. Tyler, who seemed as bewildered as she. Why were the two men pretending to be strangers, when it was obvious there was some shared knowledge between them? They must have met each other in India, or perhaps they had some mutual friend or event that connected them in some mysterious way.

though Lara looked at Hunter questioningly, he did not return her gaze.

He disappeared behind a screen of impeccable politeness, betraying nothing of his true thoughts. The guests were led into the dining hall, all of them exclaiming with pleasure at the table laden with crystal, silver, candles, and flowers.

Seated far away from her husband, Lara halfheartedly entertained the guests nearest her, enduring the Misses Withers’s prattling about mignonette seeds and bedding plants, and Dr. Slade’s accounts of his latest medical accomplishments.

The first course was brought out, a delectable array of soups and fish.

It was followed by a course of venison, puddings, and vegetables, followed by another course of partridge, duck, and quail, cheesecakes and tarts, and so forth, until sweets, fruit, and biscuits were finally brought out. Wine flowed throughout the meal, the butler expertly opening bottles of Sauterne, Bordeaux and champagne, while footmen hastened to keep the guests’ glasses filled.

Hunter was drinking a great deal, Lara saw with growing dismay. He had always been a heavy drinker, but this wasn’t drinking for enjoyment’s sake… this was deliberate. As if he were trying to assuage some inner pain that wouldn’t abate. He raised his glass again and again, quiet except for an occasional biting comment that made the guests laugh. He spoke to Captain Tyler only once, when the conversation had turned to India, and Tyler was expounding on the idea that Indians were not fit for self-rule.

history has shown that the natives are a corrupt lot and not to be trusted,” Captain Tyler said earnestly. “Only through British intervention will the Indians be brought fully into the nineteenth century.

And even then, they will always require the guidance and supervision of British officers.”

Setting down his glass, Hunter sent a cool stare in Tyler’s direction.