Joan Wolf by A London Season Read Free Book Online Page A

boy, brown and gold as a young god, stood quietly holding the glossy chestnut horse whose coat reflected the light of the sun. It was dazzling, yet it was curiously peaceful, Miss Becker thought. Just so must the world have looked before the fall.
    She turned to Jane, a look almost of reverence on her face. “It is beautiful, Jane. But you knew that."
    Jane's face relaxed. “I thought it was good,” she said cautiously.
    "It is more than good. You are a painter, my dear."
    "No,” Jane contradicted. “I'm not a painter yet. But someday I will be."
    "You are one now.” Miss Becker looked again at the painting. “There are some techniques you have still to learn, but your use of color is extraordinary.” She looked at Jane curiously. “What are you going to do with this?"
    "Give it to David for his birthday."
    "Is that David in the picture?” Miss Becker was the only one at Miss Farner's who knew anything about him.
    "Yes."
    "He is beautiful."
    "Yes,” said Jane matter-of-factly. “I think so."
    * * * *
    The Christmas holidays came and Jane was at Heathfield to give David his picture on his seventeenth birthday, which was two days after Christmas day. Then she returned to school and winter set in. On February twelfth, Laura Rivingdale returned to Hailsham Lodge, having become extremely bored with her husband and children, all of whom were at their main residence near Canterbury in Kent. She had thought of going to London, but the idea of London in February was blighting. It did not take her long to decide that Newmarket would be more amusing.
    When her husband expressed surprise at her decision, she simply shrugged and said she needed to get away. He suspected she had a new lover and, since he had a new mistress he wanted the freedom to pursue, he made no objections to her going.
    Laura Rivingdale was a very beautiful woman and at the moment she was very bored. She was tall and statuesque, with slanting green eyes and lovely, tawny hair. She had married George Rivingdale when she was eighteen and had given him two sons. After that she felt she had done her duty and they both looked elsewhere for their pleasures. The children were being reared by a nursemaid at their home in Kent.
    She came to Newmarket because she could not forget David's face. When she rode over to Heathfield, it was to discover that Jane had returned to school and the Marquis was at a houseparty at Bellerman Hall. She managed to run down David in the stables. He was courteous, although he obviously had no idea what it was she wanted. She left after a few minutes, her image of him only reinforced by the flesh-and-blood reality. He looked curiously innocent and pure, she thought. Really beautiful. She was very glad she had come.
    David didn't give her a thought. He went home after dark as he did every night and found his dinner simmering in the oven. He lit the candles and went to see what Mrs. Copley had left him to eat. As he was setting the table he heard the door open. He looked up and saw Laura Rivingdale.
    She came into the room and closed the door behind her. “I was lonely all by myself in that great house,” she said. “I thought I'd come and talk to you."
    He didn't ask her why she had come to Newmarket alone. He didn't point out the number of servants at the Lodge. He simply laid the fork on the table and said quietly, “I see."
    She took off her cloak and came forward into the light of the fire. She looked very lovely. “I have been thinking of you, David,” she said softly.
    "Have you?” He hadn't moved, and his still beauty drew her like a magnet.
    "Yes,” she murmured huskily. She was tall, but she had to reach up quite a long way to pull his head down to meet hers. He remained perfectly still for a minute, with her mouth on his, as if he were holding his breath. Then his arms came up to encircle her and draw her closer. After a long moment she pulled back from him and looked up, meeting his eyes, golden now with desire.