Part 15 (1/2)

”I suppose knowing you I should not be surprised,” Vulcan said. ”But I am!”

”Personally, I think it was rather foolhardy of you to attempt such a journey,” Sir Roderick said, ”but I suppose it was no more dangerous than going to Mecca.”

Vulcan threw back his head and laughed.

”Uncle Roderick, you are incorrigible! And the best-informed man in the world!”

”You forget that you are a relation, and I have always been very interested in my relations, though I have not seen as much of them as I might have done. ”

If Vulcan was surprised so was Astara.

Sir Roderick had said Vulcan was a drifter, a wanderer. How could he reconcile that with the incredible bravery of a man who had achieved the impossible, who had made the pilgrimage to mecca and penetrated the secrecy of Harrar.

”I myself find all this bogeybogey about secret cities and mysterious shrines boring and in most cases exaggerated,”

William remarked. ”What good do such journeys do anyone, least of all yourself?”

Astara thought that Vulcan would tell his cousin how interested the a.s.sociation in England and the Societe in Paris were in what he had achieved.

Instead he replied : ”I am looking forward, William, to healing of your adventures on the turf. Topsail was certainly a popular winner in Little Wilden!”

”I thought it would give the locals something to talk about,” William said complacently. ”Did you back him yourself?”

”To tell the truth, I forgot to do so,” Vulcan replied.

Seeing the supercilious smile on William's lips Astara knew that he thought the real reason why Vulcan had abstained was that he could not afford it.

She wondered if Sir Roderick would notice the cut and thrust between the two cousins, and then was sure that he was well aware of it.

She wondered if William's obvious antipathy to Vulcan was due to her.

Then she told herself it might in part be the fact that Vulcan looked so outstanding, so different in a way that was difficult to explain from his two cousins.

Conventionally dressed, as elegant as they were, there should have been little outward difference between them.

Yet as fat- as she was concerned Vulcan had a personality which shone almost like a beacon fire in the darkness of the night.

He made both William and Lionel pale into insignificance, and while she was acutely aware of him she felt Sir Roderick was too.

As she had done every night when dinner was over, she left the gentlemen to their port.

Usually they joined her within ten minutes, but she knew as she waited in the Salon that every second seemed a century because she was separated from Vulcan.

All she could do was wonder what he was feeling and if he was thinking of her.

Yesterday he had told her that she had come into his life and he could never let her go. She had known that he had spoken the truth when he said: ”I shall be counting the seconds, my little G.o.ddess, until to-morrow evening.”

She had counted the seconds all day and now she was not sure of what Vulcan felt about her and if he wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her as he had done after asking her to go with him to Paris.

Did he still want her? Would he now want to marry her? Was his love deeper than his desire for adventure?

The questions seemed to whirl round her, repeating and re-repeating themselves.

Then she heard the gentlemen's voices as they came from the Dining Room and felt her heart beating as if it might jump from her breast because in a moment Vulcan would be near her again.

He came into the room walking beside Sir Roderick and talking with an ease that made her feel as if she must run towards him to ask him to put his arms round her and hold her close.

”Love me! Love me!” she willed as he came towards her.

His eyes were however not on her face but on the pictures on the walls.

”I see you have a new Van d.y.k.e,” he said looking to-wards one that had been hung in the centre of the wall between the door and the fireplace.

”Do you like it?” Sir Roderick asked.

”I think he is the only artist who could have done you justice, Uncle Roderick.”

Sir Roderick smiled, delighted at the compliment.

”I have often thought that myself, ” he said. ”And who would you 'suggest would be the best artist to paint Astara? Two Italians who tried to capture her on canvas failed utterly. ”

For the first time since he had entered the room Vulcan looked at Astara.

To her his eyes seemed to flicker over her almost dispa.s.sionately.

She looked up at him feeling he must be aware of how much she was loving him and how she wanted him to understand why she had deceived him.

”There are only two people who could do Astara justice,” Vulcan said at length, ”Botticelli and myself!”

Astara gasped as he said the last word and Sir Roderick said: ”An excellent idea! When will you paint her?”

”I doubt if you would appreciate the result, Vulcan replied, ”but of course like everything else it is a question of time.”

”Are we to infer from you that you are going away again?” William asked.

He had come into the room behind his uncle and Astara had not even realised he was there.

”Very shortly,” Vulcan replied.

”Then perhaps Astara will have a lucky escape in not having to submit to sitting for you,” William said, ”especially since, if I may suggest it, you are not well known enough to have the privilege of such a uniquely beautiful model.”

There was no doubt that William intended to be un-pleasant.

But as if Sir Roderick had no intention of allowing the friction between the two cousins to continue, he merely said to Vulcan ”Come and look at the pictures I have acquired in these last two years. You come and show them to him, too, Astara. After all, they are as much your choice as mine.” Astara moved quickly to Sir Roderick's side. She saw the expression on Williams face as she did so and felt inclined to laugh.

For the first time since he had come to Worfield House William s nose was out of joint, and like a spoilt, small boy he was extremely put out and annoyed by the fact.