BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
FIRST EDITION
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2006
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2006
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2006 ISBN: 9780007279593
Version: 2017-10-25
For my husband Robert Bradford, who has lived with these characters for over twenty-six years, and has never lost patience with them or with me. With my love.
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One
Powerful Allies
Edward & Neville
Chapter One: Yorkshire—1904
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five: London
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine: Florence
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven: Carrara
Chapter Twelve: Kent
Chapter Thirteen: London
Chapter Fourteen: Ravenscar
Part Two
Golden Boy
Edward & Lily
Chapter Fifteen: Kent
Chapter Sixteen: London
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two: Ravenscar
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Ravenscar
Chapter Thirty-Eight: London
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty: Ravenscar
Chapter Forty-One: Ripon
Chapter Forty-Two: London
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Part Three
Glittering Temptations
Edward & Elizabeth
Chapter Forty-Five: London—1907
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight:Yorkshire
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two: London
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five: Paris—1908
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven: London—1912
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Ravenscar—1914
Chapter Sixty: London
Bibliography
Author’s Note
About The Author
Also by Barbara Taylor Bradford
About The Publisher
PART ONE
Edward & Neville
‘Princely to behold, of body mighty, strong and clean made.’
Sir Thomas More
‘Yet there was magnanimity in him, and if he is not quite a tragic protagonist, he is a memorable human being. He refused to admit that there were disadvantages he could not overcome and defeats from which he could not recover, and he had the courage, and vanity, to press his game to the end.’
Paul Murray Kendall
‘Their relationship, like their division of authority, was amiable and undefined.’
Paul Murray Kendall
ONE
Edward Deravenel galloped ahead at great speed, leaving his brothers behind, rapidly gaining the advantage. He urged his white stallion forward, oblivious to the icy weather, the lash of the wind on his face.
At one moment, half turning in the saddle, glancing behind him, Edward laughed out loud, his hilarity filling the air as he waved to his brothers: George, trying to catch up, his face grim in its determination…Richard, struggling even farther behind, yet laughing and waving back. But then he was the youngest, and much less competitive, the baby of the family and Edward’s particular favourite.
For a split second Edward considered slowing down and allowing Richard to win this race, which had come about so spontaneously a short while before, then instantly changed his mind.
George would inevitably contrive to finish first, by pushing Richard out of the way in his overriding desire to be the winner. Somehow he always managed to do this, whenever he had the opportunity, no matter what the circumstances. And this Edward could not permit. Not ever. He strived to make certain Richard was never humiliated, never diminished by George, who was older than Richard by three years.
Edward continued at a gentler pace along the narrow path, glancing down to his left as he did. The plunging cliffs fell steeply to the rocks and the beach; six hundred feet below him the North Sea roared under the gusting wind, like polished steel in the winter sunlight.
The surging waves frothed and churned against the jagged rock formations, while above him kittiwakes, graceful and buoyant in flight, squawked stridently as they wheeled and turned against the pale sky. Hundreds of these beautiful white gulls with black-tipped wings made their homes on projecting ledges of rock on the cliff faces; as a child he had watched them nesting through his binoculars.
He shivered involuntarily as the sudden remembrance of a tragedy of long ago hit him. A man in his father’s employment, who had been bird-watching, had plunged to his death from this very spot. Now, instinctively, Edward veered away from the precarious cliffs, headed in the direction of the dirt road which led across the moors and was much safer terrain.
This morning the moorland was dun-coloured and patched with slabs of frozen snow, and there was no question in Edward’s mind that he much preferred riding up here in the warmer months.
He mentally chastised himself for taking his brothers out on this January day. He had realized, rather late, that it was far too bitter, especially for Richard, who tended to catch cold so easily. He dare not contemplate his mother’s ire if the boy fell sick because of this ill-conceived outing on the cliffs.
Swinging his head, he saw that the boys had again slowed and were lagging behind, were obviously even more fatigued by the long ride. He must spur them on, encourage them to move forward, get them home without delay and into the warmth of the house.
Beckoning to them, he shouted, ‘Come on, chaps! Let’s get a move on!’ And he set off at a brisk canter, hoping they would follow suit.
Once or twice he glanced behind him, pleased that they had heeded his words and were hard on his heels. Within minutes, much to his profound relief, their ancestral home was in his direct line of vision and he couldn’t wait to arrive there.
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