A Little Deception (34 page)

‘It’s much too good for Yarrowby, don’t you think?’ Arabella
dimpled at Felix.

‘I’ll take it,’ offered Felix, with a sly grin. ‘It’s a fine
advertisement of my skills. When I’ve tired of the social whirligig, and my
impatient brother has put me out to grass on a paltry allowance I’ll have to
find some means of keeping my future wife in silk stockings.’

‘You must be nice to Rose because when she becomes a
well-established society matron you might need her patronage,’ Arabella teased.

Looking embarrassed as Rose mumbled some excuse about seeing
to dinner before leaving, Arabella lowered her voice as she stepped closer to Felix.
‘Surely the rumours aren’t true?’ Then, more robustly, ‘How could Rose have
anything to do with the missing diamond necklaces when she is languishing up
here … while your brother does nothing to gainsay the gossips who like nothing
better than to say the rift between Lord and Lady Rampton came even sooner than
expected.’

Felix looked admiring. ‘I say, you are quite the little
information monger. I thought you’d been drowning your sorrows in this ignorant
backwater and quite oblivious to what’s going on in town.’

She dimpled. ‘I have friends who keep me in gossip.’ A shadow
crossed her face. ‘At first I was only interested in hearing what Lord Yarrowby
was up to but then everything else started to get interesting. And really, Lord
Yarrowby is terribly old and has silver in his hair and perhaps he’d have left
me a widow for a very long time.’

‘Repeating the litany of comforts you’ve managed to come up
with?’ Felix grinned before frowning, ‘I thought he was my brother’s age.’

‘Oh, he is,’ said Arabella blithely. ‘He’s very old, too,
which is why I’m surprised he still wants to be a young buck and send his wife
to the country so he can gallivant around town with the ladies.’

Forgetting himself, Felix put a comforting arm around
Arabella’s shoulders. ‘I can’t understand what the devil is the matter with
Rampton, but although that might have been in character once, I do believe he’s
changed.’

Arabella chewed her lip. ‘I think Helena’s got something to
do with it,’ she said. ‘I think she’s made up stories which your brother has
wanted to believe.’

‘Not without evidence,’ said Felix. ‘Rampton can be deuced
vexing but he’s not a nodcock and he wanted this marriage. His enthusiasm was
decidedly out of character as was his sanguine attitude towards being duped.’
He shook his head, pulling Arabella closer as he stared thoughtfully at the two
paintings. ‘Something decidedly havey-cavey is going on, Bella, and it’s time
we found out what.’

***

‘Felix!’

There was more surprise than warmth in the inflection of
Rampton’s voice. His brother, radiating his usual robust good health and
general bonhomie reminded Rampton – who felt both smug and wistful at the
thought – of a reincarnation of a much younger version of himself. It
seemed a long time since he had walked into a room and thrown himself down upon
a chair with such abandonment and obvious satisfaction with life.

Rose had been less than a week in the country and he felt as
though the sun had gone out of his life.

‘Fanshawe said you weren’t going out tonight.’ Felix raked
his fingers through his dark curls. ‘And since I’ve just returned from
discharging – most assiduously, I might add – your parting command,
I thought you might like to hear how things are faring at home.’

There was a secretive smile on his face as he assessed the
shine of his hessians, his long legs stretched out in front of the fire.

Rampton was glad he had his face averted. When he turned,
bearing two glasses of brandy, one of which he offered his brother, he had
schooled his features into more ordered lines.

‘Mother’s well, I trust.’

‘Oh, you know … same as usual.’ Raised eyebrows and a
glimpse of the whites of his eyes indicated what did not need to be said.
‘She’d certainly have been more content had you chosen the younger Chesterfield
sister for a wife.’

Rampton took a swallow of the amber liquid. The burning
sensation was welcome. ‘And how is Arabella bearing up?’ he asked. ‘Not driving
mother to distraction with her moping?’

‘Moping? Oh, yes, of course, Yarrowby.’ Felix took a gulp
and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. An even more wicked glint
appeared in his eye. ‘As I’ve been following your instructions to the letter
I’ve not allowed Arabella to spare him a thought the past couple of days. Poor
Rose is missing you, though.’

‘I understand the doctor saw her yesterday.’

‘Can’t imagine why. She’s the picture of good health, though
she’ll run herself into the ground if she’s not careful. You’ll be impressed
with the changes she’s made. New cook, for one thing.’

Rampton decided he didn’t like this tack. Rose, in good
spirits, when she ought to have more reason to be pining even than Arabella.
But then, Geoffrey Albright was right next door.

He banished the thought. There was no substance to it. The
odious Oswald had planted the idea in his head.

But then, so had Helena. And his thoughts kept to returning
to why Rose should lie about having met Geoffrey in the West Indies? Why deny
that they have ever known one another when too many accounts corroborated the
fact they had? For the week Rose had been at Larchwood Rampton had left no
stone unturned in his attempts to prove Rose was entirely innocent of
wrong-doing.

It weighed heavily on her shoulders that he could find nothing
to exonerate her.

Faithlessness was one matter but then there was the felony.
The theft of Lady Chawdrey’s necklace lay conclusively at Rose’s door and now
that several other valuable baubles had been reported missing at events
attended by Rose he’d been told that Catherine Barbery was running around
dredging up the evening she’d discovered Rose wearing her own diamond collar.

Why, it smacked of lunacy. He ran the back of his hand
across his eyes. If Rose had only trusted him with the truth. He recalled the
guileless look in her eye as she denied knowing anything about the necklace
she’d pawned when the evidence was irrefutable.

As for Geoffrey, he still couldn’t reconcile the idea of
Rose harbouring a secret tendre for the unworthy Geoffrey.

Flooded with resolve to visit Rose at Larchwood, he refilled
his brandy. He’d sent Rose away partly in order to protect her from the
gossips. Perhaps another theft while she was gone would deflect interest in the
whisper that she was somehow responsible. Of course she wasn’t! Rampton had
kept her close by his side at each of these entertainments. The only
opportunity would have been if she’d visited the ladies retiring rooms…

Another thought intruded.

Oswald. The odious Oswald had been quicker than Helena to
mire his wife in suspicion. Wasn’t it equally possible Oswald was behind those
suspicions? Did he have a secret motive for blackening Rose’s name? He’d
already gone over this avenue but somehow he must have missed something.
Hearing Felix discuss Rose made his heart cleave with frustrated longing for
her.

‘What did you say, Felix?’ He jerked his head round to
attend to his brother while his spirits soared at the thought of seeing Rose
again and going through everything that might exonerate her.

‘I said, if you weren’t the elder I’d be charging you with a
similar mission to the one I’ve just undertaken.’ He grinned. ‘Different
sister, though, if you take my drift. Anyway, I suggested Arabella come back to
town which she thought that a jolly idea.’ He hesitated. ‘Told me some
unbelievable
on dits
, though—’
His blue eyes bored into Rampton’s. ‘About the West Indies and Albright
and—’

The ugly fears which had swamped Rampton earlier returned
with a vengeance. He clenched his hands so tightly that his glass was in danger
of splintering. Breathing heavily, he said, ‘I don’t wish to discuss it!’

Felix blinked. Rampton appeared surprisingly agitated. Could
it possibly be true that his brother had decreed Rose’s removal to the country
to give him free rein in London with Helena - only to have Geoffrey Albright
throw a spanner in the works, as suggested by Arabella who was highly
suspicious of Helena’s involvement with their neighbour. Who’d have believed
that Rampton’s old friend had played fast and loose with Rampton’s own scheming
sister-in-law all those years before in the West Indies?

Disappointed, Felix returned to the safe contemplation of
his boots and the merry fire beyond. He was sure Rose was innocent of any
wrongdoing despite everything Lady Barbery and the gossips were saying, though
what the devil Rampton was about in sending her away, he had no idea. Rampton
should be championing Rose. Rampton’s next remark, however, went some way
towards restoring his faith. ‘As you can imagine, I’ve been worried about
Rose—’

‘Can’t imagine why,’ said Felix. ‘She’s as hale and hearty
as I’ve ever seen her.’ Her presence at Larchfield had made his visit home much
pleasanter than usual.’ Well, perhaps Arabella’s company was largely
responsible for that … and the fact that he couldn’t wait to return.

‘What did the doctor say?’ Rampton shot him a piercing look.
How much did Felix know? he wondered. The gossips were apparently having a
field day with Rose’s propensity for bold risk-taking – if Catherine were
to be believed. His five minutes in her company the previous evening had
decided him they must never be alone again. He’d nearly throttled the woman
with her inane prattle about the deep water he’d got himself into with this
hasty marriage against which she’d so strenuously warned him.

‘He was very encouraging about his patient’s general good
health.’ Felix felt it necessary to sound heartening; Rampton was looking very
long-mouthed about all this. ‘I’m sure you’ll find her blooming, and quite
anxious to see you again.’

‘You think so!’ Rampton was embarrassed to hear the echo of
his own hopefulness. He chewed his lip contemplatively. It was difficult to
know what to feel at this. Rose had behaved so reprehensively and refused to
take responsibility for her actions while she blithely deceived him on so many
counts. Could she be suffering some disorder of the brain? Did he want this to
be the case so he’d not have to suffer the pangs of wondering what deficiency
there was in him that she’d resort to thievery and, God forbid, adultery.
Adultery! He could forgive her anything but that.

Felix leant forwards. ‘I say, you wouldn’t have a spot of
Spanish bran, would you?’

With a grunt, Rampton shifted in his seat. He was never
comfortable these days; he ached to hold Rose again. Life had never felt so
complete as it had in the glorious honeymoon period that had followed their
marriage.

He rose abruptly. ‘I’m going to Larchfield,’ he said in
answer to Felix’s look of surprise. If Rose wouldn’t volunteer her role in Lady
Chawdrey’s stolen necklace he’d shame her into it.

After that…?

He disliked the unfamiliar churning in his breast; the
accompanying churnings somewhat lower were far more familiar.

Shrugging into his greatcoat after ordering his carriage, he
considered how great must be her crimes before he could no longer forgive his
wife.

‘YOU
HAVE THE money?’ Helena’s breath felt like the caress of a feather against
Oswald’s cheek as she leaned into him. A waltz was playing and couples milled
nearby but Helena and Oswald were hidden from view in a small curtained alcove
with a large, obtrusive pot plant placed near its entrance.

In the dim light, the blush of her anticipation descended to
her décolletage, swallowed up by a froth of lace. He’d once been fool enough to
mistake the signs for sexual desire.

Just as he had thought to do her bidding only once.

But Helena was only interested in the fruit of his labour
– not the desire of his loins.

‘Mmm,’ he murmured, taking advantage of their seclusion to
caress her breast. Let her think he wasn’t on to her game, he thought, and take
his rewards while he could.

‘Where is it?

Did she not have the finesse to at least pretend? Or was he
that repulsive to her?

‘I have it,’ he murmured reassuringly, dropping a line of
kisses down her neck.

She pushed him away, irritated. ‘You can’t imagine I’d reward
you before you prove you’ve discharged my request?’

The flint he recognized in her eye sent his senses into
complete revolt. What was he? An errand boy? One so beneath contempt that she
couldn’t bear that he should even touch her? When the terms of their bargain
went so far beyond that?

With an effort he reined in his uncertain temper. It would
serve no purpose to draw attention to themselves. But as he faced her down he
realized that Helena had as much intention of honouring their agreement as she did
of returning to the West Indies with her husband.

He caught her to him, roughly covering her mouth with his.

‘You’re hurting me!’

He enjoyed the way she wriggled against him, furious yet
afraid to scream. Her outrage as he ran his hands all over her, then pushed
against her, making her all too aware of his arousal, was almost worth it.