A Little Deception (41 page)

‘You blame me for all that?’ Rose gasped. ‘So much so that
you would see me die?’

‘It’s what you deserve for killing my hopes and dreams!’
Helena’s voice rose as she took a step back, readying herself. Poison and
hatred radiated from her crimson-clad body as she raised the shovel, its steel
edge as well-honed as a fine blade, deadly and merciless when wielded with the
force of so much hatred.

Rose jerked back but the ropes that bound her hands tautened
as Geoffrey pulled her in the other direction. To save her? Or better position
her? She was imprisoned regardless as her vision wavered and her legs buckled,
the sound of fear thundering in her ears.

So this was how it would finish. Here, in a remote part of Hampstead
Heath with her grave already half-dug. A great sob rose in her throat and she
tensed in anticipation of the blow, closing her eyes to Helena’s face, twisted
with malice, as the blade, sharp and deadly, swished through the air in line
with her neck. Her shriek seemed not to come from her as her mind raced through
all that had led to this: Helena’s determination that Rose should pay for her
perceived sins by sacrificing her happiness, and when that was not enough, her
life.

There was not even the consolation that Rampton knew the
truth; that Rose was blameless in all but assuming the role of a married woman.
For that, though, he had long ago forgiven her; embraced it, in fact.

Helena and Geoffrey were about to make off with the family
jewels, which Rampton and the rest of the world assumed she had stolen. Not
only was she now condemned to death, she was condemned to being a party to a
multitude of crimes of which she was innocent yet Rampton would forever
consider her a thief and a sinner. The fear thundered in her ears like cannon-fire.

‘No!’

All the desperation and despair at the injustice of such a
brutal, heinous act resonated from the one word. The anguished plea for
clemency echoed in the void left by the flight of rational thought as she was reduced
to a cornered animal facing slaughter. She didn’t want to die. Where was
Rampton? Where was her husband? He’d forsaken her, believing every vile lie
that had been disseminated yet she still loved him. Perhaps if he knew the
truth he’d love her too.

‘No!’

The cry continued to resonate in the chill evening air, its
desperate hollow timbre sounding eerily like it belonged to a creature from
another world. Going to another world, she thought as she was pushed to the
ground, the air knocked from her lungs, her last conscious thought that she’d
accept even a loveless existence only life was too precious to be condemned to
eternity with a reputation she didn’t deserve burnt into the memories of all
those who spoke her name.

Shock, blackness. She thought she was dead. She thought she
was still screaming but she was trapped beneath a body in a coquelicot gown and
the scream had taken on a different dimension: shrieks of pain interspersed
with disbelieving howls of rage.

Choking on the acrid smell of gunpowder, Rose struggled beneath
the weight of a body slumped over her own.

Helena?

‘In God’s name!’

She turned her bewildered face to Geoffrey, raising her
hands to see them sticky with blood. Not hers? Geoffrey must have….

But Geoffrey’s face was a mask of horror as he bent over
Rose to reach Helena now writhing beside her. Helena had uttered the cry. It came
in staccato gasps of horror as she held her hands to her wounded head.

‘What has happened to me?’ Her hysteria grew as her bloodied
hands revealed part of the answer.

‘Rose!’

A masculine voice sounded from a short distance away.
Familiar and comforting. Filled with heartfelt emotion.

Rose transferred her shocked gaze from the grisly sight of
Helena’s mutilated face, to the direction in which Geoffrey now stared as he
rose, rapidly fumbling with the knot that bound him to Rose; preparing for his
own flight though Rose in that moment had eyes only for her husband.

And all the fear, shock and horror of the past few hours was
replaced by joy at seeing him bounding down the hill, tucking his pistol inside
his coat before opening his arms to claim his wife.

ROSE
AWOKE TO the sounds of birds singing and a lively chorus of frogs and insects.
Stretching luxuriously on the blanket her husband had laid out for their picnic
beside the river, she rolled against his side. Although she could not see his
face she knew he still slept. His breathing was deep and even, yet even in
sleep, in the middle of an innocent afternoon, he held her as though he’d never
let her go. As he had every night since he’d eliminated the greatest threat to
Rose’s health and happiness and, when passion spent, he could not keep her
close enough.

Tremors of comforting warmth crept over her as he stirred,
turning to stroke her hair.

‘It’ll be the last time we can do this,’ she murmured,
gazing at the hazy blue sky, conscious that the season was changing and their
long rambles by the riverside would come to an end. Rampton, too, would
inevitably become less attached to her as familiarity reduced the novelty of
their reborn love, she acknowledged in the deepest recesses of her mind.

‘What do you mean “the last time”?’

He was instantly awake now. Leaning over her so he could
look into her face he demanded, ‘How can you say anything will be “for the last
time”? ‘ His voice was a low, demanding growl while his hands caressed the
contours of her cheeks, nose and eyes as if committing them to memory. ‘Has
everything we’ve been through not proved how tenuous happiness is … how careful
we must be to safeguard it?’ His breathing was heavy, as if he’d been offended
by her suggestion.

‘I was talking about the weather making this sort of thing
no longer possible.’ Rose laughed and reached up to kiss him, pulling him back
down beside her. She felt him relax with a slow, satisfied sigh as they both
stared up at the sky, holding hands like the lovers they were.

There was gentle amusement in his voice overlaid with
conviction as he warmed to his theme. ‘If we feel like trysting amidst the
pouring rain, we should do it. Time is too short to allow convention to prevent
us squeezing every last drop of enjoyment from life.’

Bringing his hand to her cheek, Rose sighed. ‘That was
obviously Helena’s philosophy, but look where it landed her.’

With great reluctance Rampton helped her to her feet.
‘Exactly where she deserves,’ he said, plucking the leaves from Rose’s hair
before wrapping his arms about her from behind. ‘And she should consider
herself lucky to escape the hangman’s noose.’

‘I’m not sure that life with Charles in the West Indies
bearing those terrible scars would have been her preferred option.’ Rose shivered,
remembering the horror of seeing the blade slice the air in line with her neck.

‘It was your life, or Helena’s,’ he reminded her as he began
to wind her hair back into some semblance of respectability. ‘Thank God Beth was
induced to reveal the exact point where Helena had buried the jewels, and that
I got there in time. Now, stay still.’ As he laced her gown, Rose was aware of
his shudder as he performed the task of her lady’s maid. Briefly he pressed his
cheek to the hollow between her shoulder and cheek. ‘I don’t know how I could
have lived with myself if something had happened to you, my darling.’

Hearing the catch in his voice, Rose reached up her arm to
caress his soft, springy curls and closed her eyes. This was by no means the
first of such avowals but they still had the power to stir her in ways she’d
not believed possible. How sweet love was. And she and Rampton had a lifetime
together in which to enjoy it.

Edith now fulfilled Beth’s role, except when Rose and
Rampton slipped away for afternoon pleasure jaunts like this one. It seemed
they could not get enough of one another.

She thought he’d straighten and resume the task at hand
which was to prepare themselves to return to Larchfield for the vicar’s visit,
which the dowager had organised. Instead, shivers of longing radiated through
her as his soft murmur tickled her cheek. ‘You think it won’t always be like
this?’ The gentle pressure of his hand, which had grasped one of hers,
increased. ‘It won’t, my darling, I promise you. It will only get better. I shall
only grow to love you more. You must believe it.’

Rose turned in his embrace and twined her arms about his
neck. She stared into his face. ‘Then I will believe it,’ she whispered,
feeling joy curdle in the pit of her stomach. ‘I’m sorry Charles could not have
found similar happiness.’ She thought of him with sadness, bearing his
grievously disfigured wife back to their island home aboard the
The Emily.
 

‘If Charles had shown her a firm hand from the outset, I
doubt her behaviour would have got so out of hand.’

Rose ignored the criticism. ‘Poor Charles. He’ll forgive
Helena anything. But it will be a life sentence for Helena.’

Rampton’s arms tightened about her and she saw the fervour
in his eyes as they locked gazes. ‘My life sentence is one I have yet to earn,
my sweeting.’ Briefly, he caressed her cheek, his look tinged with remorse. ‘I
needed forgiveness for believing what was offered to me as irrefutable proof …
though I wasn’t sure whether you would grant it to me.’ He sent her a
meaningful look and Rose blushed. She could not deny the thrill of power she
had felt when Rampton had gone down on bended knee and kissed the hem of her
skirt, pledging his love and begging her forgiveness while Helena lay screaming
in Geoffrey’s arms. For all his faults, Geoffrey had not left her, although
that was probably more due to the fact he’d been unable to slip the cord that
bound him to Rose before Rampton had arrived.

Of course Rose had given her forgiveness without reserve. She
knew that her husband, having already been deceived by Rose, was not to know
she was blameless when all the evidence pointed to her.

They strolled back in leisurely fashion to Larchfield,
pausing at the edge of the park to gaze at the beautiful stone house with its
mullioned windows peeping through its cloak of ivy as the sun dipped behind the
hill.

A nightingale began its evening tune and Rose shivered with
pleasure.

Rampton squeezed her hand. ‘Mother has offered you her
diamond and ruby choker to wear to Felix and Arabella’s wedding.’ There was
amusement in his tone, for Rose had declared that her mother-in-law would never
fully trust her until Rose had supplied the nursery with at least half a dozen
sons. ‘Perhaps you should wear it when you pay your last respects to Geoffrey
and Oswald in prison.’

Rose shuddered. ‘I never want to see Geoffrey Albright
again. The person I feel saddest for is Aunt Alice.’

Rampton’s response was robust. ‘Aunt Alice has never slept
so peacefully since Oswald was incarcerated. She told me so.’

As Rose’s mouth dropped open Rampton seized the advantage,
stooping to brush her lips with his own. As always the familiar sensations of
earthy satisfaction and all-consuming happiness swamped Rose as her wonderful
husband murmured, ‘I’d say we’ve all been given our just rewards. Wouldn’t
you?’

The End

Long and Short Reviews
- 4 1/2 Stars

"Sweet with heat and hard to beat,
Lady Farquhar's Butterfly gains momentum as it builds to a terrifying
climax....

Beverley Eikli’s concise, smooth, and
subtle writing reveals characters and their motivations with a style that makes
Lady Farquhar's Butterfly fascinating—a thoroughly enjoyable, page-turner
of a tale."

RED ROSES FOR AUTHORS
- 5 Stars and a Red Roses for Authors award

EXCERPT

This scene takes place when Olivia’s
actions to save her cousin have been misinterpreted by the man she loves.

The empty silence stung her ears.

Shocked, she whispered, “I had no idea you hated me so
much.”

“Not as much as I love you.“ He gave a shuddering sigh
and his voice cracked as he added, “But self-preservation prevents me from
succumbing to the lust that consumes me as we speak. For it is lust, only,
Olivia. Tonight you proved there is nothing in you to love.” Raising himself he
glared at her. Never had he looked so like Lucien. “Besides, you are going to
marry Kirkman. You know there is no other path open to you.”

Stung to indignation she wiped her eyes. “Should I be
compelled to atone the rest of my life for compromising myself before him?”
Hunching herself into the corner the anger built within her. “I can’t do it. I
won’t,” she flung at him after a moment’s silence.

“And Julian?”

Goaded, she muttered, “He is Lucien’s heir and as long
as the world believes
that
he will be fine.”

“Is that a threat?” Max spoke quietly. After a moment
he let out a humourless chuckle. “So you would tell the world the truth if I
only had been prepared to wed you and conveniently dismiss what stood between
us?”