A Little Deception Page 12

  Cynically, he had waited for Miss Chesterfield to call and negotiate the terms of his matrimonial incarceration. He had practised all manner of snide and ironic responses, while his anticipation at seeing her again had grown steadily more unbearable.

  He wanted only to tell her what he thought of her.

  So he assumed.

  But she had not come, and that had been worse.

  After three days he had snapped. Arriving unannounced, he had confronted a pale and patently uncomfortable Sir Charles in his study and stonily dictated the terms of a marriage contract. He was a man of honour and he had compromised a lady. She was the clear victor in their final round; she had more than just pinked him. Now he must pay the price.

  Rampton had been prepared for a rambling defence from Sir Charles of his sister’s behaviour. And, if Sir Charles were in a robust mood, perhaps a healthy lashing of recrimination for Rampton.

  But when the young baronet said only that his sister did not wish to marry him Rampton was at last moved to anger.

  ‘Doing it too brown, sir!’ he declared. ‘She engineered that little scene so that I’d have no choice but to suffer her joy as she leg-shackled me on her triumphant progress towards the altar!’

  Sir Charles, looking white around the gills, concurred miserably, ‘I know, I know. But she’s made me tell you, expressly, sir, that she has no intention of holding you to marriage. That, in fact, she does not desire it.’

  ‘Does not desire it?’

  He could not believe it. It was all part of the charade. There was a trick involved somewhere, though right now he could not see it.

  Not want to marry him?

  Why, every unmarried female participating in the social whirligig was there with only one thing on their minds and most of them saw waltzing off with him as the ultimate feather in their caps.

  Not want to marry him? When she’d gone to such pains to ensnare him?

  The very notion was preposterous.

  He would not believe it.

  The sad truth was, he had not the words to respond. Naturally, he should hoist her on her own petard and take her at her word. Simply leave town for the Continent as had been his initial plan, and that would be that. An end to the matter.

  The problem was that while common sense dictated this as the correct course of action his damnably errant heart started playing up to such a degree he needed to see her just one more time to conclude that he was as fortunate a man in escaping parson’s mousetrap as any who’d been tricked by the feminine wiles of a calculating female. His parents’ patently unhappy union was a reminder that a wife was a ball and chain for life; not an irritant that could be dispensed with when the desire took hold. Rampton looked forward to many years during which he could sow his wild oats and indulge his predilections for a variety of women before he succumbed to the allure of the one extraordinary creature who would satisfy his needs for both wife and lover for his remaining years.

  Clearly, a woman who had tricked him with such calculation did not answer the criteria but he was determined to make the best of it.

  Now, seven days since that fateful afternoon in the tower room and the scheming Miss Chesterfield was about to walk through that door. His stomach should be churning in anger at the prospect of coming face to face her. Fury should be boiling in his veins.

  Instead, he felt his heart hammering and his palms go clammy - even though he knew that the long delay in seeing him again must be attributed to the fact that she obviously had a particularly assiduous man of law looking into Rampton’s assets and what might be demanded as a matter of honour.

  Now the damnably alluring, deceiving Miss Chesterfield stood before him. She looked proud and defiant, that strange combination of strength and fragility piercing his armour, dissipating his anger and whipping up the desire to enfold her in his arms. Except that the look in her eye warned him to have a care.

  ‘My brother conveyed to you my feelings about the idea of matrimony with you, my lord?’

  He was silent while he tried to make sense of her barely suppressed anger. Her beautiful mouth was compressed, her breathing shallow, while her eyes bored into him with something that felt uncomfortably like recrimination.

  As if she were the wronged party.

  Nothing could have been more calculated to drive him to fury. The longing to hold her tenderly was replaced by an overwhelming urge to shake – no, kiss – some sense into her.

  He reined in his anger. ‘A pity, then, that you took matters to such extremes. Lady Barbery’s diamond necklace? Was that to ascertain the level of my affections? You were testing me, weren’t you, Miss Chesterfield? To see how easily I would dispense with common sense in order to come to your rescue.’ Rampton snorted. ‘A bold risk, but it paid off.’

  She had been staring at her boots, still having refused his offer of a chair, but she raised her eyes at this. ‘My sister-in-law … Helena … said she thought she recognised Lady Barbery’s necklace in a parcel that arrived from an unknown admirer. I know nothing more than that.’

  He saw her attempts at appearing discomposed: the slight tremble of her hand as it went to the thin gold chain she wore round her neck. He was not taken in.

  She said, ‘My Lord, do you not think it possible that Lady Barbery herself was behind this malicious act, designed to make me appear the culprit? I believe she was very upset when you gave her her congé … is that not the term?’

  ‘Pah!’ Rampton swung to face the window and balled his fists. The thought had occurred to him at the time but it had since been buried by Miss Rose Chesterfield’s far greater treachery: her devious husband-hunting methods, which had caught him like a fool. ‘Catherine and I parted amicably enough, though I’ll concede she may have felt ill will towards you, having usurped her in my affections.’

  She inclined her head. ‘Then the theft of her necklace remains a mystery. It must have been motivated by jealousy but since no harm was done and I shall be returning to the West Indies next week there is perhaps no longer the imperative to solve it.’

  ‘Good God, are you out of your mind?’ The expletive was out before he could stop himself. He had not expected this. Without thought he acted on his overriding instinct which was to keep her here. She was so very appealing in her guise of distress and he had grudgingly to admit that he was finding this interview more diverting than he’d expected.

  Trying to maintain his composure he asked through gritted teeth, ‘Can you really suppose I am so devoid of honour that I would not insist on marriage between us?’

  ‘My virtue remains intact, my lord, and my brother is the only witness to my want of propriety.’ She raised her chin proudly. ‘You remain a free man.’

  His first impulse was to seize her, hold her tight her in his arms and – well – once again kiss some sense into her.

  Then he realized that this was exactly what she intended he should do, so he restrained himself in order to call her bluff. Miss Chesterfield might be devilishly disarming, but she had used the vilest trickery to lure him to the altar and he’d be damned if he’d be saddled with such a cunning female for the rest of his days.

  No, he would go to his club, take up where he left off before he ever met her, and banish her from his mind.

  He had fully intended to do the honourable thing, but if she were going to play games in order to boost the terms of a proposed settlement then she would find that she had sorely miscalculated.

  Yes, he would leave her dangling for a few days. She’d soon come to her senses. She wanted to marry him. That was what this was all about. Had been, from her perspective, since the day she had met him. And to tell the truth, he’d got used to the idea during the past seven days. Had even come to like the notion.

  Though not at such cost to his pride. She would not fleece him into the bargain. He would marry Miss Chesterfield on his terms.

  Before he’d formulated the right response she’d bowed, saying, ‘Good day to you, my lord. My apologies for gi
ving the impression that I tricked you, however I stand by everything I said. We no longer have anything further to discuss.’

  He’d hoped the rallying company of a few chosen male friends and a visit to the opera would restore his spirits. It wouldn’t be long before Sir Charles and his sister would resume their assault upon his conscience in order to persuade him to settle a ridiculous sum upon his dowerless and shameless bride-to-be. Of course he’d be generous, but he wouldn’t be taken for a fool.

  So he went to his club.

  And waited.

  Every evening for the next seven days he was on tenterhooks for some word from her.

  When she did not come he returned to pacing his study like a caged lion, his anger increasing, while he mulled over what to do.

  Clearly he had no choice but to marry the wench he had defiled – not just in his tower room, but publicly, for the town was buzzing with the titillating story of Miss Chesterfield’s daring. No doubt her lily-livered brother had spread the scandal, prepared to destroy his sister’s reputation in the sly knowledge that honour would prompt the duped viscount to make Miss Chesterfield a viscountess.

  As the silence stretched his anger grew.

  So he waited another five days, growing ever more insufferable to those around him, until one day Felix shook his head and said in a tone of exasperation, ‘I don’t know what has got into you, Rampton, but if she has a fine head of chestnut curls and flashing blue eyes you’d better hasten to the docks because she sails on tonight’s tide.’ Savouring his after-dinner brandy, his brother added, thoughtfully, ‘Thought, meself, that you’d already made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.’

  If Rampton imagined he’d harboured nothing more than grudging admiration for a pretty head and more than her share of guile he realized in that moment he’d been deluding himself.

  Irritation, anger, severe provocation; all the emotions against which he had been battling for more than two weeks were swept away by dismay.

  Clearly, his feelings were written all over his face for, with raised eyebrows, Felix gave a surprised laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’

  Rampton shook his head.

  ‘Well, don’t that beat all? I was surprised you’d let her go, knowing how your feelings had got in the way this time. I say, Rampton, where are you going?’

  Rampton had risen with such force that he’d knocked over his chair. Now he turned on Felix as if his brother himself were responsible for the current dire state of affairs.

  ‘Where did you hear this? Why did you not tell me before?’ he asked grimly.

  ‘Good Lord, Rampton, the girl’s free to do as she chooses. If she’s already turned you down don’t you think it a little on the brutish side to chase after her and drag her off the boat?’

  ‘Brutish?’ He snorted. ‘I’m sure it’s no more than she expects, playing her clever little games and waiting for me to come running.’

  ‘Which - might I point out? - is exactly what you are proposing.’

  Rampton glared. ‘Don’t you grin at me like that, little brother, unless you’re after a hiding. You always were dashed provoking.’

  ‘Not, it would appear, as provoking as the lady in question.’

  Catching sight of her, alone on the docks, overseeing the stowing of her luggage, was like receiving a veritable knee in the solar plexus. After riding like the wind, now that Rampton had her in his sights he could afford to relax and feast his eyes on her a little while he tried to make sense of why he really was doing this.

  It was dusk; a brisk wind tossed some escaped chestnut strands from beneath her bonnet and whipped her cloak and dress around her ankles. There was no sign of her brother, but she appeared entirely in charge of the situation, directing several porters who were carrying her trunks up the gangway.

  ‘Mind your step,’ she said, as one of them stumbled. ‘Those are my worldly goods. Take care of them.’

  Rampton focused on her rosebud lips and her pert little nose as she dispensed orders with all the confidence of one who was used to running a large estate. Another justification for making her his wife, he thought, pleased, for it went beyond his simple lust for her.

  He stepped forward and raised his voice above the stiff breeze. ‘I’d have thought you’d take better care of your reputation, Miss Chesterfield. What, in God’s name, are you doing?’ Rampton had to steel himself against the overpowering desire to approach her from behind and either whisk her, struggling, into his arms, or to press her against his chest and crush all resistance from her.

  Battling not to display the full force of his feelings he said to the porters who had momentarily put down Rose’s trunk, ‘Carry it to my carriage. The lady will not be sailing, after all.’

  ‘How dare you—’

  ‘How dare you make off like a thief in the night with no word to me, Miss Chesterfield?’

  She drew herself up indignantly. ‘What concern is it of yours whether I stay or leave, my lord? No! Do not take that trunk over to that carriage,’ she said, crisply. ‘Despite what this gentleman says I will be sailing.’

  Rampton gripped her wrist and jerked her round to face him. Blinking she stumbled and he was finally able to hold her.

  ‘I forbid it!’

  ‘My lord, what becomes of me is none of your concern. My reputation is ruined but that was not your fault.’

  ‘Have you no concern for your sister, then?’ Surprising himself with such creative logic, he went on, ‘You once had me believe that Arabella’s happiness was of more account than your own.’

  ‘You know it is!’ She seemed close to tears. ‘I am entirely at fault and I deserve everything that will no doubt be meted out to me for conceiving this outrageous deception.’

  To his astonishment, he found himself stroking her cheek as she went on, ‘Truly, my lord, I had no more thought when I took on Helena’s identity than to salvage a situation which might see us lose our home.’ She shuddered and his insides cleaved in sympathetic response – a very rare sentiment - as she said brokenly, ‘I simply wanted to play for more time in which to repay our debt to you when Helena was unable to meet you. I never thought it would come to this.’

  ‘Nor did I.’ A great lump seemed to have lodged in his throat. Tilting up her chin so that she had to look at him, he was struck by the most extraordinary desire to protect her. Even more extraordinary was that he entirely believed her simple reason for continuing her charade. The sincerity in her limpid gaze found their mark, lacerating every doubt and charitable feeling he’d harboured towards her. Suddenly his greatest challenge was to persuade her to stay and marry him.

  He held her tighter, his beleaguered brain running through artful arguments while his heart thundered its encouragement. ‘Think of poor Arabella. What chance does she have of a good marriage if you turn tail and run, given the rumours regarding your scandalous behaviour?’

  Sliding her eyes away from him, Miss Chesterfield looked more mutinous than ashamed. Rampton couldn’t believe it. He’d thought that by now she’d have cleaved to him, adding that she’d carried on her charade because the force of her feelings were too strong for her to relinquish him.

  Considering the way she was behaving now, he was beginning to wonder whether she’d ever wanted him at all. For a moment doubt returned as to her motives. Quickly he cast it aside. Whatever the truth, the urge to make her want him was more powerful than anything he’d encountered in his life.

  ‘If you have no concern for your reputation, at least consider your sister’s,’ he persisted grimly. ‘You’re condemning her to social pariah status if you simply leave her in the lurch like this – unless you’re forcing the poor innocent to return home with you.’

  She shook her head. ‘Aunt Alice has kindly said she’ll look after her. Arabella’s kind nature and her loveliness will compensate for my deficiencies. I have released you from your obligation.’

  She’d pulled away. Now Rampton gripped both her wrists and brought his face do
wn to hers. ‘I intend getting a special licence—’ he tried for greater authority ‘—unless you have a particularly strong aversion to becoming my wife.’

  Good God! Still she resisted. He’d thought she’d be shedding tears of gratitude by now. It was not often that Rampton’s confidence was shaken.

  Holding her away from him so that he could look into her beautiful, fine-boned face he said what was in his heart before he had time to question his good sense in baring his soul so completely. He’d never felt like this: so completely stripped bare and vulnerable, totally dependant on another being for his happiness. A woman, at that. One who had deceived him.

  Emotion made the words come out a low, rasp. ‘If I asked you to marry me because I truly believe I can’t live without you, would that alter your mind?’ The ardour that injected his question surprised him. But then, he’d been consumed by it since he’d first met her. Now he felt himself dangling by a thread as he waited for her answer. Like a lovelorn schoolboy.

  Rose’s first instinct was to question whether she had heard him correctly. Lord Rampton had asked her, yet again, to marry him? Not just asked, but begged, the force of his feelings revealed not just in his emphatic tone but by the raw longing in his expression.

  It was beyond her wildest imaginings.

  She opened her mouth to respond. To bare her own heart and tell him she had never believed such happiness possible; that she had never sought to trick him. But as she did so a nearby shout demanded their attention.

  ‘Lord Rampton! Good morning to you.’ Her brother’s head emerged from below decks where he’d been inspecting Rose’s cabin, an uncertain smile of welcome on his face.

  Rose saw there was no similar warmth on Helena’s face though there was a certain sly satisfaction as she murmured with a smile, ‘Lord Rampton, what a surprise.’