A Little Deception Page 17

  Smiling, Rampton rose. ‘Well, I’ll just have to ask my darling wife myself – in case her memory has subsequently returned,’ he said, brightly. ‘Then, when the truth of the matter is ascertained, mother, I trust you’ll do everything possible to ensure Rose’s reputation remains unsullied. She is a woman of substance in her own right, now, you’d do well to remind everyone.’

  He already had his hand on the door knob when Rose in fact appeared upon the threshold. The faint scent of the orange blossom water she liked to wear seemed to power directly from his olfactory senses through to his loins and it was all he could do not to run his hands all over her. Instead, he stepped back to allow her to pass by then followed her into the room, asking, ‘Rose, mother is curious to know if you perhaps recall having met Mr Albright since you were distant neighbours at roughly the same time in the West Indies.’

  She gasped. ‘I’ve never met him,’ she said quickly. ‘And if you’ll pardon my rudeness, I’m glad of it. He seems a most unpleasant young man and I make no apology for saying so.’

  Rampton put his hand on her shoulder to calm her. ‘I’m sorry if he upset you, my dear. And that’s quite all right. Mama was just curious, that’s all.’ Over the top of Rose’s head he levelled an ‘I told you so’ look and was about to suggest they take a turn around the roses when the dowager called Rose to her side, asking, ‘Since you must be worn out after your walk, Rose, I wonder if you’d be good enough to help me untangle these skeins of thread.’

  ***

  Rose tossed and turned in bed that night as she went over the events of the past twenty-four hours. She realized she’d made a grave miscalculation in the way she had delivered the news of her bequest and that this had been compounded by her lack of interest in her husband when he’d whisked her off to bed in the middle of the afternoon. But the ominous presence of Rampton’s mother was a great inhibitor, especially when she strongly suspected Beth was furnishing the dowager with intimate details of Rose’s conduct.

  Eleven o’ clock. Rampton should have come to her by now if he was going to at all. He’d been kept up attending to business affairs and had promised to join her later.

  With thundering heart Rose slipped out of bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. If Rampton had misinterpreted her distress then he needed reassuring as to exactly where her affections lay.

  Her tumultuous emotions had certainly not abated by the time she reached his bedchamber where the sound of his even breathing indicated that he was not being kept awake by the same pangs of doubt and worry that besieged her.

  She wasn’t sure whether coming here was a mistake or not, but she had to show him honestly what was in her heart. Perhaps a distant approach might have been better, but wasn’t that a device a scheming huntress employed prior to the wedding vows? No, Rose was determined to show Rampton that she found him the most irresistible gentleman she’d ever encountered.

  ‘Rose, is everything all right?’

  His voice was thick was sleep and surprise as he struggled onto his elbows, but she snuggled into the crook of his arm and, wrapping her ankle round his while nibbling his earlobe, made it quite clear her intentions had nothing to do with needing his assistance. Except in the bedroom department, for he’d unleashed a healthy dose of lust she’d had no idea existed in her deepest recesses.

  ‘I only want to show how much I love you,’ she whispered, nuzzling his neck, ‘and that I’m sorry if it seemed, before, that I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, Rose.’ All the relief for which she could have hoped was invested in those two words as he crushed her against his breast. ‘And I’m sorry for being a cad and not realising how difficult it must be for you to enter a new life where everything is so strange. I was going to come to you earlier but it was so late I feared you’d consider me a selfish cad.’

  His touch was reworking the familiar magic that she was coming to desire with ever–greater intensity. Her heart skittered and sensation prickled the surface of her skin. Oh, what joy it was to see him similarly affected. His breathing was becoming more rapid and she could feel the growing evidence of his desire pressing into her stomach.

  Soon he would make love to her again and she’d welcome it but first she must tell him more. ‘Do you understand that I feel, keenly, the loss of pride and dignity in being foisted upon you as a dowerless, indebted damsel mired in scandal?’ She made no objection when he rolled her on top of him and wrapped his legs around her hips in a shocking reversal of the position to which she’d become accustomed. Just when she’d thought she knew everything. Warming to her theme she tensed her thigh muscles around his hips as she went on in a whisper that grew increasingly hoarse, ‘An independent fortune would have changed all that. It would have given me social standing and respect. Everyone would have congratulated you on a fine match, including your mother, no doubt.’

  ‘You don’t need anyone’s congratulations but mine, dear heart,’ he muttered huskily, gripping her bottom and rocking her gently so that, inch by inch, she slid closer to where he wanted her. In the dim light of the candle she’d placed upon the chest of drawers beside the bed he could see her eyes glaze over with the heady sensations that were fast engulfing him before she threw her head back, gasping as he entered her.

  His last coherent thought was that Rose could come and apologise to him any time.

  ***

  They didn’t discuss Rose’s inheritance before Rose left for London, though he’d made clear the asset was hers. Rose wished he’d relented in his decision to go on horseback, if only to save her having to endure the next few hours with the lacklustre Beth but he’d said he had some business to attend to and would join her, later.

  Beth’s sickly pallor and sour expression advertised her disgust at repeating the tiresome journey so soon, as eloquently as words. It was clear she had no love for her mistress and as the hours stretched Rose determined she’d find a way to give the girl her notice, hopefully without offending the dowager.

  Rose’s only entertainment was in imparting the information that the recent rains had raised the level of the river so high that only yesterday morning the mail coach, while trying to ford it, had been overturned and several passengers swept away to their deaths.

  ‘I fear, also, that the house is in some disrepair,’ she informed Beth, smiling. ‘I’m told the servants’ quarters leak. And, regrettably, there’s been a rat plague. However, with your able assistance we’ll soon put matters to rights, won’t we, Beth?’

  She settled back into the squabs with a satisfied smile. Beth rarely showed pleasure or enthusiasm, but she certainly didn’t disappoint when it came to exhibiting fear and distaste.

  At last they arrived in London. Rose was thrilled at the opportunity to be once again reunited with Arabella. Unfortunately that necessarily entailed Helena’s company, but the barely contained outrage with which Helena congratulated her on her inheritance was almost worth it. Goodness, but she could be a spiteful piece of goods, Rose berated herself, as she took a seat opposite her sister-inlaw and began to regale her with an account of the wondrous size, location and fixtures and fittings of her new Mayfair residence which she had just returned from viewing for the first time.

  Of course Helena was doing her best to hide her true feelings, though her politely enquiring tone gave her away. Helena was never politely enquiring when she was addressing Rose. And her eyes glittered as she marvelled, ‘So, Rose, barely a moment after gaining a rich and titled husband, fortune smiles upon you yet again. If you didn’t so obviously deserve it we’d all feel positively spiteful.’

  Rose was not surprised when, later, Arabella deluged her with a torrent of tears.

  ‘I can’t endure another moment of Helena’s company,’ she wept, throwing herself upon Rose’s shoulder when they were alone in Arabella’s bedchamber.

  Rose soothed her. ‘There’s still plenty more entertainment to be had before Helena and Charles take the ship back.’

  ‘But then I’ll have to g
o with them.’

  Rose held her at arm’s length and surveyed her sister. ‘You’ll be snapped up before then, my pretty,’ she reassured her.

  Arabella hiccuped and threw herself on her bed. ‘Helena says no man of any consequence would look at me with less than six hundred a year.’

  ‘Your nice Lord Yarrowby did.’

  The words were immediately regretted. Rose knew Arabella was nursing a broken heart, although neither had spoken about Arabella’s previous admirer’s defection. Guiltily, Rose realised she’d taken the coward’s path when she’d failed to address the conflict between their views regarding Yarrowby’s potential as a suitable husband and Rampton’s low opinion of the man.

  ‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ she now said, taking a seat on the bed beside her and stroking her sister’s disordered hair. ‘To tell you the truth, Rampton doesn’t care for the fellow and in fact positively warned me to ensure you had nothing to do with him.’

  Arabella turned her wide-eyed look upon her sister before biting her lip. ‘Oh, Rose, I know I shouldn’t say anything, but Lord Yarrowby has told me all about Lord Rampton’s jealousy of him.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Rose didn’t try to hide her scepticism.

  Innocently, Arabella went on, ‘There was a lady they both were very fond of, only she preferred Lord Yarrowby.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Rose decided it was time to change the subject, but regretted bringing up Helena’s name for it almost caused Arabella another bout of tears.

  ‘Helena says he was only toying with me and that he left because I had no dowry and—’

  The guilty way she bit off the last word made Rose suspect what other soothing reassurances Helena must have had for Arabella.

  ‘Because your sister scandalized respectable society?’ With heavy heart Rose pulled Arabella to her feet, saying in a falsely jolly tone, ‘What do you say to our shopping for some new gloves to go with your pink sarsanet? You know I can afford it, now. Come. It’ll take your mind off your troubles.’

  A shopping expedition would be a tonic and help to while away the hours until Rampton arrived to fetch her, as arranged. Her guilt over her role in damaging Arabella’s prospects had led her to come up with what she believed would be a grand plan regarding the disposal of her house, but she wasn’t sure if Rampton would share her enthusiasm.

  Several hours later the young ladies were back with their booty: two pairs of gloves and a shawl each. Clearly, Arabella was just as miserable as she’d been before.

  At last Rampton arrived. Rose caught her breath as he entered the room, marvelling at the fact he was her husband and at his power to make her heart miss a beat. Each time he entered her orbit she had to pinch herself to remind herself she was the woman he’d chosen to ally himself with. And that he seemed more than simply resigned to the fact. Supressing a thrill as her thoughts strayed to the previous night, she jerked her head round to Helena who had risen gracefully from her seat by the window.

  ‘My lord – I mean, Rampton,’ purred Helena as she clasped Rampton’s hands between her own.

  Despite every attempt to keep it at bay, jealousy rose in Rose’s throat like bile, although she managed, cheerfully, ‘Good afternoon, Rampton. The house isn’t in nearly as much disrepair as I had been led to believe. I’m told it’ll fetch quite a sum.’

  Rampton smiled. ‘Good fortune has certainly smiled upon you, my dear. What does Helena think of it?’

  ‘The house, Rampton … or Rose’s good fortune?’ With a coy smile, Helena answered the question herself. ‘She has been fortunate in her marriage to you, my lord, but it would appear you are not the only slave to her charms. Aunt Gwendolyn must have loved Rose very much to have made such a generous bequest. I believe they met only once. Before we arrived in England we never knew that dear Great-Aunt Gwendolyn existed. But Rose worked very hard to find favour with the old lady. Darling Rose is not all she appears, as you’ve discovered only too well.’

  ***

  ‘But Rampton, you said I could do what I wished regarding the house.’ With clenched fists Rose stared at him across the few feet of Aubusson carpet in her sitting room as she persisted with her argument. ‘Now that I have been so fortunate in marrying such a wonderful, generous husband, I want to provide Arabella with a dowry.’ She glanced from her husband’s stony face to her clasped fingers and realised they were on the edges of an argument. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  ‘So that Yarrowby will come sniffing around her ankles again?’

  ‘Well, yes. Arabella’s broken-hearted.’

  ‘She’ll be more than that if he weds her.’

  Rose was unexpectedly spurred to anger. ‘You have no right to interfere with her happiness.’

  ‘You have no right to ruin it.’

  ‘I’ve heard nothing to discount Yarrowby as entirely suitable, eminently eligible.’

  Rose was not expecting the thunderous look in her husband’s eye as he said, quietly, ‘Except my warnings.’

  She looked appealingly at him, but he had turned away. His voice sounded very distant as he stared across the gardens. ‘I understand Arabella must be provided for and, as you know, I am not an ungenerous man. What does disappoint me, however, is that you appear to have completely disregarded all the cautions I’ve voiced regarding my aversion to Yarrowby. Quite simply, I will not countenance a match between your sister and that man.’ She saw his fingers clench as he added, ‘I really do not feel it necessary to elaborate. My strictures on the matter should be sufficient.’

  Riled, Rose turned with a whoosh of skirts, muttering under her breath, ‘Your injured pride, more like it. ‘I know you hate Yarrowby because …’

  The expression on his face as he swung round to face her made the words die on her tongue. ‘Take care, my dear.’ His voice was low. Dangerous.

  Rose had not thought it possible. Was he warning her that his altercation with Yarrowby over the opera dancer who had been snatched from him was forbidden territory?

  Anger made her incautious. ‘I will not be dictated to like this.’

  ‘Then you should have been more careful in who you led to the altar,’ came the viperish rejoinder.

  Rose gasped. ‘Do not blame me, my lord, for forcing your hand. You virtually dragged me off the gangplank.’

  ‘Honour dictates that a gentleman offers marriage to the lady whose virtue he has stolen.’

  ‘My virtue was not stolen.’

  ‘Your brother put it about that it was. Facts count for little when gossip will tear a reputation to shreds. Yours for allowing yourself to slip into a compromising situation, mine for not doing the honourable thing.’

  Rose was seething. ‘You were adamant that honour was not your motive. Now, during our first argument, you say it was? What kind of a marriage does that make it?’

  He drew a laboured breath and muttered, ‘Society would have turned on you like a pack of baying hounds.’

  ‘I was on my way back to the West Indies where such consequences did not matter.’

  Miserably, Rose watched her husband fasten the cufflinks with slow, deliberate movements.

  He was only partly dressed. Tight-fitting breeches moulded his well-muscled legs. He stood more than a head taller than she in his stockinged feet. His shirt was undone to the waist and his dark hair was tousled, as if he had spent the day in manual labour and had not yet attended to his appearance.

  To Rose he had never appeared more desirable. Or more unattainable. This was their first real argument and she wasn’t sure how they’d reached this point. Because she’d accused him of dictating to her without offering a reason for his seemingly unreasonable strictures?

  Her feathers were severely ruffled but more, she wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gulf with an olive branch.

  But he was not looking at her. Did not see the softening of her features as these thoughts flitted through her mind. As she was on the verge of moving forward he gave a grunt of irritation as the second stud contin
ued to fight his best efforts. Then he said, crisply, meeting her eye, ‘Of course, I should not be surprised – or allow myself to feel disappointed – that you completely misinterpret my concern over Yarrowby’s suitability for your sister. Like my reasons for marrying you, you attributed the basest of motivations.’

  She gasped, before defending herself. ‘Likewise, my lord, I’d thank you not to attribute the basest of motives to my actions. Entrapment was not my plan.’

  Confrontation did not come easily to Rose. She did not want to risk angering the man she loved; but in the desire to elicit more than coldness, she squared her shoulders. ‘Whatever the truth, the fact is that we’re bound to one another – for life.’

  ‘I had no idea I was quite so repugnant to you, madam.’

  She saw that he had conquered the cuff link.

  But what further attempts would he make to conquer her, she thought despairingly, as he turned to leave. Was this really a man for whom excitement was lifeblood? Fired by the thrill of the chase and her supposed unavailability, had desire evaporated within a month of the marriage he believed she had tricked him into?

  No, they were simply having a silly argument over the fact that he was not used to being defied – only she could not put it into such words.

  Feeling helpless, she bit her lip to steady its trembling. She would not let him see her weep. His hand was on the doorknob. In a moment he would be gone and she’d be left nursing the fear of what came after anger and rejection. Could he really be the kind who’d trawl for more diverting company if his wife denied him what he wanted?

  She didn’t think so, but just then she wasn’t prepared to take the chance.

  Fear breathed life into her. ‘Stop.’ She was clutching at straws. Anything to prevent him from leaving her. Achieving marriage to him at the cost of his love was the cruellest punishment of all. She would have preferred to have been his mistress to a wife he discarded with such impunity.

  Hearing the hysteria in the single word Rose struggled to compose herself, even as she told herself she was over-reacting. ‘You are too harsh, my lord. We have argued and I am sorry. I am not ignorant of my duties.’