A Little Deception Page 18

  He looked at her strangely. ‘You are angry with me because you think me unreasonable yet you would entice me with your body?’ He shook his head. ‘I have no desire to force my attentions upon a wife who refuses to accept my judgement.’

  She felt her mouth drop open but before she could rail at his arrogance he had bowed curtly and exited the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘LADY JANE HAS just broken a chandelier.’ Helena hiccupped with laughter, and Rose turned to see how such a thing had happened. Lady Jane was now the centre of attention, sitting amidst the ruins of a smoking chandelier in a somewhat awry heap. A bevy of swains, one of whom had just tossed her high in the air as a finale to a very lively polka, were now swatting the singe marks.

  ‘Geoffrey, see if you can toss Rose into a chandelier and make her laugh,’ cried Helena, welcoming a newcomer into their midst. ‘You must lead her in the next dance. Poor Rose is having a fit of the dismals, as you can see.’

  Geoffrey bowed. His full mouth curved into an apologetic smile, which he directed first at Rose, then at Helena, as he answered, ‘I don’t think Lady Rampton cares for my company.’

  Rose’s expression revealed the embarrassment the truth of this remark caused her but before she could reply Geoffrey said, ‘If I promise to be on my best behaviour and don’t throw you into the chandelier would you partner me in the next waltz?’

  Despite her aversion, Rose had no choice but to accept his offer, and several minutes later Geoffrey led her on to the floor as the orchestra began to play. Almost at once she noticed her husband on the other side of the room. She had not expected him at Lady Jeffrey’s ball. She faltered and immediately Geoffrey was all solicitousness.

  ‘Are you well, Lady Rampton?’ he asked, pausing while she regained her balance and her composure.

  He would think she had had too much to drink.

  But she had not had enough. Certainly not enough to dull the pain of the memory of parting from Rampton the previous night on such poor terms. He’d not been at breakfast this morning and when they’d crossed paths earlier this afternoon he’d told her, curtly, he’d be dining at his club.

  She’d tried to tell him she was sorry for clashing with him but he’d simply bowed and said he was sorrier that she believed she’d married such an unreasonable man.

  Now her misery, which she’d been unable to chase away with champagne, was made all the more excruciating as she watched him lead another woman on to the dance floor.

  When she saw who the woman was she averted her head quickly, and in the process gripped Geoffrey a little more tightly than she meant to. She had no desire to meet Lady Barbery face to face.

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll hold you,’ Geoffrey murmured. ‘I know how quickly the bubbles in champagne go to one’s head.’ The words sounded frighteningly intimate as his breath tickled her ear. Rose tried to pull away, apologizing as she trod on his foot.

  ‘Relax, my dear Lady Rampton, and I’ll steer you in the right direction.’

  Again Rose tried to push him away but the champagne must have made greater inroads into her coordination than she had thought. She stumbled again and this time he had to clasp her tightly to him to prevent her from sprawling across the floor.

  She gasped and flushed as he laughed, ‘I beg your pardon, madam. Pray, I am not trying to take liberties, I assure you.’

  ‘No – of course not … I’m being very foolish, I realize,’ she managed to say as he executed a few more surprisingly graceful turns with her around the room.

  ‘Not at all,’ he murmured, reassuringly.

  She found that if she just relaxed and let him hold her then she was coordinated enough not to make too much of a fool of herself and thus become the focus of critical attention.

  Soon Geoffrey was leading her off the dance floor, his arm about her waist.

  He murmured in her ear, ‘Lady Rampton, permit me to escort you home.’

  Rose pulled away from him, but he clasped her all the more tightly as Helena swept up to them, saying, ‘You must go with him, Rose. There’s no need to worry about appearances. He’s your neighbour and Rampton’s friend.’ She tucked a straggling curl behind Rose’s ear. ‘I think you should go with Geoffrey now … unless you wish to continue making a fool of yourself.’

  ‘I think I should see my husband,’ she protested weakly, but Helena merely steered her, with Geoffrey, towards the door saying, ‘You are hardly in a fit state to speak to your husband – believe me.’

  ***

  With Rose taken care of for the meantime, Helena was ready to tackle Charles, fixing a smile upon her face as she turned at the sound of his concerned voice, and reassuring him, ‘My dear, Rose is in perfectly good hands. You know that Rampton and Mr Albright are neighbours and boyhood friends. It’s hardly as if Rose will be accused of cuckolding her husband within a month of snatching London’s more desirable catch from beneath the noses of every designing debutante.’

  She leaned into him, skimming his cheek with a fleeting caress before gaily suggesting he might lead her onto the dance floor.

  Charles’s concerns evaporated upon the instant, as she knew they would. Charles was so very easy to manage. And so was Oswald, she decided, smiling across at the scowling boy she condescendingly called her little step-brother. Oh yes, he was mad for her but he’d do her bidding. All she had to do was crook her little finger.

  It was Rose who posed the greatest problem, Helena decided as she pondered her means of achieving the happiness she deserved. She forced herself to sink deeper into Charles’s embrace on the dance floor. He could refuse her nothing – and would refrain from asking difficult questions – if she was sweet and plaint with him.

  Yes, all Helena wanted was the same degree of happiness Rose had gained through Helena’s machinations. And, later, as she twined herself in Geoffrey’s arms while he rained passionate kisses upon her in a small antechamber they’d discovered once he’d returned, Helena was even more determined upon it.

  ***

  With a headache fit to split like an overripe melon Rose was in no mood for Helena’s excessive good cheer the following morning.

  Nor for her suggestion for riding in Rotten Row.

  ‘Arabella is very keen to be seen, you know, and she has made an assignation with her young man.’ She looked at Rose meaningfully. ‘You don’t want to be accused of nipping that little romance in the bud. It would be a fine catch.’

  At that moment Arabella appeared on the threshold looking exceptionally modish in a rust-coloured riding-habit and a dashing hat adorned with a single curling feather.

  ‘I’ve no intention of nipping any little romance in the bud, but don’t expect me to accompany you,’ said Rose, cradling her head in her arms with eyes closed as she sagged into the corner of the chaise longue.

  ‘Oh Rose, darling Rose, does that mean you’ll agree…? I mean, that you’ll make sure Charles will agree?’ With a whoop of joy Arabella swooped upon her sister and began showering her with childish kisses. ‘Why, he was so cast down telling me that he was sure it was no good even offering, because of some silly argument he and Rampton once had—’ She broke off, blushing at the realization they were no longer alone.

  ‘Helena and I were just leaving,’ she said, hurriedly, as they went out through the door Rampton had just entered.

  ‘I have the most ghastly head, Rampton,’ Rose muttered, feeling at a distinct disadvantage as she found herself staring once more at the stern face of her husband. His look was inscrutable. One thing was for certain; his mood was not any gentler than it had been when they’d last parted. Rose’s dulled wits tried reassemble themselves. Eventually she gave up. It was painful even to focus. She closed her eyes and asked, ‘Sorry, Rampton – did you ask a question?’

  Rampton sighed and looked disapproving as he folded his arms and leaned against the mantelpiece. ‘My dear, I have no objection to you enjoying yourself. However, would it be too much to ask that you comport yourse
lf with the decorum your position demands?’

  He was still smarting at the image of his lovely wife in the arms of no less a vagabond than his erstwhile schoolfellow Geoffrey Albright. If he had not had Catherine whining in his ear as he’d watched Geoffrey lead his wife outside, presumably to escort her home in her carriage, he would have flung down the gauntlet. Of course there was nothing scandalous, nor even improper in his wife being alone with their close neighbour. But Rampton did not like it one bit.

  Rose glared at him. How dare he speak to her like that? ‘I had one glass of champagne too many,’ she said, in clipped tones, adding with heavy sarcasm, ‘Pray forgive me.’

  Ignoring her, he asked, ‘And what is it that Arabella fears I may not agree to? The moment she realized I might have overheard her she scuttled out of the room like a frightened rabbit. It was most unlike her.’

  Rose twiddled with the tassel on the cushion. She had been unsure how Rampton would take the news and realized she had been somewhat compromised by her sister this morning. Her wits had not been responding as sharply as they should.

  ‘Arabella is very much in love, and apparently the object of her affections approached her last night to ask if she would object if he applied to Charles for her hand.’

  Rampton raised his eyebrows superciliously and Rose’s heart sank. She could tell he already suspected who it was and that he was not happy.

  ‘So Yarrowby has come back, just as I predicted, now that there’s a handsome dowry in the offing?’

  ‘Apparently his uncle was very ill and he had no time to leave a message, and then his cousin from France was over and he was required to dance attendance on her …’ Rose realized that she didn’t sound very convincing. She finished angrily, ‘Rampton, you have given me no good reason to warn her off Yarrowby. You say he’s a brute but you’ve hardly behaved like a gentleman in this matter, either. Arabella is very much in love. It will break her heart—’

  ‘He’ll do worse than that.’

  Rose sat up straight and glared at him. ‘You’re so unforgiving! What happened between you was years ago. Why, it’s a great opportunity for Arabella … and Arabella’s sweet nature will tame him, if that’s your concern. Besides, it’s not for you to give or withhold your consent.’ She took a deep breath, ready to field his anger.

  Instead, he looked at her strangely. ‘My dear, I had not realized quite how ambitious you really were.’

  ‘A fine marriage for Arabella will set her up for life.’

  ‘And bring her untold misery for the rest of it. Do you wish that for her?’

  ‘You don’t know that!’

  Quietly Rampton set down the tinder box he had been toying with and looked at his wife through narrowed eyes. ‘Yarrowby is an inveterate philanderer. He only wants Arabella because she’s an ingenuous debutante with a pretty face who won’t make a scene when he strays – and who now suddenly has a respectable fortune to tide him over when the cards don’t go his way.’

  Rose closed her eyes, haunted by the image of Arabella pleading with her to say a good word to Charles on Yarrowby’s behalf. Rampton called him a philanderer but her investigations suggested that Rampton had had more mistresses than Yarrowby.

  ‘Do you think he’d offer if she had nothing in the way of dowry?’ Rampton went on.

  Rose bridled. ‘So now you’re suggesting that if Lord Yarrowby’s suit is accepted I’ll be responsible for delivering my own sister to the wolves, since I’m the one providing the dowry.’

  ‘In effect, yes.’

  ‘Yarrowby’s quarrel with you was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s changed … grown up.’ Rose persisted with her argument, more out of pique at her husband’s dogged disapproval than anything else.

  ‘Men such as Yarrowby don’t change just because they marry a good woman … or because they’ve grown up.’ Rampton put down the box and took a few steps. ‘You’ll be doing Arabella no favours if you allow this match to go ahead.’

  Rose sighed. She wished her head would stop throbbing so that she could form coherent thought and discuss this properly with Rampton. All she was conscious of just now was that he was being unreasonably obstinate and taking the matter personally.

  ‘Rose.’ The tone of his voice made her raise her head to look at him. His beautiful blue eyes kindled with anger. ‘For once, just trust me.’ He paused. ‘It will be a marriage made in hell. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.’

  Rose opened her mouth to speak but Rampton shook his head. ‘If you trust me, Rose, you’ll make sure this marriage does not go ahead.’

  When Arabella rushed into her bedchamber later that day, dragging aside the thick curtains and letting in the offensive summer glare whilst declaring in effervescent tones, ‘Oh, Rose, I had the most marvellous morning,’ Rose had not the heart to check her high spirits.

  ‘I’m so pleased to hear it, dearest,’ she said, dragging herself up to rest against the pillows. Her headache should have long since abated but her exchange with Rampton had done nothing to hasten her recovery. The image of his smouldering eyes and his warning regarding the purgatory of an unhappy marriage were not the sort of thing to send one into an easy sleep.

  Now Arabella was babbling on about Yarrowby and how he intended to call on Charles the following morning, and had Rose had a chance to speak to their brother?

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You don’t think there’ll be any difficulty, do you?’ Arabella settled herself on the end of the bed, her look so troubled that Rose couldn’t help but say reassuringly, ‘No, dear,’ before adding dutifully, ‘but we do want to make sure that Lord Yarrowby is the kind of man who would make you happy. I mean …’ She hesitated, before adding, ‘I mean, he has only become so attached of late since … since—’

  ‘Oh Rose, you’re not going to suggest he’s a fortune hunter are you?’ Arabella’s laugh was light with relief. ‘Why, Yarrowby was afraid that others might accuse him so. But that’s not the reason he’s returned, at all. You remember how attentive he was at the beginning of the season? And then his uncle was so ill and he thought his sister had delivered his letter, only—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Rose interrupted. She ran the back of her hand across her eyes, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood rather shakily. ‘I’m sure you’re right, dear. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just call Beth to help me ready myself for this evening.’

  In answer to the concern she read in her sister’s eyes she explained shamefacedly, ‘I’m afraid I still have a touch of the headache from last night.’

  Having summarily dismissed Arabella, whose high spirits refused to be dampened even by her sister’s cautionary tone, Rose suffered herself to be ministered to by Beth’s less than deft fingers while she pondered her dilemma.

  What could she do? She did not want to anger her husband. Yet he had not made a case compelling enough against Yarrowby to disqualify him as a desirable suitor.

  She sighed. She must sound out Aunt Alice and see if she could dredge up further details about the quarrel between the two men.

  ***

  The season was winding down. In another month Helena would board the Sara Jane with Charles. In the meantime Rose observed her desperate pursuit of pleasure. Her sister-in-law had formed her own coterie of admirers and, while her behaviour was not exactly scandalous, neither was she a model of decorum.

  Rose had decided to delay her return to Larchwood, feeling that her presence in London was necessary for Arabella’s benefit. Any day now Yarrowby would offer for her, and then Rose would have a gargantuan task ahead of her in seeing to the wedding preparations.

  Aunt Alice had obligingly found out all she could from various acquaintances what she could about Lord Yarrowby. And to Rose’s relief – and disappointment – the worst that could be dug up was that fisticuffs session with her own husband in Hyde Park … over a common opera singer.

  The distant way Rampton spoke to her these last couple of days seemed to
preclude the possibility of him ever being spurred to such dramatic action over her, Rose reflected with a surge of pique. And disappointment. In addition to the raging lust he’d inspired within her, he’d also exuded charm and magnetism and a masterful quality that reassured Rose that he could make everything right. She’d needed that when for so long the cares of her family and their financial situation had weighed her down. Now she’d discovered Rampton also did not like to be crossed. And that he was not above harbouring grudges and putting his personal animosity ahead of the potential happiness of others.

  He’d behaved like a petulant school boy when she’d had the ‘temerity’ to ask him to give her one good reason as to why Yarrowby was not a suitable husband for Arabella.

  Now, as Rampton put his head into her dressing-room and quizzed her directly as to whether she’d warned Arabella off or whether Charles had told his youngest sister he’d not sanction the match, Rose was mutinous.

  ‘I had not thought you to be the kind of man to be put out by a wife of independent means?’ she said angrily. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Before I had the means to provide Arabella with a dowry you merely made clear your poor opinion of Yarrowby. Why wait until now to be so … forceful in your desires that your strictures should be obeyed? Without any substantive grounds?’

  ‘Rose,’ he said seriously, crossing the floor to grip her by the shoulders. ‘When Arabella had no dowry Yarrowby was not a serious suitor. I know exactly the kind of man he is. Arrogant. Brutish. Give me a few days in which to furnish proof, if you won’t believe me. But do not do this to your sister, I beg you.’

  ‘So you’re begging me now?’

  ‘I’m being serious, Rose.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Rose said tightly, shrugging out of his arms to study her reflection in the looking-glass. ‘You’re begging me because you can’t stand Yarrowby because of some schoolboy’s quarrel, for I have asked around and there is nothing worse to be uncovered, it would appear.’