A Little Deception Read online

  He had married in haste but only as he was so certain he’d not repent at leisure. Now, while he admitted he’d been wrong in waiting so long to unmask Yarrowby, he was also disappointed that Rose had not accepted his strictures to warn off Arabella.

  As he bowed in acknowledgement of Lady Barbery’s greeting - a suggestive moué as she slid her eyes over him - he was once again visited by questions regarding Rose’s innocence regarding the mystery of his former mistress’s diamond necklace which she was now fingering ostentatiously.

  Who was the mischief maker? He could imagine Helena concocting a story to make Rose appear the villain. A story he’d discounted because Rose, through her innocence and desirability had on more than one occasion made him act like an impulsive schoolboy.

  As he watched Rose make her way through the crowd towards him, a guileless smile upon her lovely face, his jaded reflections fell away.

  Male pride must answer for much of his current turmoil, he decided. Rose had been speaking from the heart when she said she wished she’d been a financially desirable marriage proposition. The scandal surrounding her deception would have been mitigated had she been an heiress. No one could have branded her the scheming fortune hunter his mother, among others, did.

  And he should have told her the truth about Yarrowby much earlier.

  As for the necklace…? No, he did not believe Rose guilty of anything … other than trying to do her best for her family.

  As she reached his side a great weight seemed to fall from his shoulders.

  From the moment he had laid eyes upon Rose she had intoxicated him. As ever, when she was near, he was overwhelmed by the desire to whisk her away from those with whom he must share her and revel in the sensual delights he had only truly enjoyed with her.

  When Rose complained that he was crushing her as he led her through the crowds he realized that it was his excuse to get close to her.

  But Rose had no objection to being crushed against her husband’s side. The physical proximity overpowered her with a desire to block out all the world but themselves. She was furious with him but after much soul-searching she acknowledged the guilt she bore in the whole, ghastly Yarrowby affair.

  As Rampton would not want gossip that suggested disharmony between them, Rose decided that this evening was a wonderful opportunity to flirt with her handsome husband. They had both acknowledged their culpability, though not in so many words. She should have trusted Rampton and he should not have allowed the situation to get out of hand, as it assuredly had.

  But it was not too late. With the situation regarding Arabella clarified, if not resolved, Rose was desperate to rekindle the happiness she’d briefly shared with Rampton.

  It started as a game; and she was surprised at the alacrity with which he joined in.

  Soon she was dimpling when he made a remark, laughing at his witticisms, and on one occasion pretending to brush a crumb from the corner of his mouth.

  The more she threw herself into her role the easier she found it to be in charity with him, her heart soaring at his unreserved responses.

  It was wonderful to engage in light-hearted banter, to press against this man who still thrilled her with such clear signs that he desired her. For tonight she could see, clearly, that he did. And she felt the answering call like an ache at the very core of her.

  They were a popular couple that evening, always part of a group. Even the most jaded observer must have seen that Lord and Lady Rampton were mad for each other.

  The moment they found themselves alone, however, Rose’s laughter faded to concern as Rampton gripped her arm and hustled her down an ill-lit path.

  ‘What—’ she began to ask as he pushed her against the sturdy trunk of an elm tree; but her question was cut short as his mouth covered hers, and his strong arms caught her to him.

  She returned his kiss with relief and enthusiasm, revelling in the feel of him pressed against her. He smelled good: of snuff and sandalwood and brandy. Twining her fingers through the short dark hair at the nape of his neck as she sagged into him she felt her troubles drain away.

  ‘I thought you were doing such a good job play-acting in front of the guests here tonight that I’d set you a more difficult task,’ he said, smiling through narrowed eyes as he set her away from him after their passionate trysting.

  ‘Did I pass?’

  He chuckled. ‘I’m not registering any complaints.’

  ‘That was not the whole-hearted endorsement I was hoping for.’ Rose insinuated herself into his arms once more and tilted her face up to his. ‘Am I allowed to try again?’ She raised her face to his and closed her eyes in anticipation of more kisses.

  ‘Rose!’

  Rose stiffened in his arms as she heard her brother’s voice.

  ‘Ignore it,’ whispered Rampton, his arms tightening.

  ‘I think he’s seen us. Perhaps Arabella is in trouble.’

  With a grunt of irritation Rampton released her and within a moment Charles was beside them.

  ‘Have you seen Helena?’

  Sounding distinctly acidic, Rampton replied, ‘Being fêted by her admirers. She’s certainly not here.’

  Helena gave the lie to his statement by appearing at that moment, effervescent with excitement and too much champagne punch.

  ‘What a dreadful squeeze!’ She hiccuped, then laughed unashamedly. ‘My husband doesn’t know how to keep me in good order, does he?’ she asked, looking directly at Rampton. ‘Not the way you manage to keep Rose in good order.’

  Rose was about to retort when she was addressed by Yarrowby bringing up the rear, a radiant Arabella clinging to his arm.

  ‘Where’s Oswald?’ Helena asked abruptly. ‘He assured me he was going to be here.’

  She pouted when Rose said she had no idea, then immediately berated her husband. ‘It’s a poor escort who can’t even see that his wife’s glass is empty?’

  ‘Do you really think—’ Charles began, before her answering look obviously decided him against arguing. The moment he’d gone, Helena made her excuses – something about a torn dress – and dashed off in the opposite direction.

  ‘The picture of marital harmony,’ remarked Rampton, drily.

  Arabella blushed and Yarrowby, bending over her hand murmured, ‘Your connection is by marriage only, my dear. Your virtue shines like a halo.’

  Rose, nauseated by this remark, murmured to Rampton,‘I’m going to find Helena. It’s unwise to leave her like this in such a mood.’

  He nodded and Rose left the group, sick at the thought of what she was going to have to eventually tell Arabella.

  Beneath a weeping willow Rose was startled when a hand was laid on her arm and a familiar – but unwelcome – voice, said softly, ‘’All alone? Why is your errant husband not at your side?’

  Rose wished Geoffrey Albright hadn’t discovered her in such a remote part of the garden. There was no one within sight. Or, fortunately, hearing.

  ‘‘I fear Lady Chesterfield may have lost her way,’ she said curtly as she pulled away and scanned the gloom, which was lit by only a couple of lanterns.

  ‘Then let us hope she does not take fright easily. I was accosted by bats during my lonely perambulation to the bottom of the garden.’

  ‘Bats? Surely you have friends—’

  ‘Many,’ he assured her. ‘But one does not always choose to remain with one’s friends … or one’s husband,’ he added, pointedly.

  Somehow Geoffrey did not seem the kind of gentleman to choose the solitude of the country – much less the bottom of the garden – over more ostentatious pleasures.

  ‘Then I’d hate to intrude. If you will excuse me—’

  ‘Of course,’ said Geoffrey with a smile, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her reluctant flesh. ‘I trust I will see you soon at Larchwood. Now, I suggest you try down that path for your lovely sister-in-law. I see a lantern twinkling through the trees and I believe I heard voices carried on the breeze just a few minutes ago.�
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  But Rose was unsuccessful since Helena had no intention of being found.

  ‘Not the prettiest,’ Oswald told her, relaxing against the back of a wooden bench in a secluded rose arbour. ‘It’s not as if you’re choosing it to keep … It’ll be keeping you.’ He laughed at his own poor joke.

  ‘Surely I could wear it just once.’ Wistfully, Helena fingered the simple chain around her neck.

  ‘Good God, no!’ Oswald exclaimed. ‘It’ll be out of your hands by mid morning or else I’m for Newgate. And I don’t intend going alone.’ He watched as Helena unconsciously caressed her own neck, her eyes glittering in the darkness.

  ‘What do you intend doing with your newfound fortune?’ He smiled slyly. ‘Improving the slaves’ quarters?’

  ‘You don’t suppose I’ll be going home with Charles, do you?’ she asked scornfully, not realizing he was teasing her.

  ‘The proceeds from just one, or rather, two, diamond necklaces won’t keep you in style for long, you know,’ he reminded her. ‘Certainly not in the style to which you’ll quickly become accustomed.’

  After a split second’s hesitation Helena turned her feline gaze upon him and said, without any attempt at cajolement, ‘Why, then you’ll get me another.’

  Oswald laughed. ‘No, I won’t. You don’t suppose I’m prepared to risk my neck out of habit, just to please you.’

  ‘I’m paying you handsomely for it,’ she reminded him, sharply.

  ‘Ah, yes, I was just meditating as to whether your barely controlled anticipation was for owning the necklace, or the reward you were contemplating for my benefit.’ Slyly he extended his arm around her neck and dipped his hand into her bodice. ‘Perhaps I should ask for a down payment immediately. I’m about to take a great risk for you, after all.’

  She swatted him away. ‘Next time I’ll slap your face,’ she retorted.

  ‘No, Helena …’ Oswald nuzzled her ear lobe and his fingers caressed her creamy neck, ‘next time you’ll be writhing beneath me, begging for more.’

  She struggled free, glaring. ‘The bargain is definitely weighted in your favour.’ She shuddered. ‘Procure me three necklaces. I need five thousand pounds’ worth, Oswald, or this is as close to me as you’ll ever get.’

  Effectively checked, it was his turn to glare. Then he said smoothly, ‘It makes no difference. Two are as easy to obtain as one. But my dear, surely I deserve to know what you intend? Do you really mean to leave your husband?’

  Helena snapped a thin twig beneath her fingers. ‘He’s broken all his promises. He said that as soon as he got his baronetcy we’d return to England and he’d buy back the old family estate, and we’d come to Town every season and he’d buy me all the jewels and clothes I desired.’ She sniffed. ‘But it was all lies.’

  Oswald stood up. ‘Since you’ve made it clear that you have no interest in how I procure your heart’s desire, I think it’s time to offer you my apologies, madam, and ascertain the whereabouts of our hostess’s quarters. My guess is that the ladies flaunt paste while the real thing languishes under lock and key.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ROSE CLOSED HER eyes and sank back into the pillows with a deep sigh. At least there had been no tearful recriminations. Arabella had simply bowed her pretty head and whispered that of course she understood her sister must obey her husband. And no, of course she didn’t resent Rampton, either, since he had obviously compelling financial commitments himself which she did not understand. After all, it wasn’t as if the promise of a great house in one of London’s most fashionable quarters were being withdrawn. What was three years, after all? There had been a slight misunderstanding; however she was certain – quite confident – that Yarrowby would be perfectly obliging when he visited Charles that afternoon with regard to drawing up what had hitherto been only a verbal agreement.

  In her usual good-natured fashion Arabella had tripped out of Rose’s bedroom on her way to her sitting for Felix, turning with a smile to announce her excitement at presenting her finished portrait to her husband-to-be, then adding after a thoughtful pause, ‘Why Rose, I do believe Felix is almost as charming as Rampton.’

  Matters had not reached so much of an impasse with Rampton, either, that Rose needed to despair. She stretched, luxuriating in the memory of last night. For many hours during the course of the evening at Lady Gunther’s alfresco party they had acted the parts of happy lovers. Each had obviously felt sufficiently negligent in respect of the other that they felt the need to atone. Certainly, when they had returned home it had been a natural progression into the bedchamber where proceedings had been … well, far from unpleasant.

  She caressed the empty space at her side, imagining it still warm from when he had left not so long ago for a morning canter with Charles in the park. She was glad she didn’t have to be involved in that encounter.

  After she had washed and dressed in a lace-edged morning gown of twilled lemon silk she was halfway down the stairs to the breakfast room when a sound on the landing above made her glance up. The door to Helena’s room clicked shut but Rose had seen enough of the peaked white face with its large, staring eyes above purple smudges to realize that something was amiss.

  Laudanum, again? she wondered, and her previous high spirits drained away.

  Quickly Rose retraced her footsteps. After a cursory knock she let herself into Helena’s bedchamber. There was a scrambling noise.

  ‘Helena?’

  The room was in shocking disorder. Clothes lay scattered over the bed, across chairs, and Helena was nowhere to be seen.

  A daintily shod foot stirred beneath the silk dressing-screen.

  Rose advanced, her heart thumping, imagining Helena collapsed on the floor, but when she put her head around the screen Rose merely saw her sister-in-law on her knees, bundling a green silk dress into a bag.

  Helena looked up and focused blearily on Rose. Rose glanced around for the tell-tale little blue bottle.

  ‘Helena?’ She crouched down, not at all sure of her reception. ‘You don’t seem at all the thing. Are you unwell?’

  Helena’s dark hair hung lankly down the sides of her face; and although she slurred her words her explanation was coherent enough for Rose to deduce that she had done something last night of which Charles would definitely not approve.

  Surprisingly, too, Helena seemed frightened. The last time her sister-in-law had behaved so abominably she had carried it off with bravado. Never once had she apologized, even though she had put their very existence in peril.

  Anger replaced Rose’s sympathy. ‘What was it this time, Helena? Loo? Vingt-et-un? Whist?’ Her voice was harsh.

  ‘What does it matter?’ sighed Helena. ‘All I know is that I’ve lost a lot of money, which somehow I must repay if Charles isn’t to discover it.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re concerned enough this time to worry about doing the right thing.’

  The irony was lost on Helena who continued bundling another lovely gown into the drawstring bag.

  Rose reached forward. It was Helena’s diaphanous gown which had outraged Charles when Rose had worn it to meet Lord Rampton for the first time. Following the dress went Helena’s small jewellery case, rattling with the meagre contents that Rose knew she scorned so much.

  ‘You’re not …’ Rose clasped her sister-in-law by the shoulder and drew face close. ‘Helena, whatever you’ve done Charles will forgive you. Stop it. Come downstairs with me. We’ll have a soothing restorative and you can tell me your troubles.’

  Helena’s expression made clear what small comfort that would be. With calm deliberation she packed another gown into the bag.

  ‘Where will you go? Where were you planning to go?’ Rose amended. As long as she was able to do anything about it Helena was not going anywhere. Rose was fond enough of her brother to realize his devastation – not to mention how injured he would be by the ensuing scandal – should Helena abandon him.

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure
than to leave Charles, and you know it.’ There was a feverish flush to Helena’s cheeks and the pupils of her eyes were like pinpricks. ‘But I have nowhere to go … except home with him to the West Indies. Nevertheless,’ she added, stuffing one last shawl into the bag and pulling the drawstring tight, ‘my immediate mission is to the pawnbroker’s.’

  ‘The pawnbroker’s?’

  ‘Unless you have a hundred guineas you’d like to advance me before tomorrow.’

  Rose was checked. To begin with, she did not have anything like that sum. Rampton did not keep her short of pin money, but a hundred guineas was a different matter. Secondly, she had little doubt that that would be the last she would ever see of it if she lent it to Helena. And besides, it would do Helena good to settle her own debts.

  ‘You’ve not done this before, have you, Helena?’

  ‘I heard of a pawnbroker’s in conversation. It’s not far. I mean to go there’ - she looked at Rose as if daring her to challenge her as she stood up -‘this very minute.’

  Rose was torn between persuading her to make a clean breast of things to Charles, and allowing her to continue her mission. She decided upon the latter course.

  If Helena were forced to give up some of her most precious possessions – possessions which could, of course, be redeemed at a later date – she might be less inclined in future to make wagers she couldn’t afford to lose.

  ‘Arabella’s taken the carriage.’

  ‘I think a hackney might be a little more discreet, Rose.’ After jamming a black bonnet into the bag, Helena headed for the stairs.

  Rose wondered what to do. Tell Charles? No, Charles had put up with enough. They all had. It was only right that Helena should atone for her misdemeanours.

  Once in the street Rose hailed a passing hackney. Snatching the bag from Helena, she withdrew the veiled black bonnet and stuffed it on her sister-in-law’s head.

  ‘So devious,’ marvelled Helena as the vehicle drew up. ‘I always thought that was where I excelled. But then …’ she sighed, ‘you are the illustrious Lady Rampton and I am merely impoverished Lady Chesterfield.’