A Little Deception Page 24

  They had their backs to her. No wonder they did not notice her, she thought briefly and bitterly as she saw how entranced they were with one another. Helena, dressed in white like an exotic gardenia, the patina of her olive skin soft and dewy – just as Rose imagined her look – had her head tilted to one side as she gazed at Rampton. And Rampton? One hand lightly cradled one of hers; as if he were on the verge of clasping her round the waist and pulling her to him.

  As he half-turned, Rose saw in his eyes a look she had never seen: hunger and yearning.

  Fighting back the tears she turned away. How long had this been going on? Was he a man of such appetites that one woman wasn’t enough for him? Had Helena finally worked her way under his guard and issued an ultimatum? Was that was why he was sending her to the country?

  ***

  Rampton tore his troubled gaze from Helena. He thought he’d heard a footfall in the passage outside.

  Helena recalled his attention. ‘Did Rose confess?’

  Taking a few steps back, he winced at Helena’s brutal phraseology. The moment he’d entered the library with her he realized it had been a mistake. If Dr Horne’s earnest advice regarding Rose’s mental condition had not been bad enough, Helena’s feigned concern was enough to tip him over the edge.

  ‘I must go to bed,’ he said, abruptly, turning.

  She stopped him with a hand on his sleeve and yearning gripped him. If only it were Rose, detaining him with a heartfelt plea for forgiveness; even a cry for help at the demons that tormented her.

  ‘I warned you at Lady Barbery’s of Rose’s dangerous impulses, if you recall, but love knows no reason.’ She traced the contour of his arm before taking his hand. ‘Rose was never quite the same after Geoffrey left so abruptly from the West Indies. But when I quizzed her about it she said the subject was closed and never to be reopened. I think seeing him in London was a very great shock. And I’m sure discovering he was your neighbour and old friend must have been an even greater one.’

  ‘Good night, Helena,’ he muttered, unclasping her fingers and making for the door. ‘I’ve had quite enough sympathy for one day, thank you.’

  ***

  ‘What took you so long?’ The asperity of Helena’s tone was at odds with the air of serenity she had projected for the benefit of her legion of admirers promenading in the park.

  For an instant Oswald was checked. But then, laughing as he reached down to help her into the phaeton beside him, he said, ‘I have what you want, dear heart, though I’d venture the bargain will be mine. At least I’ll not be saddled with a shrew for a lifetime.’ He winked salaciously. ‘How charming to see you, too.’

  Pulling from his pocket a roll of bank notes he grinned at her gasp. ‘Might I remind you it was no mean feat. Twice I thought I was in trouble and it was only luck that stymied the one factor I had not taken into account – Lady Hocking’s puling pug. There it was, yapping at me, fit to burst just as I was sneaking out of my lady’s dressing-room with her gems in my hands. Then suddenly it had a seizure or some such thing. The old dragon or chatelaine of the jewel box had been on the point of investigating more extensively and was sure to discover me hidden amongst my lady’s dresses, but when she saw the animal in a swoon it was she who had an attack of the vapours before rushing off to find the hartshorn or burnt feathers with which to revive my lady’s precious pug.’

  Oswald grinned at the memory. The rush of adrenaline had made it fine sport – not that he hadn’t been close to having a seizure himself at the time. But Helena had not the sense of humour that made her want to enjoy the details with him. She just wanted the money.

  ‘What a wondrous clever plan it was,’ she said, ‘to have doubled my reward by blighting Rose into the bargain. So Rampton paid up for you to keep mum over his wife’s grave misdemeanours and now my honest brother-in-law is anonymously posting back the goods to Lady Chawdrey. Poor Rampton will be feeling very pinched in the pocket. What did he say when you told him about Geoffrey?’

  Oswald grinned. ‘Not very much. It was lucky that his neighbour spent time in the West Indies and that you ran into Mr Albright, what’s more. Still, it was an evil tale that I was loath to put about. It’s one thing to thieve valuables from a fat old trout who’d lief as not realize they’d gone missing until the next season. But to destroy a man’s faith in his wife’s virtue. That’s a grubby thing to do. It nearly broke my heart to see how easily Rampton swallowed the tale. Still, you don’t think he’ll find out, do you?’

  Helena’s smile was serene as she smoothed the skirts of her dashing coquelicot pelisse.

  ‘Dr Horne was an absolute darling. He earnestly verified every little symptom I suggested.’ She giggled. ‘He blushes when I so much as look his way so it pleased him to corroborate my story that Rose has been suffering from a rare disorder of the mind. Indeed, he was assiduous in advising Rampton of various avenues he might pursue.’ With a look of moral rectitude she skimmed the length of the feather that adorned her handsomely trimmed headdress, adding, ‘Of course, it’s Rampton just desserts since he only made a play for Rose because he thought she was married.’

  ‘Such fitting consequences to please one as virtuous as yourself.’ Oswald, leaning back in the phaeton, was pleased this made her cross. ‘Still, I’m sorry to see it end this way for them. Seems that old grudge of yours won’t be satisfied until she’s packed off to Bedlam.’ He yawned as he studied his fingernails. ‘And all on the basis of your lies completely swallowed by the husband who might have loved her.’

  ‘Oh, very prosy,’ sneered Helena. ‘Anyway, you’re up to your neck in manufacturing evidence. How did that fence of yours perform?’

  ‘The hunchback?’ Oswald’s momentary sympathy for Rose was quickly replaced by his delight in the success of his little project. ‘Worthy of Drury Lane from what I can gather. With magnificent conviction he identified the purveyor of stolen goods as none other than our good Lord Rampton’s lovely, troubled wife and obligingly whipped out her gown that you packed at the very bottom of the bag. There was not the shadow of a doubt in poor Rampton’s mind that would prompt him to question whether in fact it was a con job. Obviously you did fine work sewing the jewels into the bodice of your gown—’

  ‘Yes, and she was on the verge of whisking it out of my hands and paying me for it as she knew it was a favourite!’ Helena snorted.

  ‘She’s very much nicer than you are,’ Oswald returned, reaching across to snatch the bank notes out of her hands and replying with raised eyebrows to her look of fury, ‘You don’t imagine I’m fool enough to hand them over before I’ve received my reward, do you, my dear Helena?’

  The insinuating thigh that rubbed against hers caused Helena to look sidelong at him with distaste. ‘You know very well you have not fulfilled your side of the bargain and that I need four thousand to set me up so I might leave Charles. The money from Rampton and three diamond necklaces which need to be disposed of are not enough.’ She smiled. ‘I think perhaps a few mementoes from Lady Rampton’s armoury of gems will suffice but as I can easily persuade Rose to hand those over I don’t think you’ll have done enough to enjoy my favours.’

  Dimpling at the thunderous expression on his face she said lightly, ‘Yes, I suspected you might be capable of violence if I tried to renege.’ She tapped him playfully on his knee with her fan. ‘I only dared suggest it because we’re in a public place.’ As she stroked the point of her fan slowly up his thigh, her smile cloying, the thunderous look on Oswald’s face dissipated. ‘Dearest Oswald,’ she sighed, ‘you’re so predictable.’

  ***

  Three days in the country with no word from her husband was as much as Rose needed to persuade herself that her deepest fears were confirmed.

  Rampton’s moods had been erratic since they’d returned to London.

  Where Helena had been waiting.

  Of course, the idea that Rampton’s feelings did not reciprocate her own hadn’t occurred to her until she’d wandered listles
sly about for several days with nothing but her increasing fears and doubts for company. She’d returned to thinking of his change in attitude since she’d inherited Aunt Gwendolyn’s house.

  Perhaps this wasn’t entirely due to the Yarrowby affair. His anger with her at failing to heed his warnings suggested a man who liked to exert his own authority.

  If Rose had dissatisfied him how easy would it then be to succumb to one of Helena’s lures?

  Rose knew Helena had no wish to return to the West Indies. Was she therefore making a play for Rose’s husband? Rampton was conveniently under the same roof while Rose was … three hours away in the country.

  At whose instigation had the doctor been summoned before he’d suggested all manner of ailments from which Rose might be suffering. Helena’s? Or, God forbid, Rampton’s? This afternoon Rose had dismissed a clearly concerned Dr Marsh – her mother-in-law’s physician - with bright and energetic denials of any symptoms of ill health … and a deep foreboding.

  No, it didn’t make sense. Rampton’s banishment of her had occurred too suddenly. They’d reconciled. Not hours beforehand they’d made love.

  Which Rose had initiated. The uncomfortable thought kept intruding on her perambulations as her mind cast about for some plausible reason behind Rampton’s change of heart. Something had happened, she thought wearily, that had convinced her husband that she had deceived him again.

  After her third walk that day, with no catharsis from the fresh tears she had shed, Rose opened the door of the drawing room to the unsettling spectacle of Arabella and Felix with their backs to her, standing surprisingly close to one another. For a second Rose imagined she had disturbed a lovers’ tryst; but their faces were guileless and welcoming as they turned to greet her. Arabella moved forward to take Rose’s hands, thus revealing two paintings leaning against the wall beneath the window.

  ‘Felix, it’s splendid!’ cried Rose after a quick recovery. ‘Arabella must be so pleased!’ The sight of her own portrait beside it brought a pang of memory. It had not been many weeks since the fateful sitting which had precipitated her unexpected and hasty marriage. Yet had her husband already had tired of her? A spurt of anger bolstered her reserves. Whatever the problem was, she’d get to the bottom of it. She had to or else she was condemned to the same misery Helena complained of and for which she’d perhaps sought Rampton’s assistance to alleviate.

  ‘It’s much too good for Yarrowby, don’t you think?’ Arabella dimpled at Felix.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ offered Felix, with a sly grin. ‘It’s a fine advertisement of my skills. When I’ve tired of the social whirligig, and my impatient brother has put me out to grass on a paltry allowance I’ll have to find some means of keeping my future wife in silk stockings.’

  ‘You must be nice to Rose because when she becomes a well-established society matron you might need her patronage,’ Arabella teased.

  Looking embarrassed as Rose mumbled some excuse about seeing to dinner before leaving, Arabella lowered her voice as she stepped closer to Felix. ‘Surely the rumours aren’t true?’ Then, more robustly, ‘How could Rose have anything to do with the missing diamond necklaces when she is languishing up here … while your brother does nothing to gainsay the gossips who like nothing better than to say the rift between Lord and Lady Rampton came even sooner than expected.’

  Felix looked admiring. ‘I say, you are quite the little information monger. I thought you’d been drowning your sorrows in this ignorant backwater and quite oblivious to what’s going on in town.’

  She dimpled. ‘I have friends who keep me in gossip.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘At first I was only interested in hearing what Lord Yarrowby was up to but then everything else started to get interesting. And really, Lord Yarrowby is terribly old and has silver in his hair and perhaps he’d have left me a widow for a very long time.’

  ‘Repeating the litany of comforts you’ve managed to come up with?’ Felix grinned before frowning, ‘I thought he was my brother’s age.’

  ‘Oh, he is,’ said Arabella blithely. ‘He’s very old, too, which is why I’m surprised he still wants to be a young buck and send his wife to the country so he can gallivant around town with the ladies.’

  Forgetting himself, Felix put a comforting arm around Arabella’s shoulders. ‘I can’t understand what the devil is the matter with Rampton, but although that might have been in character once, I do believe he’s changed.’

  Arabella chewed her lip. ‘I think Helena’s got something to do with it,’ she said. ‘I think she’s made up stories which your brother has wanted to believe.’

  ‘Not without evidence,’ said Felix. ‘Rampton can be deuced vexing but he’s not a nodcock and he wanted this marriage. His enthusiasm was decidedly out of character as was his sanguine attitude towards being duped.’ He shook his head, pulling Arabella closer as he stared thoughtfully at the two paintings. ‘Something decidedly havey-cavey is going on, Bella, and it’s time we found out what.’

  ***

  ‘Felix!’

  There was more surprise than warmth in the inflection of Rampton’s voice. His brother, radiating his usual robust good health and general bonhomie reminded Rampton – who felt both smug and wistful at the thought – of a reincarnation of a much younger version of himself. It seemed a long time since he had walked into a room and thrown himself down upon a chair with such abandonment and obvious satisfaction with life.

  Rose had been less than a week in the country and he felt as though the sun had gone out of his life.

  ‘Fanshawe said you weren’t going out tonight.’ Felix raked his fingers through his dark curls. ‘And since I’ve just returned from discharging – most assiduously, I might add – your parting command, I thought you might like to hear how things are faring at home.’

  There was a secretive smile on his face as he assessed the shine of his hessians, his long legs stretched out in front of the fire.

  Rampton was glad he had his face averted. When he turned, bearing two glasses of brandy, one of which he offered his brother, he had schooled his features into more ordered lines.

  ‘Mother’s well, I trust.’

  ‘Oh, you know … same as usual.’ Raised eyebrows and a glimpse of the whites of his eyes indicated what did not need to be said. ‘She’d certainly have been more content had you chosen the younger Chesterfield sister for a wife.’

  Rampton took a swallow of the amber liquid. The burning sensation was welcome. ‘And how is Arabella bearing up?’ he asked. ‘Not driving mother to distraction with her moping?’

  ‘Moping? Oh, yes, of course, Yarrowby.’ Felix took a gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. An even more wicked glint appeared in his eye. ‘As I’ve been following your instructions to the letter I’ve not allowed Arabella to spare him a thought the past couple of days. Poor Rose is missing you, though.’

  ‘I understand the doctor saw her yesterday.’

  ‘Can’t imagine why. She’s the picture of good health, though she’ll run herself into the ground if she’s not careful. You’ll be impressed with the changes she’s made. New cook, for one thing.’

  Rampton decided he didn’t like this tack. Rose, in good spirits, when she ought to have more reason to be pining even than Arabella. But then, Geoffrey Albright was right next door.

  He banished the thought. There was no substance to it. The odious Oswald had planted the idea in his head.

  But then, so had Helena. And his thoughts kept to returning to why Rose should lie about having met Geoffrey in the West Indies? Why deny that they have ever known one another when too many accounts corroborated the fact they had? For the week Rose had been at Larchwood Rampton had left no stone unturned in his attempts to prove Rose was entirely innocent of wrong-doing.

  It weighed heavily on her shoulders that he could find nothing to exonerate her.

  Faithlessness was one matter but then there was the felony. The theft of Lady Chawdrey’s necklace lay conclusively at Ros
e’s door and now that several other valuable baubles had been reported missing at events attended by Rose he’d been told that Catherine Barbery was running around dredging up the evening she’d discovered Rose wearing her own diamond collar.

  Why, it smacked of lunacy. He ran the back of his hand across his eyes. If Rose had only trusted him with the truth. He recalled the guileless look in her eye as she denied knowing anything about the necklace she’d pawned when the evidence was irrefutable.

  As for Geoffrey, he still couldn’t reconcile the idea of Rose harbouring a secret tendre for the unworthy Geoffrey.

  Flooded with resolve to visit Rose at Larchwood, he refilled his brandy. He’d sent Rose away partly in order to protect her from the gossips. Perhaps another theft while she was gone would deflect interest in the whisper that she was somehow responsible. Of course she wasn’t! Rampton had kept her close by his side at each of these entertainments. The only opportunity would have been if she’d visited the ladies retiring rooms…

  Another thought intruded.

  Oswald. The odious Oswald had been quicker than Helena to mire his wife in suspicion. Wasn’t it equally possible Oswald was behind those suspicions? Did he have a secret motive for blackening Rose’s name? He’d already gone over this avenue but somehow he must have missed something. Hearing Felix discuss Rose made his heart cleave with frustrated longing for her.

  ‘What did you say, Felix?’ He jerked his head round to attend to his brother while his spirits soared at the thought of seeing Rose again and going through everything that might exonerate her.

  ‘I said, if you weren’t the elder I’d be charging you with a similar mission to the one I’ve just undertaken.’ He grinned. ‘Different sister, though, if you take my drift. Anyway, I suggested Arabella come back to town which she thought that a jolly idea.’ He hesitated. ‘Told me some unbelievable on dits, though—’ His blue eyes bored into Rampton’s. ‘About the West Indies and Albright and—’