A Little Deception (13 page)

***

In the large marble-tiled hallway of Lord and Lady Barbery’s
London residence the Chesterfields were relieved of their outer wear, before
mounting the stairs to the saloon, a magnificent room of stately proportions,
decorated in rose and gilt and illuminated by hundreds of wax candles.

When Rose almost immediately spied Lord Rampton beneath a
candle sconce on the other side of the room deep in conversation with several soberly
dressed gentlemen, her hand went unconsciously to her throat. Bolstered by the
confidence of how well she looked, she was able to curtsy and smile with the
regal possession of a queen when the viscount acknowledged her with a gracious
half-bow.

Compliments rolled off lips while coupes of champagne were
procured – and anything else, it seemed, that could be desired – as
the three Chesterfield women made their progression through the room. Charles
grew weary of being complimented upon his ‘wife’ and plagued by enquiries as to
whether the affections of his ‘sister’ had yet been engaged. He’d told more
than half a dozen interested gentlemen that she was on the verge of allying
herself with a neighbouring landowner in the West Indies. In truth, he greatly
feared that he might receive an offer for Helena before the season was over and
heartily wished for an end to the charade, if only it could be brought about
without the need for embarrassing revelations or discovery. Rose, who had never
shown any desire to expand her horizons in fashionable circles, was a changed
creature. He would have had to be blind not to have noticed her improvement in
looks and the excitement she created wherever she went, he thought sourly,
wishing she’d simply come to London to contract a decent marriage. With both
his sisters off his hands he and Helena could have returned to the plantation,
Helena’s taste for society would have been satisfied and she would surely have
shown her gratitude by becoming, henceforth, the docile, loving and accepting
wife he had always desired her to be.

Rose drifted from conversation to conversation, wending her
way into the heart of the company and steadily closer to Lord Rampton. It was
like a game. She knew he was acutely conscious of her. Several times she caught
him watching her out of the corner of his eye. Instead of directly accosting
her, however, it appeared they were destined literally to bump into one
another.

But all her pleasure in the evening was about to come to an
abrupt halt.

When several knots of revellers still separated them, Rose
was surprised to be addressed in the familiar clipped tones of Lady Barbery, to
whom she’d been introduced at the masquerade earlier in the week.

Rose turned, the icy glare directed at her as far removed as
possible from the gracious charm of that lady when last they met.

And as Lady Barbery clawed at the diamonds at Rose’s throat,
her shrill words sent Rose reeling into a vortex of horror.

For no one had ever called her a thief before.

MUTE
WITH EMBARRASSMENT, Rose was unable to reply to Lady Barbery’s hectoring
questioning as she backed into a corner, the blood pounding in her head as she
clutched the diamonds at her throat. ‘It was a gift,’ she managed, glad the
gentleman closest to her appeared to be deaf and was addressing his companions
in stentorian tones which drowned out Lady Barbery.

Lady Barbery’s nostrils flared. ‘A thief
and
a liar!’

‘Dear Lady Barbery, what appears to be the trouble?’

Rose froze at his nearness. Lord Rampton’s quiet,
authoritative tone was music to her ears.

‘That woman—’ Lady Barbery’s words suggested Rose was
beneath contempt, ‘is wearing the diamond necklace given to me by my own
husband … my diamond necklace which went missing three days ago.’

‘Perhaps it is a copy,’ murmured Lord Rampton. ‘Imitation
is, as you know, the sincerest form of flattery.’

‘And, pray, tell me, my dear Rampton, where is the craftsman
who can fashion my necklace down to the last diamond in less than three days?
Without the original to work from!’ Lady Barbery sounded in no mood to be
mollified.

The only advantage of being in this horrendous situation was
that Lord Rampton was pressed tightly against Rose’s side, a barrier to those
who would have shown the prurient interest that would spell death to the
Chesterfield’s social aspirations.

‘It would appear someone has played a very cruel or wicked
joke on Lady Chesterfield.’ Lord Rampton gave Rose’s hand a surreptitious and
reassuring squeeze. ‘For I was in her drawing room when she received the gift
from an unknown admirer.’

Rose and Lady Barbery gasped and the viscount went on,
‘Perhaps we’re looking for a light-fingered anonymous admirer who did not
foresee the consequences of his actions and sought to impress Lady Chesterfield
with his devotion. Perhaps the necklace changed hands several times before it
was legitimately bought.’

‘Someone must be called to account!’

‘Someone will be.’

Rose was as conscious of the viscount’s resolute tone as his
hostess appeared to be. Lady Barbery placed an elegantly gloved hand upon his
forearm and purred, ‘You’ll discover the thief, Rampton, won’t you? If someone
is wanting to make mischief, it is in all our interests to learn why.’

‘Of course,’ Rampton murmured. ‘Meanwhile I suggest
discretion is our ally. Lady Chesterfield can return the necklace in the
morning.’

Who was the victim? Rampton wondered a little while later,
as he gripped the railings of the small balcony off Lady Barbery’s private
rooms and gazed into the darkness. Someone wanted to make mischief but at whose
expense? That of Lady Barbery or Lady Chesterfield?

‘You were most gallant this evening, Lord Rampton.’

Startled by the low, husky voice, he turned, unable to place
it as that of one of his female friends, as his companion went on, ‘Lady
Chesterfield is fortunate to once more find a protector who will defend her.’

Rampton summoned a quelling look to match his tone. ‘What
the devil are you doing out here, Miss Chesterfield, alone with me? Go back
downstairs at once!’

‘No need to act like an agitated mother hen.’ Her amusement
was evident. ‘I’m not a child.’

‘You are not yet presented. You have your reputation to
safeguard.’

‘Where I come from debutantes are not as protected as their
sisters in England.’

‘If anyone should find us—’

‘You’d have no choice but to marry me,’ his bold companion
supplied sweetly. ‘Have no fear on that score, my lord; I’ve no intention of
marrying an Englishman when I am simply counting the days until I return to the
West Indies.’

Rampton stopped just short of placing his hands on her
shoulders and pushing her away. If he were caught even touching her…! ‘I’ve no
desire to be accused of ruining some gently reared young debutante and being
saddled with a wife as a matter of honour,’ he muttered.

Discomposed by her chuckle and proximity, he stepped back adding,
‘But what charge is this? One might almost imagine you believed your
sister-in-law guilty of the theft of Lady Barbery’s necklace.’

‘Of course she didn’t steal it. Not like a cat burglar,
creeping into this house in the middle of the night, or a common light-fingered
thief who snatched it from Lady Barbery’s neck when she wasn’t looking?’ The
girl laughed again: a deep-throated, sensuous noise which Rampton found hard to
reconcile with the debutante by his side.

‘It’s one of my sister-in-law’s famous little games. Her way
of relieving boredom.’ Miss Chesterfield gave an eloquent shrug. ‘She means no
harm and would have returned it but my sister-in-law considers the West Indies
a virtual prison. She’s too delicate for the harsh climate and she despises her
husband; so she’s developed her own ways of amusing herself. Of course, poor
Charles is at his wits’ end, and will be so grateful that you’ve saved her from
yet another scandal.’

She dropped her eyes demurely. ‘At the masquerade the other
night she was with her cousin, Oswald, a nasty piece of work, let me tell you!’
She shuddered. ‘But they are in many ways of the same mould. I heard her dare
Oswald to steal Lady Barbery’s necklace—’

Rampton snorted. ‘And parade the stolen gems without
discovery?’

The girl shrugged. ‘That was not the point. Lady
Chesterfield’s dare that Oswald could steal it was matched by his speculation
that Lady Chesterfield would wear it … and be championed.’

Rampton stared. Her claim was outrageous.

Miss Chesterfield smiled. ‘Each time my poor sister-in-law
goes just that little bit further. It’s like a disease and poor Charles can do
nothing about it, short of locking her up.’

‘You certainly are no friend of hers.’

‘You think I don’t speak the truth?’ She laughed softly. ‘Helena
hasn’t got this far in life without being a gifted liar, a consummate actress.
After living such a limited social existence as we did in the West Indies her
exploits are known and, to an extent, tolerated, but now she has a new
audience. A multitude of new admirers.’ After a long pause, she added in a
whisper, ‘Poor Charles.’

‘Poor Charles, indeed,’ he echoed, straightening and
indicating the double doors that opened in to the rooms behind the balcony.
‘Not only does he have the exploits of his wife to contend with, but his sister
seems happy enough to excite the gossips also. It’s time to leave, Miss
Chesterfield.’ Gripping her elbow, he steered her into Lady Barbery’s boudoir,
which was in darkness. ‘Alone.’

Anger quickly replaced her surprise as she jerked her head
up. For a minute he almost thought she was going to stamp her foot.

‘It’s been a pleasure, Miss Chesterfield.’ He bowed, and was
relieved, when he straightened, to find she had gone.

He turned back to the railings, thoughts of Lady
Chesterfield churning in his mind. Lady Chesterfield … masterminding the theft
of Catherine’s diamond necklace so that he would champion her? He rolled his
shoulders as if his perfectly cut coat were too tight, and balled his fists.

She certainly knew how to tantalize a man, upping the ante
with each innocent visit. Had he misread the signs? Each time she’d seemed to
be holding him at bay, but was she really trying to convey to him that she was
tired of waiting; that it was time for him to be more masterful?

Rampton was not a man who liked to be kept waiting too long,
either. He exhaled into the crisp air, making a noise that was part sigh, part
growl of anticipation. If the exquisite Lady Chesterfield was so bold that
she’d go to the extremes Miss Chesterfield suggested, it was time Rampton took
matters even more boldly into his own hands.

He shifted position, unable – nor wanting - to shed
the heady desire he felt at the thought. What sweet relief it would be to
finally tear off her clothes and tumble her on his expansive carved four-poster
designed for such nefarious activities and located in his tower room.

Lady Chesterfield was clearly panting for his tender –
or not so tender – ministrations.

Lady Chesterfield had been kept waiting long enough.

***

When
Rose saw Helena emerge from the passageway into the ballroom she found the
courage to launch into the throng of revellers and accost her sister-in-law,
pulling her into a secluded corner.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she accused, fingering the hated
jewellery at her throat which Lord Rampton had advised her to wear in order to
save face. ‘I don’t know how you did it but you found a way to spirit this out
of Lady Barbery’s possession and around my neck in order to damn me in
everyone’s eyes.’ She was nearly in tears and Helena’s superciliously raised
eyebrows did nothing to soothe her disordered nerves.

‘Pray, calm yourself, my dear Rose … or should I say,
Helena, and do not accuse me of underhand dealings.’ With a self righteous
smoothing of her power blue sash, she went on, ‘Do you think I came to London
to be dressed as an innocent while you parade around in the clothes Charles
bought for
me
? Yet have I even once
stamped my foot and told you I will no longer countenance the charade you
forced me into?’

Rose drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I’m forced to concede I
acted rashly, and I’m sorry for it, but your actions tonight could have had me
facing the hangman’s noose. Do you not realise that?’

Helena clicked her tongue. ‘Lord Rampton championed you,
Rose. That’s all that is important. I had no idea that such nefarious
activities accounted for the fact your lovely necklace graces your neck –
albeit temporarily - but now we know who it really belongs to you can return it
while you redouble your efforts to ensnare the delectable Lord Rampton and
leg-shackle him to the altar. I’d say this was a very happy state of affairs
and you should be thanking me for insisting you wear it, not accusing me of
– what? Stealing a necklace? The idea is preposterous.’

Rose glared at her. ‘I’m not accusing you of stealing it but
I am certain you know more than you’re admitting. Furthermore,’ she added,
lowering her voice, ‘as a supposedly married woman Lord Rampton is hardly about
to offer for me. Oh, yes, I know you think I should play my hand – after
all, a rich husband would benefit us all - and you say I should thank you for
achieving tonight’s outcome whereby he’s championed me, but’ – she drew
herself up proudly – ‘what joy would there be in a union with a man I’d
tricked into marriage? You should know that as well as I, Helena-’