A Little Deception (23 page)

He waved a hand dismissively through the air. ‘Does
everything hark back to that goddamned debt? Do what you wish with your new
address, my dear. Give it to the orphans’ asylum for all I care. The house and
whatever proceeds it may reap you are yours and of no interest to me.’

Of course, his mother had a different view. Looking mildly
less opprobrious at her daughter-in-law, she said, ‘This will go down well with
those neighbours who might have attributed baser motives to the way in which
you went about persuading Rampton into marriage.’

‘Mother!’ Rampton rose to his feet, fiercely protective of
Rose who extended her arm towards him saying in mollifying terms, ‘If it’s the
truth, as I’m sure it is, you must not blame your mother for saying what I need
to guard myself again. Yes,” she smiled at the dowager, ‘my inheritance will
help to redress many of the wrongs for which I must take responsibility.’

‘It seems you have a more sensible head on your shoulders
than I’d thought,’ said the other woman. But now, tell me, I’m curious as to
why you said nothing about knowing Mr Albright in the West Indies all those
years ago.’

Rampton, surprised, jerked his head around at Rose who was
looking blank. Then she shook her head. ‘I’ve never met him before, though he
seemed to think he knew me,’ she said, slowly.

The dowager frowned. ‘You say you don’t know Geoffrey?’

‘She certainly has no reason to like him,’ Rampton muttered.

***

An uncharacteristic confusion of spirits made Rampton
restless as Fanshawe, his valet, brushed his russet superfine coat in
preparation for dinner.

Was it true that if Rose had received her bequest from her
late Great-Aunt Gwendolyn she’d have continued to resist Rampton? The question
chased itself round his brain.

Had the old woman died a few weeks earlier, as Rose had
stated so plainly, she’d have had financial independence.

Freedom to choose her husband?

‘Are you satisfied with the construction of your cravat,
sir?’

Rampton studied his reflection and then the anxious
expression of his valet. ‘Perfectly satisfied.’

He drew himself up. Whisking Rose off to bed before they’d
properly discussed matters had been a mistake, though surely he could not have
mistaken the signs of her desire. There was no way she could pretend that.

No, he acknowledged guiltily, the fault lay with him. He was
utterly mad with lust for his new wife and too quick to attribute ridiculous
explanations as to why she might not appear as eager for his attentions. His
poor darling was facing so much that was new and unknown. Of course she wanted
to be his wife. It was hardly as if she had some lover in the wings with whom she’d
been about to run off the moment her Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s bequest had come
through.

Fanshawe stood back to admire his handiwork while Rampton focused
on dismissing the notion she’d developed a tendre for another gentleman in the
short time she had been in England. A tendre which had been denied expression
purely on account of her need to insinuate her way into Rampton’s affections. Ridiculous!
Catherine had smoothly planted the kernel of doubt in his mind after he’d
proudly told her to what lengths Rose had gone in order
not
to tie him to what he believed were now his matrimonial
obligations. It merely demonstrated what a fool Rampton was to believe
something for which he had no direct evidence.

He went down to find Rose so he could speak plainly to her,
but found only his mother in the darkened drawing room. The light gave her a
headache, she said. He could not remember a time she she’d embraced the
sunlight and the outdoors. Or when she’d truly smiled.

‘Your new wife has taken herself off for a walk,’ she
greeted him as he walked in, detaining him when he would have gone after her,
with, ‘Sit, Rampton, we need to talk.’

Stifling a groan, Rampton lowered himself onto a leather
armchair far from the fire and looked enquiringly at her. ‘I trust you have not
inveigled me into conversation merely to bring to light some other defect of my
new wife,’ he muttered.

His mother shook her head. ‘To be truthful, she is not the
woman I’d have chosen for you but she is agreeable enough. I find I’m not so
disposed to dislike her as I’d supposed.’

Rampton chuckled, despite himself. ‘You are so lavish with
your praise, mother. Small wonder I’ve grown up so accepting and forgiving of
the foibles of those around me.’

She ignored his irony. ‘I took tea with Mrs Albright this
morning and she told me something quite extraordinary.’

Rampton cocked an eyebrow, ready to pounce in defence of
Rose, if necessary. Mrs Albright was a gossip. Still, he was glad his mother
chose to share the rumours that might be circulating about his wife if only to
be in a better position to quash them.

‘Rampton, you remember five years ago when Geoffrey returned
home after a year in the West Indies helping his uncle – Mrs Albright’s
brother – manage the sugar plantation?’

Rampton nodded.

‘Do you recall that his mother was at her wits’ end because
he was so changed? So wild?’

‘That’s right. I believe I suggested he might be a
poppy-eater. And barely had he been here a month than he got that poor
simpleton into trouble and was forced to do the honourable thing. He’s been
nursing a grudge ever since.’ He wondered what relevance any of this had to
Rose. Perhaps it didn’t.

His mother clicked her tongue. ‘It turns out that Mrs
Albright believes Geoffrey’s anguish was on account of a young woman in the
West Indies. A very beautiful young woman who captured Geoffrey’s heart. He was
very bitter over the affair. Of course, Geoffrey won’t talk about it other than
to say that this young woman returned his love but refused his marriage offer
because he hadn’t sufficient funds to keep her in the style to which she
intended to become accustomed.’

Rampton had an inkling as to where this was going. ‘You’re
suggesting it might be Rose?’ He shook his head, groaning inwardly. More false
rumours to have to counter. ‘Nonsense, it could have been anyone. And Rose
denied ever meeting him.’

His mother picked up her tatting with a sigh. ‘Yes, she did
deny it. Yet Mrs Albright says Geoffrey described Sir Charles and Arabella to
her when he returned. And’ – she levelled an incisive look upon her son
– ‘Rose did seem very uncomfortable about being in his company.’

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.