A Little Deception (24 page)

At last they arrived in London. Rose was thrilled at the
opportunity to be once again reunited with Arabella. Unfortunately that
necessarily entailed Helena’s company, but the barely contained outrage with
which Helena congratulated her on her inheritance was almost worth it.
Goodness, but she could be a spiteful piece of goods, Rose berated herself, as
she took a seat opposite her sister-inlaw and began to regale her with an
account of the wondrous size, location and fixtures and fittings of her new
Mayfair residence which she had just returned from viewing for the first time.

Of course Helena was doing her best to hide her true
feelings, though her politely enquiring tone gave her away. Helena was never
politely enquiring when she was addressing Rose. And her eyes glittered as she
marvelled, ‘So, Rose, barely a moment after gaining a rich and titled husband,
fortune smiles upon you yet again. If you didn’t so obviously deserve it we’d
all feel positively spiteful.’

Rose was not surprised when, later, Arabella deluged her
with a torrent of tears.

‘I can’t endure another moment of Helena’s company,’ she
wept, throwing herself upon Rose’s shoulder when they were alone in Arabella’s
bedchamber.

Rose soothed her. ‘There’s still plenty more entertainment
to be had before Helena and Charles take the ship back.’

‘But then I’ll have to go with them.’

Rose held her at arm’s length and surveyed her sister.
‘You’ll be snapped up before then, my pretty,’ she reassured her.

Arabella hiccuped and threw herself on her bed. ‘Helena says
no man of any consequence would look at me with less than six hundred a year.’

‘Your nice Lord Yarrowby did.’

The words were immediately regretted. Rose knew Arabella was
nursing a broken heart, although neither had spoken about Arabella’s previous
admirer’s defection. Guiltily, Rose realised she’d taken the coward’s path when
she’d failed to address the conflict between their views regarding Yarrowby’s
potential as a suitable husband and Rampton’s low opinion of the man.

‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ she now said, taking a seat on
the bed beside her and stroking her sister’s disordered hair. ‘To tell you the
truth, Rampton doesn’t care for the fellow and in fact positively warned me to
ensure you had nothing to do with him.’

Arabella turned her wide-eyed look upon her sister before
biting her lip. ‘Oh, Rose, I know I shouldn’t say anything, but Lord Yarrowby
has told me all about Lord Rampton’s jealousy of him.’

‘Indeed?’ Rose didn’t try to hide her scepticism.

Innocently, Arabella went on, ‘There was a lady they both
were very fond of, only she preferred Lord Yarrowby.’

‘Is that so?’ Rose decided it was time to change the
subject, but regretted bringing up Helena’s name for it almost caused Arabella
another bout of tears.

‘Helena says he was only toying with me and that he left
because I had no dowry and—’

The guilty way she bit off the last word made Rose suspect
what other soothing reassurances Helena must have had for Arabella.

‘Because your sister scandalized respectable society?’ With
heavy heart Rose pulled Arabella to her feet, saying in a falsely jolly tone,
‘What do you say to our shopping for some new gloves to go with your pink
sarsanet? You know I can afford it, now. Come. It’ll take your mind off your
troubles.’

A shopping expedition would be a tonic and help to while
away the hours until Rampton arrived to fetch her, as arranged. Her guilt over
her role in damaging Arabella’s prospects had led her to come up with what she
believed would be a grand plan regarding the disposal of her house, but she
wasn’t sure if Rampton would share her enthusiasm.

Several hours later the young ladies were back with their
booty: two pairs of gloves and a shawl each. Clearly, Arabella was just as
miserable as she’d been before.

At last Rampton arrived. Rose caught her breath as he
entered the room, marvelling at the fact he was her husband and at his power to
make her heart miss a beat. Each time he entered her orbit she had to pinch
herself to remind herself she was the woman he’d chosen to ally himself with.
And that he seemed more than simply resigned to the fact. Supressing a thrill
as her thoughts strayed to the previous night, she jerked her head round to
Helena who had risen gracefully from her seat by the window.

‘My lord – I mean, Rampton,’ purred Helena as she
clasped Rampton’s hands between her own.

Despite every attempt to keep it at bay, jealousy rose in
Rose’s throat like bile, although she managed, cheerfully, ‘Good afternoon,
Rampton. The house isn’t in nearly as much disrepair as I had been led to
believe. I’m told it’ll fetch quite a sum.’

Rampton smiled. ‘Good fortune has certainly smiled upon you,
my dear. What does Helena think of it?’

‘The
house, Rampton … or Rose’s good fortune?’ With a coy smile, Helena answered the
question herself. ‘She has been fortunate in her marriage to you, my lord, but
it would appear you are not the only slave to her charms. Aunt Gwendolyn must
have loved Rose very much to have made such a generous bequest. I believe they
met only once. Before we arrived in England we never knew that dear Great-Aunt
Gwendolyn existed. But Rose worked very hard to find favour with the old lady. Darling
Rose is not all she appears, as you’ve discovered only too well.’

***

‘But
Rampton, you said I could do what I wished regarding the house.’ With clenched
fists Rose stared at him across the few feet of Aubusson carpet in her sitting
room as she persisted with her argument. ‘Now that I have been so fortunate in
marrying such a wonderful, generous husband, I want to provide Arabella with a
dowry.’ She glanced from her husband’s stony face to her clasped fingers and
realised they were on the edges of an argument. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

‘So that Yarrowby will come sniffing around her ankles
again?’

‘Well, yes. Arabella’s broken-hearted.’

‘She’ll be more than that if he weds her.’

Rose was unexpectedly spurred to anger. ‘You have no right
to interfere with her happiness.’

‘You have no right to ruin it.’

‘I’ve heard nothing to discount Yarrowby as entirely
suitable, eminently eligible.’

Rose was not expecting the thunderous look in her husband’s
eye as he said, quietly, ‘Except my warnings.’

She looked appealingly at him, but he had turned away. His
voice sounded very distant as he stared across the gardens. ‘I understand
Arabella must be provided for and, as you know, I am not an ungenerous man.
What does disappoint me, however, is that you appear to have completely
disregarded all the cautions I’ve voiced regarding my aversion to Yarrowby.
Quite simply, I will not countenance a match between your sister and that man.’
She saw his fingers clench as he added, ‘I really do not feel it necessary to
elaborate. My strictures on the matter should be sufficient.’

Riled, Rose turned with a whoosh of skirts, muttering under
her breath, ‘Your injured pride, more like it. ‘I know you hate Yarrowby
because …’

The expression on his face as he swung round to face her made
the words die on her tongue. ‘Take care, my dear.’ His voice was low.
Dangerous.

Rose had not thought it possible. Was he warning her that
his altercation with Yarrowby over the opera dancer who had been snatched from
him was forbidden territory?

Anger made her incautious. ‘I will not be dictated to like
this.’

‘Then you should have been more careful in who you led to
the altar,’ came the viperish rejoinder.

Rose gasped. ‘Do not blame me, my lord, for forcing your
hand. You virtually dragged me off the gangplank.’

‘Honour dictates that a gentleman offers marriage to the
lady whose virtue he has stolen.’

‘My virtue was not stolen.’

‘Your brother put it about that it was. Facts count for
little when gossip will tear a reputation to shreds. Yours for allowing
yourself to slip into a compromising situation, mine for not doing the
honourable thing.’

Rose was seething. ‘You were adamant that honour was not
your motive. Now, during our first argument, you say it was? What kind of a
marriage does that make it?’

He drew a laboured breath and muttered, ‘Society would have
turned on you like a pack of baying hounds.’

‘I was on my way back to the West Indies where such
consequences did not matter.’

Miserably, Rose watched her husband fasten the cufflinks
with slow, deliberate movements.

He was only partly dressed. Tight-fitting breeches moulded
his well-muscled legs. He stood more than a head taller than she in his
stockinged feet. His shirt was undone to the waist and his dark hair was
tousled, as if he had spent the day in manual labour and had not yet attended
to his appearance.

To Rose he had never appeared more desirable. Or more unattainable.
This was their first real argument and she wasn’t sure how they’d reached this
point. Because she’d accused him of dictating to her without offering a reason
for his seemingly unreasonable strictures?

Her feathers were severely ruffled but more, she wanted to
reach out to him, to bridge the gulf with an olive branch.

But he was not looking at her. Did not see the softening of
her features as these thoughts flitted through her mind. As she was on the
verge of moving forward he gave a grunt of irritation as the second stud
continued to fight his best efforts. Then he said, crisply, meeting her eye,
‘Of course, I should not be surprised – or allow myself to feel
disappointed – that you completely misinterpret my concern over
Yarrowby’s suitability for your sister. Like my reasons for marrying you, you
attributed the basest of motivations.’

She gasped, before defending herself. ‘Likewise, my lord,
I’d thank you not to attribute the basest of motives to my actions. Entrapment
was not my plan.’

Confrontation did not come easily to Rose. She did not want
to risk angering the man she loved; but in the desire to elicit more than
coldness, she squared her shoulders. ‘Whatever the truth, the fact is that
we’re bound to one another –
for
life
.’

‘I had no idea I was quite so repugnant to you, madam.’

She saw that he had conquered the cuff link.

But what further attempts would he make to conquer her, she
thought despairingly, as he turned to leave. Was this really a man for whom
excitement was lifeblood? Fired by the thrill of the chase and her supposed
unavailability, had desire evaporated within a month of the marriage he believed
she had tricked him into?

No, they were simply having a silly argument over the fact
that he was not used to being defied – only she could not put it into
such words.

Feeling helpless, she bit her lip to steady its trembling.
She would not let him see her weep. His hand was on the doorknob. In a moment
he would be gone and she’d be left nursing the fear of what came after anger
and rejection. Could he really be the kind who’d trawl for more diverting
company if his wife denied him what he wanted?

She didn’t think so, but just then she wasn’t prepared to
take the chance.

Fear breathed life into her. ‘Stop.’ She was clutching at
straws. Anything to prevent him from leaving her. Achieving marriage to him at
the cost of his love was the cruellest punishment of all. She would have preferred
to have been his mistress to a wife he discarded with such impunity.

Hearing the hysteria in the single word Rose struggled to
compose herself, even as she told herself she was over-reacting. ‘You are too
harsh, my lord. We have argued and I am sorry. I am not ignorant of my duties.’

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.

‘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?’