A Little Deception (26 page)

In answer to the concern she read in her sister’s eyes she
explained shamefacedly, ‘I’m afraid I still have a touch of the headache from
last night.’

Having summarily dismissed Arabella, whose high spirits
refused to be dampened even by her sister’s cautionary tone, Rose suffered
herself to be ministered to by Beth’s less than deft fingers while she pondered
her dilemma.

What could she do? She did not want to anger her husband.
Yet he had not made a case compelling enough against Yarrowby to disqualify him
as a desirable suitor.

She sighed. She must sound out Aunt Alice and see if she
could dredge up further details about the quarrel between the two men.

***

The season was winding down. In another month Helena would
board the
Sara Jane
with Charles. In
the meantime Rose observed her desperate pursuit of pleasure. Her sister-in-law
had formed her own coterie of admirers and, while her behaviour was not exactly
scandalous, neither was she a model of decorum.

Rose had decided to delay her return to Larchwood, feeling
that her presence in London was necessary for Arabella’s benefit. Any day now
Yarrowby would offer for her, and then Rose would have a gargantuan task ahead
of her in seeing to the wedding preparations.

Aunt Alice had obligingly found out all she could from
various acquaintances what she could about Lord Yarrowby. And to Rose’s relief
– and disappointment – the worst that could be dug up was that
fisticuffs session with her own husband in Hyde Park … over a common opera
singer.

The distant way Rampton spoke to her these last couple of days
seemed to preclude the possibility of him ever being spurred to such dramatic
action over her, Rose reflected with a surge of pique. And disappointment. In
addition to the raging lust he’d inspired within her, he’d also exuded charm
and magnetism and a masterful quality that reassured Rose that he could make
everything right. She’d needed that when for so long the cares of her family
and their financial situation had weighed her down. Now she’d discovered
Rampton also did not like to be crossed. And that he was not above harbouring
grudges and putting his personal animosity ahead of the potential happiness of
others.

He’d behaved like a petulant school boy when she’d had the ‘temerity’
to ask him to give her one good reason as to why Yarrowby was not a suitable
husband for Arabella.

 
Now, as Rampton
put his head into her dressing-room and quizzed her directly as to whether
she’d warned Arabella off or whether Charles had told his youngest sister he’d
not sanction the match, Rose was mutinous.

‘I had not thought you to be the kind of man to be put out
by a wife of independent means?’ she said angrily. “That’s what this is about,
isn’t it? Before I had the means to provide Arabella with a dowry you merely
made clear your poor opinion of Yarrowby. Why wait until now to be so …
forceful in your desires that your strictures should be obeyed? Without any substantive
grounds?’

‘Rose,’ he said seriously, crossing the floor to grip her by
the shoulders. ‘When Arabella had no dowry Yarrowby was not a serious suitor. I
know exactly the kind of man he is. Arrogant. Brutish. Give me a few days in
which to furnish proof, if you won’t believe me. But do not do this to your
sister, I beg you.’

‘So you’re begging me now?’

‘I’m being serious, Rose.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Rose said tightly, shrugging out of his arms
to study her reflection in the looking-glass. ‘You’re begging me because you
can’t stand Yarrowby because of some schoolboy’s quarrel, for I have asked
around and there is nothing worse to be uncovered, it would appear.’

‘How little you must think of me if that is what you
believe.’ His voice was cold.

Fear that he would simply walk out prompted Rose to say,
‘And how little you must think of me to accuse me of treating my little sister
like a sacrificial lamb. Yarrowby has asked to speak to Charles tomorrow at
noon.’

His look was grim. A nerve twitched at the side of his
mouth. Rose was not a gamester but a thrill of anticipation ran through her as
she watched him master his anger. No, she could not let it abate. She had to
say something more. Something so outrageous that not all the willpower in the
world could prevent him from laying his hands on her. Her body stirred at the
thought. How she wanted him; to reassure herself that she could still stir up
the desire which had led to their marriage. Yes, she was angry and upset with
him but she still desired him and if they couldn’t sort out their problems in
her dressing room, perhaps it would happen in the bedroom.

‘So you would openly defy me?’ He spoke the words quietly,
but they resonated with danger. ‘I have asked you for time in which to furnish
you with proof but you are do decided that the cause is nothing but my injured
pride that you would defy me?’

Rose turned from her seat at the dressing table and levelled
her contemplative stare upon him. Finally she said, ‘Rampton, you’ve had plenty
of time to furnish me with the truth. Weeks, in fact.’

‘I had no idea Yarrowby was still a contender,’ he muttered,
beginning to pace.

Rose bit her lip, torn between apology despite the suspicion
she harboured as to the reasons behind his dislike of Yarrowby, and her desire
to whip up some feeling within him that went deeper than his current
frustration with her.

She’d not felt his arms around her in days. Without physical
contact, they were drifting further and further apart.

‘Well, Rampton, why don’t you speak to Charles so he’s fully
cognisant of Lord Yarroby’s black nature instead of telling me what I must do
and not why I must do it. It seems you like putting me in my place.’

He stopped and glared, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d
said. ‘Putting you in your place? I’m accusing Yarrowby of being such a man.
It’s rich to hear it from you, Rose.’

She’d really angered him now, when that hadn’t been her
intention. Trying to keep her voice lights, she said, ‘Well, I’m sure that
you’d like to put me in my place for tricking you into marriage, just as you’re
trying to put me in my place for defying you the moment I oppose you.’

She turned back to the looking glass and her task of combing
out her long, rippling hair but out of the corner of her eye, she saw her
husband freeze.

‘You accuse me of being puffed up with pride and nursing
grudges.’ His voice was low and dangerous. ‘What of
your
true nature, Rose? What do I really know of you?’

Shame burned her upon the instant and she had to hold back
the tears, instead rising to face him as she countered, ‘So, it is as I feared.
Not one month since we are wed and you accuse me of false pretences to …’ she
almost choked on the words, ‘trick you into this marriage.’ She heaved in a shaking
breath. ‘Well, I am your wife, Rampton, and for all your insinuations as
regards my character I will endeavour to be a dutiful one. Clearly your
interest in me took no account of my character. No, you were looking for a
mistress who would conveniently set sail from English shores when your natural
ardour was waning.’ She took a step towards him, her breath catching. ‘Am I to
take it that your displeasure with me will lead you to look elsewhere when it
comes to satisfying your carnal nature?’

His eyes blazed in response. She saw the way his gaze
flickered from her face to her breasts, which were heaving with anger and
– yes – fear, for the thought he may be enticed back to the
scheming Catherine Barbery’s bed was unendurable. So unendurable that when he
gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him she welcomed the touch, even
with the knowledge that there was no tenderness in him for her at that moment.

Well, she had no tenderness for him either, but she wanted
him. More than she’d ever wanted a man … or ever would.

She yielded, slackening in his arms, her breath leaving her
in a soft sigh as she arched against him, giving him access to her neck, her
breasts. Yearning for his touch which sent sensation skittering through her and
pooled in her womb, making her desperate and jittery for more of the hot molten
kisses he rained upon her cheeks, her lips, her throat.

She needed proof that he still harboured feelings for her.
Anything to affirm that she had the power to move him to something more than
contempt or anger.

It was a lust-driven coupling, intense, physically
satisfying, but quickly over and emotionally draining.

And Rampton, as he lay above her, spent and exhausted a
short while later met her cool gaze – was it disgust, contempt, or
triumph? – and could bear it no longer. This was not the woman he thought
he’d married. Shutting out the sight he rolled over, slid to the floor and
quickly retied his banyan. With a last, cold backwards look at her lying upon
the tumbled bed, he left the room.

Only when he had regained the sanctuary of his own
bedchamber did he let out his breath in one long ragged sigh, sagging against
the door frame of his dressing-room. This was not how he had imagined marriage.
He rubbed his eyes. He had never felt so weary, so despairing. Was this his punishment
for marrying his mistress … or at least, the woman he had intended to make his
mistress, as Catherine Barbery had suggested?

LIKE
GILDED PEACOCKS the guests at Lord Yarrowby’s lavish entertainment promenaded
across the lawns of the grand house in which he would soon ensconce his
intended. His unexpected offer was the subject on the lips of many of his
guests that night, although Charles had only given his consent that morning.
Lord Yarrowby’s long-planned fireworks spectacle coincided well with the news
of his impending nuptials.
 

Helena, watching the setting sun from the balcony, felt it
was setting upon her dreams. Time was running out. Charles would remove her
from England within the fortnight and she had not yet discovered a way to stay,
though she was closer than she had been since Rose’s wedding. Rose had married
money and Rampton had been generous to his new wife’s impecunious relatives,
though not yet generous enough.

Irritation bubbled within her as her mind roamed over the few
avenues open to her.

‘Any glittering baubles you see here with which you’d like
to adorn your swanlike neck?’

Flinching at the familiar voice, she cast a baleful eye over
the crowd. ‘Even if you were clever enough to do it so that no one could lay
the crime at my door you’d probably mistake the real thing for paste.’

‘I hear that it was not paste that adorned your lovely
sister-in-law’s neck when she ventured out wearing the stolen necklace belonging
to her intended’s erstwhile lover.’ Oswald looked enquiring. ‘I also heard Lady
Barbery’s ire only brought our star-crossed lovers closer. Very close. Does
that please you, Helena?’ Gripping the balcony railing so their hands nearly
touched, he asked, ‘Perhaps you know more than I do. You look like you do. What’s
more, you don’t look terribly pleased.’

She only realised she’d stamped her foot when he laughed at
her childish display. Helena heaved in a breath. ‘Rose has me to thank for her
marriage but how have I been rewarded?’ she demanded. ‘I came to England,
Charles’ wife and as poor as a church mouse. It appears I shall leave the same
way while Rose and Arabella remain here, drowning in wealth and admiration.’

Oswald scratched his nose. ‘That hardly answers my question.
Since you love to claim credit, were you behind the strange affair of Lady
Barbery’s necklace?’

‘Rose received the necklace from an anonymous admirer, only
Edith, who works for the family, declared it would be scandalous to wear it. I
recognised it as that belonging to Lady Barbery. I’d seen her wearing it the
week before, in fact-”

‘Indeed, you would notice what the rest of us would consider
trifles.’

Helena sent him a disdainful look before continuing. ‘A
diamond necklace is hardly a trifle. Nor were Lady Barbery’s actions. As you may
or may not know, Lady Barbery was Rampton’s mistress before he married Rose and
it occurred to me that the anonymous giver was the lady herself. So I insisted
Rose wear the necklace…and you know the rest.’

 
Her irritation
increased when his gloating laugh at the flash of anger she was unable to hide revealed
her plight only amused him. ‘Do not laugh at me,’ she demanded. ‘Rose thought
marrying Rampton was the culmination of her dreams. She will soon understand
that the greater one’s happiness and attainment of one’s desires, the greater
the despair when it all ends in tragedy.’

She was surprised by the fascination on his fox-like face.
He stroked his chin as if he were contemplating a rare specimen and she
snapped, ‘It’s rude to stare.’

He grinned. ‘I had no idea you hated your sister-in-law
quite so much. Why, I believe you despise her more than I despise my
addle-headed step-mother.’

Helena felt the bitterness rise up her gullet. She feared
she might drown in it. ‘Rose condemned me to this life I despise,’ she hissed.
‘For five years I have lived in penury in a barren prison with a feeble husband
whose attentions I must at least pretend to endure if he’s not to sulk like the
pathetic child he is and make my existence even more hateful.’