A Little Deception (32 page)

This, as no sympathy could, finally elicited a more robust
response. ‘Yes, but only when your calculations are disappointed. Not your
heart, Helena, for you don’t have one – so don’t start prosing on to me.’

Even Helena looked startled for a second. She made a quick
recovery. ‘You underestimate me, darling. My heart beats every bit as
passionately as yours, I assure you.’ She exchanged a wry glance with Rampton.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Arabella removed
herself from Rampton’s shoulder. ‘Yes, but you’ve only ever loved what you
can’t have. You’ve never loved Charles.’

After assisting Arabella from the carriage, feeling a
complete cad as he watched the quiet dignity with which she suffered herself to
be led by Helena up the steps to their lodgings, Rampton set his coachman in
the direction of his unsavoury destination.

***

If Oswald intended to play on the vain hope that Rampton did
not trust his wife, Rampton wondered if money was his only motive. Certainly
he’d be disappointed on that score since Rampton would need irrefutable proof
that Rose was behind whatever nefarious dealings he was about to become
acquainted with. He was convinced he would find none. Mind churning, he ducked his
head to enter the dim, musty shop.

It would not be a crime if Rose had pawned the several
pieces of valuable jewellery he’d given her since their marriage, though he’d
be surprised. He’d gained the impression she was mindful of expense and proud
of her efforts in keeping the family’s head above water amidst the financial
difficulties created by her profligate father.

The woman had pride in spade-loads. She’d gone to
extraordinary lengths to absolve herself of the debt she owed him –
without forcing him to the altar. True, he wished she’d shown a little more
unfettered delight at the prospect of snaring London’s most desirable catch,
but she was more than satisfied with her lot, now.

With pleasure he thought of their recent encounters and
wished he had not been so surly with Rose this morning, but that damned black
bonnet had unnerved him. Once he’d laid this matter to rest he would buy Rose
something to reflect his true sentiments, in case his words sounded clumsy and
inadequate. Diamonds, he thought, as he ventured further into the unsavoury
premises, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mouldering goods.

He would buy her diamonds.

Then he would take her to the bedroom and show her how much
he loved her.
Really
loved her.

Brushing past a pole offering up layers of discoloured
petticoats, Rampton looked with distaste at the rheumy-eyed old man behind the
counter who nearly dropped the silver teapot he had been polishing.

‘I ain’t got nothing to ’ide,’ the pawnbroker whined. ‘Not
every day that Quality graces my ’umble abode but if it’s about the necklace I
never cheated the young lady, not a penny of what ’twas worth. ’Pon my honour.’

Rampton stared. What on earth was the old man getting in
such high dudgeon over? His hands were shaking and it wasn’t because of his
age.

‘Which young lady?’

‘Mighty fine looking woman in a yellow silk gown.’ Scratching
his head, the old man asked suspiciously, ‘She weren’t my lady’s maid wot
pinched your missus’s necklace, were she?’

Beth sounding like Quality?
‘May I see the necklace?’ Rampton heard
the curtness in his tone at the same time he told himself it was nonsense to be
concerned.

‘Indeed you may, sir.’ The old man rummaged through a
drawer, and then the treasure was produced: a magnificent emerald and diamond
heirloom which, held up, cast its dingy surroundings into unappetizing relief.

Rampton studied it carefully. It was not paste. Nor was it a
piece with which he was familiar, but its value could not be disputed. Lady
Chawdrey’s? Rumours had begun circulating of a series of daring thefts. A
kernel of doubt spawned in his entrails.

‘Was this all the young lady had to barter?’

‘Some clothes also.’

Rampton still clung to the hope that Rose was nothing more
than an innocent pawn in a plot to smear her. Somehow the devious cousin was
behind this, though Rampton had no idea why, or what his motive was.

Except that his fears which he’d anticipated would prove
groundless took on a different dimension the moment the old man produced the
dress that Rose had worn to her first dinner with him.

He shook his head to clear it, forcing alternative solutions
to the fore while he reached for the dress, the better to study it. Was it
possible it could have been copied in order to lay the blame at Rose’s door.
Perhaps the same person who sought to blacken Rose’s name through the incident
of Lady Barbery’s necklace was behind this?

For he was certain Rose was not. Certainly not until he
asked the question, ‘Could you describe in particular detail the young woman
who pawned the necklace?’ and received a precise description of his wife, right
down to the tiny mole beneath her right eye.

***

He took a hackney home. He didn’t want his shock and despair
to be on display to the world but in the dim, musty interior he closed his eyes
and rested his pounding head against the squabs while his mind screamed for
answers.

Why?

What had possessed Rose to come to a place like this and
pawn a valuable piece of jewellery that didn’t belong to her? It wasn’t as if
she had no fine jewellery of her own. Or that she was married to a
penny-pinching tyrant?

It was inexplicable. He felt his nerves tauten at the
prospect of challenging her. She’d claimed Lady Barbery’s necklace had come
from an anonymous admirer – and he’d believed her. She’d claimed she’d
never met Geoffrey Albright in the West Indies – and he’d believed her.
Would she claim innocence once again? When there was irrefutable evidence of
her involvement? He didn’t think he could bear it. His heart seemed to lurch to
his stomach as the jarvey opened the carriage door once they’d draw up up outside
his townhouse. If she would only confess he would be able to hush up the incident
and, just as importantly, he would help her.

If she would only confess.

Rampton had come to regret his generosity in housing all of
Rose’s relatives when he entered the drawing room to find Helena busy at her
stitching.

‘Was that Dr Horne’s carriage I saw leaving just now?’ he
asked and was surprised when Helena replied, ‘Charles called him on Rose’s
account.’

Rampton looked at her enquiringly. ‘I hope she is not
unwell.’

Helena shrugged. ‘A megrim. Nothing serious,’ she said
lightly, as her needle stabbed at the tapestry. She glanced up. ‘Arabella,
however, is deeply upset, as you know and Rose thought a change of scene might
be in order. She suggested that if business held you up in town Mr Albright
might go as their escort. You remember they knew each other in the West
Indies?’

‘I do. However Mr Albright will not be escorting them.’

Helena inclined her head. ‘Dr Horne also said that if you
wished to see him he’d be at home this afternoon, but not to discuss Rose’s
condition with her for fear of upsetting her more than necessary.’

‘Upsetting her? Is Rose upset?’

‘Yes.’ Helena sighed. ‘Rampton, Dr Horne is concerned about
Rose.’ She struggled to choose her words. ‘When Rose gets these terrible megrims
she does strange things. Things she wouldn’t normally do and which she either
denies having done, or has genuinely forgotten about. I think I mentioned it
once before, if you recall. At Lady Barbery’s ball-assembly.’

Rampton watched a couple of children playing at fisticuffs
in the park while his confusion deepened. He did not believe Helena’s sympathy
was genuine. Nor did he, in his heart of hearts, believe Rose capable of all
the misdeeds of which she was accused. Something didn’t add up.

He turned. ‘If Rose is upset it must be over something other
than her husband.’ He sent Helena a studied look. ‘She was very happy last
night.’ He paused, adding, ‘And this afternoon. Perhaps you can shed some light
on her state of mind.’

Helena shrugged. ‘Rose has never been fond of me so I was
hardly surprised when she rejected my offer to accompany her on a carriage ride
this morning. What was surprising was that Arabella had wanted to go, only Rose
was quite snappish to her, too.’ Helena met his look, candidly. ‘That’s when I discussed
the matter with Charles. He’s obviously had to deal with his sister on
occasions like this in the West Indies and so he summoned Dr Horne. He attended
Rose several times just after we arrived. She seemed so much better for a while
but she’s been acting decided oddly, of late. Haven’t you noticed?’

It was too much to take in. No, he did not believe Rose had
stolen Lady Chawdrey’s necklace. And no, he did not believe she had ulterior
motives in suggesting Geoffrey Albright accompany her back to Larchfield. Most
of all he did not believe her powerful responses to him in the bedroom both
last night and earlier today were anything but genuine.

He
could
not
believe it.

‘Perhaps the country air will do her good. Rose and Arabella
can leave for Larchwood in the morning,’ he muttered. ‘Jeremy and Hobson can go
as outriders. That’ll be sufficient escort.’

Ignoring Helena’s outstretched arm, her mouth pursed in
false sympathy, he made for the door. He longed to hold Rose and quiz her
himself about her activities, but right now he lacked the courage. He needed to
go to his own quarters, mull over everything he had learned and try to deduce
what the devil was really going on. If that failed to provide clarification,
he’d talk to Rose.

‘YES,
YOU’LL LEAVE tomorrow.’

He’d twisted his mind in knots trying to come up with a
motive for her actions and then he’d visited Dr Horne who’d said ‘in these
cases’ the motive was simply the attention, even if that were in the form of
anger. He said the general recommendation was that patients be removed to a
quiet location to calm their over-excited minds.

Rose was not one to get over-excited, Rampton had
immediately thought, before remembering the passionate heights the two of them
had recently scaled. Did that count?

Now, the sight of the yellow silk morning gown, the bonnet
still lying at the end of the divan, hardened his heart, despite the latitude
he was determined to show her.

Her languid, welcoming smile had almost undone him as he’d
put his head around the door but he steeled himself to be business-like. Dr
Horne had said that if Rose took responsibility for her actions it would be a
great leap forward. Dr Horne had said a great many other things that had thrown
his entire world into turmoil but he couldn’t dwell on those right now.

‘My dear.’ He tried not to let his fondness for her cloud
his purpose. She looked so very lovely, draped upon the bed. How he wished to
close the distance between them and have her rest her head upon his shoulder. Then
he would gently ask her about the two necklaces: Lady Barbery’s and Lady
Chawdrey’s. He’d also ask her about Geoffrey and why she’d lied when she
insisted she’d never met him before his mother’s dinner. Instead he said, with
commendable self control, ‘You are at liberty to petition me for funds if you
find yourself short.’

She blanched. ‘So you know about the visit to the
pawnbroker? I promised Helena I wouldn’t tell you.’

‘Helena?’

‘Yes, I went on her account.’

His heart tumbled to his boots in sheer relief. Sinking on
to the bed he took her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘Did you not think it
prudent to ask her where such a valuable necklace came from? When it clearly
did not belong to her?’

His voice was only as reproachful as was needed to remind
her that she should be more careful in future. He watched the play of emotions
across her delicate features while she struggled for an answer. God, she was
beautiful. Once she had confessed he looked forward to a long and leisurely afternoon
luxuriating in her arms. He’d forgive her anything.

Frowning slightly, she asked, ‘What necklace?’

He stared. The silence stretched as he waited for her to see
that lies did not sit well with him. Did she honestly think he’d be quizzing
her about it if he did not know? Dropping her hand he rose and went to the
window. Turning, he asked, carefully, ‘You admit visiting a pawnbroker’s this
morning. Why? To redeem some worthless trinkets when you know I am not
ungenerous.’ He answered his own question. ‘No, to pawn a valuable necklace
that did not belong to you. I have the evidence.’

She continued to look blank. ‘It was on Helena’s behalf I
went. I just took some clothes and jewellery. The sum total was less than five pounds.’

Turning away Rampton steeled himself to face the truth. Rose
had pawned a necklace that did not belong to her, and now lied about it. His
mind raced. Was she unhappy? Last night and today would suggest otherwise. But
Rose was a good actress. No. He dismissed the idea. She’d not give herself to
him if she were trying to obtain sufficient resources to get away. The idea was
preposterous and certainly did not fit with all he knew of her.