A Little Deception (33 page)

He stopped, mid-thought. What, exactly, did he know of her?
She’d deceived him into marriage, for a start.

Was her motive money? He thought of the Mayfair house and
realized the difficulty of procuring immediate funds. However, the only reason
she’d need money was if she intended to leave him. A bitter thought, indeed!

Rose and Geoffrey Albright? He could not countenance it.
Rose actively disliked the man. But then, she’d not mentioned the fact they’d
known one another before. His mind trawled for possibilities. If Rose had
learned that Rampton was the close neighbour of the man she had loved in the
West Indies, could she have…?

No, she could not have been so calculating that she’d put
out a lure to Rampton on the chance he’d bite just so she’d be closer to her
old lover. He was reading conspiracies into everything.

He tried to calm his disordered thoughts with a deep breath.
First he needed to ascertain whether the owner of the necklace he’d retrieved
from the pawnbroker’s was indeed Lady Chawdry. Then he needed to discover what
Rose was planning to do with the proceeds. He would have to hire someone very
discreet to follow her every move for the next few weeks - if only to confirm
that she was not guilty of any wrongdoing.

He did not know how he managed to say, so calmly, as he
turned back to her, ‘The doctor says your health would be much improved with
some country air.’

‘My health!’ exclaimed Rose. ‘Why, all I have is a slight
megrim. Besides, Dr Horne said nothing to me about it.’

Her look of injured surprise nearly unbalanced him but he
pressed on. ‘I think it best to follow the doctor’s orders, Rose. I’ve arranged
for you to leave first thing in the morning.’

***

Surely, he couldn’t dispatch her to the country so summarily
without some explanation? Having made her excuses at dinner, Rose waited in her
bedchamber.

Even the most hard-hearted man, believing his wife guilty of
some dreadful crime, would want to confront her with it. All she could think of
was that Helena had intimated she’d pawned a valuable necklace. Perhaps Charles
had asked after one of her trinkets and Helena had balked at telling the truth.

Ten o’ clock chimed. Rose changed into a filmy nightgown,
dabbed a little Olympian Dew beneath her eyes to make them sparkle and arranged
her hair. One hour stretched into two. Cold forced her to cover the diaphanous
nightgown with a shawl, but the effect she strove to achieve was still the
same: a beautiful woman who, once her innocence was established, was too
desirable to resist.

When she put her hand on the doorknob her heart was
hammering. Foolish! she chided herself. Last night they had talked like old
friends, and then had followed hours of delicious intimacy. Only a few hours
before, their desire had again escalated into incendiary love-making followed
by an amicable leave-taking. Galvanized by the memory, she quietly turned the
knob and pushed open the door to the library.

They had their backs to her. No wonder they did not notice
her, she thought briefly and bitterly as she saw how entranced they were with
one another. Helena, dressed in white like an exotic gardenia, the patina of
her olive skin soft and dewy – just as Rose imagined her look – had
her head tilted to one side as she gazed at Rampton. And Rampton? One hand
lightly cradled one of hers; as if he were on the verge of clasping her round
the waist and pulling her to him.

As he half-turned, Rose saw in his eyes a look she had never
seen: hunger and yearning.

Fighting back the tears she turned away. How long had this
been going on? Was he a man of such appetites that one woman wasn’t enough for
him? Had Helena finally worked her way under his guard and issued an ultimatum?
Was that was why he was sending her to the country?

***

Rampton tore his troubled gaze from Helena. He thought he’d
heard a footfall in the passage outside.

Helena recalled his attention. ‘Did Rose confess?’

Taking a few steps back, he winced at Helena’s brutal
phraseology. The moment he’d entered the library with her he realized it had
been a mistake. If Dr Horne’s earnest advice regarding Rose’s mental condition
had not been bad enough, Helena’s feigned concern was enough to tip him over
the edge.

‘I must go to bed,’ he said, abruptly, turning.

She stopped him with a hand on his sleeve and yearning
gripped him. If only it were Rose, detaining him with a heartfelt plea for
forgiveness; even a cry for help at the demons that tormented her.

‘I warned you at Lady Barbery’s of Rose’s dangerous impulses,
if you recall, but love knows no reason.’ She traced the contour of his arm
before taking his hand. ‘Rose was never quite the same after Geoffrey left so
abruptly from the West Indies. But when I quizzed her about it she said the
subject was closed and never to be reopened. I think seeing him in London was a
very great shock. And I’m sure discovering he was your neighbour and old friend
must have been an even greater one.’

 
‘Good night,
Helena,’ he muttered, unclasping her fingers and making for the door. ‘I’ve had
quite enough sympathy for one day, thank you.’

***

‘What took you so long?’ The asperity of Helena’s tone was
at odds with the air of serenity she had projected for the benefit of her
legion of admirers promenading in the park.

For an instant Oswald was checked. But then, laughing as he
reached down to help her into the phaeton beside him, he said, ‘I have what you
want, dear heart, though I’d venture the bargain will be mine. At least I’ll
not be saddled with a shrew for a lifetime.’ He winked salaciously. ‘How
charming to see you, too.’

Pulling from his pocket a roll of bank notes he grinned at
her gasp. ‘Might I remind you it was no mean feat. Twice I thought I was in
trouble and it was only luck that stymied the one factor I had not taken into
account – Lady Hocking’s puling pug. There it was, yapping at me, fit to
burst just as I was sneaking out of my lady’s dressing-room with her gems in my
hands. Then suddenly it had a seizure or some such thing. The old dragon or
chatelaine of the jewel box had been on the point of investigating more extensively
and was sure to discover me hidden amongst my lady’s dresses, but when she saw
the animal in a swoon it was she who had an attack of the vapours before
rushing off to find the hartshorn or burnt feathers with which to revive my
lady’s precious pug.’

Oswald grinned at the memory. The rush of adrenaline had
made it fine sport – not that he hadn’t been close to having a seizure
himself at the time. But Helena had not the sense of humour that made her want
to enjoy the details with him. She just wanted the money.

‘What a wondrous clever plan it was,’ she said, ‘to have
doubled my reward by blighting Rose into the bargain. So Rampton paid up for
you to keep mum over his wife’s grave misdemeanours and now my honest
brother-in-law is anonymously posting back the goods to Lady Chawdrey. Poor
Rampton will be feeling very pinched in the pocket. What did he say when you
told him about Geoffrey?’

Oswald grinned. ‘Not very much. It was lucky that his
neighbour spent time in the West Indies and that you ran into Mr Albright,
what’s more. Still, it was an evil tale that I was loath to put about. It’s one
thing to thieve valuables from a fat old trout who’d lief as not realize they’d
gone missing until the next season. But to destroy a man’s faith in his wife’s
virtue. That’s a grubby thing to do. It nearly broke my heart to see how easily
Rampton swallowed the tale. Still, you don’t think he’ll find out, do you?’

Helena’s smile was serene as she smoothed the skirts of her
dashing coquelicot pelisse.

‘Dr Horne was an absolute darling. He earnestly verified
every little symptom I suggested.’ She giggled. ‘He blushes when I so much as
look his way so it pleased him to corroborate my story that Rose has been
suffering from a rare disorder of the mind. Indeed, he was assiduous in
advising Rampton of various avenues he might pursue.’ With a look of moral
rectitude she skimmed the length of the feather that adorned her handsomely
trimmed headdress, adding, ‘Of course, it’s Rampton just desserts since he only
made a play for Rose because he thought she was married.’

‘Such fitting consequences to please one as virtuous as
yourself.’ Oswald, leaning back in the phaeton, was pleased this made her
cross. ‘Still, I’m sorry to see it end this way for them. Seems that old grudge
of yours won’t be satisfied until she’s packed off to Bedlam.’ He yawned as he
studied his fingernails. ‘And all on the basis of your lies completely
swallowed by the husband who might have loved her.’

‘Oh, very prosy,’ sneered Helena. ‘Anyway, you’re up to your
neck in manufacturing evidence. How did that fence of yours perform?’

‘The hunchback?’ Oswald’s momentary sympathy for Rose was
quickly replaced by his delight in the success of his little project. ‘Worthy
of Drury Lane from what I can gather. With magnificent conviction he identified
the purveyor of stolen goods as none other than our good Lord Rampton’s lovely,
troubled wife and obligingly whipped out her gown that you packed at the very
bottom of the bag. There was not the shadow of a doubt in poor Rampton’s mind
that would prompt him to question whether in fact it was a con job. Obviously
you did fine work sewing the jewels into the bodice of your gown—’

‘Yes, and she was on the verge of whisking it out of my
hands and paying me for it as she knew it was a favourite!’ Helena snorted.

‘She’s very much nicer than you are,’ Oswald returned, reaching
across to snatch the bank notes out of her hands and replying with raised
eyebrows to her look of fury, ‘You don’t imagine I’m fool enough to hand them
over before I’ve received my reward, do you, my dear Helena?’

The insinuating thigh that rubbed against hers caused Helena
to look sidelong at him with distaste. ‘You know very well you have not
fulfilled your side of the bargain and that I need four thousand to set me up
so I might leave Charles. The money from Rampton and three diamond necklaces
which need to be disposed of are not enough.’ She smiled. ‘I think perhaps a
few mementoes from Lady Rampton’s armoury of gems will suffice but as I can
easily persuade Rose to hand those over I don’t think you’ll have done enough
to enjoy my favours.’

Dimpling at the thunderous expression on his face she said
lightly, ‘Yes, I suspected you might be capable of violence if I tried to
renege.’ She tapped him playfully on his knee with her fan. ‘I only dared
suggest it because we’re in a public place.’ As she stroked the point of her
fan slowly up his thigh, her smile cloying, the thunderous look on Oswald’s
face dissipated. ‘Dearest Oswald,’ she sighed, ‘you’re so predictable.’

***

Three days in the country with no word from her husband was
as much as Rose needed to persuade herself that her deepest fears were
confirmed.

Rampton’s moods had been erratic since they’d returned to
London.

Where Helena had been waiting.

Of course, the idea that Rampton’s feelings did not
reciprocate her own hadn’t occurred to her until she’d wandered listlessly
about for several days with nothing but her increasing fears and doubts for
company. She’d returned to thinking of his change in attitude since she’d
inherited Aunt Gwendolyn’s house.

Perhaps this wasn’t entirely due to the Yarrowby affair. His
anger with her at failing to heed his warnings suggested a man who liked to
exert his own authority.

If Rose had dissatisfied him how easy would it then be to
succumb to one of Helena’s lures?

Rose knew Helena had no wish to return to the West Indies.
Was she therefore making a play for Rose’s husband? Rampton was conveniently
under the same roof while Rose was … three hours away in the country.

At whose instigation had the doctor been summoned before
he’d suggested all manner of ailments from which Rose might be suffering. Helena’s?
Or, God forbid, Rampton’s? This afternoon Rose had dismissed a clearly
concerned Dr Marsh – her mother-in-law’s physician - with bright and
energetic denials of any symptoms of ill health … and a deep foreboding.

No, it didn’t make sense. Rampton’s banishment of her had
occurred too suddenly. They’d reconciled. Not hours beforehand they’d made love.

Which Rose had initiated. The uncomfortable thought kept
intruding on her perambulations as her mind cast about for some plausible
reason behind Rampton’s change of heart. Something had happened, she thought
wearily, that had convinced her husband that she had deceived him again.

After her third walk that day, with no catharsis from the
fresh tears she had shed, Rose opened the door of the drawing room to the unsettling
spectacle of Arabella and Felix with their backs to her, standing surprisingly
close to one another. For a second Rose imagined she had disturbed a lovers’
tryst; but their faces were guileless and welcoming as they turned to greet
her. Arabella moved forward to take Rose’s hands, thus revealing two paintings
leaning against the wall beneath the window.

‘Felix, it’s splendid!’ cried Rose after a quick recovery.
‘Arabella must be so pleased!’ The sight of her own portrait beside it brought
a pang of memory. It had not been many weeks since the fateful sitting which
had precipitated her unexpected and hasty marriage. Yet had her husband already
had tired of her? A spurt of anger bolstered her reserves. Whatever the problem
was, she’d get to the bottom of it. She had to or else she was condemned to the
same misery Helena complained of and for which she’d perhaps sought Rampton’s
assistance to alleviate.