A Little Deception (4 page)

No, she would not! Rose’s momentary doubt as to whether
Helena would have been the better candidate in persuading Lord Rampton to
extend the terms of their loan was swept away by righteous conviction. Helena
could persuade a man to do most things she wanted but Helena’s voracious
appetite would have had her setting out to make him her slave. Rose could even
imagine Charles discovering his wife—Heaven forbid! — wrapped in
Lord Rampton’s arms in some dark corner, which of course Helena would find some
way to justify.

Heat prickled Rose’s skin and she crossed her legs, suddenly
uncomfortable by the unfamiliar sensations raging through her body. She put it
down to the fact that she couldn’t bear Charles to have to suffer such
disappointment. Charles loved Helena to distraction. Indeed, it was a good
thing it was Rose who was trying to twist Lord Rampton round her little finger.

‘I wish it would meet with some horrible accident,’ said
Arabella, referring to Rose’s unbecoming dress. ‘I’m always meaning to
accidentally pour something dreadful on to it and quite ruin it. But then Rose
has so few clothes.’ Smiling, she added, ‘Rose looked so beautiful wearing your
white dress, Helena, and with her hair done so modishly. I couldn’t believe it
was her. Maybe you could lend her more of your clothes and then she could go
about in society and find herself a rich husband. Isn’t that what you’ve always
said she should do?’

‘Yes, but not in my clothes.’ Helena shuddered. ‘Anyway, you
said yourself, my wardrobe is hardly compatible with the kind of figure darling
Rose chooses to cut.’ She glanced from her high-waisted, low-fronted sprigged
muslin to Rose’s prim, unfashionable gown. ‘Rose looks every inch the spinster
she is at such pains to present to the world. I wouldn’t dream of insulting her
by offering her the loan of my clothes.’

Anger silenced Rose as Arabella asked, ‘But what about when
Rose meets Lord Rampton again? She has to pretend to be you, and she can only
do that if you lend her something from your wardrobe. It would be terrible if
he discovered her deception.’

‘Lord Rampton is about to set sail in search of far more engaging
females than your sister.’ Helena’s clipped pronouncement shouldn’t have
excited the kind of emotion that assailed Rose—she knew it. She certainly
was used to Helena’s careless disregard, however it took a great deal of effort
to remain on her seat and not lunge for Helena and slap her face. Rose closed
her eyes for a moment and held her breath. Good Heavens, when had her temper
nearly got the better of her? she wondered with dismay. Rose was distinguished by
her composure and good sense. She was the
antithesis
of Helena.

‘Well, at least Rose managed to play for more time. She was
very clever and clearly captivated the viscount.’

‘He must be a kind man.’ Helena smiled sweetly at Rose. ‘No
doubt he’d have been equally receptive to any petitioning female, whether she
was an ape leader in drab apricot velvet or a diamond of the first water.’
Ignoring Arabella’s outraged gasp she added, ‘Rose knows a dose of
smelling-salts would have had me up to the mark in no time but clearly the
chance to go about in company pretending to be a married woman proved too
tempting to resist. But Rose had her chance.’

There had been just the tiniest pause before uttering the
last sentence. Rose glared at Helena. It was just like her to drag up the past
to bolster her case, rubbing Rose’s nose in her failure to secure the one
splendid marital chance Rose had ever been offered.

‘Sir Hector was Father’s best friend.’ Rose’s voice was
tight. ‘I had known him all my life. How could I possibly have thrown myself
into his arms and felt joy at being his wife when he was more like a kindly old
uncle?’

‘He had the means to give you everything you wanted.’

‘Is that why you set your cap at him after Rose rejected
him?’ Arabella looked uncharacteristically confrontational.

‘Hush, Arabella,’ Rose admonished, though touched that her
docile little sister would take such a risk on her behalf. Five years ago the
whispers were that Helena had indeed set her cap at Sir Hector before she’d
married Charles with almost unseemly haste after Sir Hector’s rejection. ‘Why
look! There’s Aunt Alice waving to us from the upstairs casement,’ she said,
relieved that they were at their destination. ‘At least, she looks so like Mama
it must be Aunt Alice.’

***

‘I declare, it’s like seeing my dead sister walk through
that door!’ With outstretched arms, Aunt Alice greeted Rose at the top of the
portico steps before leading them into her fashionable townhouse. ‘You must
forgive me for being such a sentimental creature. I was always much more of a
silly than Beatrice.’ Dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, she ushered
the girls towards a comfortable cluster of seats once they’d reached the
over-decorated drawing room. ‘And you are the exotic creature dear Charles
married,’ she added, turning to Helena who was ensconced on a blue and silver
upholstered Egyptian sofa. ‘I believe he’d been dangling after you since you
were in short skirts. So now, Arabella, we need to find you a fine husband
before the end of the season,’ she gushed. ‘Just see if we don’t!’

Rose had never met her aunt, who’d waved Rose’s parents off
to their new life after her father had inherited the plantation shortly after
gambling away his English estate.

‘We are so grateful for your offer to launch Arabella,’ said
Rose. ‘And Helena, of course, is dying for a Season. This is the first time she
has left the island.’

‘But what about you, my dear Rose?’ asked Aunt Alice.

‘Rose will look after Charles,’ said Helena, with a
complacent smile. ‘They prefer a quiet life. Rose was telling me only the other
week how much she preferred the idea of curling up with a good book than
attending Lady Glenton’s soirée. Isn’t that so, Rose?’

Rose hesitated. ‘I did say that,’ she conceded, adding
silently that it was only so Charles needn’t feel so inadequate that he had not
the funds to clothe both his sisters sufficiently – given his wife’s
extravagance - so that they would not disgrace the family name.

‘But my dear Rose, you are only in London this one Season.
It may be your last chance to find a husband.’ Aunt Alice’s expression was
almost comical in its distress.

‘I do not want one, Aunt Alice.’ Rose forced a smile. ‘I
couldn’t bear to be away from the plantation for too long.’ This, at least, was
true. Rose had no intention of remaining in England which meant it would be
unfair to spend money they did not have on a wardrobe for her. Arabella needed
fine clothes to make a good match. The last thing on Rose’s mind was attracting
a husband when her heart longed for the heat and familiarity of her island
home.

Her aunt regarded Rose as if she had just admitted to a
penchant for robbing graves. ‘Not want a husband?’ she repeated. ‘But, my dear,
every woman needs a husband, whether they want one or not. I thought that was
why you were in England.’

‘That’s why Arabella is in England, and why I am here,
accompanying her.’ Rose blushed, adding awkwardly, ‘Did I not explain that in
my letter?’

‘Oh yes, you said Arabella was to be launched but that there
were not the funds to launch you, also.’ Aunt Alice cleared her throat. ‘I
realize you are quite a bit older; however, surely if the opportunity presented
itself, you’d be amenable to the idea of marriage?’

‘Rose declares she is too set in her ways,’ said Arabella
comfortably.

‘She’s right,’ murmured Helena.

Aunt Alice’s grey corkscrew curls bobbed about her ears as
she looked from one girl to the next, seemingly at a loss for words. At last
she managed, ‘Ah, well, that’s as may be, but some of us have been known to
change our minds.’

The sound of loud clattering in the hallway followed by
raised voices made them turn, but the new arrival passed by the drawing room,
distance muting his heavy tread upon the stairway that led to the bedrooms on
the upper floor.

Rose glanced across at Aunt Alice whose faced blanched and
who was now holding her chest. She was surprised. Was that fear she saw cross
her face? Almost instantly Aunt Alice dropped her hand and gave a girlish laugh,
saying, ‘With so much to be done, let us discuss wardrobes, and invitations
this very instant.’

But Rose had not missed the momentary uncertainty before her
aunt had launched into a spirited discourse on the aforementioned topics, with
occasional interjections from Helena and Arabella.

Rose looked on. Unexpectedly, she was assailed by such an
all-consuming spasm of envy she wanted to shake herself. Helena was quite
right: Rose could have contracted an alliance with the most eligible bachelor
in the whole of the West Indies. Then all of them would have had wardrobes full
of fine clothes.

Too late to turn back the clock. Five years ago Rose had not
known that her father was virtually bankrupt, that the alternative to marriage
was to be all but completely dependent upon Charles and the cold and beautiful
Helena whom he’d married shortly afterwards with such unseemly haste.

‘Oh dear, it’s raining. And you girls had planned to go
walking in the park.’ Aunt Alice eyed the falling rain with concern. ‘I’m sure
it’s just a shower. You’ll have to stay until it’s—’

Her sentence was cut short as the door burst open and an
angry voice cried, ‘Gad’s teeth, Mama, will you look at what Riley’s done to my
hessians!’

Four startled pairs of eyes turned towards the door as a
tall, dark youth of about twenty years strode into the room.

Ignoring the three girls, he made his way towards Aunt Alice
and, turning to face her, stamped one boot upon the coffee table. Four china
tea cups shuddered.

‘I’m sorry, Oswald. I’ll speak to him again.’ Aunt Alice’s
voice wavered.

‘You’ll give him his notice, Mama, and that’s final. He’s
already been warned once.’

‘But, Oswald, I can’t….’

Without waiting for her to finish, the young man removed his
foot from the table, glared at the girls, then strode from the room.

Crimson, Aunt Alice stammered, ‘I’m so sorry for the
intrusion, my dears. That was my stepson, Oswald. Sometimes, when he gets in
one of his moods …’ She trailed off before beginning a new sentence with
pathetic eagerness, ‘But most of the time he’s quite charming.’

‘I couldn’t see anything wrong with his boots,’ said Helena.

Alice shrugged helplessly. ‘He likes them polished so he can
see his reflection.’

Rose changed the subject and when a ray of sunshine lit up
the room, declared brightly that now they had talked Aunt Alice’s ear off it
was time for the three of them to be on their way.

‘It’ll be lovely and fresh for a promenade in Hyde Park,’
said Aunt Alice, as she accompanied them down the front steps to the pavement
to wait for the carriage to be brought round. ‘I declare, the three of you look
as pretty as a picture.’ She looked wistful. ‘I remember the days when Beatrice
and I used to promenade….’

A passing cooper’s wagon drowned her words but as it took
the turn it lurched into a ditch sending up a spray of muddy water before
righting itself and continuing on its way.

‘Rose! Your dress!’ shrieked Aunt Alice.

Rose looked with dismay at the damage to her best gown. Muddy
droplets had disfigured the entire front of it. Dismayed, she said, ‘I’ll just
stay in the carriage while Helena and Arabella take a stroll,’ but her aunt
wouldn’t hear of it, insisting, ‘You must borrow one of my pelisses. I have so
many, I’ll never miss it.’

After much resistance Rose eventually gave in and returned
upstairs with her aunt to look through her wardrobe. When she presented herself
to the girls her apricot velvet had all but disappeared beneath a smart white,
fur-edged pelisse, with neat gold buttons from hem to neckline. In addition she
carried over her arm three cast-off gowns, all the height of fashion.

‘I so rarely go about these days, yet I can never resist
when my dressmaker pays a visit,’ Aunt Alice had assured her. Rose rather
suspected that this was her aunt’s way of dispensing charity but saw how much
she’d offend her if she refused to at least take them home to try on.

‘That’s certainly an improvement,’ Helena remarked, casting
her eye over Rose as they took their seats in the carriage.

‘White suits you,’ said Arabella. ‘You should wear it more
often.’

Rose smiled. White was not a very practical colour, given
the amount of time she spent overseeing their sugar plantation.

Now that the sun was shining so brilliantly the crowds were
out in full force, promenading or driving through the park. The moment the
girls were handed down they were caught up in the spirit of the spectacle.
Unconsciously they slowed their pace to match the languid saunter of the other
promenaders.

Much of their conversation with Aunt Alice had been spent
discussing the invitations she had received and from which they could, in turn,
benefit. Helena had, at the time, appeared bored, but Rose noticed how her eyes
lit up at the spectacle of the handsomely garbed crowd. She saw, too, the
familiar glint of criticism and was not surprised when Helena, with a toss of
her glossy dark head declared, ‘English women have no style,’ as she levelled
an accusing look at Rose. ‘If you had not insisted that I should wear my most
missish gown so as not to scandalize your aunt, I’d have shown up these dull
English ladies.’