A Little Deception (7 page)

‘In that case, Lady Chesterfield, all the more reason to
heed my warning.’

‘That Lord Yarrowby is a rake? But, my lord,’ Rose smiled
wickedly, ‘I had not thought the charge such a terrible one. If we ladies were
to be warned off every so-called rake in town, who would be left to marry?’

Instead of responding in like fashion to her flirtatious
banter Lord Ramtpon lowered his head even further. In fact, for one
tantalizingly terrifying moment Rose thought he was going to actually brush his
lips against hers and she stiffened, every fibre of her being on full alert.

She was still wondering whether she was disappointed or
otherwise that he had not, when he added ominously, ‘Most rakes, I am pleased
to report, have more respect for their womenfolk. Now,’ His tone was matter of
fact as he straightened and saw Rose to the door, ‘when shall I have the
pleasure of furthering our acquaintance, Lady Chesterfield? Perhaps at Lady
Pendleton’s soirée tomorrow night? You have my promise – as a rake and a
gentleman – that when next we meet, we shall concern ourselves with
matters that are altogether more …’ the wolfish smile was in place as he
supplied suggestively, ‘diverting.’

***

Helena sighed as she twirled a cushion tassel round her
middle finger and gazed through the grimy windows at the church spire. ‘I can’t
decide whether it’s more fun being fêted as the unworldly virgin, or watching
you grapple with the subtleties of experience. Come now, Rose,’ she laughed her
husky laugh, ‘I’ve already pledged to play the part you’ve assigned to me.’

Too absorbed in her own dilemma as to whether it was pure
folly to attend Lady Pendleton’s soirée, Rose did not notice how bright her
sister-in-law’s eyes were, and how out of character was her enthusiasm for a
plan from which she did not, apparently, benefit directly. She was relieved
when Aunt Alice was announced.

‘We were just discussing Lady Pendleton’s masquerade
tomorrow night, Mrs Withers,’ said Helena, ignoring Rose’s imploring look and
small shake of the head. ‘Happily Rose has agreed to accompany us.’

‘Delightful!’ Aunt Alice beamed as she settled herself.

‘No, Helena, I was just saying I had decided not to
accompany you,’ Rose corrected her.

Helena, looking disappointed, turned an appealing gaze upon
the older woman. ‘Don’t you think it wrong that Rose should deny herself the
pleasures of the season when she has only this one chance to secure a husband,
for all she insists she doesn’t want one?’

‘Indeed, yes! What is it, child?’ asked her aunt directly,
turning to Rose. ‘Is it clothes?’

‘Helena has kindly promised to lend me those.’ Rose summoned
inspiration for her excuse.

‘Then what is it, dear? You’re not …’ Aunt Alice’s eyes
widened as an idea dawned, ‘afraid, are you?’

‘Of … men?’ Rose shook her head in emphatic denial, ‘Oh no!’

‘Dear Rose thinks herself the equal of any man,’ came a
lazy-sounding voice from the doorway.

‘My dear Charles, so good to see you,’ Aunt Alice exclaimed
as her nephew entered the room.

Taking a seat, Charles added, ‘No, Rose continues to eschew
the idea of marriage as she has not yet met a man she considers her equal.’

‘Well, perhaps it is not quite right to consider ourselves
equal to men, but it is most definitely a shame to allow fear to stand in the
way of finding a good husband. How is the world to go on?’ said Aunt Alice with
a definitive air, glancing about as if for corroboration.

‘What wisdom, Mrs Withers,’ said Helena with no hint of
irony. ‘The problem Rose has is that she can’t go out without being involved in
a terrible deception.’

In response to the obvious stupefaction of the others, she
elaborated with an artful smile, ‘All right, I confess, it was all my fault to
begin with.’

‘My dear Helena,’ Charles interjected, but Helena cut him
off, saying, quickly, ‘Dear Aunt Alice – you don’t mind if I call you
that? No? And perhaps you, too, enjoy a little intrigue. Yes?’ She glanced at
Charles and Rose as if challenging them to interrupt before launching into her
version of the truth. ‘You see, it all began when Charles had an important
meeting with a rich and influential gentleman – perhaps you know of him?
Lord Rampton.’

‘Indeed, I do.’ Aunt Alice’s tone was almost reverential. ‘A
dashing rake but the catch of the season, nonetheless.’

Helena nodded. ‘However, I was indisposed, and as Charles
could not go alone Rose had a wild idea that she would go in my place …’ She
broke off, silence giving greater effect to her next words: ‘masquerading as
me!’

A small frown of incomprehension creased Aunt Alice’s brow.
‘I’m sure it would have been perfectly appropriate for her to have gone as
herself with Charles as chaperone.’

‘Of course it was,’ Helena laughed. ‘But Rose sometimes has
these wild ideas and she doesn’t think of the consequences until after she
acts. Apparently she had nothing suitable of her own to wear, and it would seem
that wearing my clothes filled her with some rather outrageous inspiration.
Consequently,’ she took a deep breath, ‘it appears that Lord Rampton was quite
taken with Rose, yet thinks she is …’ she looked around the room, her emerald
eyes gleaming with amusement and finished with a staccato, ‘me!’

Rose was fuming. Wouldn’t Aunt Alice be shocked to learn
that her niece by marriage was a gambler who had all but ruined the family, and
that Rose’s actions had been prompted to save the plantation and only home they
had?

Revealing the bald facts was too much of a risk. Aunt Alice
was a gossip and any suggestion that the Chesterfields were at the mercy of
creditors would severely curtail Arabella’s chances.

Rose smiled almost sheepishly at her aunt. ‘Lord Rampton was
supposed to be leaving for the Continent by the end of the week so it seemed a
safe enough deception in view of the fact that I needed to petition him for a
little extra time to meet a small debt we owe him.’

‘You owe Lord Rampton money?’

Rose felt the heat in her cheeks. Unable to look her aunt in
the face she murmured, ‘Happily, he has given us until the end of the season. I
couldn’t have asked for more.’

Aunt Alice clicked her tongue and said, as if Rose were the
guilty party, ‘Just like your father, and yet he was adored by so many …’ She
broke off, as if a thought had occurred to her. ‘You say you owe Lord Rampton
money? Why, I may just be able to help you. Meanwhile, perhaps all this
deception is not such a wicked thing after all.’

Even Helena looked taken aback at this.

Obviously relishing the intrigue Aunt Alice continued, ‘From
what little I know of Lord Rampton, I gather he is only interested in married
ladies…’ She pursed her lips like a schoolgirl plotting a great surprise. ‘Why,
my dear Rose, I think you may have accidentally stumbled upon the only way to
call Lord Rampton’s bluff. So, as Arabella’s chaperone tomorrow night and,’ she
directed a decidedly crafty glance at Helena, ‘yours, Helena, I’ll be able to
assist in carrying off this perfectly wicked little charade while investigating
other avenues for honouring this debt,’ her blue eyes twinkled with excitement,
‘if it is ever called in.’

HAVING
TAKEN LEAVE of two satyrs and a wood nymph Rampton fingered the cutlass at his
belt, slung low upon his hips, and scanned the crowd.

For a moment he regretted his choice of costume. With one
eye covered by a black leather eye-patch it was even more difficult to find her
amongst the sea of elaborately costumed guests. Surely, if Lady Chesterfield
saw him first she would make her presence known?

A frisson of concern tempered his confidence. She had been
angered by what she considered his underhand tactics in luring her to his
drawing room the other night.

With a sigh of moral righteousness he drew himself up. Of
course he had to warn Lady Chesterfield of the danger Yarrowby posed to her
young sister-in-law, even if it had provided a convenient excuse to see her
again.

As for the debt, well, he’d much rather absolve her from
that in return for her sensual charms though she seemed not as forthcoming with
those as he’d been led to hope. He tested the blade of his weapon. Something
did not sit right with the picture that Babbage had painted, though outwardly
Lady Chesterfield lived up to every detail of his glowing description.

‘One of the few villains here, I see.’ Glancing down at the
owner of the husky voice which had intruded upon his reverie, he smiled at the
exquisite Helen of Troy who now swept a pair of stunning emerald eyes from his
boots upwards, pausing as they encountered the triangle of chest revealed by
the open linen shirt. The young woman tilted her face up to his. ‘Most
gentlemen, I note, have chosen to parade as their favourite hero.’ The full
lips curved into a slight smile as she purred, ‘I, however, have always found
villains much more exciting.’

Rampton returned her admiring look.

‘As bold as you are beautiful, fair Helen of Troy,’ he
returned gallantly, bowing over her outstretched hand. ‘However, villain that I
am, I adhere stringently to convention by never pursuing conversations with
beautiful women to whom I have not been properly introduced.’

‘We have been introduced, my lord,’ the young woman said
pertly, adding in response to his enquiring look, ‘The other day in the park.
You were with my sister-in-law—’

‘Forgive me, Miss Chesterfield.’ He cut her off, emphasizing
her maiden title, ‘but as you are a foreigner and apparently unaware of
appropriate behaviour for debutantes in this town I feel it my duty to escort
you back to your chaperone. Please lead the way.’

Her look of outrage made him smile; however he had no
intention of fostering false hopes. The young Miss Chesterfield was undeniably
an exquisite creature. To judge by her knowing eyes she was of the kind who
would singe a thousand admirers who worshipped at her flame before waltzing off
with the prize catch of the season.

And that was not him!

No, Rampton was far more interested in her exquisite
sister-in-law, the strangely alluring and quixotic Lady Chesterfield; the
brazen beauty at his elbow, now looking more sulky than sultry, was just the
one to assist him.

‘Allow me to escort you back to your party. Ah, Lady
Chesterfield.’ He bowed, gratified by the faint blush that bloomed in the young
woman’s cheeks. Unless she were a master of deception she appeared genuinely
discomfited by his presence. ‘Your sister-in-law became separated from your
group and lost in the crowd. Fortunately, I was on hand to return her’ - he
swept Helen of Troy a disapproving glance, adding - ‘before any damage was
done.’

Rose managed a slightly shaken smile, despite amusement at
Helena’s obvious chagrin, but for all that, she was seriously discomposed. Not
just by Lord Rampton’s sudden appearance – and what a fine figure he cut
in his pirate’s rig-out, nor by the wonderfully disconcerting fact that he
looked positively delighted to see her; but by the discovery that he clearly
disapproved of young women wandering off alone without their chaperones.

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Rose directed a chastening frown at
Helena, adding reprovingly, ‘Take care, next time, my dear. You are no longer a
colonial hoyden amongst familiar society.’

As soon as Rampton had left, after claiming a waltz later in
the evening from Rose, Lord Yarrowby appeared. Dimpling, Arabella graciously
acceded to his request, before gushing excitedly, ‘He wants to wait for the
waltz. Like Lord Rampton. Oh, Rose, imagine! If we take the fancies of Lord
Yarrowby and Lord Rampton, Helena can gamble to her heart’s content.’

Helena, directing a singularly unimpressed look at her
sister-in-law as Charles returned to her side, placed a graceful hand upon her
husband’s sleeve and coldly indicated that she wished him to lead her on to the
dance floor.

‘What Arabella says is entirely true,’ declared Aunt Alice
when Helena and Charles were out of hearing. ‘Two perfect matches! How I wish
your mother were here to have seen it.’

The pang of unease that assailed Rose was not prompted by
her own behaviour. She glanced at Arabella, who was gazing happily in the
direction of her new admirer. Before Rose voiced concern regarding Yarrowby she
must investigate whether there was truth in Lord Rampton’s allegations. And she
must do so before Arabella’s feelings progressed beyond youthful adulation.

Yet how could Lord Yarrowby be guilty as charged by Lord
Rampton when she had heard not a whisper against him? Dressed as Julius Caesar,
a laurel wreath topping his golden curls, Lord Yarrowby looked handsome and
boyish, despite his more than thirty years. Rose watched as he turned and
perceived Arabella’s eyes on him, his own crinkling in response. His
extravagant bow caused a blushing Arabella to turn away to collect her
disordered wits. The face she presented to her sister shone with excitement.

It was too early to voice caution. Lord Rampton’s summons
the other afternoon had been nothing more than a ruse to see how willingly Rose
would go to him – and believe him. Rampton was clearly conscious of his
power over women.