Cherished Enemy (22 page)

Fairleigh patted the chestnut's silken neck. “A few months past five years.” Looping the reins over the pommel, he swung down from the saddle and slapped his mount's shoulder gently. “Rumpelstiltskin, make your bow to Miss Albritton and Dr. Victor.”

The tall horse snorted and sidled, then bent his right foreleg and bowed his head low.

“Oh, jolly good!” exclaimed Victor.

Rosamond clapped her hands in delight, and as the chestnut stood straight and nuzzled his master's ear, she said admiringly, “He is indeed beautiful, and seems so fond of you. Did you train him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“By voice command alone?” asked Victor.

Obviously pleased by their interest, Fairleigh answered, “Not really, but I think I shall not tell you all my secrets. Suffice it to say we understand each other. Fact is, Rump's my best friend. I found him in the Low Countries, but never used him during an engagement. Daren't take chances with this fellow.”

“Does he know any more tricks?” asked Rosamond hopefully.

“Oh, many. And will be proud to show off for you, Miss Albritton, are we permitted to call at some future time.”

“Bribery most foul!” cried Victor.

Rosamond ignored him. “We will issue a firm invitation,” she declared. “In fact, an you are still in the vicinity, Mr. Fairleigh, you must come to my papa's birthday party on Monday. Do say you will.”

He mounted up again. “Ma'am, I shall count the hours. But are you sure your papa will not object to the presence of a stranger at such a family gathering? I—er, think I'd not care to upset the gentleman.”

“I'll own he can be gruff. But he is really the kindest gentleman, I assure you, and delights to have guests attend his birthday parties, family members or no. Dr. Victor, for example, will likely still be among us.”

“Oh,” said Fairleigh, crestfallen. “Pity.”

“Ruffian!” cried the doctor.

Fairleigh laughed. “Do I gather, Miss Rosamond, that Mrs. Porchester's—er, puppy caused the havoc I noted among the roses?”

“You do,” she said, regarding Trifle ruefully. “Wherefore, I fancy my poor aunt will be obliged to part with her pet.”

“Surely not? I'd have thought he does but need a firm hand.”

“With an axe in it,” grunted Victor.

“You, sir, have no heart,” Rosamond advised him, with perfect sincerity. “No, really, gentlemen, any suggestions you may have will be most welcome. Aunt Estelle has become extreme fond of Trifle.”

“I've one suggestion, Miss Albritton,” said Fairleigh as they all three urged their mounts on at a walk. “His name must be changed. Don't suit him at all.”

“True,” Victor agreed. “What had you in mind?
Désastre,
perhaps?”

Watching the puppy gamboling clumsily beside them, Rosamond said regretfully, “Poor creature. He doesn't know he is a disaster.”

“A common failing,” murmured Fairleigh, smiling at Victor.

“I resent the implication,” Victor protested. “And to prove I do not hold a grudge, I—”

“Grudge? Now pray what have I done to warrant your holding a grudge against me?”

“Arrived. I'd Miss Albritton to myself until you came cavorting about.”

Fairleigh declared promptly, “Then you've stolen an unfair advantage, and were you a chivalrous gentleman, would now leave the field and allow me
my
chance.”

“To the contrary, sir. No chivalrous gentleman would dare leave a lady alone in your vicinity, I think! Besides,” added Victor, ignoring his adversary's indignation and turning smiling eyes to Rosamond, “
I
have a plan to save Trifle, Miss Albritton.”

“Excellent,” said Fairleigh. “And do not forget, my dear fellow, that ‘one picture is worth a thousand words.' Wherefore, sooner than hang about here making idle boasts of your stupendous plan, you might better hurry off to initiate it so you can lay your solution at the lady's dainty feet,
au fait accompli,
as 'twere. Then, do you see, I shall be quite rolled up! Do you not agree, ma'am?”

Rosamond murmured, “I confess myself eager to see this—alleged ‘solution.'”

Victor shook his head and bemoaned the fact that innocent ladies could be so easily taken in by a smooth-tongued rogue. But even as Fairleigh raised a protest against such a designation, Victor was thinking that this handsome, likeable, but quite unknown quantity would at least keep the girl busy for a while. Glancing at Rosamond, he surprised a look of searing contempt that so startled him he stared at her for a shocked instant. Her eyes had lowered almost at once, and her smile was bright as ever when she looked up. Torn between the temptation to stay and try and discover the reason behind that look, and the need to be about his own affairs, he bowed, said with heavy pathos that he hoped he knew when he was not wanted, and sent his hack cantering towards the distant chimneys of Lennox Court. Trifle, who appeared to have decided the doctor was an acceptable companion, bounded along after him.

Rosamond was plagued by the fear that just for an instant she had betrayed her scorn and that Victor had detected it, but she could not help but smile at Mr. Fairleigh's whoop of triumph.

Riding back to the stables, Victor's expression was so far from a smile that it was as well Rosamond did not see it. His eyes were bleak and deadly, his mouth a grimly compressed line. After a while, his lips parted to speak a name, soft and vengefully: “Charles!”

*   *   *

By noon the haze had burned off and the sky was a deep blue bowl unembellished by clouds. Rosamond had guided Mr. Fairleigh halfway to Chichester and back, through a verdant countryside basking under the warm rays of the sun. They finished their ride with a race, and thundered neck and neck up a rolling hill. Coming to the top, Rosamond was hot and windblown, and not at all reluctant to be lifted from the saddle so that they might allow the horses a short rest. Fairleigh spread his handkerchief over an obliging root and Rosamond sat gratefully in the shade provided by the wide spreading branches of the gnarled old oak.

“Oh, but that was a nice gallop,” she exclaimed, watching him loosen the horses' girths and tether her mare to a nearby shrub. “You do not constrain your ‘best friend,' I see.”

“There is not the need, ma'am. He'll not stray far from me, but if he should, he'll come when I whistle.”

“You need not flatter yourself that I am deceived, sir. I am well aware Rumpelstiltskin could have very easily beaten me here, had you not held him back.”

“Assurément,”
he agreed, strolling to her side as the animals began to graze. “But your mare did very well, Miss Albritton, and what a fool I would be to leave the side of so beautiful a damsel.”

She forced a smile, but the pretty compliment did little to lift her spirits. Her fears for Charles nagged at her without respite; she was bedevilled by worry for Deborah's safety, countless horrid possibilities plaguing her, while the awareness that for the first time Debbie had kept something from her added to her distress. Her fear and loathing of Robert Victor was constantly at war with another emotion, deep and deplorable, that tore at her heart however she fought to deny it. She felt crushed under such a weight of despair, and it was all she could do to appear cheerful when her deepest desire was for a number of Charles's large handkerchiefs and some nice peaceful hideaway, such as a crypt, where she might indulge in a good cry. A light flirtation at this particular time would not have come amiss, but
this
man was just too good-looking, and she suspected that he was as dangerous as he was attractive.

Sitting beside her, Fairleigh leaned back lazily on one elbow and said with sudden quiet gravity, “I wish you will not be afraid of me. I promise you I mean no harm, ma'am.”

Her eyes flew to meet his, and scanning that darkly beautiful face, she wondered what was wrong with her mind that she found another face so much more appealing. She thought sadly, ‘The face of a dastardly, treacherous, and cruel individual who is not fit to clean the shoes of
this
gentleman…' Curiosity had come into Fairleigh's expression, causing her to collect her wits and answer in a rush. “Why, I had not fancied you did, sir. But—I will confess I cannot but wonder just why you
are
come.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “How refreshingly ingenuous to say so. Faith, but you must spend little time looking in your mirror, lovely one. Did you really think I should fail to seek out such a Fair?”

She could not help but smile. “What I think, sir, is that despite such blatant flattery, you would not ride all this distance out of your way only to meet me again.”

“But 'twas not a great distance, dear ma'am. To say truth, I was en route to visit friends near Little Hampton and chanced to recollect you lived nearby. How could I resist so small a detour? And to see so sweet a smile tells me I am well rewarded.”

‘And you are
indeed
dangerous,' thought Rosamond.

“But now,” he went on, “'tis your turn to answer a question. Why did you look so stern when first I approached? Had that villain of a physician offended?”

She suffered a pang, and replied, “I fancy I was worrying for my papa's temper. He is a rabid gardener, and Trifle, alas, has had little training.”

It was, thought Fairleigh, as though a shadow had dulled her sparkling loveliness. He doubted the puppy's depredations had caused such a reaction and, intrigued, said, “Perhaps that is the doctor's intention—to educate your wild beast. I wish him joy of the endeavour!”

“Do I detect a bias against education?” She shook her head at him. “Yet surely you were at University, Mr. Fairleigh?”

“For one year only, and then—sent down, alas. Never to return.” He sighed tragically, but his eyes were full of mischief. “You behold a scorned and rejected outcast from academia, ma'am. The life of a don was, sad to tell, denied me.”

She seized the unexpected opportunity and responded with equal drama, “Ah, how my heart aches for you, sir. I can well visualize that crushed youth of long ago, his every hope blighted, cast out alone into the wilderness of The Backs.”

“'Twas not
that
long ago,” he protested, grinning at her. “And you must acquit me of the final indignity, ma'am. Brief as was my sojourn, I count myself an old Oxonian, and whatever my faults, I have never darkened the door of the infamous Cambridge!”

Cambridge!
Rosamond's mind seemed to reel. Victor certainly had not gone to school with her brother if he'd attended Cambridge, for Charles also was an Oxonian, having taken his degrees at Merton College. Then
that
had been a lie, too! Yet—Charles had
confirmed
their “schooldays” friendship.
Why? Victor,
of course! He must have forced Charles to lie. ‘My heavens!' she thought, anguished. ‘Does the man ever speak
one single word
of truth?'

A hand was lightly clasping hers. Startled, she looked up into deeply concerned dark eyes. Fairleigh said kindly, ‘You are very brave to entertain me with commonplaces when you are secretly beset by worry. Please—will you not let me help you? What is it brings so distraught a look to that lovely face?”

“'Tis—nothing of import,” she faltered, his sympathy somehow deepening her distress. “I am very sorry if—”

“Not near as sorry as am I, ma'am, that you will not allow me to stand your friend. Truly, 'twould be my very great honour if you'd but confide in me.”

Oh, how she longed to confide in
someone!
But to seek Aunt Estelle's counsel must be to upset thoroughly that tender-hearted and trusting soul who had taken such a liking to Victor. As for Papa—Lud, no! She peeped once more at the kind smile on the rather thin but shapely lips of this elegant gentleman. “You are too good, but—”

“But not good enough, I see.” He patted her hand, then released it. “I'll not tease you, but ask only that you believe that if ever you need me, you have but to send word and I will at once come to you.”

Such gentle devotion undermined her resolve as nothing else could have done. “Thank you … It is—m-more than—than…” she gulped. And her over-wrought nerves gave way. To her complete horror, she found herself sobbing gustily into his exquisite cravat.

If the gentleman was as horrified as she, he hid it admirably, holding her very close, patting her shoulder, but saying nothing until Rosamond managed to regain control of her emotions and drew back, deeply humiliated, wiping ineffectually at her eyes, and mumbling incoherent apologies.

Fairleigh produced a large and snowy handkerchief and dried her tears with swift expertise. “There,” he smiled. “Now you will feel very much better, ma'am, and whatever dragon threatens 'twill seem less—”

“'Tis not a dragon,” she said, her voice scratchily uneven still. “Mr. Fairleigh … how well do you know Dr. Victor?”

The dark brows lifted. “So our dragon is a physician! Alas, ma'am, I know him not at all—save that once or twice I have thought—” He hesitated, frowning a little, then went on, “I should not speak, when I have no proof of what I say … If I do so—will you keep my words confidential, Miss Albritton? Just—between you and me?”

“Oh, I will! And you also? We shall have a secret pact—in friendship.”

For a moment he looked down at her in rather an odd way, then he put out his hand. “I shall consider myself bound by an oath of silence, lovely new friend.”

She put her cold little hand in his. “What a relief, to have someone I may safely confide in!”

He restored her hand to her knee as though it had been an article of great fragility and priceless value. “You honour me, Miss Albritton. Now—pray tell me what our er, erstwhile travelling companion has done to so upset you.”