Double Deceit (21 page)

Sensation flooded every inch of her body. Groaning with needs she barely understood, she sank to the floor, her head in her hands.

So this was desire. More proof that she was no lady. But perhaps that would appeal to Linden. He preferred the unconventional. How would his kisses affect her? She couldn’t imagine anything better than Torwell’s, but then until yesterday, she could not have imagined his, either. His technique was lethal.

He sure doesn’t kiss like a vicar.

“And how would you know?” she demanded, climbing to her feet. “You have no experience. Stop thinking of Torwell and concentrate on Linden.” But she could not imagine kissing Linden. Or even touching him.

“Stupid,” she muttered, pacing the floor. “It’s the same body – broad shoulders, narrow hips, hard muscles. Same coloring, even.” But her mind remained unconvinced. The thought of running her fingers through
his
dark hair left her cold.

Shoving the image aside, she concentrated on the mosaic and on Torwell, the antiquarian. Mortification was no excuse to avoid him. They had business that could not be postponed, no matter how uncomfortable the meeting would be.

Working silently, they had uncovered the rest of the cat, flinching whenever their hands or arms accidentally touched. It was a beautiful piece of work, pristine except for minor damage near its tail.

Awe had filled his face, though he remained as far from her as the trench allowed. She recognized his discomfort, for it mirrored her own.

Desperate to get away, they’d tossed their tools in the shed and galloped back to the house. Thus they’d not yet held that discussion about security.

But she needed his ideas before he left.

As clearly as if he’d told her, she knew he would never visit the villa again. If not for his cousin, he would have fled Vale House last night. Once she confessed to Linden – which was another unpleasant chore that awaited her this morning – Torwell would leave. Only loyalty to Linden would keep him here long enough to preside at the wedding.

Or would it? Even a vicar would have recognized her infatuation during that wild embrace. Was Linden Park worth saddling his cousin with a wife who cared for another?

But the decision would not be his. He was too honest to remain quiet once he learned her identity. So Linden would make his own choice, fully aware of the facts. He had come here intending to wed a stranger, so her own feelings would hardly sway him.

Unless… If Linden wanted the entire fortune, why had he said nothing to Sarah? He might have postponed his offer to give Torwell more time at the villa, but that was far from certain. If he had talked Torwell into taking the bride, her confession could send them both fleeing. Torwell had made no attempt to hide his revulsion once he realized who was in his arms, and Linden was clearly having second thoughts about wedding anyone.

Her head spun.

“I am so stupid,” she snapped, loathing in her tone. “Why the devil did I ever think this would work?”

Linden was a problem she would address later, for he would not rise for several hours yet. Torwell was more immediate.

He undoubtedly planned to leave today, if only to protect himself from further assault. It would be months, if not years, before they could face each other without remembering.

And cursing.

She rubbed her chest to assuage the pain.

It had been a euphoric moment, which explained his initial response. Men would consort with anyone if the moment was right. But when he calmed enough to recognize her, he had pulled away, flinching in horror. The shock on his face had frozen something in her soul.

He would never have embraced her on his own. And now that he knew she was susceptible to lust, he would stay as far from her as possible.

This time the pain was harsher. Her father had always claimed she was a freak. His charges sounded more damning than ever as she admitted the folly she’d been trying to ignore since Torwell had recoiled from her embrace.

She had fallen in love with him.

“Ass!” she hissed at herself, adding every curse she had heard during a lifetime of living in the shadows while her father and his debauched friends swaggered through the sunlight.

The situation was impossible – more than impossible. She was incapable of inspiring affection in any man. Linden would take her only to recover his fortune, though even he might balk at this point. If he did, would Torwell step in, sacrificing himself to save his family? It would be like him.

Fool!

She was becoming as fanciful as the most pea-brained, moon-struck widgeon. She could never accept Torwell. He might have treated her as a colleague before she’d destroyed even that relationship, but he found her unattractive. She would be happier with Linden. At least neither of them would expect anything from the other.

“Accept it, Alex. You have no future there. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you can get over him. Now pull yourself together and face the morning.”

Her reflection stared back from the mirror, convinced that control was impossible.

At least not today. She knew what she must do. Talking to Linden was hopeless. Discussing security with Torwell was worse. And if Sarah saw her in this state, she would shower her with compassion that would break her down completely.

Donning her riding habit, she slipped down the servants’ stairs. Stroud was far enough away to provide a welcome escape from her memories, and she had business there anyway. It would make a pleasant all-day excursion. By the time she returned, she could face Linden.

* * * *

Tony spent half the night cursing himself. It was natural to embrace a colleague after finding something as spectacular as that mosaic. But the exuberance of the moment was no excuse for kissing her. Never mind that she had responded. She was too innocent to know what she was doing.

But he was far from innocent.

There were so many things wrong with the way he’d devoured her, that he hardly knew where to start. She was an unwed lady closely related to the woman he must wed. She was a colleague for whom he had the deepest respect. How could he have treated her like a light-skirt?

Dinner had been the most uncomfortable meal of his life. He’d tried to find the words to apologize and put their partnership back together. But they wouldn’t come. Everything sounded hopelessly stilted or fatuously frivolous or downright insincere.

No surprise there. How could he sound contrite when he wasn’t the least sorry? That had been the most exciting encounter of his life. But their partnership was hopelessly compromised. Like the fallen Humpty Dumpty, nothing could put it together again.

He finally fell asleep, not waking until nearly eleven. But that was good. Miss Merideth would be at the villa, so he needn’t fear seeing her. Instead, he would seek out Miss Vale, confess his other sins, and place a betrothal between him and temptation before he must face her again.

Girding himself for this new confrontation, he headed for the breakfast room. Jon and Miss Vale were already there.

“Feeling better?” he asked Jon. He’d been too agitated last night to check his cousin’s condition.

“Much,” said Jon. Yet his breakfast consisted solely of porridge.

“Merideth is in Stroud today,” said Miss Vale in response to his greeting. “She urges you to continue the work without her.”

“Why did you not accompany her? Winter will soon be here. You won’t have many more opportunities before spring.”

“I never go to town,” she objected, blushing.

“Why? Carriage travel is quite easy.”

She shrugged. “Sir W—Father forbids it. Flaunting my deformity before a world I can never enter is rude and pointless.”

Jon gasped.

A burning sensation settled in Tony’s stomach. “Forgive me for insulting your father, but he lied. You belong in society. His only reason for denying you entrance is a selfish disdain for anyone’s needs but his own.”

She stared, but shook her head. “He was thinking of me. Enduring stares and whispers is never enjoyable.”

“Nonsense!” Jon’s objection was so unexpectedly loud, the footman dropped a dish. “Your limp is no worse than Byron’s, and he was welcomed into every drawing room in London until his behavior forced him to flee the country.”

Her eyes widened. She carefully set her cup aside.

“Do the tenants and villagers stare and whisper?” asked Tony softly. Jon rarely spoke strongly about anything, and his willingness to use a man he loathed as an example was nothing short of astonishing. But Miss Vale’s isolation had given him an idea that should carry his plans to fruition.

“N-no, but they would hardly be rude to their betters.”

“Class has nothing to do with it. They are accustomed to you, seeing only your character, not your foot. Just as society saw Byron.”

She stared.

“Murch tells me the hill near Painswick offers a spectacular view. Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Then let us spend the day there. It promises to be warm, unseasonably so, possibly the last warm day until spring. We can picnic in the sunshine.”

Her eyes gleamed, then faded. “Mr. Linden is not recovered enough for an outing, and you would surely prefer to work on this last warm day of autumn.”

“An outing would be just the thing,” claimed Jon, understanding Tony’s purpose.

“And I cannot work in Miss Merideth’s absence. She would be disappointed if I found anything interesting. Shall we leave in an hour?”

Her eyes moved from him to Jon. As she nodded, her face filled with joy and awe. And hope.

Tony swallowed renewed fury, wishing Sir Winton were at hand. The man deserved a thrashing.

* * * *

Sarah paused on the carriage step to survey the hilltop, hardly noticing that it was Torwell who steadied her hand rather than the expected Linden. She’d never seen anything so lovely.

Her heart had been hammering ever since Linden’s outburst at breakfast. Was it true that well-born people might not consider her an object of pity to be scorned or avoided? His shock had been real. As had Torwell’s, but one expected tolerance from vicars.

She had accepted Linden’s compliments as the pretense they so obviously were. He had no choice but to pursue the lady he thought controlled his birthright. Ambivalence about actually wedding her had caused so many blunders that first night, that Torwell had stepped in to bolster his courtship, dumping the butter boat over her head in an effort to soften Linden’s reputation. But he was no more sincere than Linden. Once Alex confessed – she again cursed her cousin’s vacillation – both men would ignore her. So their genuine shock over her lifelong incarceration was all the more exciting.

She had not traveled farther than the village since arriving at Vale House eight years ago. Her uncle had reluctantly taken her in after her father died, but he had made his conditions clear. She was to remain out of sight whenever he was at home, and she was never to flaunt her deformity before callers, particularly those of breeding. She had expected that reaction, for her father had demanded the same discretion. Her one trip into the world had been from Somerset to Vale House immediately after his burial, but she had been too grief-stricken to notice the scenery.

Now she trembled with excitement. For the first time in her life, she had allowed temptation to supersede duty. Hopefully her moment of selfishness would not lead to trouble. She owed Alex so much. Sir Winton would have ignored her existence without his daughter’s pleas. And Alex had paid a steep price for her insistence. Sir Winton had yet to forgive her for overcoming his objections.

Now she stared in awe at the valley spread below.

“Leave the cane,” said Torwell, tucking her arm firmly through his own. His long legs slowed to match her limping gait across the uneven ground. It was a courtesy even Alex sometimes forgot.

“Behold the Severn Vale,” he said, sweeping his free hand toward the west.

“It is beautiful.” He must be accustomed to such views, but she made no effort to hide her pleasure. She might never see it again. “I did not realize how much color there is this time of year.”

“It is difficult to appreciate the variety from the valley floor. But from here, we see the fields and forests as the birds do. Strips of yellow where grain was harvested. Patches of green marking pastures. The glorious trees of autumn. Oaks turn to rust, others to gold. And look at that estate.” He pointed to their left.

“Beautiful!” The word was inadequate to describe the rich tapestry laid out below.

“Like many landowners, he has scattered specimen trees across his park. The flaming orange is probably a maple from North America. Nothing else produces quite that color. And see that pale yellow? It exactly matches your hair. The blood red is equally spectacular. I wonder what it is.”

“You could ask Mr. Hodges,” suggested Linden. “The groundskeeper at Linden Park,” he explained when she frowned at the unfamiliar name. “Quite knowledgeable.”

A breeze rustled through the grass. Though it was the gentle zephyr of summer rather than the nipping chill of the fast-approaching winter, she shivered.

Linden stepped closer to her side. This time the shiver was trepidation. For the first time since his arrival, Bessie was not with her. She had assumed that Torwell’s presence would protect her, only now remembering that he might have as much at stake as Linden.

“This is a perfect day for an outing,” she told him before turning back to Torwell. She must divide her attention between them, keeping the conversation light and impersonal. And they must keep the outing short. Linden was not as recovered as he claimed.

Why had Alex bolted this morning instead of confessing as she’d promised? It wasn’t like her to run from duty, especially when it left a friend in the awkward position of staving off Linden’s proposal for yet another day.

“Everything looks so tiny from this height,” she said, smiling at Torwell. “And so clean. Look at that barge. I’ve never seen one ride so high.”

“Because it is empty,” said Linden. “That particular river is very shallow. It will doubtless stop in a mile or two to take on cargo. The Severn is another story. See the barge approaching Gloucester?” He turned her toward the north, then leaned over her shoulder to point into the distance.