Intimate Betrayal (7 page)
Authors: Adrienne Basso
Alyssa looked to Mr. Bartlett for his opinion. Mr. Bartlett, a short, stocky man, squirmed uncomfortably under her open gaze. He cleared his throat.
“Unfortunately, Lady Alyssa, it is of extreme importance that the new Viscount Mulgrave be located. I have thus far been unable to learn anything of the whereabouts of Richard Carrington or any of his heirs. I was hoping you would be able to assist me in the search.”
“Why is it so important that my uncle be found, Mr. Bartlett?” Alyssa asked with a sinking feeling.
“At the time of his death, Lord Carrington had a substantial number of unpaid bills.” Mr. Bartlett removed a stack of papers from the leather pouch he held in his lap.
Alyssa turned stricken eyes to him. “It is not possible. Lord Carrington sold Westgate Manor at auction,” Alyssa insisted. “Surely there are sufficient funds to settle his gambling debts.”
“The profits from the sale of the manor were spent before Lord Carrington died.” Mr. Bartlett held up the thick pile of papers. “These are not gaming debts, Lady Alyssa. They are merchants’ bills: his tailor, bootmaker, rent for his lodgings, and so forth. These bills are now the responsibility of the new heir, and if we cannot locate him, you will be held accountable for these debts.”
“How much?” Alyssa asked shakily, her face ashen.
“The total is almost six thousand pounds.”
Six thousand pounds! Alyssa slowly exhaled the breath she had been holding. Her stomach churned with fear, and she put a trembling hand to her mouth.
God help me, this must be some sort of cruel mistake.
But one look at Mr. Bartlett’s face confirmed it was not.
God help me, this must be some sort of cruel mistake.
But one look at Mr. Bartlett’s face confirmed it was not.
“What if I cannot pay, Mr. Bartlett?”
Mr. Bartlett chewed furiously on his lower lip.
“Debtors who do not pay their bills eventually wind up in Newgate Prison,” he said as gently as possible.
“I feared so, Mr. Bartlett.” Alyssa crossed the room and withdrew two papers from her writing desk. She felt a tightening in her throat and a moment of pure terror as she realized what she was doing. Silently she handed the solicitor the documents.
“I have a small amount of capital invested and I own a modest cottage on the outskirts of the village. If the cottage is sold and the investments liquidated, do you think there will be enough money to cover these debts?”
She spoke calmly, but Mr. Bartlett could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. He looked briefly down at the papers she gave him, resolving to make up the difference from his own meager funds if necessary.
“I am sure this will be adequate. I do hope you will allow me to handle this matter for you.”
“I would be most grateful, Mr. Bartlett,” Alyssa replied softly, walking him to the library door. “I sincerely thank you for your kindness today.”
Mr. Bartlett stared into her lovely face, feeling deeply the sadness reflected in her green eyes. Giving her an encouraging smile, he left.
As the door closed behind him, Alyssa sank slowly to the floor, her hands covering her face. Her mind refused to function, concentrating instead on one indisputable fact—she was now totally without funds or property.
Chapter Four
“Do you think Rev. Jameson will be able to help me secure a position, Mavis?” Alyssa asked her former nurse.
In the week that had passed since her disastrous meeting with Mr. Bartlett, Alyssa had searched in vain for employment. In an act of pure desperation, she sought help from the local vicar, hoping he could at least supply her with a character reference. To her surprise, he offered to contact his sister in Cornwall, a lady of affluent means, believing she might know of a family in need of a governess or companion.
“I’m sure Rev. Jameson will do all that he can.” Mavis sniffed. “He’s a good sort, even if he is a man of the cloth.” She held little regard for the men of the clergy and used every opportunity to express her opinion.
The two women were in the master bedroom suite sorting through Lord Carrington’s belongings in an effort to clear the house of the few remaining personal items.
“Well, even if you don’t completely approve of Rev. Jameson, I admit I am most grateful for his help.”
Mavis paused in her work, turning her face away from Alyssa. Her voice was choked with emotion as she tried to speak.
“How I wish I could take care of you, just as I did when you were a tiny babe. It breaks my heart to think of you locked away in some dreary nursery with a parcel of brats, wasting away all your youth and beauty.” Mavis pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and blew her nose loudly.
“Oh, Mavis.” Alyssa rushed over and gave the plump woman a reassuring hug. “I’m a far cry from a beauty and long since past my youth. And I would like to believe I have the intelligence and fortitude to make my own way in the world.”
“ ’Tis not proper,” Mavis retorted. “You are a lady born and bred. You should be married, with children of your own to love and a husband to look after and protect you. Not worrying about earning your keep.”
“Mavis, you must not upset yourself. I shall be perfectly fine. I’m sure if I cannot find a position as a governess, I’ll be hired as a companion.”
“That sounds dreadful.”
“There really are no other options for a woman in my circumstances.” Striking a saucy pose, Alyssa quipped, “Of course, I could always try going on the stage.”
“Lady Alyssa!” Mavis’s mouth opened in shock.
Alyssa laughed heartily. “Good. Now I’ve stopped your crying. No more gloomy thoughts. We’ve too much work to finish and I want to be done with all this before the duke takes possession of the house.”
“Still no word on when that will be?” Mavis inquired as she pulled out a moth-eaten pair of breeches from the wardrobe.
Alyssa shook her head. “I’m sure we shall hear all too soon.”
Alyssa’s only contact with the duke had been a short note she received four days after he departed Westgate Manor. The simple note stated she was to take as much time as necessary before vacating the property. It was a brief message, but the duke penned it himself instead of delegating the job to his secretary. He signed it informally, and the intimacy of seeing Morgan Ashton signed so boldly at the bottom of the parchment had captivated Alyssa’s attention for the entire afternoon.
Alyssa knew she was being foolish, but she was unable to exorcise the duke’s parting embrace and kiss. She was a woman not used to being touched, much less kissed, by a man, and it was an incident not easily forgotten.
Alyssa opened a large traveling trunk, piling clothes on the floor as she sorted through them. The majority of clothing was worn and stained with wine and food. It was an awful mess; several of the trunks hadn’t been opened for years. The room depressed Alyssa, the decay, the dreariness. Mavis’s worries about her uncertain future had shaken her too, more than she wanted to admit. Alyssa didn’t relish the idea of spending the rest of her life with strangers, hardly more than a servant.
“There’s a carriage coming up the drive,” Mavis announced, looking out the bedroom window. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“No. I don’t recognize the crest on the door. Do you?” Alyssa craned her neck out the open window to catch a glimpse of the vehicle as it proceeded up the drive.
“I can’t make it out from up here,” Mavis remarked. “These old eyes don’t see as well as they used to, but it must be someone important. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a coach that grand around these parts.”
Both women watched from their vantage point as the large vehicle came around the drive and drew to a halt in front of the main entrance to the house. A lanky footman jumped down from the back of the coach and opened the carriage door.
The first person to alight from the impressive vehicle was a man, followed quickly by two women. Even at that distance, Alyssa could see they were fashionably and expensively dressed. They could be neighbors coming to pay a condolence call, she thought, but it seemed unlikely.
Suddenly a rider entered her vision, thundering down the drive. He was mounted on the largest black stallion Alyssa had ever seen. He reined up alongside the coach and spoke to the three who had just descended.
Alyssa leaned farther out the window in hopes of hearing their conversation. As she leaned forward, part of the wooden window casing, rotted from age and neglect, gave way and she began falling. She cried out in alarm as she felt herself helplessly pitching forward. Alyssa flayed her arms wildly in an attempt to regain her balance, her voice rising in panic. Mavis heard her cries and managed to pull Alyssa back to safety by placing two large hands on the younger girl’s waist.
At the sound of Alyssa’s cry, all four heads below turned up to the window. Mavis stood Alyssa upright, and she swayed dizzily for a few seconds. Alyssa smoothed down her tumbling hair and glanced out the window. Four pairs of inquisitive eyes stared back. She immediately recognized the Duke of Gillingham as the mounted rider.
He gave her a jaunty salute in greeting, and Alyssa felt her cheeks flush with humiliation. How utterly mortifying to be caught hanging out the window like a disobedient child.
“Why, look here, the wood is rotted right through,” Mavis exclaimed as she examined the splintered windowsill. “This whole place is falling to ruin. You could have tumbled right out onto the drive and broken your neck.”
“I am fine, Mavis. Nothing wounded except my dignity.” Alyssa took a deep breath. “How awful for them to have seen me.” She groaned. “The duke certainly has a talent for catching me at my worst.”
“It is the duke then?”
“Yes. I’d best be getting downstairs. Perkins is helping Mrs. Stratton inventory the storeroom. I’m not sure he can hear the front door from back there.”
When she entered the front hall it was empty. Alyssa was about to start searching for the unexpected guests when Perkins emerged from the front parlor.
“The duke wished to be shown to the front parlor,” Perkins explained. “He has instructed me to bring refreshment.”
Alyssa sighed in vexation. They were hardly prepared for visitors. “I’m sure Mrs. Stratton will be able to create something appropriate. Tell her to make tea and sandwiches, and bring wine for the gentlemen.” She touched the older man’s arm in reassurance. “It will be fine.”
“Ahhhh, now that is quick service,” a male voice spoke as Alyssa entered the room.
She turned toward the young man who had spoken, and favored him with a chilling stare. He wasn’t the least bit affected by her coldness, and returned her stare with a heart-melting, smile. Alyssa instantly realized her mistake. His strong resemblance to the duke proclaimed him a relative, most likely his younger brother, Tristan. This was the one person Alyssa could ill afford to offend if she harbored any hope of placing her small staff in Tristan’s household.
“Miss Carrington, how pleasant to see you again,” the duke said, walking forward to rescue her from the awkward silence. “I trust you are uninjured from your little mishap?”
“Oh, quite unharmed, I assure you, Your Grace,” she answered him tersely. “How very kind of you to be so concerned.”
Her comment, meant to chastise, instead amused him. She looked thinner, and rather pale in her black crepe mourning gown that was customarily ill-fitting. But her spirit had not suffered. Morgan was inordinately pleased to see her.
“Miss Carrington, may I present my brother, Lord Tristan Ashton; his betrothed, Miss Caroline Grantham; and Caroline’s sister, Lady Priscilla Ogden.”
Alyssa dipped a curtsy in greeting. They certainly were an impressive party. Tristan was not as tall as the duke, but he was comparably built, with broad, powerful shoulders. He was exceedingly handsome in his dark-blue velvet double-breasted coat that matched his sapphire-blue eyes.
He did not possess the air of authority and command his older brother carried so naturally but he was clearly a man to be reckoned with. His fiancee, Caroline, was pretty and petite, all blond curls and rosy cheeks. She was dressed flatteringly in a pink satin traveling costume, complete with a large straw hat trimmed with a matching pink satin band and curtain veil of white lace. She was the very picture of feminine gentility. Alyssa felt perfectly dowdy beside her.
Alyssa could see little family resemblance between the two sisters. Lady Ogden was as dark as her sister was fair, and while not as pretty as Caroline, she was nevertheless a handsome woman. She was dressed entirely in mourning black.
“We were not informed of your impending arrival, Your Grace,” Alyssa said keenly. “Had we known, we would have been able to prepare a more comfortable greeting for you and your guests.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault, Lady Alyssa,” Caroline said in a soft, sweet voice. “When Morgan told us of his wonderful wedding gift, I insisted to Tris we come at once to see the estate. I do hope we have not inconvenienced you?”
Alyssa was unsure how to respond. She certainly had no right to be annoyed; the house now belonged to the duke. By rights, it was Alyssa who was intruding.
“The staff wanted very much to make a good impression,” Alyssa said slowly, her manner less sharp. “I do hope you will not judge them too harshly.”
“Goodness no,” Caroline assured her. “Morgan has already told us of the efficient staff. We shall only be here a few short hours. The duchess is expecting us at Ramsgate Castle this evening.”
The duchess? The duke’s wife? A strong rush of regret curled through Alyssa, and it annoyed her to feel a sharp pang of disappointment deep within her heart. Naturally a man of the duke’s stature would be married. She wondered how many children he had. Alyssa stole a quick glance at the duke, but his expression was unreadable.
“Will you show us around the house later?” Lady Ogden formally requested.
Alyssa stared at her, tongue-tied. What could she possibly say? How could she refuse without looking churlish? Yet how could she comply without feeling degraded, taking these strangers through a home that was no longer hers?
Alyssa nervously clutched at the black fabric of her gown, balling it up in her fists. She eyed the duke warily, but his expression remained unchanged. There would be no help from that quarter.
The occupants of the room waited expectantly for her to agree. Seeing no graceful way out, Alyssa conceded defeat. She forced her features into a bright smile. “I shall be pleased to attend you after tea. If you will excuse me, I must see what is keeping Perkins. Just ring when you are ready.”
Alyssa gave a hasty curtsy to no one in particular and bolted out the door before anyone had a chance to stop her.
Escorting everyone through the manor house proved to be a more depressing, rather than embarrassing, task for Alyssa. They started the tour on the very top floor, first inspecting the attic rooms normally used as servants’ quarters. Alyssa could not ever remember any servants actually living there and the many years of disuse were obvious.
They encountered loose floorboards, cracked windowpanes, broken furniture, and endless clouds of dust. In the corner of one room a small family of mice was discovered, which gave Caroline a mild case of hysterics. She actually squealed when the rodents ran across the room, and she clung to Tristan as if she were in danger of being eaten alive. Tristan seemed to think it was all great fun, and received tremendous satisfaction from “spotting” mice in nearly every room they entered.
Lady Ogden, a woman apparently unaffected by mice, reprimanded her sister.
“Caroline, will you please stop acting like such a ninny,” Lady Ogden scolded. “And you are no better, Tristan, encouraging her like that.”
“I’m merely protecting my beloved,” Tristan replied easily, clearly not the least bit offended by his future sister-in-law’s remarks.
“Nonsense, Tris,” the duke interjected with a grin. “You are enjoying having Caroline leap into your arms each time you discover a mouse.” Morgan gave Caroline a broad wink. She responded with a pretty blush and a shy smile.
Alyssa was tired and felt a headache coming on when they finally reached the main floor. She paused hesitantly in front of the drawing room doors, mentally berating herself for not dismantling the “treasure room.” The house would have appeared less shabby and run-down if some of the beautiful items stored in the drawing room had been restored to their original locations in the house. She simply could not fathom Caroline’s and Lady Ogden’s reactions when they saw the collection housed in the room. Reluctantly Alyssa swung open the doors.
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