Intriguing Lady (9 page)

“Sir Nicholas,” she exclaimed, feigning a haughty surprise. “I had not expected to see you again so soon.”

“Your servant, Miss Rushforth,” he replied. He paused briefly before bowing over her hand, giving her plenty of time to see his amused expression. He quite obviously didn’t believe she was surprised, but she didn’t care.

“How is your shoulder?” she inquired coldly. “I trust you haven’t suffered any further setbacks.”

“None at all, Miss Rushforth. I am quite on the mend, as you can see.”

Roberta looked at him quizzically, determined to play her part to the end. She would never give him the pleasure of confirming his suspicions that she had been behind Mrs. Ashley’s summons. “I am sorry I was not here to receive you. I trust Mrs. Ashley has kept you entertained?”

“But I’m here at her urging,” he answered. “She had rather an unusual request to make of me,” he added quickly before Roberta had time to feign any further surprise.

“Is this correct, Ashley?” she queried.

Mrs. Ashley nodded and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was filled with misgivings, for Sir Nicholas’s acceptance of her proposal had been too quick. He had neither pressed for any explanations about Roberta’s past connection with Stephen Davenport nor made any comment when she had voiced her fears about the comte’s promise to see Roberta in London. In fact, now that she thought on it, she felt he had been far too acquiescent to her outrageous proposal.

Roberta, misinterpreting her silence, glanced toward Sir Nicholas for an explanation. “What was this request, Sir Nicholas?”

“Mrs. Ashley, with every justification, is concerned lest the comte acts on the promise he made, to visit you in London.”

“And?” Roberta demanded.

“She has asked me to escort you to a few social functions and let it appear I’m dangling after you, in an effort to discourage him.”

“What!” Roberta expostulated, trying vainly to sound shocked. “How—how utterly preposterous. I hope you refused.”

“On the contrary, Miss Rushforth, I have accepted the challenge. Only, I hasten to add, until the comte returns to France. I’m aware of how trying you find my company, and wouldn’t presume to inflict myself on you after the threat posed by the comte’s presence has been removed.”

“How could you do such a thing without consulting me, Ashley?” Roberta asked, ignoring Sir Nicholas. “I find it too embarrassing for words.”

“I thought it for the best, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley replied nervously. “If Lord Bromley had been here, I wouldn’t have resorted to such a tack. As matters stand, I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

“I could stay at home,” Roberta retorted, glaring at Mrs. Ashley. “I still quite understand if you want to change your mind, Sir Nicholas,” she continued, “for I certainly wouldn’t dream of holding you to such a promise. I don’t think for one moment the comte will concern himself with me, should he appear in London. He probably has far more urgent matters to attend to, anyway.”

“Even so, Miss Rushforth, in light of the confrontations you had with him, I deem it a wise precaution to give you what protection I can.”

Roberta shrugged in defeat. “I can’t stop you from paying attention to me,” she said, “but I don’t have to encourage your advances.”

“Indeed not, and I wouldn’t expect you to,” Sir Nicholas answered.

Mrs. Ashley looked at them uncertainly. There was an air of tension about them which she found perplexing. She cleared her throat. “I realize this arrangement is a trifle unorthodox, Roberta, but I hope we can all brush along without any unpleasantness.”

“I don’t see why not, Mrs. Ashley,” Sir Nicholas said, smiling politely. “I shall do my utmost to act the part of a lovelorn calf, and Miss Rushforth will have to do her best to repel me.”

Roberta, genuinely amused by the picture Sir Nicholas had painted of himself, threw back her head and laughed. “Now that you couch it in those terms,” she said, “I’m all impatience to begin. Methinks I will enjoy my role after all.”

“I thought you would,” Sir Nicholas replied, “so let us not delay a moment before we begin this charade. I propose we three go to the theater tonight and let all of London see me paying court to you.”

Roberta glanced at Mrs. Ashley to see if she had any objections, and then nodded her approval. “Mrs. Ashley and I will use Lord Bromley’s box at the Drury Lane Theatre, and perhaps you can visit us in the first intermission. The mere fact that I receive you will give the gossips something to ponder.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Sir Nicholas murmured with a grin.

“No doubt at my expense,” Roberta snapped, but apparently he didn’t hear, for he was bowing over Mrs. Ashley’s hand and bidding her good day.

He was gone before Roberta had time to summon the butler, and she felt an irritation that only Sir Nicholas seemed capable of causing. It was his self-assured air. Nothing seemed to overset him.

“If he thinks to use me as a passport to enter the upper echelons of Society,” she said after the door had closed behind him, “he is in for a rude awakening.”

“He doesn’t need that, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley responded, her hands fluttering nervously about her bodice. “I looked him up in DeBrett. He’s there already. He inherited his estates from the Earl of Wemyss and uses Stanway as his country home.”

“Then how is it we have never met him before? Has he been a recluse until now?”

“I don’t know, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley said thoughtfully. “You were quite right in your judgment of him, Ashley. He really is too exasperating.”

Mrs. Ashley shook her head, oblivious to Roberta’s words. “Even so,” she continued, still deep in thought, “I can’t imagine how anyone who appears as eligible as Sir Nicholas has managed to escape the Marriage Mart. There must be some scandal attached to his name that we haven’t heard of. Or it could be that he has purposely shunned Society. There are men, you know, who actively dislike women.”

“But not Sir Nicholas,” Roberta said, thinking of the experienced way he had pinned her to her bed. “Anyway, I’m not going to worry. If he has any faults, we will hear them all tomorrow, for after my friends and acquaintances see me tonight, they will come flocking here on the pretext of welcoming me home, whereas we both know that in reality, they will be coming to divulge all.”

“Such cynicism doesn’t suit you, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley said reprovingly. “Your friends will come out of genuine regard for you, and the rest you don’t have to receive.”

“What! And miss the opportunity to hear what is being said about my latest beau?” Roberta mocked. “I will welcome anyone who calls.” And perhaps, she added to herself, she would be able to find out a little more about Sir Nicholas and who he really was.

C
hapter 8

Unfortunately, Roberta was
doomed to disappointment. None of her visitors the next day was able to add to her knowledge of Sir Nicholas.

It wasn’t that there was any mystery surrounding him, for everyone seemed to know of his connection to the late Earl of Wemyss, and his preference for country living. According to Sally Jersey, who was one of the first callers that day, he had been about London for more years than she cared to remember, but he had never shown any inclination to indulge himself in the pleasure offered by mothers with eligible daughters. His preference, she had stated, was for more sophisticated entertainment. This, Roberta had interpreted, meant that he would rather spend his time with his mistress than mixing with the fashionable crowd.

No wonder she had never heard of him! she thought after the last morning visitor had departed. He had obviously gone to great lengths to make it appear as though he led a very ordinary life.

These reflections caused her to think of the copy of the list she had in her possession, and without more ado she took herself off to her own private sitting room to study it. She sat down at her writing desk and scrutinized the jumble of letters. It was most discouraging, however, for it was akin to reading a foreign language.

There had to be a key that would unravel the code, but she was blessed if she could fathom it. It galled her to realize that even now Sir Nicholas was making sense of the very same list while she doodled idly on a fresh sheet of paper. She rearranged the first set of letters, as she had done countless times before when trying to work out an anagram.

A discreet knock on the door caused her to shove her work into a drawer, and she moved away from her desk before the butler entered. He was carrying two floral arrangements, and she directed him to deposit them both on the small end table by the sofa.

When he had departed, she looked for the cards. The smaller bouquet, a delightful collection of spring blooms, was from Sir Nicholas.

To commemorate your return to an English spring. Until we meet tomorrow at Lady Sefton’s soirée. N.

His bold handwriting took up the entire card.

The second display was composed of hothouse flowers, not at all to her liking. She pulled the card from the green leaves and stood motionless as she recognized the small, almost indecipherable, letters.

“Stephen,” she whispered.

She forced herself to open the envelope but sat down before she read the note. The moment of their meeting couldn’t be far away if he knew she was in Town. The thought caused her knees to shake uncontrollably. She read the letter through a haze of tears and then let it fall to the carpet as she stared into middle distance, trying vainly to regain her composure.

Roberta, my dear. You can imagine my surprise and joy when I saw you enter Lord Bromley’s box last night, looking as ethereal as I remembered you from our last meeting. I had not heard that you were back in Town. There is so much I have to tell you, yet I know it would be unwise to seek you out publicly for any length of time. If, perchance, you intend to be present at Lady Sefton’s gathering tomorrow night, and feel able to grant me my heart’s desire of a private interview, I beg that you pin two of these orchids to your dress. It will be the only sign I need to know that you will receive me when I call at Grosvenor Square. As always, Stephen.

All thoughts of Sir Nicholas and the list were relegated to the back of Roberta’s mind as she tried to resolve the best course to follow. Then, with a swiftness that characterized most of her decisions, she decided to wear the orchids. She could not abide the idea of airing her emotions in public, and Stephen had unwittingly provided the best solution to his particular problem. She would be able to acknowledge him with a nod at Lady Sefton’s, thereby robbing the ardent gossips of talk.

*

Roberta’s reentry into Society was a marked success. She had chosen her gown carefully, conscious that she would be the center of attraction, for the Season was still young and the crowds thin. Her presence, her good looks and her elegant gown were noted and remarked on by those dowagers who didn’t have daughters of marrying age, and they welcomed her into their circle happily.

But the several matrons who were unfortunate enough to have young, unmarried daughters were overheard to comment that Roberta Rushforth had become a turf-hunter, which was only to be expected, in view of her advancing years.

Sir Nicholas, who happened to be standing behind two hard-faced matrons, could not but help hear their stinging remarks. It was with the utmost difficulty that he restrained himself from delivering them a piece of his mind.

He looked across to Roberta, who was by now surrounded by many of her old friends, and laughed. A minx would have been a more apt description for her, but with her own vast inheritance and her independent spirit, she could never be a turf-hunter. He watched with interest as a tall, broad-shouldered individual entered the ballroom. For a moment, Sir Nicholas was convinced all conversation ceased as everyone stared, first at the man and then at Roberta. But when Roberta acknowledged the stranger with a cool nod, the noise rose to its former high pitch, and Sir Nicholas was convinced he had been mistaken. It was only when he heard someone say, “It’s Stephen Davenport, isn’t it?” that he realized this was the moment, at least according to Mrs. Ashley, Roberta had been dreading most of all.

“She handled herself remarkably well,” he said to Mrs. Ashley a little while later, “and, if I’m not mistaken, has disappointed quite a few people.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Sir Nicholas. I don’t pretend to understand why some of my acquaintances feed off other people’s weaknesses, but they do.” She broke off in some agitation and put a nervous hand on Sir Nicholas’s satin sleeve. “Is—is that who I think it is?” she whispered, nodding in the direction of the receiving line.

He nodded and smiled reassuringly at her. “Our friend the comte,” he murmured. “What a busy person he is. Excuse me, I think I will try to penetrate the circle surrounding Miss Rushforth and be on hand when he advances.”

“Please, please go, quickly.” She propelled him toward Roberta and stood, bosom heaving in agitation, awaiting the inevitable confrontation.

Sir Nicholas managed to press his way to Roberta’s side and claim her hand for the next dance before the comte had even finished greeting Lady Sefton. By the time the dance was over, Sir Nicholas had obviously primed Roberta, because she was able to greet the comte with remarkable equanimity when he approached her.

From her vantage point, Mrs. Ashley had noticed a slight stiffness about Sir Nicholas’s injured arm while he had been dancing, but this seemed to disappear as he shook hands firmly with the comte. She only heard later from Roberta, as they were sipping a last cup of chocolate prior to going to bed, that the comte had deliberately caught Sir Nicholas’s arm at the elbow and had pulled it quite savagely.