Lady Sabrina’s Secret (11 page)

He stared at her. ‘And how, pray, did you come by this astonishing information?'

‘Lady Ann spoke to him in the Upper Rooms just after you and Lady Sabrina left.'

‘Mrs Marchant, I am given to understand that Lady Ann is unwell at the moment and that she did not attend the ball.'

‘She was there, but only briefly. My lord, I would not have come here to see you unless I felt the matter was vital. From what I overheard them saying, it is clear that Lady Ann is being forced to do things she doesn't wish to do.' Deborah briefly related the conversation she had
overheard
.

When she had finished, the duke was silent for a moment, and then he met her gaze. ‘Madam, if this is some invention on your part—'

‘Do you honestly imagine I would come here like this simply to tell you a fabrication?' Deborah cried, sudden resentment bright in her eyes.

Kate descended the staircase. ‘Rowan, I think you should accept that what the lady says is true, for the actress in me recognizes full well when someone else is
not
acting. Mrs Marchant really did overheard that conversation.'

Deborah gave her a grateful look, but her glance was met with a cool response. The actress may have felt obliged to side briefly with her, but she was by no means a friend. With that cool response a gauntlet was flung down, and it was an invisible challenge of which Deborah was very conscious indeed.

The duke did not notice the silent exchange. ‘Very well, Mrs Marchant, it seems I must take you seriously. I will go to Great Pulteney Street directly.'

Deborah shook her head. ‘
We
will go to Great Pulteney Street,' she corrected.

‘I hardly think—'

‘Sir, if your concern in all this is the protection of your sister, mine is the well-being of my brother. I refuse to stay away when something as vital as this is to take place.' She was both defiant and determined. ‘I prefer to have the evidence of my own ears and eyes, my lord, as I am sure you will understand.'

‘From which I must presume that you do not trust me to faithfully relate what I see and hear,' he replied caustically.

‘I have no reason to trust you in this, sir, for you will put your sister's interests well before my brother's. You've made it clear that she must be saved from scandal at all costs, and from that I take it that you would consign my brother to ruin if necessary.'

‘You do not know me at all, madam, and so I would thank you not to leap to conclusions. It so happens that I would put justice before either my sister or your brother, and I trust that in future you will remember that. We will go together, and your eyes and ears can do as they wish. Ladbury, my coat, if you please.'

‘Your Grace.'

As his attention was momentarily diverted, Deborah felt obliged to apologize to Kate for having intruded, although she knew the apology would not be well received and could not blame the actress. ‘Mrs Hatherley, I am sorry to have imposed upon you like this.'

‘Are you? I doubt that very much, Mrs Marchant.' Kate's hazel eyes flickered. ‘We will speak again, madam, of that you may be sure.'

Nothing more was said, for the duke was ready to leave. ‘Shall we go, Mrs Marchant?'

‘Sir. 

Inclining her head at Kate, Deborah raised her hood and went back out into the night. Within a moment or so her chairmen had been dismissed, and she and the duke were in his carriage
en route
for Great Pulteney Street.

The hour was up when the carriage halted in one of the small culs-de-sac which led off Great Pulteney Street, and Deborah and the duke alighted to hurry across the street to the long flight of steps which lay alongside Lady Ann's house. Descending, they reached the low-lying mews lane behind. It was a dark, narrow way, linked with stables, coach houses, garden walls, and overhanging trees with very few lights to pierce the shadows. Sir James's carriage was already drawn up a little farther along from the wicket gate giving on to Lady Ann's garden, and of the coachman there was no sign.

One of the nearby coach house doors stood open,
allowing
lantern light and an occasional murmur of male voices to creep out into the night, and the duke left Deborah by the wicket gate for a moment as he went to look briefly inside. He saw a group of servants playing dice on the straw-strewn floor, and among them he recognized Sir James's coachman.

He returned to Deborah and glanced up toward the house. There was a light shining in a downstairs window, with a very inviting chink in the curtains. It was unlikely to
be servants, for it was an above-stairs room, and the
obvious
possibility was that it was where Lady Ann and Sir James were facing each other.

The duke looked at Deborah, an inquiring eyebrow raised. ‘Shall we trespass, Mrs Marchant?'

‘I believe we must, sir, for I think we will be able to see through that crack in the curtains.'

With a gloved hand he pushed the gate open and ushered her through, and then they began to make their way up a narrow gravel path toward the lighted window. There were several small flights of steps and a little terrace where a fountain would play in the summer. The water was still now, and as the moon came from behind a cloud, its light shone softly in the raised ornamental pool.

There was another terrace directly by the house, and below it the basement windows of the kitchens and other cellars. The servants hadn't retired to their beds yet and could be seen seated around a well-scrubbed table enjoying a cup of their mistress's best chocolate as they whiled away the minutes until they could go to sleep.

Suddenly the kitchen door opened, and light flooded out almost to where Deborah and the duke stood on the path. He swiftly pulled her back out of the sight among the shrubs, but the maid who came out didn't see anything amiss as she bent to pick up a wooden pail and then go back inside. She closed the door, and the light was
extinguished
again. On the terrace above the light continued to shine in the above-stairs window.

Deborah gazed up toward it, praying that Lady Ann and Sir James were indeed behind those curtains.

The duke stepped out from the shrubs and nodded toward some balustraded steps at the far end of the terrace.
‘Come on, if we are to see through that chink in the curtains, we must go up there.'

She hesitated, and he held out his hand. Slowly she took it, and he led her past the kitchen door to the steps. Within moments they were on the terrace, tip-toeing toward the light.

By pressing close together, they could just see inside. It was a rather severe dining room, with dark green brocade on the walls and gilded niches in which stood white marble busts of Roman emperors. The long table was made of dark, highly polished mahogany, and there were twelve high-backed chairs ranged around it. Lady Ann sat on one of the chairs, her hands clasped restlessly on the table before her. Her face was ravaged by tears, and her long jet earrings trembled a little as she strove to maintain what little composure she had left. She still wore the mauve evening gown, and there was something heartrendingly affecting about the way she closed her eyes and swallowed from time to time.

At first there was no sign of Sir James, but then he stepped into view on the other side of the table from Lady Ann, His face was hard and cold as he leaned his hands upon the polished mahogany and spoke to her. It was impossible to hear what he said, but he gestured toward a portrait on the wall at the end of the room, and with an audible cry Lady Ann hid her face in her hands.

Both Deborah and the duke looked at the portrait. It was of a young girl of about fourteen, dressed in a white muslin gown with a wide blue sash around her high waist. She was a pretty girl, and very like Lady Ann, with the same olive skin, dark brown eyes, and lustrous dark brown hair, and at first Deborah took it to be a portrait of Lady Ann
herself as a child, but then she realized that the portrait was too recent in style for that. Whoever the girl was, she wasn't Lady Ann Appleby. Sir James's threat at the Upper Rooms sounded in her head.
I also suggest that you would do well to bear Chippenham in mind.

Suddenly Sir James's fist crashed down upon the table, and Lady Ann flinched, staring up into his snarling face. He pointed again at the portrait, and Lady Ann began to nod. His fist thundered on the mahogany again, and Lady Ann rose trembling to her feet, her voice suddenly so shrill with dread that her words carried clearly out into the night.

‘Yes, yes, I will do whatever you say, only please don't harm Christabel. I will stay in Bath, I will hold firm to our story about poor Mr Wexford, and not a word of the truth will pass my lips!'

Sir James straightened, a satisfied smile upon his full lips. He spoke again, but his soft tones could not be heard. Then he turned on his heel and left the room. Behind him Lady Ann dissolved into tears.

Deborah drew back, turning to look challengingly at the duke. ‘
Now
do you believe me that Sir James isn't the paragon he pretends to be?'

‘Mrs Marchant, I believe every word you say, but if we stay here a moment longer, we run the risk of being caught!' he breathed, snatching her hand and almost
dragging
her away from the window toward the steps.

They ran down toward the garden and were on the gravel path when the door of the house opened behind them, and Sir James emerged. He paused for a moment, his tall lean figure silhouetted against the lamp-light within, and then he tapped on his tall hat and began to descend the same path toward the mews lane and his waiting carriage.

Deborah's heart was pounding as she and the duke reached the wicket gate. If they went through, surely they would be seen by the light from the coach house opposite, where the game of dice was still in progress.

‘Keep your head, low, Mrs Marchant,' instructed the duke, opening the gate and thrusting her through.

Bending almost double in her efforts not to be seen, she stumbled out into the shadowy lane and then turned toward the steps on the corner. The duke followed, but as they began to go up, they saw a figure descending slowly toward them. It was Sir James's coachman.

With a curse, the duke tugged his tall hat down further over his hair, and caught Deborah's arm. Before she knew what was happening he had thrust her against the wall of Lady Ann's house, his other arm tight around her waist. His whisper was low and urgent. ‘The fellow knows me, Mrs Marchant, and if we go back the way we've come we'll almost certainly encounter Uppingham. I don't want him to know just yet that the game is up, and so I suggest a little subterfuge.'

‘Subterfuge?'

‘The coachman will walk past without a second thought if he sees a gentleman dallying with a lady of questionable virtue.'

Deborah's eyes widened. ‘What exactly do you expect me to do?' she breathed, a multitude of startling
possibilities
running through her mind.

‘Just behave with a little abandon,' he murmured, and before she could say anything more he pressed closer, his lips over hers.

The past few seconds had caught her so off guard that she couldn't move. She closed her eyes, conscious even at
such a desperate moment as this that it felt inordinately good to be kissed by him.

He drew back fleetingly, his lips close to her ear. ‘Madam, a
belle de nuit
would behave more wantonly.'

Suddenly she was mistress of her wits again, and she linked her arms around his neck. ‘I will be as wanton as you wish, my lord,' she whispered, reaching up to kiss him.

A thousand and one conflicting emotions washed through her as she gave herself to the embrace. Memories of how she'd loathed him vied with the knowledge that his smiles had reached effortlessly past her anger. This man had stirred the heart that had lain dormant for so long, and the warmth of his lips began to arouse a desire that paid no heed to the hazardous situation she was in. At any moment the coachman might recognize the duke, even though his tall hat was pulled low over his unmistakable hair, and Sir James himself might come to the corner and see them both, but in spite of this she surrendered to the intense pleasure now holding complete sway over her senses. She almost wished she were a woman of easy virtue, who wouldn't give a second thought to submitting out here in the
darkness
of the night. She was ashamed of her thoughts but could not deny their existence. She desired the Duke of Gretton, she wanted to be taken by him, made complete love to by him, and held in his arms like this forever. There was no modesty or virtue in such thoughts, no modesty or virtue at all.

The coachman had almost reached them now, and the duke hid his face from all chance of detection by bending his head to kiss her throat. Her breath escaped on an
audible
sigh as his lips moved softly against her pulse, and she
held him close, her whole body alive and responsive.

The coachman was whistling to himself, and the whistle broke off briefly as he heard her sigh. Aknowing grin broke out on his lips as he glanced at the lucky swell with the willing whore. He didn't know he was looking at the Duke of Gretton, nor did he know that the whore was a
fashionable
lady, for all he could see of Deborah was her purple cloak, dulled to anonymous black in the darkness. Resuming his whistling, he strolled on past and
disappeared
around the corner, where he was immediately confronted by an extremely irritated Sir James, who demanded to know where he'd been.

Their raised voices were only a few feet away and Deborah drew away uneasily, her anxious gaze turned toward the corner, but the duke put his hand to her chin. ‘Not yet, Mrs Marchant, not yet,' he murmured, kissing her again.

His lips moved skillfully over hers, and Sir James Uppingham faded from her thoughts as once more she was distracted by the beguiling sensuality of his embrace.

It wasn't until they both heard the sound of Sir James's carriage driving away along the mews lane that the duke relaxed his hold, although he didn't release her completely. He looked down into her eyes. ‘Your talent for such subterfuge is nothing short of breathtaking, Mrs Marchant,' he observed softly.

She was glad of the darkness, for it hid the embarrassed color staining her hot cheeks. ‘You requested a little
abandon
, my lord,' she pointed out, hoping that he did not detect the utter turmoil she was in.

‘A little abandon, yes, but I did not expect such
whole-hearted
enthusiasm.' 

She was mortified. ‘If I went too far, then I must ask you to forgive me.'

‘Oh, please don't misunderstand, for I'm not
complaining
. Far from it, in fact.' He gave the faintest of smiles, and then released her. Removing his hat, he ran his fingers through his hair, and then glanced toward Lady Ann's house. ‘To the matter in hand, Mrs Marchant. I now fully accept that Uppingham isn't the fine fellow he claims to be, indeed what I've witnessed tonight makes me view him with utter contempt. No gentleman should ever treat a lady as he treated Lady Ann, and I have no intention
whatsoever
of allowing him to remain betrothed to my sister. What I cannot understand, though, is why he has done all this. Why go to such lengths to incriminate your brother? What purpose lies behind it all?'

Deborah couldn't meet his eyes.

He put a quick hand to her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘There's something you aren't telling me, isn't there?'

‘I don't want to say anything more, not just yet, my lord.'

‘Dammit, woman, you can't get me to this point and then suddenly become coy! You were the one who insisted that I come here tonight, and now I expect you to tell me
everything
!'

‘It isn't for me to tell you, my lord. I must first speak to …' Her voice died away.

He searched her face in the darkness. ‘There's only one person you seem to have been trying to speak to, Mrs Marchant, and that is my sister. Has this something to do with Sabrina?'

Deborah nodded unwillingly.

‘Remain silent, by all means, but I will keep you here until you tell me, you may be sure of that,' he declared,
folding his arms and waiting.

She drew a long breath, and then gave in. ‘Very well, my lord, I will tell you everything I know.' She told him about Richard's letter and the pocket watch, and everything else, right up to her success in at last extracting a promise from Sabrina to meet her the next day at the Milsom Street
dressmaker
.

When she had finished, he was silent for a long moment, and then he looked at her. ‘Your brother and my sister intended to elope?'

‘Yes, and they would have done had not Sir James found out about them and gone to all these lengths to make Richard appear the villain. At least, that is what I think happened. I don't think Lady Sabrina knows he discovered her secret. Sir James loves her, and finding out that she was in love with my brother would, in my opinion, give him all the reason he needed to concoct this story of stolen
necklaces
and seduction. If you do not believe me about the planned elopement, at least the inscription on the watch proves that she was very much in love with Richard.'

‘There is no need to prove anything further, Mrs Marchant, for I believe you. I only wish that Sabrina had trusted me enough to confide in me herself.'