Lady Sabrina’s Secret (13 page)

‘Safe?'

‘Beyond Uppingham's reach at some unknown address. Lady Ann, you do not have to be the one to remove your daughter from the school, for Mrs Marchant and I could go in your stead, provided, of course, that you gave us the necessary letter of authority to give to her headmistress. We could leave for Chippenham tonight, be there by breakfast time, and have your daughter safely back here in Bath before noon, while Uppingham and my sister are at the military display on Claverton Down.'

Lady Ann drew back, shaking her head. ‘Bring her here? Oh, no, I cannot agree to that, for it is too close to him, and if he should find out—'

‘I don't mean this house in particular, Lady Ann, but rather was I thinking of the house on Royal Crescent where Mrs Marchant is staying with Mrs McNeil.'

Deborah was already astonished to have been
nominated
to go to Chippenham with him, and she was even
more so when she heard him mention his choice of hiding place for Christabel.

His attention was still upon Lady Ann. ‘It could be accomplished with ease, and Uppingham would be none the wiser, especially if you were still here, apparently complying with his orders. He is taking my sister to the military display on Claverton Down tomorrow morning, but on her return, we can all band together to discuss what we must do to defeat him. What do you say, Lady Ann? Surely it is better to make a stand with friends and allies, than to submit to Uppingham, or to risk fleeing for
somewhere
unknown?'

She hesitated. ‘How do I know that I can really trust you?' she asked at last.

‘Because we both have as much reason as you to want Uppingham punished. I want my sister to be free of him, and I want him to pay a suitable price for his villainy. Mrs Marchant wishes her brother's name to be cleared.'

Lady Ann lowered her gaze to the floor and was silent for a long moment, but when she looked up again, there was a sense of new purpose about her. ‘Very well, Your Grace, I will help you.'

A rush of relief passed over Deborah, for surely with the desertion of his only ally, Sir James would soon be vanquished.

The duke crossed the room to take Lady Ann's hands. ‘You will not regret your decision, I promise you. Now, you must dismiss your carriage, and then write the necessary letter for us to take to the school.'

‘I will do both things immediately,' she replied, and hurried from the room.

The duke then turned to Deborah. ‘Mrs Marchant, I trust
you do not mind being dragooned into the role of Christabel's chaperone?'

‘Mind? Of course not.'

‘I trust also that that reassurance extends to my rather high-handed choice of hiding place?'

‘Well, I certainly do not mind, sir, and I am equally certain that Mrs McNeil will not have any objection, for she is anxious to prove that Richard did not do any of the things of which he stands accused. She is as keen as I to see Sir James in court.'

He paused. ‘That may not be entirely practical,' he said after a moment.

She looked quickly at him. ‘Why do you say that?'

‘Because we must do what we can to protect the
reputations
of both Lady Ann and my sister, and Uppingham will be as detrimental as he can if he appears in court. Can you imagine the things he might choose to say of them? I intend to deny him that opportunity., and think that instead of seeing that he is arrested, it would be better simply to extract a written confession from him in which he admits to having stolen the necklace himself in order to incriminate your brother, toward whom he bears a grudge. I will then advise him that he will be given time to leave the country in order to avoid arrest, but he will be warned that if he spreads any whispers at all about the ladies concerned, then he will have me to answer to. It will not be an idle threat on my part, as he will know full well, and I rather think he will hold his tongue.'

Deborah nodded. ‘I know I would,' she murmured.

He smiled. ‘Mrs Marchant, I have every reason to be grateful to you.'

‘To me? Why?'

‘If it had not been for your fierce determination to clear your brother's name no matter what, all this might not have come to light, and Sabrina would have been bound to him forever. I am dismayed to realize that I was so blind to him, and to Sabrina's unhappiness.'

‘You must not reproach yourself, for it wasn't your fault, and the moment you knew the truth, you acted. Nothing more could be asked of you.'

He smiled again. ‘You have a way with you, madam; indeed I fancy you could persuade Old Nick himself that he isn't so bad a fellow after all.'

Taking her hand, he drew it palm uppermost to his lips. 

It was still dark as Deborah stepped out of the primrose satin gown, and Amy helped her to put on a much warmer leaf-green dress and matching pelisse for the journey to Chippenham. The clock on the mantelpiece stood at
half-past
five as she then went to sit at the dressing table for the maid to dress her hair a little more simply than the coiffure required for the ball.

Mrs McNeil sat by the fire, having been aroused from her bed to hear what had transpired during the night. Without its customary powder her hair was salt and pepper in color, and hung in long plaits from beneath her muslin night bonnet. She wore a comfortable peach velvet wrap over her nightgown, and her feet were stretched out toward the warmth of the fire, for she was fortunate enough not to suffer from the agonies of chilblains.

She had been astonished and delighted at the turn events had taken and was glad to learn that Lady Ann had not been Sir James's willing accomplice. She was of the sincere hope that Richard Wexford's fortunes were about
to change, but her eyes bore a rather troubled expression as she watched Deborah. There was a glow about her the older woman thought, and it was a glow that was only partly due to the imminent prospect of defeating Sir James Uppingham. If Mrs McNeil was not mistaken, the rest of that telltale glow was due to the Duke of Gretton, with whom Deborah would shortly be entirely alone during the journey to Chippenham. It was all quite proper, of course, for widows were permitted a great deal of latitude, and such things as chaperones were not mandatory, but nevertheless Mrs McNeil was worried. She had already become concerned about the change in Deborah's attitude toward the duke, but now the change had become so marked as to make the older woman anxious on her behalf. To look at Deborah Marchant now was to look at a woman who had begun to live again after three years of loneliness; but how did the duke feel? Everyone knew that he was passionately involved with Kate Hatherley; indeed Deborah had found him at the actress's house that very night, so it was very unlikely indeed that he shared the emotion now shining in Deborah's lovely gray eyes. If Rowan Sinclair had given cause for such feelings to stir, then in Mrs McNeil's
opinion
he had either done so unwittingly, or as a passing amusement, but certainly not because Deborah had supplanted Kate in his affections.

Becoming conscious of the other woman's thoughtful gaze, Deborah turned her head. ‘What is it, Mrs McNeil? Do you have reservations about Christabel being brought here?'

‘No, my dear, but I do have reservations about you
traveling
to Chippenham alone with the duke.'

‘But it's hardly improper,' Deborah protested in some surprise.

‘It isn't a question of propriety, my dear, but rather one of wisdom. Deborah, are you quite sure it is sensible for you to accompany him like this?'

‘Christabel must have a chaperone.'

‘Yes, but I wish it was not to be you,' Mrs McNeil replied quietly.

‘Why?'

‘I think you know full well why, my dear.'

Deborah looked quickly away, unable to meet the shrewd sympathy in the other's eyes. She didn't want to admit to the way her feelings were taking her, nor did she wish to contemplate the inevitable painful ending.

Amy brought Deborah's leaf-green silk hat, and Mrs McNeil gave a silent sigh as the room became quiet once more. There was unhappiness in store, and all she could hope was that she would be there to give what comfort she could when it was needed.

There was a tap at the door, and Amy hurried to answer it. Sanders stood there. ‘His Grace is waiting,' he said.

Deborah rose in surprise, for she hadn't heard the carriage. ‘The duke is here?' she said.

‘Yes, madam. You will not have heard anything because the carriage is in the mews lane, and His Grace came to the kitchen door. He felt it would be more discreet to do that than to risk being seen calling at such a very odd hour.'

Amy hastened to bring her mistress's reticule and gloves, and a few moments later Deborah was ready to leave.

Mrs McNeil rose from her chair. ‘Take care, my dear, for when this is over—'

Deborah interrupted quickly. ‘Please don't say it, Mrs McNeil, for I am only too conscious of the dangers,' she said, before hurrying from the room to the head of the
staircase
, where the butler was waiting to conduct her down to the kitchen.

Mrs McNeil gazed sadly after her. Fate was determined to be as cruel as possible to Deborah Marchant, first of all robbing her of the husband she'd adored, and now
thrusting
her headlong into a new emotional entanglement that was certain to come to nothing.

The duke was waiting in the deserted kitchen, where the only light was the glowing fire in the immense hearth. Flames danced above the fresh log that had been recently placed there, and the light flickered on the gleaming array of copper pots and pans hung against the walls. He wore his greatcoat and stood with one boot resting upon an andiron as he gazed down at the fire. His tall hat and gloves lay on the scrubbed oak table behind him, and the air was heavy with the smell of bread, which had been baked that evening in readiness for breakfast.

Sanders announced her and then withdrew, and the duke immediately straightened and turned toward her. His glance raked her from head to toe before coming to meet her eyes. ‘Mrs Marchant,' he murmured, inclining his head briefly.

She felt rather self-conscious. ‘It doesn't seem right that a duke should be kept waiting in a kitchen,' she said.

He smiled. ‘What's this, a belated respect for my rank? I seem to recall a healthy
dis
respect when first we met.'

‘I would prefer to forget our first meeting, sir,' she replied.

‘It was a singular experience for me, I assure you, and it certainly reminded me that I am a mere mortal after all.' He took something from his pocket. ‘Your property, I believe,' he said, holding out her locket.

She took it, but as he saw that she intended to wear it, he quickly made to help her. ‘Allow me,' he said, stepping behind her and placing the locket around her neck. She bent her head forward, closing her eyes as his fingers brushed the warm skin at the nape of her neck.

When he had finished, he went to the table to pick up his hat and gloves. ‘I trust Mrs McNeil is well pleased with the progress we've made?'

‘Yes.'

The brevity of the answer could not be mistaken, and his blue eyes swung shrewdly toward her. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘No, of course not,' she replied, making her tone much more convincing. ‘What did Lady Sabrina say when you told her?'

‘I haven't told her anything, indeed I haven't even disturbed her sleep.'

Deborah stared at him. ‘Why not?'

‘Because she is to spend this coming morning with Uppingham, and I don't know whether she is up to such a prolonged period of pretense. She hasn't been strong recently, as you know, and in my opinion it is wiser not to subject her to such an ordeal. I will tell her when she returns from Claverton Down.' He hesitated. ‘I trust I've made the right decision, for I fear I've had cause to doubt my judgment of late.'

‘There is nothing wrong with your judgment, sir.'

‘You are far too kind,' he replied dryly, tapping on his
hat and then donning his gloves before offering her his arm. ‘I think we should leave without further delay, for although it is only thirteen miles to Chippenham, they are thirteen hilly miles and may take all of two hours to cover.'

She accepted the arm, and together they left the kitchen. Outside it was still very dark, but on the eastern horizon there was now the faintest hint of gray. Dawn wasn't far away.

It was almost eight o'clock, and the sun had long since risen when Chippenham at last appeared ahead, but Deborah was unaware that they were almost at journey's end. The rhythm of the carriage was so lulling that in spite of her efforts to remain awake, she had at last succumbed to sleep. She knew nothing as the vehicle jolted over a rut in the road, or when the duke left his seat opposite to sit beside her with his arm around her
shoulder
.

In her dream she was far away from the Duke of Gretton, and the motion of the carriage had become the swaying of the rowing boat as Jonathan had rowed her out across the cove at St Mary Magna. He hadn't been in his uniform, but wore only his shirt, waistcoat, and breeches, and his
chestnut
hair was shining in the heat of the August sun. His green eyes were warm and caressing as he glanced at her as she sat on the cushions in the stern of the boat. She wore a yellow-and-white gingham gown, her dark hair was tied loosely back with a white gauze scarf. A frilled white silk parasol twirled above her head.

The sea was still and blue, and the cove where later the
Thetis
was to founder was as gentle and calm as a mill
pond. The gulls were quiet in the summer heat, so that the soaring song of the skylarks could be heard far above the nearby cliffs. It was a perfect day, and she and Jonathan were so much in love. So very much in love. And yet…. She was conscious of a pang of guilt, for in her thoughts she had been unfaithful to him. Another man's smiles had distracted her, invading her thoughts so much that sometimes
his
name was first upon her lips, not Jonathan's.

As the shadow of conscience darkened her eyes, so the skies darkened overhead. The sun was obliterated by storm clouds and from nowhere the wind came to whip the seas into a fury. Waves crashed against the rocks, and the tiny boat was tossed about like a cork. She was too terrified to even scream, and could only stare in dismay as the sea swept Jonathan away, dragging him down into its depths and leaving no trace at all.

At last she found her tongue. ‘No!' she screamed. ‘No!'

‘Mrs Marchant?' The duke's concerned voice broke quietly into the nightmare.

For a moment the storm still had her in its grip, but then suddenly there was silence. Her eyes flew open on a stifled gasp, and she reached out instinctively to clutch his arm.

‘It's all right, you're quite safe,' he murmured
reassuringly
.

She stared at him. ‘I … I was dreaming.'

‘A nightmare, I fancy.'

She still stared at him, for the dream's effect was strong and clear, as was its meaning. She did feel guilty, but not because she'd almost betrayed Jonathan's love in the past. It was now that she was betraying him, because the Duke of Gretton had stolen her heart. She loved this man, she
loved him so much that there was nothing she could do to save herself.

The duke removed his glove and put his hand concernedly to her pale cheek. ‘What were you dreaming?'

Her breath caught, and she pulled swiftly away from him. ‘I … I don't remember.'

He said nothing more, and a few minutes later the carriage slowed to turn in through the gates of Miss Algernon's Academy for the Daughters of Gentlefolk. As the coachman brought the team up to a smart trot along the cedar-lined drive toward the redbrick mansion, Deborah tried to regain her lost composure. Her fingers crept to enclose the locket. It was an instinctive action which the duke observed.

Miss Algernon was surprised and a little displeased to be brought from the comfort of her bed and morning tea. She was an elderly but surprisingly sprightly lady from Dublin, and she had no truck at all with those who did not observe the academy's rules. Visitors were very firmly requested to call during the afternoons and evenings, certainly not while the housemaids were about their business!

Still buttoning her sensible fawn woolen wrap over her nightgown, and with her wispy gray hair tucked up in a rather haphazard way beneath her crumpled white night bonnet, she came grumbling down the staircase to the echoing black-and-white-tiled hall, where the fire had gone out and the only light came from the single circular window above the main door.

Seeing the duke and Deborah waiting there, she
continued
to grumble as she crossed the floor toward them. ‘What is the meaning of this?' she demanded, not knowing
to whom she was speaking because the duke had merely informed the maid who'd answered the door that he wished to speak to the headmistress.

The duke was a little testy. ‘The meaning of this, madam, is that we've come to take one of your young ladies to stay temporarily with her mother.'

‘Take one of my…? Sir, this is most irregular! I cannot be expected to accommodate such whims, not when I have a proper establishment to run.'

‘Madam, I care not whether it is irregular, and I am certainly not in the habit of acting upon whims. This is a matter of importance, and I suggest that you read this letter.' The duke handed the headmistress the letter of authority written by Lady Ann, who had signed the letter in her married name, Lady Ann Arrowsmith.

By now Miss Algernon had had a moment or two to observe the visitors more closely and realized that the gentleman at least was a person of some consequence. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she accepted the letter and broke open the seal. She read in silence until she reached the point where Lady Ann named the two persons who were to be entrusted with her daughter. ‘The Duke of Gretton?' she gasped, her face going pale as she raised her eyes to his.

‘Madam.' He inclined his head, but as she resumed her reading, he glanced at Deborah and smiled. The smile spoke volumes. This is one time, it said, when my rank receives the respect it is due.

Deborah found herself smiling as well and had to lower her gaze in case the headmistress should observe her silent amusement.

Miss Algernon folded the letter and cleared her throat
once more. ‘You, er, must forgive me, Your Grace, for I had no idea who you were. Of course you may take Christabel to her mother.' Turning, she beckoned to the waiting maid. ‘Inform Mrs Johnson that she is to prepare Christabel Arrowsmith to leave immediately.'