Lady Sabrina’s Secret (15 page)

‘Yes, I do indeed,' Lady Ann replied, getting up as well.

Rowan put on his coat. ‘I will escort you both to your door,' he said, and then remembered something. ‘Sabrina, I know that I was supposed to take you to Milsom Street, but I'm afraid my plans have changed and I am expected
elsewhere
now.'

Deborah looked away, for he was expected at Kate's.

Sabrina gave a sudden smile. ‘Rowan, you don't honestly imagine I am still going to my dressmaker, do you? I couldn't stand still enough. I don't know whether I'm nervous or excited about tonight. I only know that soon everything is going to be all right again, and that is all that matters.'

There was a full moon that evening as Rowan arrived in person to escort Deborah and Lady Ann back along the Crescent for the fateful dinner. Lady Ann was already
waiting
in the drawing room with her daughter and Mrs McNeil, who were to remain behind, and Deborah had yet to come down, but she appeared at the top of the staircase as Sanders admitted him.

Her dark hair was twisted up into an elaborate Grecian knot, with soft curls framing her face, and she wore the silver-gray silk gown, long white gloves, and amethysts she'd worn to the theater. She hesitated before going down toward him, for suddenly she remembered that night at the theater, and the moment when she'd been leaving and she'd seen him kissing Kate Hatherley by the stage door. He had been with his mistress that afternoon…. She drew herself up sharply, for what business was it of hers where he had been? She had no right to be jealous. But she was. Very jealous.

He saw her and came to the foot of the stairs to meet her as she began to descend. He wore a plum velvet coat, white silk breeches, and there was a ruby in his cravat. ‘You look
very lovely,' he said, smiling.

‘Thank you.' Her heart was turning over with wild emotion simply at looking into his eyes. Please don't let him see how he affected her.

‘You wore that gown to the theater, did you not?'

‘How observant you are, sir,' she replied.

‘Sir? My name is Rowan,' he corrected, taking her hand and drawing it to his lips.

She suppressed a shiver of pleasure. ‘How observant you are, Rowan,' she repeated.

‘I must speak privately with you, Deborah,' he said, glancing briefly at Sanders, who waited nearby to assist the ladies with their cloaks when they departed.

But there was no opportunity to say anything more, for at that moment they both realized that Mrs McNeil had emerged from the drawing room. If she had heard them address each other by their first names, she gave no sign.

She smiled at Rowan. ‘Good evening, Your Grace,' she said, her oyster taffeta gown rustling as she came toward him.

‘Good evening, Mrs McNeil.' He bowed.

‘May I offer you some refreshment? I know you are only a few steps away from your house, but it seems churlish not to extend the hospitality of this house.'

‘There is no time, Mrs McNeil, but I thank you for your thoughtfulness. If Uppingham should decide to arrive early, it wouldn't do for him to see me escorting Mrs Marchant and Lady Ann along the pavement.'

‘No, it wouldn't do at all,' she murmured, her glance encompassing Deborah for a moment. ‘I will tell Lady Ann that it is time to leave,' she said then, turning back into the drawing room.

Deborah was very conscious of the older woman's
fleeting
glance, for it had been very eloquent and her cheeks felt a little hot as she went to Sanders for him to place her cloak around her shoulders.

Mrs McNeil returned with Lady Ann and Christabel, who still wore the white muslin gown she'd had on since leaving the school early that morning. Lady Ann had changed for dinner, and now wore sea-green satin and opals. The light of determination and revenge was still bright in her eyes, but it softened lovingly as she turned to smile at Christabel.

‘Mrs McNeil will look after you, my dear, and I will return as soon as possible.'

‘Yes, Mama.'

Lady Ann kissed her daughter's cheek, and then went toward Sanders, who waited with her cloak.

A moment later they all three stepped out into the silvery night, where the full moon shone clearly down from a
starlit
sky. It was very cold after the warmth of the day, and there would probably be a frost before morning.

Mrs McNeil stood by the window with Christabel, the curtain held sufficiently aside for them both to watch as as the shadowy figures hastened along the pavement toward the house at the end. As the door of the other house closed behind them, Mrs McNeil lowered the curtain and turned back into the drawing room.

Christabel looked at her. ‘The duke is very handsome, is he not, Mrs McNeil?'

‘Too handsome by far,' was the murmured reply.

Sabrina was waiting in the entrance hall as her brother returned with their two accomplices. She was very fresh
and lovely in cream lace and pearls, and although she was nervous about the evening ahead, she was no longer as pale and strained as she had been.

When the two ladies had once again been assisted with their cloaks, Sabrina began to conduct them into the
drawing
room, but Rowan called Deborah back.

‘With your leave, Deborah, I really wish to speak privately with you.'

‘Privately?' She went back to him. ‘What is it?'

‘Not here. Please come into the conservatory.'

Puzzled, she followed him. The moonlight streamed unhindered through the glass panes, and the greenery all around seemed more luxuriant than it had in the sunshine. The night air seemed to release the scent of the flowers, so that there was an almost heady fragrance all around as he led her to the table and chairs. The canaries' cage had been placed there as well to keep them safe from the night chill of the glass, and the little yellow birds hopped from perch to perch as they were disturbed by Rowan's voice.

‘Forgive me for seeking to be alone with you like this, Deborah, but there are things I wish to say to you,' he said, turning to face her.

She paused by the cage, resting a gloved hand upon the gilded ironwork. ‘Say whatever you will,' she replied, wondering what was on his mind. He seemed a little uneasy, as if he found it difficult to broach the matter.

His glance flickered to her amethyst necklace. ‘You aren't wearing your locket,' he said suddenly.

‘My locket? No, I prefer this necklace with this particular gown.'

‘The locket is obviously very precious to you.' His eyes were intensely blue, even in the moonlight.

‘Yes, it is.' She had to look away, for suddenly she was in her dream again, and the sea was sweeping Jonathan away before her horrified, guilty eyes.

‘I understand that you have been living in seclusion for some time now. I took the liberty of quizzing Sabrina. She knew a little from your brother.'

‘Jonathan and I were very happy together, Rowan, and when he died I thought I would die, too. Seclusion is perhaps not the right word for my existence, isolation describes it more accurately. I chose to live alone at St Mary Magna, and it was only the injustice being done to my brother that lured me away.' She searched his face in the moonlight. ‘Why do you wish to know?'

He came a little closer, and the silver light shone on the diamond pin in his neckcloth. ‘Because I have noticed that when you wear the locket, you frequently touch it, as if clinging to memories. I know that it is no business of mine, and I apologize if my interest offends in any way, but widowhood is a strange and indeterminate state. For some it is fleeting and soon forgotten, and for others it is more painful but does come to an end, but for a few it is a state of endless grief for that which is lost forever and can never be replaced. Are you one of those last few, Deborah?'

She was surprised at such a direct and personal question.

He smiled a little ruefully and ran his fingers through his steely hair. ‘Forgive me, my interest transgresses,' he said.

‘It doesn't transgress, Rowan; it just caught me off guard. If you had asked me that question before I left St Mary Magna, I would have said that yes, I do belong to that unhappy few, but now that I have gone out in society again, I no longer feel that I do.' Because of you, because you've turned my whole world upside down, and because
you've stolen my foolish heart with your smiles and kisses. Oh, yes, your kisses….

He came to her, taking her gloved hand and raising it to his lips. ‘Deborah, I—' He broke off in exasperation as the butler hurried in. ‘Yes, what is it?' he snapped.

‘Sir James's carriage is at the door, Your Grace!'

‘Very well, I will be there in a moment. Don't show him into the drawing room just yet.'

‘Very well, Your Grace.' The butler hastened away again.

Rowan returned his attention quickly to Deborah. ‘There isn't time for me to say anything more now, but maybe tomorrow? A drive to Beechen Cliff, perhaps?'

‘A drive? But—'

‘I
must
speak alone with you, and for long enough to say all I wish.'

For a moment she almost declined. She thought of Kate, with whom he had been that very afternoon, but then she nodded. ‘A drive to Beechen Cliff would be very
agreeable
,' she said, dismayed at her weakness. Where was her pride? Had he demolished her standards as well as her defenses?

He smiled. ‘It is settled then,' he murmured.

They heard the front door knocker, and he took her hand again, but instead of kissing it as he had before, he drew her closer, bending his head suddenly to brush his lips over hers. Then he was gone, walking swiftly out of the
conservatory
to greet Sir James as he was admitted.

She remained where she was, her eyes closed as she savored the echo of his kiss.

In the hall Rowan was all graciousness and cordiality. ‘Good evening, James, I trust you are in hearty appetite?'

‘I will be, provided you are able to reassure me that
Sabrina is well.'

‘She is much better this evening; indeed she is better than she has been in well over a week.'

‘Indeed?'

Deborah hurried to the entrance of the conservatory and peeped out. The two men stood in the middle of the hall. Sir James wore a charcoal silk coat, and his Apollo curls shone in the light of the chandelier. His manner was unguarded, for he had no inkling of the trap yawning before him.

Rowan was still all charm. ‘If you will come into the drawing room, Sabrina is waiting …' he stated, ushering Sir James toward the door.

As they went inside Deborah hurried across the hall behind them, and she was in time to see Sir James's stunned reaction as he saw Lady Ann with Sabrina by the fireplace.

His face went pale, and a wary look entered his eyes as he turned to look quickly at Rowan. ‘I, er, did not realize there would be another guest,' he began, but then his pale eyes moved to Deborah as she appeared in the doorway. ‘What's this?' he demanded, every instinct warning him that something was very wrong.

Rowan gave him a cool smile. ‘This is your undoing, Uppingham. Your malevolent activities are known to me, and to Sabrina, and as far as you are concerned this is the end of the road.'

Sir James's tongue passed swiftly over his suddenly dry lips, but then he dissembled, turning back to Sabrina and smiling. ‘Sabrina, I'm afraid I don't understand. What am I supposed to have done? If I offended you at the display this morning, then I beg your forgiveness, but I really have
no idea in what way I have upset you.'

Sabrina's lovely face was cold. ‘This has nothing to do with this morning. I am no longer a gullible fool, sir, for I know what you did to Richard. He is the one I love, and he is the one I mean to marry, not you. I despise you, sirrah, for you are surely the lowest insect I ever knew, and I am ashamed that I was ever taken in by you. You aren't worthy of the name of gentleman, and I wish I had never heard your name, Sir James. After tonight you may be sure that I will never have anything more to do with you.'

The chill, condemning words were uttered in a steady tone that was devoid of all feeling, except loathing, and Sir James found himself gazing into lilac eyes that offered him no hope.

For a long moment he was too shaken to respond, but then once again he found his wits. Another smile played upon his full lips, and he gave a rather incredulous half laugh. ‘Look, I really don't know what all this is about. What am I supposed to have done to Wexford? I take it that it is Wexford to whom we are referring?'

Lady Ann raised her chin. ‘I have told them everything, Sir James, and if you still think to threaten me through my daughter, let me warn you that she is safely beyond your reach now. Let me also warn you that she is legitimate, and that you will be very wrong indeed to accuse me of having had a child out of wedlock. I had excellent reasons for keeping her a secret, but now I mean to acknowledge her, so your threats are powerless.'

There was an ugly twist on Sir James's lips as he turned to face Rowan. ‘What do you want of me? I presume you've lured me here tonight for some purpose?'

‘Oh, yes,' Rowan replied softly, ‘I have a purpose, of that
you may be sure. You see, you may have been able to manipulate others until now, but I fear that it is now your turn to dance to order. You are going to admit to stealing the diamond necklace yourself, and to concocting the tale of theft simply to blacken Richard Wexford's name.'

‘I don't intend to admit to anything,' Sir James replied.

‘Uppingham, nothing would delight me more than to be given the excuse to snuff you out, but other matters have to be considered in this. I am not requesting you to write a letter of confession, I am telling you.' With a cool smile Rowan indicated a writing desk in a corner of the room where fresh vellum, ink, and pens had been set out in readiness, together with a candle to melt the wax for the seal.

Sir James's tongue passed over his lips again. ‘And if I refuse?'

‘I believe you know my reputation with a pistol, and if you don't, I promise you that you will soon learn first-hand whether I am the shot I'm famed to be. Of course I have the advantage of already knowing what a poor shot you are, for I've seen your appalling performance on the grouse moor.'

Sir James swallowed. ‘Why bother to extract a written confession from me? Does it mean that you intend to put an end to me anyway?'

‘I have already said that there are other considerations that prevent me from that happy course.'