Parfit Knight (18 page)

She swayed
under his arm. ‘Oh? And what is that?’

‘That Lady
Warriston and dearest Letty aren’t here to see us,’ he replied
wickedly. And had the satisfaction of hearing her deliciously husky
laugh.

At the moment
Lord Amberley and Mistress Vernon took to the floor, his Grace of
Rockliffe was offering Mr Ingram snuff from a topaz-studded gold
box and, inevitably, was about to inform him where and by whom it
had been made. The fact that he stopped mid-sentence was
sufficiently unprecedented to startle Jack into seeking the reason.
Then, staring incredulously at the Marquis’s fair head tilted
intimately close to Mistress Vernon’s dark one and at the
velvet-clad arm encircling her waist, he said, ‘Christ! What the
hell is he doing?’

‘Wrong
question, Jack,’ came the absent reply. And then, with a brief,
sideways glance, ‘Ah. Perhaps Lord Philip neglected to mention that
his sister is blind?’

‘Good God! Is
she?’ Jack stared across the floor. ‘I had no idea. What a damn
shame! But I suppose that’s why Nick’s holding her like that.’

‘Quite. But the
really interesting question is less what Dominic is doing than
where and how he found the opportunity to practice it.’

‘Practice it?
That’s absurd!’

A faint smile
touched the corners of Rockliffe’s mouth as he watched Amberley and
Rosalind. ‘Is it? Look carefully. They’re performing a sequence of
steps which can be repeated. Steps which they both know. And
Dominic is leading. How do you think that can have come about?’

‘Oh.’ Jack
thought for a moment before saying slowly, ‘When he and I first
arrived this evening, it was clear he’d met the lady before.’

‘Exactly,’
sighed his Grace. ‘And it’s also clear that he has spent sufficient
time in her company to achieve what we’re witnessing now.’ He
paused and then added, ‘A mystery. How intriguing.’

Remarkably,
since they were all craning their necks to see what everyone was
looking at, the orchestra brought the dance to a timely and
triumphant conclusion while the Marquis responded to Rosalind’s
curtsy with a flourishing bow. Then, in the deathly hush that
followed, he directed a brief, challenging glance along the flanked
rows of their bemused audience and raised Rosalind’s hand to his
lips.

‘Mistress
Vernon,’ he teased, ‘permit me to observe that you are a credit to
your dancing-master. I congratulate you – both.’

And, as if on
cue, the silence around them dissolved into a buzz of pleasurably
shocked chatter.

It was really
no surprise to anyone that, as a result of Lady Crewe’s assembly,
Rosalind became a nine-day-wonder; but what was surprising was that
her spectacularly public defiance of convention did not appear to
have done any harm. Lord Philip found this very hard to accept and,
for a whole week, lived in the horrid expectation of seeing his
sister ignored or snubbed – or, worse still, hearing her name
coupled with that of Amberley. But none of these disasters occurred
and, instead, flowers, invitations cards and a constant stream of
callers poured into the house in Jermyn Street; and not one voice
openly alluded to the possibility of a relationship – past, present
or future – between Mistress Vernon and the Marquis. Philip
relaxed.

Gradually, he
came to realise that this happy state of affairs was owed to the
exertions of three people; quietly reliable Isabel, mischievous but
influential Rockliffe and, of course, Amberley – who had what
Philip was fast coming to regard as an excessively irritating knack
of always appearing to be right. Between them, these three had each
told a handful of people - ‘
in the strictest confidence
!’ -
that Rosalind was blind, and thus made sure that everyone knew it.
Also, substantially contributing to the general reluctance to link
Mistress Vernon’s name with that of the Marquis, was the fact that
Rockliffe’s interest in her appeared demonstrably greater … for, in
the days that followed, it was he and not Amberley who was usually
to be found at her side. It was just confusing enough to silence
the doubters and, when added to the palliative that Rosalind was
known – though by what means Philip could not tell – to be
well-dowered, it meant that she could not lightly be dismissed.

The only
negative aspect of the affair was the deepening of Lord Philip’s
hostility towards the Marquis and this manifested itself
immediately Amberley restored Rosalind to her brother’s side at the
end of their dance. Philip was unable to resist addressing a
low-voiced tirade at the guilty pair and his temper was not
improved when Rosalind received with misplaced levity the
intelligence that everyone else had left the floor to watch. The
Marquis said very little and Philip attributed this to an arrogant
dislike of having his conduct criticised. It did not occur to him
that Amberley was in perfect agreement with him – up to a point –
but was restraining himself from replying with a pithy denunciation
of Philip’s care of his sister. With heated indignation on one side
but only cool reticence on the other, it cannot be said that they
quarrelled; but the atmosphere between them was most definitely
strained and misunderstanding became mutual.

Although she
knew what the trouble was, Rosalind wisely refrained from
discussing it with her brother – aware that any attempt to persuade
him that the Marquis was neither devious nor arbitrary would only
make matters worse. Philip was never deliberately contrary but he
had a stubborn streak that inevitably made him dig in his heels if
pressed too hard. He and Amberley had got off on the wrong foot at
their very first meeting and it was plain that Philip thought he
had good reason to dislike him. And even if, as Rosalind suspected,
he was mistaken, the only sure way to put matters right was for him
to discover it for himself. Philip would not be told, but he could
– and must – be shown.

That her views
were shared by Mistress Dacre came as a pleasant surprise and, as a
result, Rosalind found herself liking Philip’s engagement a good
deal better than she had anticipated. Behind Isabel’s unassuming
manner lay a strength of character that enabled her to wield a
subtle influence which was remarkably effective because no one
seemed to notice it. Isabel would never raise her voice or
repeatedly urge her point or make a play with wet eye-lashes; she
would never need to. And Rosalind found it admirable.

Most
astonishing of all was the fact that the Lintons should have
produced such a daughter. Her ladyship’s vague charm in no way
concealed the fact that she was both frivolous and impractical –
while, equally feckless, Lord Linton covered his basically weak
character with bluff good-humour or blustering irritability,
depending on the circumstance. As for the Honourable Robert,
Rosalind thought that he had unfortunately inherited the worst
traits of both parents and was selfish, spineless and totally
lacking in self-control.

She reached
this conclusion on the occasion of a family dinner in Clarges
Street when Robert abandoned all pretensions to good manners and
slammed petulantly out of the house for no better reason than a
vaunted desire to sit beside Rosalind instead of the extremely shy
cousin assigned to him by his mama. This display left the Viscount
in a state of ineffectual fury, his lady visibly unmoved and his
daughter embarrassed. Lord Philip was thoroughly uncomfortable but
managed to avoid showing it and Rosalind was frankly relieved. She
had no patience with spoiled young men prone to tantrums and rather
feared that, if Robert had stayed, she might have said so.

Robert, never
one to know when to let well alone, re-joined the party later that
evening at Devonshire House and set about trying to persuade
Rosalind that no one understood him.

‘You had much
better address all this to your mother,’ she told him flatly.
‘Although I’m inclined to think an apology might be more to the
point. You were very rude, you know.’

Robert coloured
slightly but, because Rosalind was both rich and pretty, he put a
curb on his tongue and said ruefully, ‘I didn’t mean to be – and of
course I shall make my peace with Mama. It’s just that she should
have known how it would be for I only agreed to be present at all
because I knew you would be there.’

Rosalind raised
a sardonic brow. ‘Really? I thought you were just reluctant to
waste your time on a mere cousin.’

He laughed
self-consciously. ‘Partly, perhaps. I’m afraid Jane bores me.’

‘And I don’t?
How nice. You can’t imagine how flattered I am.’

This shaft
missed its mark altogether.

‘Then I’m
forgiven?’ he asked, with a hint of practised boyish charm.

The dark head
tilted fractionally away from him.

‘Perhaps,’ said
Rosalind absently. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘A dangerous
admission, my dear,’ said a smooth voice from behind her. ‘Think if
you must – but never admit to it.’

Robert started
and then frowned with annoyance as Rosalind turned, smiling, to the
newcomer. ‘The advice of experience, your Grace?’

‘Certainly.’
Rockliffe took her hand and raised it lightly to his lips. ‘With
me, you know, it generally is.’

Robert was not
amused. ‘Another dangerous admission, surely?’ he suggested
waspishly.

‘Not at all –
merely a statement of fact.’ A mocking gleam lurked in the Duke’s
eyes. ‘And the difference, you might say, between buying Fitzroy’s
breakdowns and … er…
not
buying them.’

‘What do you
mean by that?’ demanded Robert. ‘Those greys are well-matched and
beautiful steppers. Everyone says so.’

‘True. And in
the park they will do very well indeed,’ Rockliffe replied. ‘But
not, I think, on the road to Newmarket for they are not a racing
pair. No stamina.’

‘I think I
should tell your Grace,’ said Robert gratingly, ‘that
I
bought those horses.’

The smile grew
and instantly Robert realised his error.

‘Dear me! Did
you indeed?’ said his Grace, patently unsurprised. And then,
encouragingly, ‘But you will know better next time, won’t you?’

Rosalind
shuddered and waited for the storm to break. Strangely, it did not
do so.

Instead, in a
voice shaking with temper, Robert said, ‘I’m engaged to race
Seaforth on Friday. Perhaps, when I’ve beaten him, you’d like to
match me with a pair of your own?’

‘Nothing is
impossible,’ replied his Grace wearily. ‘But some things are … let
us say, unlikely. However, you may ask me again - if, of course,
you beat Seaforth. And in the meantime, I see Mistress Hawley is
striving to attract your attention.’

‘Or yours,’
retorted Robert, wishing he dared slap that sardonic face.

‘Oh no,’ came
the gentle reply. ‘I am not so favoured. Do not, I beg, allow us to
detain you.’

Which left Mr
Dacre with nothing to do but take a typically ungracious leave.

‘He is
extremely tedious,’ remarked the Duke, watching him go. ‘You should
be very pleased with me.’

‘Well, I am,’
Rosalind owned, ‘but I think perhaps you were a little unkind.
After all, I don’t suppose a pair of match greys are precisely
cheap – even ones with no stamina.’

‘No. They were
not cheap … and neither was the curricle I saw them pulling up Salt
Hill yesterday.’

Three weeks
acquaintance with the Duke had taught Rosalind quite a lot and
formality had been abandoned at some stage during their second
meeting. She said, ‘So you did know what you were saying. I thought
as much.’

‘Well, of
course. I’m never tactless by accident. But what I don’t know is
how the Honourable Robert paid for his turn-out.’

‘I’m surprised
you didn’t ask him,’ she responded dryly. And then, ‘Does it
matter?’

Rockliffe
lifted his glass and gazed pensively across the room. ‘It might.
Are you thinking it’s no concern of mine?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah … well, I
hope you’re right,’ he said cryptically and, restoring the glass to
his pocket, proceeded to take snuff from an onyx box. ‘Tell me –
how lies the land between Amberley and your brother these
days?’

‘The same as
ever. Furrowed and thorny. Or so I imagine.’

‘Imagine? Is it
possible you don’t know?’

‘No I don’t.’
The dimple peeped and she said innocently, ‘I hoped you might tell
me. Mr Ingram says you are omniscient.’

Amusement
tugged at Rockliffe’s mouth but he subdued it and said lazily, ‘I
have that reputation. Although I’m beginning to fear that I may be
slipping.’

‘And that,’
remarked Rosalind cheerfully, ‘means that you still haven’t
discovered how Lord Amberley and I came to be acquainted. What a
shame. I wonder why he won’t tell you?’

‘Like the peace
of God, the workings of Amberley’s mind frequently pass all
understanding,’ drawled the Duke. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

‘I might if I
were granted the opportunity. But I don’t think we’ve exchanged
above half a dozen sentences since the Crewe assembly. Do you think
he’s afraid of Philip?’

Caught
unawares, his Grace was betrayed into a choke of laughter.

‘No, my child,
I don’t. And neither do you. But it’s an enchanting thought.’

Rosalind
sighed. ‘Do you know if he intends to come here tonight?’

‘He is here
already,’ Rockliffe informed her negligently. ‘In fact, for the
past five minutes I’ve been wondering just what he and the blushing
Mistress Isabel are finding to discuss so privately. And I think …
‘ He paused, wickedly. ‘I rather think that Lord Philip is
wondering exactly the same thing.’

This was
perfectly true but, had Philip been privileged to know it, Isabel’s
blushes owed nothing to any gallantry on Lord Amberley’s part. She
had promised Robert not to tell Philip that the Marquis had refused
payment – but the Marquis himself already knew so there could be no
harm in remedying Robert’s omissions by thanking him. After weeks
of summoning her courage, she finally got the chance to try – and
was finding it difficult.