The Impossible Ward (19 page)

“If you are in the expectation of receiving gratitude for some of your more infelicitous comments during this regrettable interlude, you’ll be sadly disappointed.”

Undaunted by the censure in his brother’s tones, Lord Andrew persisted. “I had to do my utmost to keep the channels of communication open lest your conversation degenerate into a pure slanging match. Is it not just like a woman, though, to be always where she should
not
be, hearing and seeing what was never meant for her ears and eyes?” As his brother continued to stare at nothing identifiable, he went on reflectively. “Though I must say, for a man who denies he wishes to wed a woman, you have some odd notions of how best to convince her of this fact.”

Justin held up his hand in a fencer’s gesture. “Touché! I was a fool to allow myself to be so neatly maneuvered but...” Here he paused before continuing with obvious difficulty, “I had a bad tumble over Aurelie once. Even last year when I went up to Northumberland for Uncle’s funeral, I was not quite sure how I felt about her. Last night, in the conservatory, well, it was an opportunity to discover if there was any lingering—” he stopped abruptly. “And there was
not
,” he finished briskly.

“Naturally, I am delighted that you have convinced yourself there’s nothing deader than a dead love. I strongly doubt, however, that you have convinced Marianne of this, but perhaps it does not signify?” He paused suggestively and studied his brother intently.

Justin’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace, and he said dryly:

“A knowing one, aren’t you? Too quick by half.” With that he turned on his heel and strode swiftly from the room, leaving behind a singularly unabashed young man who whistled a popular march tune while he put the foils back in their proper places.

CHAPTER TWELVE

With extreme reluctance Marianne closed her bedroom door behind her and headed down the corridor toward the stairway. She wished she’d had the sense to plead the headache so she might avoid going to dinner, however much it went against the grain with her to play the coward. The more she had dwelt on the way Andrew and her trustee had maneuvered her into taking part in this distasteful charade, the more resentful she had become. Heaven knew she held no brief for Lady Mauraugh, but it was quite odious to be scheming against the woman in this fashion. Not that this opinion was shared by Lady Lunswick. On the contrary, when Marianne had reported the conversation that had taken place in the armory to her hostess, the latter had all but danced for joy to learn her son did not wish to marry her sister-in-law. She brushed aside as excessively scrupulous Marianne’s reluctance to participate in the farce of courtship to deter the countess from her pursuit of Justin; in short, she applauded the scheme whole-heartedly. Marianne was rendered speechless as it was clearly impossible that she explain to her hostess that the scene in the armory, following the one she had witnessed in the conservatory, had brought rushing back all her initial dislike of her ladyship’s elder son. Since his return from London she had been liking the marquess all too well indeed, as witnessed by the distress she had experienced on seeing him and Lady Mauraugh in that embrace. But at least she could not have thought ill of him if he kissed the beautiful widow because he still wished to marry her. However, he had made it abundantly clear that he had no such intention, and in her eyes that put him smack in the ranks of the philanderers, a class of persons for whom she felt nothing save contempt. And it did not matter a bean to her if he labeled her a prudish provincial either, she thought defiantly.

The marquess, waiting unobserved at the bottom of the stairs, saw the little toss of her head and the set expression that robbed her of all animation and speculated gloomily that she was thinking of him. At least she had donned the blue gown she had worn the evening he had returned home. He had waylaid her an hour ago on her way to her room to change, and had requested this, but with something less than confidence. Her polite little nod had chilled him to the marrow. He had not needed Andrew’s delicate hints to enlighten him as to how much that scene in the conservatory was likely to cost, but, he quoted mentally, “Let us mind, faint heart ne’er wan a lady fair.” Suddenly it struck him that with this old saw he had capped Andrew’s ridiculous performance this afternoon, and the thought tickled him momentarily.

At that instant Marianne raised her eyes from the stairs and became aware of his presence.

“Something about my appearance amuses you, my lord?” she asked coolly.

“Do not be so quick to sport your canvas, my child,” he replied with maddening condescension. “You’d look excessively charming if your expression did not suggest that you were on the way to your own execution.” Encouraged by the faint smile this sally evoked, he held out his hand to assist her down the last steps, and once there he retained hers for a moment, studying her face with serious eyes. “If I smile when I look at you, it is because looking at you gives me pleasure.”

There was a quiet earnestness in this speech, but Marianne received it unblinkingly, hardening her heart against his blandishments. After a moment he said more briskly, “It has occurred to me that you never wear jewelry. Do you disapprove of jewels on some theoretical basis?”

This brought another faint smile. “Not theoretical, my lord, purely practical. I do not possess any jewels.”

“You do, you know. Not many, but I discovered two necklaces and three rings among your father’s effects. They are now yours.”

“Did they belong to my mother?”

“Yes. One of the necklaces consists of some really lovely sapphires in a filigree gold setting.” He took a jeweler’s box from his pocket. “I have had it cleaned for you. It will be the perfect touch with this gown. Come over here.”

Marianne suffered herself to be led down the hall to a large pier-glass over a console table. Obedient to his command, she stood facing the mirror while he placed the necklace about her throat and bent his head to fasten the tiny clasp.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she breathed ecstatically, touching the sparkling stones with reverent fingers while she waited impatiently for a signal that the clasp was secure. His nearness was becoming too disturbing for comfort.

“There, it is fastened.”

Two things happened almost simultaneously. Marianne started to turn impulsively to thank the marquess, when a dark flash in a corner of the glass drew her eyes to the figure of Lady Mauraugh revealed by the open door to the blue and gold saloon. Her reluctant gaze met the furious glance of the countess, not the least bit diluted by distance and mirror reversal, and all motion stopped for an instant while she fought against a slight wave of nausea and tore her eyes from that lovely, angry face. He planned this, she thought angrily. Even the passing on to her of her father’s gift to her mother had been turned to good account in his campaign to discourage the woman who had jilted him. Such cold calculation sickened her, but it also stiffened her resolve not to become one of his victims. Accordingly, she turned a calm face to him and thanked him coolly for the necklace. She noted a shade of disappointment in the amber eyes and was repaid for her efforts. He bowed slightly in acknowledgment.

“Your father had good taste, especially if, as I suspect, you are the image of your mother. Now I think it is time we joined the others.”

“Just a minute, my lord. I know I agreed not to betray you in this masquerade but there is one condition to be met if you wish my cooperation.”

His eyes grew hard, but he merely inquired, “And that is?”

Marianne stared at him levelly. “That you agree to allow me to return to Yorkshire when I ask it of you.”

His brows snapped together and the well-shaped lips thinned to a straight line, but her glance never wavered from his inquisitorial stare, and at last he capitulated. “
Very
well, but since you are not above blackmail—well, what else would you call this condition of yours?” he snarled as she opened her lips to protest—“I’ll expect active, not merely passive cooperation from you, and that includes forgetting ‘my lord’ and ‘sir.’ My name is Justin and I wish to hear no other from you. Are we now agreed on the terms of our bargain?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes—Justin.”

He smiled but it was not a particularly pleasant sight. “And now, let us repair to the saloon. Everyone will be wondering what has occurred to detain us.”

Despite her promise, Marianne found herself totally unable to oblige the marquess with an air of complacence, so the diversion provided by the appearance just then of the little earl accompanied by his nurse was timely indeed. Richard, walking sedately down the stairs, peered over the railing and caught sight of the couple heading for the saloon door. He jumped down the remaining three steps and skipped up to the young woman smiling a welcome to him. Although he unhesitatingly slipped his hand in her extended one, his words were a rebuke.

“Lady Marianne, you did not come to the nursery this afternoon.”

“Say good evening to Lord Lunswick, Richard,” put in Nurse austerely, before the girl could summon forth an excuse, though she was aware from the deep reproach on Richard’s face that any attempts at self-exculpation would have to be inventive indeed to reduce her treachery to a minor offense. While watching the little boy’s polite greeting to the marquess, she prudently decided on a policy of abject abasement and in due course was graciously forgiven. His good nature restored, Richard entered the room chattering gaily between the two, holding a hand of each while Nurse unobtrusively sought a chair away from the main group.

Their entrance, late as it was, could not go unremarked. Indeed Lady Mauraugh had already witnessed the tableau near the pier-glass, at least visually, but although she looked quickly at the sapphires, she made no comment except to welcome her host with a warm smile.

“Justin, I have scarcely laid eyes on you all day. Was the colt to your liking?”

While the marquess made her an easy answer and nodded to the assembled group, his mother’s sharp eyes had taken in the gleaming jewels adorning her young guest’s throat.

“Marianne, how beautiful! And so perfectly right for you.”

Sir Martin and Lord Andrew added their voices to the chorus of admiration.

“Thank you. It belonged to my mother and I shall take great delight in wearing it.” The girl released her hand from Richard’s to approach her hostess so the latter might study the necklace at closer range.

Lady Mauraugh, who had come forward to greet her son, knelt in a graceful attitude by his side and offered a smooth, scented cheek for his kiss. Tonight she had chosen to wear black lace, which heightened her exquisite fairness and emphasized the red-gold hair. Marianne’s covert attention had been on the widow from the shocked instant of meeting those green eyes in the mirror, and she wondered again how Justin could seem so oblivious to the lovely picture she presented with her arms about the child She could not quite credit that a man who had once desperately wished to marry a woman might remain unaffected by her potent appeal a mere five years later, especially when the full battery of her charm was directed at his sensibilities.

“You are come just in time to secure this bracelet for me, Justin,” Lady Mauraugh declared, disengaging her lovely arms from her son and holding out one from which a diamond bracelet dangled loosely. “I caught the clasp a while ago and cannot seem to secure it with one hand.”

“I’ll do it, Mama, let me!” pleaded Richard eagerly.

Lady Mauraugh’s smile disappeared as she almost snatched her arm away from the small, seeking hands. “Nonsense, Richard, your fingers aren’t yet clever enough to do this difficult catch.” She rose from her knees and held out the arm to her host who had made no move toward accepting this commission.

“I fear my fingers are too clumsy for such a delicate task. You had rather beg Marianne’s assistance or my mother’s.” He turned to the girl in blue velvet with an intimate smile. “Marianne?”

The long bronze lashes swept down to conceal her expression as Lady Mauraugh silently surrendered her arm to the ministrations of the other woman, but Marianne could feel her stiffen under her light touch and was nervously aware of the hostility that emanated from the beautiful redhead. Securing the clasp was a simple matter, certainly not beyond the ordinary capabilities of an adult left hand, but, Marianne conceded, there was nothing of the ordinary about the present situation. She herself could barely conceal the resentment that soured her nature at being thrust like a line of infantry across the path of each new charge by Lady Mauraugh, especially in the face of what she suspected was the active enjoyment of this ridiculous situation by the object of the widow’s campaign. Certainly her trustee appeared more relaxed than either of the feminine participants in the exercise, as he blandly described for Lord Andrew’s benefit the points of the colt he and Sir Martin had inspected that morning.

Richard had quitted his mother’s side to give his aunt a detailed account of his day. She gave him all her attention and he blossomed visibly under its benign influence, showing his pearly teeth in a delighted laugh at his aunt’s lively recounting of Nuisance’s latest disgraceful behavior.

This left the two younger women disengaged, but so reluctant was each to approach the other that Lady Mauraugh appeared to have her entire attention on the gentlemen’s horse discussion while Lady Marianne pretended an equal absorption in the child’s conversation with his aunt. Noticing her glance, Richard politely included her in his comments and Marianne had to grip her lower lip with her teeth to prevent a sudden laugh at the absurdity of a four-year-old child being more possessed of good manners than two adults. Subsequently she turned to the countess with an admiring comment on her gown. The other replied with equal politeness but both were relieved to have their uneasy conversation interrupted by Coleman’s announcement of dinner.

At this point Richard was reminded of an additional grievance.

“Lady Marianne, you did not bring the drawings you promised to show me. You know, the flower paintings Miss Huntingdon did that you said were prettier than the ones in my book.” He impaled his victim with an accusing stare and firmly held his ground when Nurse hastily suggested it was time to say his good-nights to the company. Again Marianne prostrated herself, figuratively speaking, and solemnly promised to bring the paintings to the nursery the following day. Richard was all set to stay and discuss the exact timing of said visit, but Nurse, who had no difficulty in recognizing delaying tactics when they had been put into effect, hastened her charge’s exit, and the party proceeded in to dinner.

As usual, Marianne was seated at her host’s left hand with Lady Mauraugh on his right. She had braced herself inwardly for an embarrassing ordeal at this first occasion for presenting their pretended courtship to Lady Mauraugh and was consequently all the more surprised to discover that the conversation at table flowed as smoothly as ever. She could detect no change in Justin’s attitude toward either Lady Mauraugh or herself, and gradually her tenseness evaporated, giving way to relief that he, had abandoned his scheme, at least for the moment. For the first time since witnessing that kiss in the conservatory, she was able to relax and enjoy his company.

The interval before the gentlemen joined the ladies was enlivened by the high spirits of Lady Lunswick. Noting a speculative gleam in the widow’s eye as she studied her hostess, Marianne fixed Lady Lunswick with a warning look and hastened to join the conversation before Lady Mauraugh could commence to wonder just what might have occurred to cast their hostess into such transports of joy. As usual, following a session of enforced proximity to the countess, Marianne welcomed the entrance of the gentlemen with a sentiment akin to relief. This was destined to be very short lived, however, for tonight when Lord Andrew requested that she favor them with some music, Lady Mauraugh declined the office smilingly.

“Ah, no, you must be sick to death of listening to my efforts. Lady Marianne enjoys playing the pianoforte I am told. Perhaps tonight
she
will gratify your wish for music.”

Marianne felt a distant chill pass down her spine and braved the glittering malice in Lady Mauraugh’s green eyes to rush in with a horrified protest.

“Oh, no, I am the merest novice. I would not wish to subject you to an indifferent performance after the high standard set by Lady Lunswick and Lady Mauraugh. Indeed I
could
not, as there is nothing as yet that I have committed to memory.”

“If we were to send for your music might you not play that haunting ballad I heard you singing the other day as I passed Lady Lunswick’s sitting room?” Sir Martin implored gently with his charming smile. “Shall I confess I lingered outside the door in hopes of hearing another verse after you had finished, it was so delightfully done.”

“If you lingered you were more like to hear discords and errors as I worked on my fingering,” Marianne returned, but she was deeply grateful to Sir Martin for bolstering her confidence.