The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) (29 page)

Adrian hauled some air into his lungs and said
rapidly, ‘By the time I caught up with her, she was standing on the
parapet.
 
She was wearing some trailing
white thing.
 
She said … she said she
wasn’t going to marry me; that she had a lover and was pregnant by him.
 
She asked me to guess who it was but I
couldn’t.
 
Not at first.
 
None of it made any sense. Then she told me she’d
been sleeping with a man I’d known since I was eight years old and who, until
that moment, I’d have trusted with my life. And I wanted to vomit.’

So did Caroline.
 
He’d told her the tale wasn’t pretty but nothing had prepared her for
just how ugly it really was.
 

Glancing up again, Adrian read her expression and
said desperately, ‘I’m sorry but it gets worse.
 
She was still dancing about on the parapet
when she got annoyed with me for not responding the way she wanted.
 
And that … that’s when she fell.’
 
He drained his glass in one swallow and
snapped it down on the table in order to grip his hands together. ‘I tried to
catch her but it all happened too fast.
 
I couldn’t.
 
So she fell.
 
Sixty feet down on to the terrace.’
 
He swallowed. ‘I remember exactly how she
looked, lying there, broken.
 
I even
recall seeing Mr
Bailes
and Old Matthew staring up at
me from the garden.
 
Then I was sick.’

Unable to stand it any longer, Caroline crossed to
sit on the arm of his chair and laid her hand over his.
 
She knew better than to say anything.
 
His fingers were tight and cold under
hers.
 

‘I ran down to the terrace – to Evie. There was so
much blood.
 
I knew there was nothing to
be done but her eyes were still open and I wanted … I wanted …’ He stopped
again and took a breath. ‘Servants appeared and then my parents. My father
asked question after question until I’d told the whole sordid story.
 
At some point during that, I realised I had
Evie’s blood all over me and – and I threw up again.
 
Father was disgusted.
 
Then he and my mother asked if I’d lost my
temper and pushed her.’

‘
What?
’
 
Even after everything that had gone before,
Caroline couldn’t believe her ears.
 
‘How
could
they?
 
How could they even
think
it?’

‘It’s just … it’s who they were.
 
Who my mother still is, for that matter.
 
All that signified was preserving the family
name.’
 
He paused.
 
‘And then
he
came.
 
He’d supposedly come for
Evie.
 
Then, when he heard that she was
dead, he started shouting that I’d murdered her and that he’d see me hang for
it.’
 
Adrian managed a slight shrug.
 
‘If I’d been in any fit state to think
coherently, I’d have known that what happened after that was a foregone
conclusion.
 
My father didn’t care that
no one could prove I killed Evie; he only cared that
I
couldn’t prove I didn’t.
 
And he wasn’t about to let his heir stand trial for murder. So he
reminded me that I wasn’t his only son, pushed some money into my hand and
ordered me out of the country.’
 
Another
shrug.
 
‘I went.’

‘And didn’t come back?
 
Or contact your family at all?’

‘No.
 
I
thought, given time, my father would take steps to have me declared dead.’

There were no words for what Caroline thought of
that, so she pressed her lips together and said nothing.

‘If Benedict – my brother – hadn’t died in a
riding accident, I wouldn’t be here now.
 
But it seemed I owed something to my name, so … I came back.’ He stopped
and drew a long breath.
 
‘That’s all of
it, I think.
 
But if you’ve any
questions, ask them now.
 
I won’t sleep
tonight as it is so I’d as soon not have to dig it all up again if it can be
avoided.’

‘You dream about it?’

‘Frequently.’ He turned his head to look at her
and said, ‘You should think very carefully about whether or not you believe
what I’ve told you.’
 

She shook her head slightly.
 

‘Having just seen what it cost you to speak of it?
 
Of course I believe you.’

‘Even though you know I’m an actor and that I’ve
deceived you before?’

‘Yes.
 
Even
knowing that.’

‘You,’ he said simply, ‘are a truly remarkable
woman.’
 
And then expelling a long,
uneven breath, ‘You haven’t asked.’

She didn’t pretend not to know what he meant.

‘I don’t need to.
 
It was Marcus Sheringham, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. Nothing can change the way he betrayed me
with Evie or what happened to her as a result. But after ten years, I hoped
he’d stop calling me a murderer.
 
Since
he hasn’t … and since, by the time I returned to England he was already a
hairsbreadth from ruin, I decided to give him that final push.
 
He can rant against me all he likes from the
debtor’s ward in the Fleet prison – or from the other side of the Channel, if he
decides to flee the country.’
 
He managed
the travesty of a smile.
 
‘And now you
know I’m neither good nor kind.
 
I’m just
very tired of being smeared by something I didn’t do. Also, I’m not averse to
giving Sheringham a taste of the kind of hell he gave me.’

Leaving her hand in his, Caroline said, ‘No one
could blame you for that.’

‘
You
could if you really thought about it.
 
Do
I need to point out the symmetry ?’

‘No. It’s clear enough. He took Evie from you and
you’re taking me from him.
 
But thank you
for pointing it out.’

‘Yes.
 
I’m
very clever.’

‘I know.’ She looked at him.
 
‘Do you
want
me to change my mind?’

‘No – though I’d understand if you did.’
 
He looked down and began toying with her
fingers. ‘What I want is for none of this to lie between us.
 
Ever.’

‘Then we won’t let it.’
 
She thought for a moment. ‘I suppose I’m not
allowed to tell people the truth?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.
 
It wouldn’t do any good.
 
I can’t prove any of it and people believe
what they want to.
 
Also, badly as Evie
behaved, it doesn’t seem fair to speak ill of her when she can no longer defend
herself.’

Which is a
damned sight more consideration than she ever showed you, isn’t it?

Swallowing her momentary flash of anger and,
having no further excuse to stay where she was, she rose from her perch beside
him and returned to her own chair, saying, ‘Very well.
 
It’s done now so we can put it away and talk
of happier things.
 
When shall we be
married?’

‘As soon as it can be arranged. I’ll ride into
Sandwich tomorrow and see the rector at St Peter’s.’
 
Adrian wished she hadn’t moved away. His
relief that the truth was out and the skies hadn’t fallen was producing a wave
of inevitable euphoria and he’d been wondering what she’d do if he put his arm
around her and just held her for a moment. ‘Taking, as it turned out, a bit too
much for granted, I took some preparatory measures before leaving London.
 
One of them was speaking to my lawyer.
 
If you want a formal contract which includes
provision for your family drawn up immediately and can tell me what you want
done, I’ll write to him.
 
Otherwise, that
and other matters will have to wait until we go back.’

Taken by surprise, Caroline said, ‘You’d do that?’

His brows rose.
 
‘Yes.
 
I promised, didn’t I?
 
Do you want me to?’

‘No.
 
It’s
not urgent.
 
But I thank you for
offering.’

‘You are entitled to have some say about what’s
done with your own money,’ he shrugged.
 
‘Speaking of which … you may wish to write to your grandfather.
 
On the whole, since it doesn’t cast me in the
best possible light, it might be best not to mention that I ran off with
you.
 
But I’ll leave that decision to
you.’

The brown eyes filled with laughter and she said,
‘You don’t think he’ll applaud me for running off with an Earl?’

‘No.
 
I
think he’ll probably want to kick me down the steps. And since I’m looking
forward to meeting him, I’d prefer not to start with a disadvantage.’

‘He’s a plain, self-made man with no airs or
graces.
 
Do you
really
want to meet him?’

‘Yes.
 
I
really do.’
 
He smiled suddenly.
 
‘You love him, don’t you?’

That all-too-rare smile made her breath
catch.
 
She said, ‘Yes.
 
Very much.’

‘Well, then.
 
Having heard from Mr
Bailes
what kind of stock
I come from and knowing how I’ve made my way these last years, it should come
as no surprise that a plain, self-made man sounds just the kind of fellow I’d
like.
 
Also … I can ask him how much you
really
know about sheep.’

‘You were listening?’

‘Hardly at all – though I did catch phrases like
first clip
and
parasites
and
foot rot
which naturally did something to dampen my romantic notions of fluffy little
lambs.’

‘And you have so many romantic notions, don’t
you?’ she teased.

‘One or two.’
 
He paused and then added, ‘The one I have in mind at the moment involves
kissing you. But I’m reluctant to risk another slap.’

This time the air simply evaporated in her lungs,
making speech impossible.

‘No.
 
Of course
not.’
 
Adrian kept his tone light and
entirely free of regret.
 
‘Our wedding,
then.
 
Unless Mr
Bailes
turns up before it and you’ve no objection to inviting him, it will just be the
two of us and Bertrand.
 
Not, I imagine,
quite the occasion you’d have hoped for.’

Caroline tried to control her whirling
thoughts.
 
He was joking.
 
He didn’t mean
it.
 
Did he?
 
If he did … if he did, how do I say “Yes,
please” without
actually
saying it?

‘It doesn’t matter – and neither is it your
fault.
 
If I’d chosen differently, we
could have married openly in London.
 
But
I didn’t.’

‘True.’ He leaned back in his chair, apparently
relaxed. ‘Since we’ve had an evening of confession, I should probably admit
something else.
 
When Claude Duvall first
mentioned marriage to you that night at the Pantheon, he didn’t know where the
words came from.
 
He certainly never
planned them.
 
And when he proposed again
in the Sunken Garden, it had a great deal to do with the possibility that you
were the one woman in a million who might choose the highwayman over the Earl.’
He spread his hands in a manner unconsciously French. ‘I knew you didn’t like
me very much.
 
I also knew what a thicket
of thorns I’d be plunged into if you chose Duvall.
 
But I couldn’t resist the chance to find out
if you were truly as rare as I suspected you might be. And you are.
 
Even more so than I originally thought.’
 
He smiled again.
 
‘Now you’re trying to decide whether to say
something suitably self-deprecating or throw something at my head.’

‘No.
 
Actually, I’m not.’
 
Caroline
decided that, after what he’d put himself through in the last hour, he deserved
to have something made easy.
 
And so,
tossing caution to the winds, she said, ‘I was wondering why, unlike Claude
Duvall, Lord Sarre feels he needs prior permission to kiss his future
bride.’
 

Something flared in the silver-grey eyes.
 

‘It’s because, unlike Duvall, the Earl was reared
to be a gentleman.
 
Also, of course,
Duvall had reason to suppose his advances might not be unwelcome … whereas his
lordship has received no such encouragement.’

‘Oh.
 
And
how – in a ladylike manner – might that lack be remedied?’

He uncoiled smoothly from his chair and held out a
hand to her.

‘You could start,’ he murmured, pulling her to her
feet and into his arms, ‘by calling me Adrian.’

~
 
*
 
*
 
~
 
*
 
*
 
~

On the following morning, Adrian rode into the
town with a smile on his face.
 
There
were two reasons for this.
 
One was that,
against all expectation, he’d had a perfectly peaceful night’s sleep.
 
The other was the memory of how practical,
down-to-earth Caroline had looked after he’d kissed her.

He’d been careful.
 
A lot more careful, as it turned out, than he’d have liked to be.
 
But still she’d melted into him exactly as
she’d done when he’d been Claude Duvall; her mouth just as sweet, her response
just as honest.
 
And afterwards …
afterwards her face had been filled with such shy confusion, her eyes so wide
and dark and unwittingly inviting, that letting her go had been unexpectedly
difficult.

At some point before he fell asleep, something
even more unexpected occurred to him.
 
The idea that his feelings for Caroline were becoming more complex than
mere liking.

*
 
*
 
*

The rector at the church of St Peter was a
youngish man and a stranger.
 
Lord Sarre
introduced himself, produced the marriage licence and explained that he
required the ceremony to be performed as soon as possible.
 

The Reverend Conant looked openly disapproving.

‘Am I to understand that the young lady is already
residing under your roof?’ he asked frigidly. ‘If so, I will feel impelled to
speak to her privately before I can agree to do as your lordship asks.
 
I must be assured that she is not being
constrained in any way.’

‘She isn’t.
 
But you are welcome to call at Devereux House at your convenience.’

‘Also, there is the matter of parental consent.’

‘No,’ said Sarre with pleasant finality, ‘there is
not.
 
You have in your hand a special
licence, signed by the Bishop of London.
 
If he was satisfied, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be.’

The Reverend pursed his lips.

‘I am not personally acquainted with His Grace.’

‘I wasn’t aware there was any requirement that you
should be.’
 
The Earl assumed an
expression of chilly hauteur and restored the licence to his pocket.
 
‘Yours is not the only church in the
town.
 
If you feel yourself unable to
oblige me, say so.’

*
 
*
 
*

Back at Devereux House, Caroline caught herself
smiling inanely at the coffee pot and was forced to conclude that she was well
on the way to being completely bewitched.

Having recently been more than a little bewitched
by Claude Duvall, this would have been cause for concern had not the two men
been one and the same.
 
As it was,
however, she told herself that it was perfectly acceptable to fall in love with
one man twice.

Unnoticed, Bertrand stood in the doorway watching
her for quite a long time before he made his presence known by saying, ‘You
find Adrian is not so bad, then.
 
Yes?’

‘Yes,’ she agreed vaguely.
 
And then, ‘No.
 
Not so bad at all.’

Nodding, Bertrand sat down and poured a cup of
coffee.

‘I ’ope you will be ’appy.
 
Better still, I ’ope you will make Adrian
’appy.’

‘So do I.
 
I’ll
certainly do my best.’

‘No more charming ’ighwaymen?’

‘That,’ retorted Caroline with a demure smile,
‘would be telling.’

Bertrand laughed.
 

‘Bravo, Mademoiselle.
 
You will do well together, I think.’

*
 
*
 
*

An hour later, when she was half-way through a
letter to Grandpa Maitland, Sarre strode in and threw his riding gloves on the
table.
 

‘The vicar of St Peter’s is an irritating ass who insists
he can’t marry us until Saturday and refuses to marry us at
all
until he’s assured himself that I’m
not planning on dragging you to the altar in chains. Unfortunately, the
incumbent at St Clement’s is prostrate with some ailment or other which leaves
us with little choice but to wait on the other fellow’s convenience.’

‘It’s only one more day,’ said Caroline placidly.

‘Two, actually.’

‘From today?
 
Yes.
 
I suppose so.
 
But that doesn’t make much difference, does
it?’

At some point on the ride home, he’d realised that
he couldn’t hide what he’d done forever.
 
Sooner or later, she was going to find out and it would be best if she
found out from him.

He delayed his answer just long enough for it to
be his undoing.

During the short time they’d been together,
Caroline had become aware that, while Sarre never hesitated for a second,
Adrian frequently did so when he was uneasy.

Without giving him chance to speak, she said,
‘What have you done?’

He lifted his chin and looked back, coolly defiant
and every inch the Earl.

‘What makes you think I’ve done anything?’

‘Haven’t you?’

There was a long pause during which Adrian decided
that aristocratic superiority wasn’t going to get him out of this one – but
that confession and contrition might.

‘I may have done a couple of things that, with
hindsight, could be considered … premature.
 
But they were done with the best of intentions.’

Caroline managed not to laugh but didn’t entirely
hide the fact that she wanted to.

‘Save your excuses and tell me what you’ve done.’

Adrian saw the dimple peeping out beside her mouth
and was tempted to simply sweep her into his arms.
 
Resisting it, he said, ‘I instructed my
lawyer to put a notice of our marriage in the
Morning Chronicle
.
 
Today, as
it happens.’

The dimple disappeared and she stared at him.

‘You put an announcement in the newspaper?’

‘Yes.’

‘While I still thought I was eloping with Claude
Duvall and didn’t know he was you?’

He nodded.
 
Put like that, it sounded particularly arrogant.
 
Certainly, she wasn’t laughing any more.

‘You
were
sure of yourself, weren’t you?’

‘I was fairly sure of myself before we left
London,’ he agreed uncomfortably. ‘It didn’t last five minutes once we arrived
here.’

‘I should think not.’
 
Not inclined to make this easy for him, she
kept her tone deliberately cool – even though it was quite enjoyable watching
him come as close to squirming as made no difference.
 
‘I presume you had a contingency plan for if
your charm failed?’

‘Not exactly … but I’d have thought of something.’

‘I can imagine.’
 
She folded her arms and kept him trapped with her eyes.
 
‘What else?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You said a couple of things. What else?’

He very nearly groaned.
 
He should have got this out of the way last
night when she was still sympathetic.
 
She didn’t sound very sympathetic now and, by the time he’d finished,
she’d probably want to gut him.

All right.
 
Confess, by all means but remember why you
did it.
 
And stop behaving like a
schoolboy who’s been hauled in front of the headmaster for scribbling on the
walls.

Dropping negligently into a chair, he said, ‘I
thought your mother would worry less about your safety if she knew you hadn’t
run off with some nameless man.
 
So I
left her a note.’

Just for a second, Caroline didn’t know whether to
give way to hysterical laughter or hit him.
 

‘A note.
 
I
see. How … considerate.
 
But Mama
wouldn’t have been worrying about my safety so much as having spasms at the
thought I was marrying a Nobody.
 
You
have made it possible for her to
boast to the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker – and, for all I know,
the fellow who sweeps the street – about her daughter, the Countess.
 
Well done, my lord.’

‘Adrian,’ he corrected.

‘I’ll call you Adrian when you stop playing the
Earl,’ she shot back. And then, ‘Is that everything?’

‘Not … quite.’

‘Ah.
 
Adrian
again, I see.’

He frowned at her, startled.
 
‘How do you know?’

‘It’s obvious when you know what to look for.
 
Equally obviously, I’m not telling you what
that is.
 
In fact, I may never speak to
you again unless you finish what you’ve started.’

Quite suddenly and without any warning whatsoever,
he grinned at her.

‘Yes, you will.
 
You’re having too much fun hauling me over the coals.’

‘What brings you to that conclusion?’

He shrugged and then, unable to resist, said,
‘It’s obvious when you know what to look for.’

Caroline wished he’d stop smiling.
 
It made it impossible to hold on to her
perfectly reasonable annoyance and almost as hard not to dissolve into a
mindless puddle.
 
She cleared her throat
and said, ‘Very clever.
 
Well?
 
And I’d sooner we left Lord Sarre out of it,
if you don’t mind.’

‘Sit down, then.
 
This may take a little longer.’
 
And, when she had done so, said, ‘I paid a call on Lady
Brassington.
 
And I told her everything.’

It was the last thing she had expected.

‘
Everything?
 
No. You can’t have done!’

‘I did. My masquerade as Claude Duvall; Sheringham
and what happened at the Pantheon; which proposal you accepted and which you
didn’t; the intention to elope.
 
Everything.’

‘Oh good God.’ Caroline dropped her head in her
hands. ‘What on earth possessed you?’

‘I wanted to be sure that, in the event of any
rumours about an elopement, your good name wouldn’t suffer too badly but knew I
couldn’t do it alone.
 
So I trusted her
ladyship with my own deception in the hope that she’d be sufficiently fond of
you to help.
 
Fortunately, she is.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Quite a lot after she decided to have her butler
bring brandy instead of tossing me into the street.
 
She asked a good many questions, of course …
but, at the end of our talk, she promised the help I asked for.
 
When we return to London, you’ll have Lily
Brassington firmly on your side.’

‘Oh.’
 
She
looked at him helplessly. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to forgive you, aren’t
I?’

‘Eventually.
 
I wouldn’t want to curtail your enjoyment.’

She shook her head, laughing.

‘You’re impossible.’

‘I
was
impossible.’
 
He rose and crossed to drop
a light kiss on her hair. ‘From now on, I intend to work at becoming utterly,
tediously
possible
.’

Caroline looked up into his face and murmured,
‘Don’t try too hard.
 
I quite like you as
you are.’

The silvery eyes widened slightly and he reached
down as if to draw her to her feet.

The door opened and Bertrand walked in, saying,
‘You have visitors.’

Adrian immediately stepped back and said, ‘Not the
damned vicar?’

‘No.’ He moved aside.
 
‘Two old friends of yours.’

For perhaps three seconds, Adrian simply
froze.
 
Then he was off across the room,
his hands outstretched.
 
‘Mr
Bailes
.
 
And – and
Betsy
.’

The short, slightly plump woman in the doorway
stood rooted to the spot, her face crumpling.
 
‘Oh.
 
My little lord.
 
I’ve prayed and prayed but I never thought …
I never …’

And then she was in his lordship’s arms and
sobbing into his shoulder.

Just for a second or two, Caroline watched Adrian
apparently not minding that Betsy was soaking his immaculate coat and then
walked smilingly towards the gardener.

‘Mr
Bailes
– please come
in and sit down.
 
Bertrand … perhaps you
could ask Sally to bring tea?
 
And you’ll
be joining us yourself, of course.’

Bertrand grinned, made a tiny gesture which
clearly said, ‘
Not a chance’
and left
the room.

Betsy, meanwhile, was still hiccupping incoherent
words into the lace at Adrian’s throat in between trying to brush the tears
from her cheeks. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he tried to do the job
for her and, when she wouldn’t raise her head, closed her fingers around it,
saying, ‘Take this, my dear.’

 
She eyed it
blearily and sniffed.

‘N-no, indeed, my lord.
 
It’s far t-too good.’

‘Nothing’s too good for you, Betsy.
 
When I think of all the times you’ve mopped
my face, cleaned the mud from my knees and salved my cuts and bruises …’ He
stopped, his voice becoming a little ragged.
 
‘You were a better mother to Ben and me than the woman who bore us – so
just take the damned handkerchief, will you?’