VIscount Besieged (30 page)

As she began to
move towards the house, she could hear the buzz of voices. His—and
hers
.
But the words were meaningless, until—Oh no, Roborough
was leading the female towards her. She could not meet her. But she
must. Where was the actress in her when it was so sorely
needed?

‘
Ursula, I want you to meet Miss Alvescot.’

From somewhere,
Isadora summoned a smile.

‘
Isadora, this is Lady Ursula Stivichall, a very great friend
of mine—of the family.’

Registering the
hasty correction at the back of her mind, Isadora extended a hand
and found herself looking down—for the female was half a head
shorter than she was herself—into a countenance somewhat older than
she had expected.

Surprise caused
the dreadful inner turmoil to dull slightly. Why, the woman was
thirty if she was a day. Nor was she beautiful. Pleasing, yes, but
not as lovely as Harriet, for example. And, like all of them,
Isadora suddenly realised, she was in mourning. The costume, for
all its elegance, was unmistakably significant.

Lady Ursula
smiled—more warmly than Isadora cared for. ‘I am delighted to meet
you. I have heard of you all, of course. Titus wrote about
you.’

‘
Did
he indeed?’ responded Isadora in a fair approximation of her usual
tone, albeit somewhat dry. ‘He mentioned nothing, on the other
hand, of you.’

She had not
meant to place that undue emphasis on the word. A swift glance at
Roborough showed her that he had taken instant notice of it, for a
quick frown creased his brow. What did he expect?

She must pull
herself together. After all, what right had she to behave so? She
forced another smile.

‘
I am
happy to make your acquaintance. We appear to share a common
state.’

‘
The
mourning, you mean,’ said Lady Ursula calmly. ‘My husband. But my
year is almost up.’ She cast a mischievous glance at the viscount.
‘Though it seems to me a lifetime, which is why I am here. You,
Titus, are to entertain me before I go out of my mind with
boredom.’

‘
With
the greatest of pleasure,’ he responded, ‘only I trust it will not
greatly inconvenience you if I breakfast first?’

Lady Ursula went
into a peal of mirth. ‘That is just what I mean.’ She turned
laughing eyes on Isadora. ‘Isn’t he the most outrageous jokesmith?
I vow he keeps me in a ripple of amusement—which of course is why I
have come.’

Privately
Isadora doubted this was her only reason. She was tempted to say
that Roborough kept her rather in a fever of fury, but she was
conscious just at this moment of a welling of something that was
decidedly not fury. It threatened to spill over if she did not get
away immediately.

‘
Excuse me, if you please,’ she said as calmly as she could,
‘but I must change.’

‘
Oh
yes, off you go, Miss Alvescot.’ Lady Ursula tucked her hand in
Roborough’s arm. ‘I shall detain Titus but a moment, and then he
shall change too.’

‘
I
thank you. Perhaps you would care to organise the rest of my
morning also?’

Isadora escaped
into the house, hearing the ripple of Lady Ursula’s laughter break
out again behind her. Lifting the long skirts of her riding habit,
she sped as swiftly as she could up the back stairs and through the
corridors of the great mansion. It was not until she had gained the
safety of her bedchamber, and closed the door behind her, that she
allowed her burgeoning emotions rein.

Her heart was
palpitating so unevenly that she was breathless. She ought to ring
for her maid, but instead she moved to the end of the bed and sank
down, grasping one of the posts for support.

She needed some
few moments alone to grapple with the dreadful truth. For there was
no use in deceiving herself any longer. She could not mistake the
significance of the violent feelings that had attacked her, and
were still causing the most unpleasant sensations of nausea and,
she conceded, with tears welling at her eyes, of grief. She was
jealous! Uselessly, stupidly jealous, of the female who had just
arrived.

The thought
caused such a bursting within her bosom that she pushed herself to
her feet, tearing at the hooks of the bodice, which had become
suddenly too restrictive to be borne. The tightness at her chest
eased a little as the bodice came loose. She left it hanging open
over her silk chemise, drawing a few steadying breaths. Then she
moved to the window which overlooked the walled gardens at the side
of the house.

Roses bloomed
below. An image flashed into her mind. Roborough, touching the
roses to satisfy himself, as he had said, that he was really
there. A little laugh escaped her, choking off into a
sob.

When had it
happened? How had it happened? All the time, while she had been
hating him so fervently, fighting him at every hand, the wretch had
been stealing away her heart. And for what? Because the
female—Ursula, had he called her?—already had his. That much was
obvious. Or was it?

In her mind’s
eye she saw again his softened features, heard his voice gently—oh,
so gently—asking in concern about her distresses. Could he behave
thus to Isadora, if his heart was in the possession of
another?

And the morning
after they arrived had he not almost kissed her? Great heavens, now
she was more confused than ever!

Except for one
thing, of which she was now more certain than she had been of
anything in her life. The thing she had determined would not
happen. Only it had.

This was all
Harriet’s fault. Had her friend not put the idea into her head, she
was sure she would never have fallen in love with
Roborough.

There, she had
admitted it. Oh, but she hated him for making her love him so. She
was the most miserable creature alive. For of course he did not
feel about her the way he had made her feel about him. No, he was
head over ears for that Ursula. And even had he not been—which she
could not doubt he was—what hope had she of attaching him, after
everything she had said and done, after doing all in her power to
alienate him forever?

Well, let it be
so. Isadora flung herself away from the window and bracingly tugged
at the bell pull to summon her maid. She was not going to sue for
the viscount’s affections. She would die rather. And nothing would
induce her to allow the Ursula female to suspect for one moment
that she envied her such a conquest. She would face her
brazenly—and act. She had enough talent to fool her and Roborough
both.

***

It was amazing
the difference a single person made to the atmosphere of the house.
Isadora was obliged to admit that the presence of Lady Ursula
Stivichall had considerably lightened the general mood. Even her
costume contrasted with the unrelieved black of that of the
residents, for white twisted bugling adorned the black satin
evening gown and her turban was ornamented with a white satin
bandeau.

She was clearly
a favourite even with Lady Roborough. Bettina and Corinne had
fallen upon her in glee, and were now—having been permitted, at the
guest’s earnest entreaty, to join the adults for dinner—hanging
upon her every utterance and clinging one to each arm where they
sat beside her on one of the elegant sofas in the receiving
saloon.

Fanny seemed
less enthusiastic. Or perhaps, Isadora decided fairly, she was
feeling left out. In the absence of her brother—Rowland having been
packed off to school—she was dependent upon the Stratton girls for
company. Cousin Matty was very obviously disapproving, which
Isadora tried hard not to be glad of, although Mrs Alvescot was
pleasant enough to the lady.

But then Mama
was ever ready to take people on trust. She would not recognise in
Lady Ursula the snake that had caused her daughter’s heart to be
broken—unless Cousin Matty drew her attention to matters that she
might not otherwise notice.

Not that even
Mama could have failed to notice the way Lady Ursula monopolised
the viscount. No sooner did he come in from his solitary port than
she left his young sisters flat and rose at once to curl possessive
hands about his arm.

‘
Titus, at last! I thought you would be at that wine of yours
forever. Come and sit by me.’

‘
Temptress,’ he said, laughing. ‘Nothing would give me greater
pleasure, but I must tear myself away upon this occasion. I came in
only to ask you all to excuse me. Dalbury has set me some business
and I must write some letters tonight, without fail.’

‘
But
I protest,’ objected Lady Ursula gaily. ‘This is merely an excuse,
for you have been obliged to entertain me all day and you are
tired of me.’

‘
Alas, you have seen through my subterfuge,’ mourned
Roborough.

That trill of
laughter came, setting Isadora’s teeth on edge. The mock-chiding
tone was sickening.

‘
Wicked, wicked man. For that I shall force you to accept my
escort to the study.’

‘
Must
you? It is all due to you that these letters have remained
unwritten all day.’

‘
Then
you have no time to waste,’ said Lady Ursula, pushing him out of
the door. She laughed back at the company. ‘I shall return when I
have suitably punished him.’

As she whisked
from the room, Miss Callowell, who was present in company with her
young charges, immediately called upon the girls to
retire.

‘
You
will not wish to outstay your welcome,’ she said firmly when they
protested. ‘Come along.’

Fanny, urged
perforce by her mother, also left the room, leaving the field clear
for Cousin Matty to pump Lady Roborough for information.

‘
Lady
Ursula is charming, is she not?’ she said unctuously, switching her
seat for one nearer to the lady of the house.

‘
She
is attentive to the girls,’ offered her ladyship
wearily.

And to the
viscount, Isadora might have said. But there was no need for her to
say it, for Cousin Matty was on to the item like a
foxhound.

‘
Cousin Roborough appears to be uncommonly attached to
her.’

Her ladyship
sighed. ‘Ah yes. So suitable, now that Stivichall has passed on.
Whether Stratton will choose to marry her is another
matter.’

Isadora felt her
heart skip a beat. What could that mean?

‘
But
if he is so fond of her…’ suggested Cousin Matty.

‘
Fond? Oh, they are fond, I make no doubt of that. Yet Stratton
has ever set his face against matrimony. Although Stivichall left
her very comfortably circumstanced, and if Stratton had any sense
of what is due to the family—’ Lady Roborough broke off, sighing
again. ‘But it is always the same. One meets everywhere with
nothing but selfishness.’ She dragged herself to her feet. ‘You
will forgive me if I retire. These late hours are so injurious, and
I am never in the best of health.’

Cousin Matty
solicitously aided her to the door and carefully shut it only after
she had made sure that Lady Roborough had drifted off down the
corridor. Then she turned to survey her cousin and
Isadora.

‘
Well!’ she exclaimed in a shocked under voice.

‘
Oh,
what is it, Matty?’ Mrs Alvescot quavered.

Cousin Matty
came over to settle beside her once more. ‘Ellen, it is just as I
suspected, I am quite convinced of it.’

Mrs Alvescot
threw a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh! You don’t mean—’

‘
She
is Roborough’s mistress
.’

Isadora jumped
violently. What? Such a thing had never occurred to her. Convinced
her relative was mistaken, she broke into speech.

‘
Cousin Matty, have you run mad?’

Eagerly, the
elder woman turned to her. ‘Only consider, Dora. Here is Lady
Roborough debating that Cousin Roborough will not marry her, even
though they are fond. I ask you, what else is one to make of
that?’

At this
inopportune moment, much to the general confusion, Lady Ursula
herself slipped back into the room.

‘
I
have left him to his letters. I do believe he did have them to
write.’ She looked about. ‘Oh, has Albinia gone to bed?’

‘
I
don’t think—’ began Mrs Alvescot doubtfully.

‘
Oh,
silly me. I mean Lady Roborough, of course. Poor dear, she has been
quite broken by her wretched marriage. We are not all fortunate in
our husbands, sadly.’

‘
Very
true,’ Cousin Matty agreed, recovering her poise. ‘I trust you were
happily wed?’

‘
Ecstatically.’ And the tinkling laugh rang out.

Then, to
Isadora’s secret dismay, Lady Ursula came over towards her chair,
leaving Cousin Matty and Mrs Alvescot whispering
together.

‘
How
about you, Miss Alvescot? Oh, may I call you Isadora? I do so hate
formality.’

‘
Certainly, ma’am,’ Isadora said, with an assumption of ease
she was far from feeling.

All she could
think about was whether it might be true. Was she Roborough’s
mistress? The very notion caused that distressing stabbing pain in
her chest. She did her best to banish the thought, but another
swiftly succeeded it. Had Lady Ursula indeed been ecstatically
happy in her marriage? For if she had, then she would not wish
to—