His Countess for a Week

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I am.’ She must be cautious and give nothing away.

  ‘Such a charming man, do you not agree? I should like to see him happily settled. With a good wife and a comfortable fortune. Oh, my dear, was that a shudder?’

  ‘You are suggesting I marry a man I barely know for...for a business arrangement,’ Arabella retorted coldly. ‘The very idea is repugnant to me.’

  ‘I do not know why it should be. After all, you have already had one such marriage, have you not? And, unlike poor George, Charles is both willing and able to fulfil his duties in the marital bed.’

  Arabella’s face flamed. ‘How dare you,’ she said. ‘You know nothing about it!’

  ‘Ah, but I do, you see.’ She gave Arabella a look full of spurious sympathy. ‘Poor George confessed everything to me, the last time he was in Devon. That he had never been able to bring himself to...’ She trailed off delicately. ‘It is no wonder that you succumbed to Lord Westray’s charms. After all, he is a very attractive man, but what will your parents-in-law think of it? They brought you up as a daughter, I understand. Think how wounded they would be by such an insult to their beloved son’s memory.’

  Arabella jumped up. ‘You have said quite enough. Excuse me.’

  Lady Meon caught her arm. ‘The Earl will never make you his Countess, my dear, if that is what you hope for. A man does not marry his mistress, you know.’ She was smiling, but the menace in her eyes was unmistakable. ‘Think about what I have said, Mrs Roffey. I have a great fondness for Charles. Marry him and I shall keep silent about your scandalous liaison. It will save everyone a great deal of unpleasantness.’

  Only by exerting all her willpower did Arabella manage to walk away without attracting unwanted attention. She kept her head high as she crossed the room, pausing only to find Mrs Hatcliffe and to make her excuses to her hostess. This she was able to do with perfect sincerity, for she did indeed have a headache now. The pain throbbed at the back of her eyes as she waited in the hall while her companion collected their cloaks.

  * * *

  By the time they were in the carriage and driving back to Park Street Arabella was already making plans. She would return to Revesby Hall in the morning. Esther could close up the house and complete her commissions for her mother-in-law. The thought of confessing everything to the Roffeys sent a wave of nausea flooding through her. She had no doubt that if she fled London Lady Meon would waste no time in revealing her scandalous behaviour.

  Even if she could persuade them that she had been Lady Westray in name only, in order to discover more information about George’s death, Sir Adam and his wife would be outraged. They might even cast her off and she must be prepared for that. Thankfully she had funds, she could set herself up in a quiet cottage somewhere until the fuss had died down, but it would be hard to bear the loss of the family she had thought of as her own since her parents’ sad demise, almost as hard as never seeing Randolph again.

  She twisted her hands together. She had discovered all she needed to know here, in town, so it had been both foolish and unnecessary to go to Devon. If she had not done so, she would not now be fleeing from London with her reputation in tatters. She would never have met Lord Westray. She would never have lost her heart to him.

  In the darkness of the carriage, she acknowledged the truth to herself. She had always known that what she felt for Ran was very different from the love she had felt for her husband. Now she knew that her feelings for George had been illusory. Hero worship, based on childish affection and her own imaginings, not on the real, flesh-and-blood person he had been. It was clear to her now that she had never really known George. She had loved a dream, a creature so perfect he could never exist in reality. The more she learned of her husband the more distant he became. She could not love him. She could only pity him.

  Whereas she had always known Ran was no saint, but it made no difference. She loved him.

  ‘And he must never know.’

  She did not realise she had spoken aloud until Esther stirred in her corner.

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid I was dozing, ma’am. Did you say something?’

  ‘No,’ murmured Arabella. Dashing away a tear. ‘Nothing at all important.’

  * * *

  Ran glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock. He was bored with Sir Arran’s card party, but he felt restless and did not want to go back yet to his rooms at Mivart’s. He recalled the two other invitations he had received for tonight, a musical evening, that Lady Prees had told him would be a small, intimate affair, and Lady Aldenham’s supper party. He needed to decide which one was Arabella most likely to attend and he would look in at the other. Not that he wanted to avoid Arabella. On the contrary. He wanted to see her too much for his own peace of mind, but she had made it plain she did not want him watching over her all the time.

  He guessed Arabella would prefer a quiet evening listening to music, and thus, once he had collected his coat, he made his way to Aldenham House.

  * * *

  As he had expected, the rooms were crowded, and he sought out those acquaintances who would be entertaining and agreeable company at supper. Afterwards he followed the crowd drifting back to the salon, thinking that he had done his duty and could now leave.

  ‘Lord Westray, good evening to you!’

  The voice was as cheerful as it was unwelcome.

  ‘Teddington.’ He turned, his face a mask of indifference as the man approached him.

  ‘Still at odds with me, my lord?’ Charles Teddington laughed. ‘I hoped we might put that little incident behind us. After all, we are both men of the world, what?’

  The hairs on the back of Randolph’s neck began to prickle. Teddington waved towards a couple of armchairs in the bay window. ‘Shall we sit down?’

  Ran shrugged and lowered himself into one of the chairs, every nerve-end tingling with suspicion. The fellow was up to something; he would swear to it. Teddington took his time sitting down, crossing one leg over the other and smiling in a way that made Ran want to throttle him.

  ‘I did not realise you were acquainted with my sister,’ murmured Teddington. ‘Lady Meon has come up from Devon and asked to be remembered to you.’ He paused, a sly smile on his lips. ‘And to Lady Westray.’

  Inwardly, Randolph cursed the bad luck of it. Another few weeks and Arabella would have been safely out of London. Teddington sat forward in his chair.

  He said, his tone confidential, ‘Thing is, my lord, we both know you ain’t married, but I was with my sister earlier today when she saw your...er...Countess in Bond Street.’ He grinned. ‘Damme if it wasn’t the golden widow. Ursula was only too eager to tell me of your visits to Meon House. You and your...er...wife.’

  Someone had begun playing on the pianoforte. A jolly piece that Ran did not recognise. It jarred his nerves.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Charles Teddington looked pained. ‘Want, my lord? No, no, it ain’t what you can do for me. It’s the other way around, in fact.’ He sat back and studied his nails. ‘Perhaps I should give you the hint, your having been out of England for so long. You see, it ain’t the thing to pass your mistress off as your wife. The ton don’t like it. The two of you have been very careful to keep your distance in town, but it’s plain as a pikestaff that you are still lovers. Why else would you have come so quickly to her defence at Lady Sweigne’s?’ He rubbed his jaw, as if remembering the punishing blow Ran had inflicted. ‘For all your discretion, the lady will be ruined when this little story gets out. But I can help you there, my lord. I have some influence with Lady Meon and I am sure I can persuade her to be discreet about this.’

  ‘Then you should do so,’ Ran told him. ‘It would be best for everyone.’

  Teddington laughed softly. ‘Oh, I don’t think you are in any position to threaten me this time, Lord Westray. The golden widow would be irrevocably tarnished by this juicy bit of gossip, would
she not?’

  It took every ounce of willpower for Ran to keep his seat and not deliver another crashing blow into that gloating face.

  He said coolly, ‘What do you propose?’

  ‘Let me have her. You are never going to marry her, are you? If that had been your intention you would not have behaved in such a hole-and-corner fashion.’ Teddington quickly threw up a hand as Randolph straightened in his chair. ‘Pray, my lord, let us put aside our differences. I am offering you a way out of a difficult situation. A clinging female can be the very devil, you know. I will take her off your hands.’

  Ran shrugged and said, with a fine show of indifference, ‘The lady is free to bestow her favours as she pleases.’

  ‘But there’s the rub, my lord. She sees you as her protector. As you have demonstrated only too clearly!’ He touched his jaw again. ‘I need you to withdraw from the lists and leave me free to try my luck with the widow. I think she will not be so unwilling once she knows there is nothing more to come from you.’

  ‘She has already spurned your advances once,’ Randolph said coldly. ‘And let me remind you that the lady has an independent fortune. She does not need to marry anyone.’

  ‘You think not? Society will forgive us our peccadilloes, my lord, but a woman’s reputation can only be lost once. When my sister makes known the facts of your little adventure in Devon, Mrs Roffey will become a pariah, despite her fortune. No respectable door will be open to her. I can prevent that. I will ensure Lady Meon’s silence and give Arabella Roffey the protection of my name.’

  ‘In exchange for her fortune.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Randolph willed his hands not to curl into fists. He rose.

  ‘Thank you for informing me of the matter, Teddington. Let me tell you straight that Mrs Roffey will remain under my protection and I would advise you to use what influence you have with your sister to prevent her spreading these scurrilous stories.’

  With a bow, he turned and strode away. He needed to think. He might challenge the fellow and discredit him, but Lady Meon was a different matter.

  He had no idea what influence she had in town, but any gossip about the new Earl of Westray, from whatever source, would be bound to cause a stir. Damn him, Teddington was right. As he’d always feared, a man’s reputation was rarely damaged by the knowledge that he kept a mistress, but it was different for a lady. Bella’s good name would be ruined.

  * * *

  Arabella was at breakfast with her companion when she received word that Randolph was in the morning room.

  ‘Lord Westray!’ exclaimed Esther, her face alive with speculation. ‘Well, this is an honour, my dear, and no mistake. Do you wish me to come with you?’

  ‘There is no need.’ Arabella was surprised at how calm she sounded. She even managed a smile. ‘Finish your breakfast, Esther, while I see the Earl.’

  Randolph was staring out of the window when she went in, his broad frame blocking the light. He turned and regarded her silently until she had closed the door.

  ‘I came to warn you,’ he said. ‘Lady Meon is in town.’

  ‘I know.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I was going to write to you. I met her last night and it was clear she knew...’

  ‘She and her brother were in Bond Street yesterday. She recognised you.’ He came closer. ‘Teddington wants you to buy his silence.’

  Arabella put her hands to her cheeks. ‘Lady Meon hinted as much.’

  ‘I think he might call later today to put his proposition to you.’ He went on roughly, ‘He will ask you to marry him. He will protect your reputation in exchange for your fortune.’

  She shuddered. ‘I can think of nothing worse than to be his wife! I would never marry any man merely to save my reputation.’

  There. If Ran had any plans to be idiotically honourable and suggest they should wed, she had destroyed them! But he had no such plans. He was frowning, disappointed that she would not accept Teddington’s offer and save them both from scandal.

  ‘Then what will you do?’

  How close he was, she thought, distracted. If she reached out she would be able to touch him. She could cling to him and beg him to look after her. His innate chivalry would not allow him to refuse, even though he would regret it, in the end. She could not, would not bind him into a loveless marriage.

  Turning away was like tearing off a layer of skin, but she managed it and began to pace about the room.

  ‘Let them say what they will.’ She threw a glance at him. ‘I am sorry if it makes things awkward for you.’

  His mouth quirked. He said wryly, ‘A little more scandal to add to the rest? It will not worry me unduly. It is your reputation that concerns me.’

  ‘Then pray, do not let it do so. I mean to quit town as soon as I am able.’ A few more steps took her to the window, and she stood as Randolph had done, looking out at the street. She said slowly, ‘Freddie Letchmore was at Lady Prees’s soirée last night. I asked him about George and he confirmed what I had learned from Charles Teddington. He swore that the parties at Meon House were perfectly respectable.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not entirely. But I do believe George destroyed himself.’ There was so much she did not know. So much she did not understand. She burst out, ‘What I cannot believe is that George’s parents knew nothing of his dissolute habits.’

  ‘Perhaps they were trying to shield you.’

  ‘I wondered about that. I need to talk to them again.’

  ‘Another reason, then, to return to Lincolnshire,’ he said. ‘Today, if possible.’

  ‘That was my plan, but unfortunately I cannot. I had word this morning that Sir Adam and Lady Roffey are even now on their way to London. They will be here this evening.’ She clasped her hands tightly together. ‘I intend to tell them everything, because I will not give in to Charles Teddington’s demands. I know he will carry out his threat. He and Lady Meon will take great delight in exposing me.’

  ‘And will the Roffeys believe you?’

  She shrugged. ‘They have always treated me like a daughter. I hope they know I would not lie to them.’

  ‘I think the fact that you are still in possession of a fortune will weigh greatly in your favour.’

  ‘No! Why should they care about that? G-George may not have loved me, but I think, I hope his parents care enough for me that they will not cast me off entirely.’

  ‘If they do, then I will marry you. I will not have your ruin on my conscience!’

  Arabella flushed. He clearly considered it a duty that must be done.

  ‘I am sure your...your conscience will recover,’ she retorted. His eyes narrowed and she added quickly, ‘It is quite unnecessary for either of us to make such a sacrifice, my lord.’

  Sacrifice!

  Ran felt as if she had slapped him.

  ‘I shall come back this evening,’ he said. ‘I want to be here when the Roffeys arrive. To support you.’

  ‘No! You cannot do that. How would it look?’

  Ran tightened his jaw to prevent uttering the words that came to his tongue. He did not care a damn how it looked. She needed him and that was all that mattered.

  ‘Please, Ran.’ She looked at him with sad, imploring eyes. ‘It is not only my current predicament to be explained, but there is George, too. They will not wish to discuss their son with anyone outside the family.’

  She was right, he knew it, although capitulating did nothing for his temper.

  ‘Very well. Inform Sir Adam and Lady Roffey that I will call upon them tomorrow. In the meantime, I advise you to remain in the house and tell your staff you are not receiving any callers. I will relieve you of my presence now. Do not ring for a servant. I will see myself out.’

  He strode out, banging the door behind him. Hell and damnati
on! She was so stubborn, so dashed independent! Could she not see he only wanted to help her?

  ‘Ran, wait!’

  Arabella had followed him into the hall. ‘Pray do not be angry with me.’

  She clasped her hands before her, as if afraid one might reach out for him if she did not hold it back.

  She said in a rush, ‘I don’t regret it. I don’t regret a single moment with you, my lord. I am grateful for all you have done for me. For...everything.’

  With that she went back into the room and closed the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arabella spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy. She received word that Sir Adam and Lady Roffey would dine on the road and, after a solitary meal where she could do no more than pick at her food, Arabella went upstairs to make sure that their rooms were prepared. She had done the same thing at least twice before during the day and knew it was unnecessary, for the excellent housekeeper needed no reminding of her duties, but she went up anyway.

  After assuring herself that the fires were banked up and the beds aired, Arabella made her way back towards the stairs, but her steps slowed beside the door that led into her husband’s room. Picking up the lamp from the side table, she went in. When she had first arrived in London she had searched this room, looking for something, anything that might give her a clue about his demise, but there was nothing. The room had been cleaned and cleared of any personal items.

  She lifted the lamp and looked around at the dark, heavy furniture, the huge tester bed with its velvet hangings, imagining George bringing his mistresses here. He might not have loved her, but she did not doubt now that he had had mistresses. Everything she had heard from his two closest friends pointed to a life of excess and dissipation. Not that it helped, nor did it make her own position any less shameful. She had no doubt that by the end of the week everyone in town would believe she had been Westray’s mistress. She shivered, suddenly feeling the chill of the cold, unheated room. She must go below and join Esther in the drawing room. She must prepare herself to confess everything to her parents-in-law.