Only later, as she lay lax and dreamy beside him, did she realize what he had not said. An omission that confirmed the darkest of her fears. Justified the wisdom of her decision to keep her secret to herself, to maintain her lie.
He had not said he loved her back.
∗ ∗ ∗
Autumn leaves crunched in dry, brittle clumps beneath Violet’s shoes as she made her way to the folly the next morning.
Set some yards distant from the house, the circular pavilion rose in a splendour of white stone columns and fancy Baroque scrollwork, the roof a fine domed cap adorned by a whimsical stone cherub.
She stepped into the pavilion, hugged her cloak close against the cold while she waited for Kit to arrive. To the east, a small flotilla of ducks passed, paddling and quacking their way across the glassy sapphire lake that ranged beyond. A fish flashed upward from the lake’s centre. Its scales glinted silver in the daylight before disappearing once more into the water.
She willed herself not to tremble, half sick with nerves and dread.
She’d upset Agnes earlier, unable to eat more than a single bite of toast and half a cup of tea for breakfast. Her maid fretted around her, warning against a putrid ague that was making its way through the neighbourhood. She’d urged her to stay in bed and rest, especially considering her headache of the evening before.
But she could not rest. Nor could she laze the day away in bed. She had an appointment to keep, her fate to confront, whether it would lead to disaster or reprieve.
She heard him approach. The capes on his greatcoat billowed in a gust of wind, his hatless head bared to the elements.
“Brisk out here,” Kit commented as he mounted the folly’s steps. “It would have been far more comfortable meeting again in the conservatory, nestled warm among all the hothouse plants.”
“I did not wish to risk us being overheard,” she said without preamble. “Though if you have decided to expose my identity, the location of our meeting makes little difference, I suppose.”
He rubbed his gloved palms together for warmth, nodded toward a short seating area that ringed the inside of the structure. “Shall we sit?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, but pray do so if you wish.”
Not one to stand on ceremony, Kit accepted her invitation and sat down.
She paced one way, paced the other, then stopped on a sharp turn of her heel. “Put me out of my torment. Tell me what you have decided. I can bear it no longer.”
“Very well,” he began. “It was not an easy choice, I’ll tell you that. I did a great deal of thinking upon the matter last night and again this morning. Far more thinking, I must confess, than I am generally accustomed to engaging in. Made my brain fairly ache, what with all the strain I have been under of late.”
“Blast it, Kit. Would you just tell me,” she exploded in an outburst that surprised them both.
He arched an eyebrow, a gesture highly reminiscent of his brother. “This pretending to be Jeannette is really rubbing off on you, is it not?”
“Kit, please.”
He relented. “All right. Against my better judgment, I have decided to keep your secret.”
“Oh, thank the Lord.” Weak relief shot through her legs, making her wish she’d taken his suggestion to sit. She clutched one of the columns, suddenly afraid she might topple over.
“You’ll have to importune Him again,” he told her with a quick glance toward heaven, “and do a great deal of praying if Adrian ever figures you out. I meant what I said before. If he asks, I won’t lie to him about who you really are.”
“But you will not tell him?” she confirmed.
“No, I will not tell him. Not unless he asks me directly.” He sighed. “You’ve let her talk you into a real muddle, haven’t you? I should have known you weren’t Jeannette that very first evening I arrived. You were far too understanding about my predicament. Your sister, no doubt, would have laughed herself silly once she’d heard the particulars.”
Knowing her twin, she guessed that is precisely what Jeannette would have done.
“And you’re restful,” he continued. “Don’t know why Adrian hasn’t cottoned on to that irregularity. Your sister would no doubt be elbow deep planning for a ball of some sort by now, wanting to fill the house with every neighbour for fifty miles or more, despite being a newlywed. Thing is, my brother barely tolerates large entertainments. Likely he’s enjoying the peace and quiet so much, he doesn’t want to question his good luck.”
She clasped her hands, sank down onto the iron bench beside him. “Is it so very noticeable, then, that I am masquerading as my sister?”
His eyes glittered with irony. “It is now. Now that I can view everything through a lens of truth. But damn me if you aren’t good at fooling everyone. If it hadn’t been for your penchant for Latin, I very much doubt I ever would have realized.”
“Mama always said too much book learning would bring me to ruin one day.”
Her words settled between them, ticklish as feathers. They shared a smile that turned to a laugh, their former easiness with one another restored.
“In exchange for keeping my mouth shut,” Kit told her, “I expect some recompense.”
“Anything. What can I do?”
“Help me with my Latin translations, for one. That old man is likely to be the death of me.”
She laughed again. “Gladly. What about Greek? How are you with that?”
He looked thunderstruck. “Good God, you know Greek too?”
She nodded. “Actually, I am more fluent in Greek than Latin. Greek’s not a dead language, after all.”
He shook his head in amazement. “I’ll add that to your list of assignments.”
A long moment of silence fell between them.
He twirled a leaf he’d found on the bench, then tossed it aside. “I still think you should come clean with Adrian. It always goes worse in the end when you try to brazen it out. Believe me, I speak from experience. With my brother, it’s best to confess and face the fury. He’ll go easier on you if you do.”
But would he go easier on her, a woman who had deceived him in the most fundamental of ways? How did you tell a man he wasn’t married to the woman he believed he had wed? What did you say? “Darling, there is a trifling something you should know. I’ve been lying to you all this time. My twin and I switched places at the altar, isn’t that amusing? You married the wrong sister.”
The wrong sister. Is that what she was? Worse, is that what Adrian would think were he to discover the truth?
She shivered, but not from the cold. “I already told you. I cannot take the chance.”
He made no further comment on the subject. “We’d best return inside,” he said at length. “Wouldn’t do for either of us to catch a chill.”
“You are right,” she agreed.
He stood, offered a hand to assist her to her feet.
She accepted it, held it for a brief moment before letting go. “Kit?”
“Yes?”
“Since you so obviously disapprove, why have you agreed to keep my secret?”
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Ah, well, that’s an easy one. You make him happy. What right do I have to interfere with happiness?”
∗ ∗ ∗
Adrian reined in his horse, slowing from a gallop to a canter as he rode across the estate. A cool breeze swept over him, invigorating rather than chilly, his body well warmed by the exercise. The scents of autumn—dry leaves, half-frozen mud and dormant grass—were redolent in the air.
Cutting across the rear lawns that would eventually lead him to the stables, he saw the lake burst into view, fine and blue in the radiant daylight.
A sudden flash of red caught his eye. There, in the pavilion. He saw it was a cloak, and wrapped inside it, the familiar figure of a woman. Even from a distance, he recognized her.
His wife.
Leaving the warm haven of her arms this morning had been torture. Her long hair spre
ad like sunshine over the pillows, her honeyed scent on the sheets and on his skin. If he closed his eyes, he could remember even now.
She loved him, that’s what she had declared last night. A warm glow spread inside him at the thought. He shouldn’t like it, hearing such words on her lips. But he did. He had to confess he liked it very much, selfish as such an emotion might be.
Did he love her?
He’d always considered love to be a lot of stupid, self-destructive rubbish, and yet lately he had begun to wonder. When he was with her, the notion no longer seemed so improbable.
He slowed Mercury to a stop, only then noticing she was not alone.
Kit.
He knew his brother’s dark curls and lean, sturdy shoulders. He watched the two of them as they sat inside the folly. What on earth were they discussing? And why were they doing it out-of-doors on such a raw morning? It seemed out of character for them both.
Jeannette wasn’t the intrepid type who liked to venture forth for a walk in any sort of weather. And Kit enjoyed his creature comforts far too thoroughly to risk a chill over a casual outing.
Then again, maybe they’d felt confined and in need of a draught of fresh air. He knew Vicar Dittlesby was driving his little brother to distraction, exactly as he had planned. He grinned to himself. Served the boy right for getting himself sent down. Perhaps next term at University would not seem so dreadful after a few weeks doing lessons with a deaf old man.
Mercury whinnied, tossed his head in an impatient gesture, hooves restive against the damp, cold ground. Adrian reached out to pat a gloved hand against the gelding’s sweaty neck, debating whether or not he should ride down to join his wife and brother.
As he looked on, Kit stood, extended a hand toward Jeannette to assist her to her feet. She accepted, placing her palm inside his. But their handclasp didn’t end immediately; more words were exchanged before they separated.
Whatever Kit said brought a rich bloom to Jeannette’s features, a spark of radiant delight that was plain to see even from a distance.
Obviously the two of them had formed a family bond. Close and comfortable as brother and sister should be. He was glad. He wanted his wife to get on well with his family. Still, he wondered what they might be discussing in so companionable a manner.
While he pondered, Kit jogged down the shallow stone steps of the pavilion and headed toward the house. Jeannette waited a full minute more before doing the same. Almost as if she did not wish the two of them to be seen returning at the same moment.
He watched his wife until she disappeared indoors. Then with a light nudge of his knees, he set his horse in motion and continued on toward the stables.
∗ ∗ ∗
“More tea, Lady Carter?” Violet inquired.
Millicent Carter inclined her elegant silver-haired head. “Thank you, I believe I shall.” She passed her cup.
Violet took a firm hold of the heavy Sevres teapot. The porcelain was pink, painted with delicate nosegays of yellow bellflowers. She poured, proud relief spreading through her when she managed the trick and passed back the cup without spilling so much as a drop.
“Another tea cake?” She lifted the plate arrayed with a varied selection of treats.
“No, thank you, your Grace, although they are most delicious. You must commend your chef. French, is he not?”
“Yes, François is a real treasure. He came over from Paris with the dowager’s family a few years before the war. He’s been at Winterlea since Raeburn’s parents were married.”
“I would like another tea cake,” piped a masculine voice.
Violet turned her head toward the speaker and met her brother-in-law’s twinkling gaze. No matter the occasion, solemn or light-spirited, Kit could always be counted on to eat. It was, he readily admitted, his one true avocation.
She passed him the plate.
Lady Carter swallowed a sip of tea. “How is the dear dowager? Fairing well with her daughter, I trust? Poor Sylvia must be nearing her time.”
“The baby is due next month,” she supplied. “Everyone is anxiously awaiting the birth. I shall send your regards in my next letter.”
“Most kind.” The older woman took another drink of tea, set her cup aside. “A shame they have not been able to enjoy the delights of the Little Season this year. Carter and I are going up to Town next week to partake of what remains, staying until nearly Christmas. Do you and Raeburn plan to do the same?”
Go to London? She sincerely hoped not. Although she supposed eventually they would have to go. But surely not before spring.
“Our plans are not as yet decided,” she stated.
“Decided about what?” Adrian strode into the room, dashing as usual in a dark brown jacket and trousers. “Lady Carter. How good to see you.” He bowed in greeting. “I was out overseeing one of my farms, or I should have joined you sooner. Is Lord Carter not with you today?”
“No, your Grace.” The older woman inclined her head. “He sent his apologies. His gout is acting up quite dreadfully since the weather has grown so chill of late. I was just telling the duchess and your brother that we plan to leave for the city next week. Hopefully a change of scenery will improve Carter’s health.”
“Hopefully so.” Adrian took a seat in the straight-backed chair that matched Lady Carter’s, facing the sofa where Violet and Kit sat.
Without asking, Violet prepared Adrian a cup of tea—cream, no sugar, the way she knew he liked it—and handed the beverage across to him.
He rose briefly, accepting it with a grateful smile.
“Kit, pass your brother the crumpets,” she murmured.
Kit dusted crumbs off his fingers and did as he was asked.
“The duchess said you haven’t yet made plans for the remainder of the fall.” Lady Carter turned a set of watery blue eyes upon Adrian. “You simply must come to Town. If you do, Carter and I shall be delighted to host an entertainment on your behalf.”
Violet moved to squash the idea. “Why, that is a most gracious invitation, Lady Carter, but—”
“Yes, most gracious,” Adrian interrupted. “Would you like that, my dear? You must be getting weary of being cooped up here in the country. A few weeks in Town would be a refreshing break. I had a letter from my sister Anna just this morning. She and Jameson will be there. They’re bringing their oldest daughter with them to see the sights. Another year and Lydia will be old enough for her come-out.”
Violet nearly choked on her tea. “No,” she wanted to shout, “absolutely not. We’re not going to London.”
She bit her tongue, stared down into her lap, desperate to conceal the terror she knew must be shining in her eyes. Jeannette, of course, would have been in raptures over the thought of London. Even more so at the idea of a ball to be held specifically in her honour.
She wanted to curl up in a corner and wish it all away.
Beneath the folds of her skirt, she clenched a fist, willed herself to do what she must. Pretend as she must.
She pasted a buoyant smile on her lips and looked up. “A trip to Town would be wonderful,” she lied. “I only worry, darling, that it will take you away from your duties here at home.”
Adrian relaxed back into his chair. “Actually, I have business in Town. I planned to inform you this afternoon, but Lady Carter broached the subject before I had the opportunity.”
Her last spark of hope winked out like a doused candle. Cringing inside, she clapped her hands in false delight. “Well, then, is that not thrilling? Spending the last of the Little Season in Town. I’m all aflutter with excitement.”
Adrian sent her a smile, visibly pleased to have made her happy. If only he knew the truth, she thought.
“Splendid,” Lady Carter pronounced. “I shall start on a guest list immediately. Only the very best people will be in attendance, I assure you.” She fluttered her hands. “How exciting. I simply love parties.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Violet laughed to cover her distress, nerves tur
ning her fingers to icicles.
Lady Carter joined in the merriment, while the men looked on.
Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw Kit cross his ankles. She dare not look directly at him, knowing any sympathy she glimpsed there might prove her undoing. So she kept her eyes averted, her features as happily animated as possible, while inside she was squirming with anticipatory fright.
Lady Carter departed a few minutes later, scattering promises to see everyone again soon in Town. When her carriage rolled away, Violet allowed herself the small luxury of relaxing back against the sofa cushions.
“That’s decided, then.” Adrian rose to his feet, took the last sweet off the cake plate. The only one to have escaped Kit’s notice. “When shall we leave?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to consult with March and Mrs Hardwick, apprise them of our decision. Staff will need to be sent ahead to prepare the London townhouse for residence. Instructions must be left concerning the upkeep of Winterlea. It will be quite an undertaking.”
“A week, then. Will that give you sufficient time?”
Certainly not, she thought, but it would have to do. A week’s reprieve. She supposed she couldn’t expect much more. “Yes, that will be fine.” She pantomimed another sunny smile for his benefit.
Adrian popped the tart into his mouth and chewed. “Hmm, lemon.”
“Kit will be coming with us, of course,” she added.
Adrian stopped chewing, swallowed abruptly. “He has studies. He’ll remain here.”
She waved a dismissive hand exactly as her twin would have done. “Oh, fiddlesticks. Hasn’t he been punished long enough?”
“His education is not a punishment.” Adrian glowered.
She ignored the look. “That isn’t how it has seemed to everyone else. No disrespect meant to the good vicar.”
Kit cleared his throat. “Um…Jeannette, perhaps this isn’t the time—”
“Of course it’s the time,” she interrupted. “Kit has been quite a disciplined student since he’s been here. Even you must concede he deserves a few moments of enjoyment now and again.” She stood, crossed to Adrian. Gazing up into his eyes, she traced a palm over the stitching on his vest. “Besides, if he’s here alone, who will watch to make sure he is continuing his lessons? Think of all the trouble he could land in, left to his own devices.”
The Husband Trap Page 18