So what had Florentina been doing in London? Alone? Adam was no nearer settling upon an explanation when he arrived at Southsea Court the following morning. He was greeted with great affection by the senior staff. His valet had a bath prepared for him and not long after his arrival he’d broken his fast, attended to his ablutions and discarded his dusty uniform in favour of a morning coat of the finest quality. Beneath it he wore a silk waistcoat sporting bold stripes in blue and green, a snowy white shirt and neck cloth tied in an intricate knot. His legs were encased in tight-fitting inexpressibles, and gleaming Hussar boots covered his feet.
“Right, Murray, that will suffice.” Adam glanced at his reflection. It was so long since he’d worn anything except his uniform that he barely recognized himself. “Is the dowager duchess in her apartment?”
Murray seemed surprised. “No, my lord. Her Grace removed to the dower house when His Grace remarried.”
“Did she indeed!” Adam hadn’t been aware of that. She’d not thought it necessary to remove herself from the main house during the course of James’s first marriage. Adam hoped she’d not done so on this occasion out of deference for his feelings. “Then I shall call upon her there.”
Adam enjoyed the brisk walk. It helped to clear his head after his excesses of the night before. The park looked serene in the weak spring sunshine and he could perceive none of the signs of neglect his mother had implied in her letters.
He received a rapturous greeting from his parent.
“My darling, I’m overjoyed to have you restored to me in one piece.” There was no standing on formality with Emily Fitzroy. She hurtled herself into her son’s arms and hugged him tightly. “You can have no notion the agonies I suffered when we received such discouraging accounts of that ill-thought-out battle.” She flapped her hands and then returned them to his body, almost as though she couldn’t quite believe he was standing in her drawing room unless she was continually touching him. “But never mind all that. Indulge an old lady’s fancy and let me feast my eyes upon you.” She stood on her toes, leaned back as far as she could without actually releasing him, and stared into his face. “I believe you’re more handsome than ever, my love.”
Adam laughed. “And you look younger every time I see you, Mother.”
It was true. The dowager duchess was no longer in the first flush of youth but she had an innate elegance about her. A natural poise, relentless energy and an engaging character that left far younger women not only struggling to keep up with her but also looking ordinary by comparison.
“Oh, stuff and nonsense, Adam. You’re naturally biased about such matters, simply because I’m your mama. But wait, what’s this?” She pushed his hair away from his brow, touched his scar and frowned.
“Merely a scratch.”
“But you assured me you’d not been hurt.”
“No more have I. It’s nothing.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like nothing to me. However, it makes you appear very distinguished.”
Adam smiled. “So I’ve been told.”
She led the way to two chairs in front of the fire and took possession of one of them. Adam flicked the tails of his coat aside and seated himself in its twin.
“Now, tell me everything that’s happened to you in Spain.” She wagged a finger at him. “And you’re not to leave anything out just because I might find it distasteful. You know very well that I’m not given to swooning.”
Adam laughed. “Indeed, I wouldn’t insult your intelligence.”
The duchess had a quick understanding of matters both political and military and had offered shrewd advice to her husband when he’d been influential in government circles. She still followed current affairs closely and took particular interest in the war, not only because Adam was involved in it but because she liked to keep herself informed. He spent the next half hour answering her questions and, in spite of his earlier promise, giving her a highly edited account of his activities.
After a servant had brought refreshments and withdrawn, the dowager let out a prolonged sigh. “I suppose, my love, we can no longer avoid the subject of your brother. Have you seen him yet?”
“No, I only arrived at the Court this morning.”
The dowager leaned across to pat his hand, looking very overset. “Oh, Adam, I don’t know what to say you! How I’ve dreaded this moment. Much as I longed to see you, I was aware that your coming home would necessitate an explanation for my neglect.”
Adam could see that his mother was on the verge of tears. He took her hand and sought to reassure her. “Don’t distress yourself. What’s done is done and is of no consequence anyway.”
“No consequence, you say! Don’t think to relieve my conscience by making so light of it. I know you feel it dreadfully and I’m entirely to blame for what happened.”
“Philippa wasn’t betrothed to me and was free to marry whomsoever she wished.”
“Nonsense! You two had been inseparable for several years and everyone expected you to marry as soon as you returned from this wretched war.”
“Everyone’s expectations are not the same as terms having been agreed.”
“Stop being so brave, Adam.” A tear seeped from the corner of her eye and she dabbed at it impatiently with her handkerchief. “I can’t bear it. I knew you would be like this. You were never one to show your feelings, even as a child. It’s not right! Your heart is broken and I’m to blame.”
“Just tell me what happened. Explain about Julia’s death first. I don’t believe you told me all the particulars in your letter.”
His mother shuddered. “Oh, how I wish I’d been able to persuade her not to go out hunting on that fateful day! The weather was foul but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“She was an accomplished horsewoman. You couldn’t have anticipated that she would fall.”
“Perhaps not, but I had a strange feeling of impending doom that I couldn’t seem to shake off. But when I told Julia she simply laughed and told me I worried too much.” His mother was openly crying now. “I wasn’t even surprised when they came to inform us that she’d broken her neck.”
“Poor James, how he must have felt the loss. I know how attached to her he was.”
Adam and James, separated by fifteen years and four sisters, had never been close. James, constantly unwell, resented Adam’s robust health. It didn’t help their relationship when their equally robust father used Adam as an example of how James ought to deport himself. Father appeared to think James’s illnesses could be overcome with nothing more than a little self-determination. But, in spite of their history, Adam wouldn’t wish the unexpected death of a much-loved wife on his worst enemy. Even the wholesale carnage he’d witnessed on the Peninsula hadn’t hardened his heart to that extent.
“Indeed. He’d not joined the hunt himself because he was confined to bed with a cold.”
“His presence wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“A cold that has subsequently been diagnosed as pleurisy.”
Adam sat a little straighter. “I wasn’t aware it was quite so serious.”
“James asked me to keep it from you. He didn’t want you distracted from your duties.”
Adam quirked a brow but refrained from saying that if James was so concerned about him, perhaps he should have thought twice before marrying his intended. That sort of delicious gossip was impossible to keep secret for long.
“You’ll not recognize him, Adam.” There was a catch in his mother’s voice. “I fear for him, really I do.”
“His indisposition would account for your concerns about the estate then.”
“Yes. He appears to have lost all interest.”
This news didn’t come as a surprise. Adam himself had taken over many of the duties that ought to have fallen to his brother’s lot, simply because he couldn’t bear to see inefficiencies and laziness weakening the estate’s reputation. “Tell me how Philippa and James came to marry with such haste.”
“Oh,
dear.” The dowager looked so distraught that Adam glanced away, allowing her a moment to get her emotions under better control. “Well, after you left, Philippa’s visits to the Court continued, and Julia and I took comfort in her society. We were able to talk about you, reflecting upon the fact that you were bound to cover yourself with glory, which of course you did. At least we didn’t get that wrong.”
“Yes, but I still don’t understand why she and James suddenly developed such a tendre for one another. James is more than twenty years older than Philippa and their paths seldom crossed before I left home.”
“That’s true. But when Julia died everything changed. As you can imagine, we were all shocked and devastated, none more so than James.”
Adam crossed one booted foot over his opposite knee and nodded.
“And your nieces couldn’t begin to understand why their mama didn’t come when they called for her. James found solace only in the bottle. But Philippa saw the children’s confusion and took them in hand. She played with them and kept them distracted from the great sadness that had descended upon the Court. Fortunately they’re so young that they quickly adapted but…”
“But James didn’t?”
“Indeed he did not. He started drinking more than ever and went into rapid decline. He lost interest in everything and it was only Philippa’s society that afforded him any pleasure. He couldn’t even bear to look upon his daughters.” His mother dabbed at fresh tears, her left hand absently twisting the teaspoon in her saucer. “Only to think I was actually grateful to Philippa when I observed James reviving in her company. None of the rest of us knew quite what to do with him, and so I thanked her for the trouble she was taking to keep him in good spirits. Little did I realise…I mean, it didn’t occur to me that she ought to be chaperoned, or that James would look upon her as anything other than a surrogate sister.”
“That’s perfectly understandable. No one could criticize your behaviour.”
“No one except me perhaps. And ever since I’ve been searching for a way to live with my conscience.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh dear.” The dowager paused to blow her nose. “It’s so distasteful. I’ve rehearsed these words a thousand times but I…”
“Mother, I’ve just come through a ferocious battle. Such things tend to put the defection of a highly regarded female into perspective.” He patted her hand and smiled. “Just tell me and be done with it.”
His mother straightened a spine that was already rigidly upright and drew a deep breath. “One day, about ten months after Julia’s death, I was coming down the stairs when Philippa came flying out of the library, almost hysterical. Her bodice was torn, her hair was all over the place and she had scratches on her…well, on her person—”
“Good God! Beg pardon, Mother, but are you actually saying that James forced himself upon her?”
“Yes, unfortunately I am.”
Adam, shocked to the core, stood up, turned his back to the fire and shook his head several times. “I simply don’t believe it.” He was well aware that his brother’s sexual preferences veered toward domination—but this…
“Nor me, and I immediately went into the library to confront him.”
“And what did he have to say for himself?”
“Nothing, since he was passed out cold on the settee.”
Adam rubbed his chin, his suspicions aroused. If his brother had been jug-bitten and suffering from pleurisy, would he still have been able to ravish Philippa? It hardly seemed credible. Adam knew for himself that being foxed was quite enough on its own to dampen a man’s ardour.
“Were there any obvious signs that he’d behaved as Philippa claimed?”
“You doubt it?”
Adam could hardly articulate the nature of his thoughts to his own mother. “I merely wish to clarify the situation.”
“Well, his clothing was unfastened and in great disarray, if that’s what you’re asking.” The dowager lifted her eyes to Adam’s and sighed. “Naturally, as soon as he regained his senses I quizzed him on the matter. He claimed no recollection of it but immediately offered to do the right thing as soon as he was out of mourning.” She spread her hands. “And I couldn’t see any way to avoid him taking that step without tarnishing the family name beyond recall.”
“It must have been a terrible time for you.”
“Yes, well, I had no one but myself to blame for that.” She blew her nose and continued with her explanation. “We naturally did all we could to keep the particulars of James’s actions private and pretended not to notice people raise their eyes at the haste of his remarriage.”
“Quite right.” Adam resumed his seat and smiled at her. “It’s not your fault, Mother. You really mustn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Perhaps, but there’s more you should know.” She paused to take a sip of tea, not appearing to notice that it was now cold. “Philippa’s increasing.” Adam frowned but refrained from comment. “She’s quite far advanced so I can only surmise that her condition arose from that initial tryst.” The dowager’s fleeting smile owed little to humour. “They couldn’t marry until James was out of mourning. That will make this one of the most premature babies on record and give the scandalmongers a deal of ammunition to keep their tongues exercised.”
“Talk can’t hurt us. It’s the least of our worries.”
“You’re too generous. I know how much Philippa’s defection must be hurting you and I wish I could say it wasn’t her fault.”
“You think she invited James’s attentions?” Adam wasn’t entirely surprised that his intuitive mother’s thoughts were veering in the same direction as his own. But he doubted whether they were based on the premise that a drunken invalid would find it difficult to overpower an unwilling victim.
“I can’t say precisely, but there’s something about her manner that makes me suspicious.” The dowager’s expression turned reflective. “She’s ecstatic about her condition, convinced she will present James with a son and heir.”
“Let’s all hope so and then some good will result from this wretched situation.” God forbid that his brother shouldn’t recover from his illness, but if he didn’t, and if he didn’t produce a male heir, then Adam would become the next duke. He was perfectly content with his life and a dukedom wasn’t a situation he aspired to.
“Yes, it would be a good thing to have the inheritance issue settled, I suppose.”
“You don’t look convinced. Is there something else you’re keeping from me?”
She spread her hands. “No, nothing specific.”
“Share your thoughts anyway.”
“Well, I can’t actually fault Philippa. It’s just that she plays the part of the autocratic duchess in a manner I never would have believed her capable of. She also spends a lot of time in town, doing what I have no notion. I’m too glad to see her go to cross-question her on the matter. Not that she would tell me anything, anyway. I’ve never seen anyone so much altered, Adam. I’m sure you’ll be shocked by her conduct.” His mother’s expression was a combination of desolation and disapproval. “I thought I knew her but she’s like a stranger to me now.”
“Which is why you moved from the main house, I collect?”
“Yes, I seldom dine at the Court nowadays, unless James has company and I feel I ought to show my face for the sake of the family’s good name. I have Mrs. Grantley here to bear me company and prefer to keep my distance from the main house.”
“Ah, this Mrs. Grantley whom I’ve heard so much about. I rejoice that you’ve found someone whose society gives you comfort, Mother.”
“Tina has helped me remain sane these four months since your brother’s marriage. Goodness only knows how I would have managed without her. She’s a good and honest friend to me and I thank God our paths happened to cross when they did.”
“Is she here now?”
“Yes, and now that we’ve exhausted the subject of your brother, you ought to make her acquai
ntance. You won’t be able to help liking her.”
“Then by all means summon her.”
The dowager rang the bell. It was answered promptly and, as the door opened, Adam rose to his feet. He was anxious to meet this paragon who afforded his mother such comfort, and was already predisposed to like her. That being so, he was unable to account for the prescient fear that gripped him. The instinctive urge to avoid lifting his eyes toward the door. When he could no longer avoid doing so, understanding came crashing in on him.
The woman standing in the doorway, unable to completely disguise the fact that she was trembling, was the one he knew as Mrs. Smith…or Florentina.
Chapter Three
The bell jangled twice, Florentina’s signal to attend Her Grace. Her knees were shaking so much as she traversed the flagstoned hall that they almost gave out beneath her. The butler opened the drawing room door but she paused to catch her breath before forcing herself to walk through it. Calling upon the reserves of courage that had seen her through far more perilous situations in recent months, she squared her shoulders, held her head high and glided into the room.
Lord Fitzroy stood and looked directly at her. There was absolutely nothing she could do as recognition dawned and his urbane expression gave way to one of abject shock. Thick brown hair tumbled over both his collar and a brow that was now creased with an angry frown. She felt a strange compulsion to reach up and push the offending locks away from his eyes. Instead she concentrated upon quelling the turbulent emotions running riot inside her, causing havoc with her nerves. Her heart was beating at twice its normal rate, her breathing fractured. She dropped her eyes to the floor and waited for the dagger to fall.
A Scandalous Proposition Page 3