Christine pulled a face. “Well you’ve certainly succeeded. But you can’t appear before him tonight with your hair braided like a frigid spinster.”
“Why not? Perhaps it will cool his ardour.”
“Florentina!”
“All right.” She let out a martyred sigh. “What do you suggest I do with it then? Remember, I can’t ask a maid to help me. Just imagine how shocked she’d be if she saw me in your gown, about to creep out of the house in the dead of night.”
“You won’t require the services of a maid for your hair, or to help you with your gown either. It ties in the front and you can manage them yourself.”
“A useful variation for a courtesan, I suppose.” Florentina managed a weak grin.
“Indeed, and as for your hair, just brush it loose of your braid, let the curls fall naturally wherever they please and then tie it back with this.” Christine rummaged in a drawer and produced a length of ribbon that exactly matched the scarlet gown. “When he looks at you, untie the ribbon and allow your hair to fall about your shoulders.”
Florentina giggled. “I can’t do that!”
“Of course you can. He’ll be enchanted.” Christine clapped her hands. “Now, does the dowager have an engagement to dine abroad this evening?”
“No, we dine alone at the dower house.”
“Then partake of some wine. It will help you to relax.”
“Nothing will help me to relax,” Florentina insisted mulishly.
“Florentina?” The door opened and two small faces peered round it, eyes wide with surprise. “Why are you wearing that funny dress?”
Florentina’s concerns about the evening to come evaporated and her face split into a wide grin. “What are you two doing up here when you ought to be attending to your duties?” She bent down to hug her young brother and sister.
“Ramon saw a strange gig in the stables and we hoped it might be yours,” explained Sophia in rapid Spanish.
“Shush, speak English, darling. If you’re to be a proper English lady then you must practice all the time.”
“Sorry, Florentina, we do try.”
“They do indeed,” Christine said. “They take their lessons with Susanna every day without fail.”
The children beamed at such praise and Florentina wondered, not for the first time, at their resilience. They’d been through so much. Had been snatched away from everything and everyone that mattered to them, with the exception of Florentina. They were now reduced to undertaking manual work in a brothel, hidden away where there was no danger of their being seen, when they’d been brought up to expect so much more. And yet they never once complained. Florentina sighed. She would soon have to move them from this place. Sophia was now fourteen and becoming lovelier by the day. Careful as they were, it could only be a matter of time before she accidentally caught the eye of one of the gentleman callers. Florentina shuddered, determined that that situation would never arise.
“Vamos! Wait in the other room and I will be with you directly,” she said to the children.
Florentina changed back into her ordinary clothes and spent a precious few minutes with her beloved siblings before making her way back to the dower house. The red silk was hidden in a parcel made up for her by Christine, another food parcel intended for a very different location was concealed beneath the gig’s seat. As she drove, Florentina wondered where she would find the courage to go through with her assignation with Lord Fitzroy. Then she thought of Ramon and Sophia, their faces so full of confidence in her ability to keep them safe. She knew then that she’d do whatever his lordship required of her with a smile on her lips rather than risk letting them down.
Chapter Five
Adam put Philippa’s extraordinary behaviour to the back of his mind and headed for the ducal apartment. His knock was answered by James’s valet.
“His Grace is most anxious to see you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Parker.”
Adam followed the man who had faithfully served his brother for years into the palatial rooms his father had once occupied. James was seated in a chair close to the fire and had a rug tucked tightly across his knees, even though the room was over warm. Adam found it difficult to disguise his shocked reaction to his brother’s condition.
At thirty, Adam was fifteen years his brother’s junior, and as a consequence their paths had seldom crossed during their respective childhoods. When Adam was of an age for James to finally acknowledge his existence, his resentment quickly became apparent, preventing any fraternal bond from being established. James envied his brother’s robust health since he himself was slight of build and permanently sickly, precluding any sort of normality during his youth.
When Adam used charm, James used pomposity. Where Adam brought reasoning to an argument, James favoured a dictatorial attitude and fixed opinions. If Adam expressed a preference for something or someone, James took the opposite position as a matter of course. Adam wondered now if he’d only taken Philippa because he supposed her to belong to him.
“His Grace’s condition is remarkably improved of late,” Parker said quietly in Adam’s ear. “Here’s his lordship, Your Grace,” he added in a more normal voice.
“Adam, where the devil have you been? I was told you got here hours ago.”
James turned his head slowly. Adam was encouraged to see that James’s eyes, the same deep grey as his own, were alive with accusation. He was clearly as irascible as ever, which Adam took to be a good sign.
“James.” Adam spoke with forced joviality. “They told me you were at death’s door but clearly those accounts were greatly exaggerated.” He shook his brother’s trembling hand. His grip was as weak as a child’s, the skin on the back of his hand wrinkled and stretched paper-thin.
“Won’t be much longer.”
Adam took the seat opposite his brother, in spite of the fact that it was stiflingly hot so close to the fire. “Afraid not. It seems you’re to recover.”
“Huh, what do they know? Charlatans, the whole lot of ’em. Parker, you may leave us.” The valet stooped to adjust the rug over James’s knees and threw yet another log on the fire. “Stop fussing like an old woman, damn it, and leave me alone.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
Once Parker left them there was a long silence, broken only by James’s incessant coughing. Adam was owed an explanation and wouldn’t speak until one was forthcoming. James shifted his position several times, in no hurry to formulate one. His eyes were half-closed but Adam could see that he was still observing him astutely, presumably trying to decide how much he ought to say.
“Can’t seem to get comfortable, no matter how I sit,” he complained. Adam knew he was stalling and made no response. “Seen Philippa, have you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Is that all you have to say?”
“What would you have me say, James?”
“Look, I expect you’re a bit put out by what happened. Can’t altogether say as I’d blame you if you are.” James lifted his bony shoulders, wincing at the pain this simple gesture caused him, and dissolved into another bout of coughing. “Bad form to marry one’s brother’s intended, know that very well.”
Adam was tempted to ask why, in that case, he’d done so. Since the answer was obvious to anyone who glanced in the direction of Philippa’s waistline, he remained silent on the point.
“But, well…what with Julia being taken from me so unexpectedly, I reckon I went out of my mind with grief for a while there.”
“I’m truly sorry for your loss. It must have been a terrible time for you. I did write.”
“Yes, I got your letter and meant to reply but—you know.” James shrugged again but more cautiously this time, barely moving his shoulders. “But the thing is, everything was at sixes and sevens. We were all in a dreadful state, and Philippa’s was the only voice of reason about the place. She held us together for a while. Have to say I’ve never admired a gel more. A great comfort she was, and I don’t know how I’d
have got through it without her. Not sure I’d have wanted to, come to that.”
“And now she confidently expects to provide you with an heir.” Adam smiled sardonically. “Congratulations.”
“Well, that at least ought to give you joy.” James spoke acerbically, the fragile truce between the brothers already showing signs of strain. “You’ve said often enough that you don’t want the damned job.”
Adam inclined his head. “True, but forgive me, James, I find it hard to imagine you ravishing an unwilling victim here at the Court.” He left the implication that James would happily behave in such a fashion anywhere other than in their ancestral home hanging in the air between them.
“Don’t remember much about it, truth to tell. But Philippa said it happened and it’s hardly the sort of thing a young lady would make up, so I suppose I must have forgotten myself.” Far from looking repentant when all but admitting to rape, James looked inordinately pleased with his achievement. “As soon as I heard about it I offered to do the honourable thing, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
“Well, I’ve apologised and now you’ve seen her yourself, there won’t be any more awkwardness.”
Adam was too taken aback to say anything. Even by James’s standards, he was being excessively crass. He seemed to think his actions could be swept aside with a brief sentence or two by way of explanation and a halfhearted apology.
“No hard feelings then?”
“None whatsoever. Tell me instead what’s happening on the estate.”
“How the devil should I know, being stuck in the damned sickroom all day.”
“No matter, I left clear orders with Fowler and I’ll check with him later to make sure there are no problems.”
“No need to bother yourself. Dare say you’re anxious to get back to your regiment and cover yourself in more glory.” The envy on James’s face was impossible to misinterpret. “Anyway, Philippa has the estate running smoothly.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And what the deuce is that supposed to imply? Ah, I see.”
James repeated Adam’s words in a hectoring tone. In spite of his debilitated condition his brother’s character had clearly not altered. He was irascible, quick to take offence and as resentful of Adam as ever. Knowing his intention was to provoke an argument that would provide him with the opportunity to end it by pulling rank, Adam remained implacably calm.
“Merely that there’s no occasion for your duchess to concern herself with the estate.” He crossed one leg across his opposite knee and shifted his position so that his legs, at least, were a little farther away from the fire. “Especially when she’s in such a delicate condition. It wouldn’t do for her to tax her strength.”
“Thankfully my wife is in fine fettle. And as to not concerning herself with the estate, you dashing off left her with little choice in that regard. Who else can I rely on not to rob me blind whilst I’m stuck in this blasted chair all day?”
“Fowler knows his business.”
“But still can’t be relied upon absolutely. You know that as well as anyone. Leave them to their own devices for too long and even the most faithful of servants give way to temptation. Damn it, Adam,” James said, thumping the arm of his chair, “why did you have to leave? You knew you were needed here. You begged me to let you take over the running of the estate but no sooner had I done so than you dropped it all and ran off to play at soldiers.”
“I should hardly describe what I’ve just been through as child’s play.”
“Well, I know nothing about that, and what’s more I ain’t interested. Your duty was here and you chose to turn your back on it. It’s only thanks to Philippa that things haven’t gone completely to pot in your absence.”
“I see.”
And Adam rather thought that he did. Outwardly he remained the personification of calm but inside he was seething. Fowler was an honest, trustworthy estate manager and knew his business inside out. But Philippa had chosen to make her husband believe he was mismanaging things. Why? He was left with the disquieting feeling that it was all part of some intricate plan that involved him.
“Philippa has invited a few acquaintances to dine tomorrow.” James abruptly changed the subject when Adam didn’t rise to his bait. “Did she tell you?”
“No, it must have slipped her mind.”
“Can’t have the returning hero ignored, can we now.” James was afflicted with another bout of coughing and Adam permitted this snide comment also to pass unchallenged. The last thing he needed was to be paraded in front of a load of their neighbours but he would be unable to avoid the dinner if it was being held in his honour. He wondered what Philippa hoped to achieve by it.
“Are you up to such a gathering?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. They trot me out and prop me up at the head of the table whenever needs be, just to keep up appearances. I’ll retire early if it gets too much. No one will even notice I’m gone.”
“Well, just so long as you’re sure.”
“Perfectly. Philippa will see me right.”
Adam was cast into gloom by the confident assurance behind his brother’s words. There was no longer any doubt that Philippa had James precisely where she wanted him and wouldn’t scruple to use her dominance over him to get her way in everything.
Parker returned with James’s lunch and Adam took the opportunity to escape. If he was subjected to much more of his brother’s jealous spite he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from retaliating in a manner he was bound to later regret.
He’d not given any thought to his own luncheon but was fairly sure that Philippa would be lying in wait for him in the dining parlour. Having no intention of falling into that trap, he retired to his own chamber and had a meal delivered to him there. He then took Rochester out and rode the five miles to the adjoining estate of Lord and Lady Blake. He’d seen their son, an officer with an elite infantry division, just days before he left Spain and had carried letters home on his behalf.
He was greeted with great enthusiasm and invited to remain for dinner. Adam accepted, even though it meant having Blake’s pretty daughter thrust upon him for the duration of the meal. But anything was better than dining alone with Philippa, which, unlike luncheon, he’d have been unable to avoid if he’d remained at the Court.
Besides, he needed to fill the intervening hours before his assignation with Florentina somehow. In spite of the discouraging events of the day, his mind was still plagued with images of her flashing green eyes. The imperious manner in which she tossed her head when she was angry. Her lips curving into a capricious smile at some remark his mother addressed to her. The feel of her slender thigh as he prevented her from slipping from Rochester’s back. The manner in which her breasts…
Damn it, this wouldn’t do. The sooner he could put his temporary infatuation with Florentina Grantley behind him, the quicker he’d be able to get her out of his mind and concentrate upon the issues awaiting rectification at the Court.
“Tina, my dear.” The dowager looked up from her dinner and frowned. “Are you unwell? You look pale and have eaten almost nothing.”
“No indeed, ma’am, I’m perfectly well, thank you. Pray excuse me, I was woolgathering there for a moment.” Florentina smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, forced herself to take a mouthful of whatever was on her plate and swallowed it down. “And you look exceedingly well tonight, Your Grace. I believe his lordship’s return has lifted your spirits.”
“Oh, most assuredly! I rejoice in seeing him in such robust health. But you have expressed no opinion about my son.” She made it sound as though that was a most unusual occurrence. “Is he not every bit as handsome as I warned you to expect?”
“Yes, ma’am, his lordship is a very attractive gentleman indeed.”
It pained Florentina to make the admission but it was undeniable. Adam Fitzroy was quite the most self-assured, formidably smooth specimen of male beauty she’d ever had the misfortune to e
ncounter. The prospect of being held in arms so muscular that they could control a galloping stallion and simultaneously prevent her from falling from its back was causing havoc with her equilibrium. She was desperately trying not to anticipate the feel of his marauding hands roaming across her body, as he removed the scandalously thin layer of silk from it in just a few short hours time. It was a betrayal to her husband’s memory to harbour such thoughts about another man. For that reason, and many others besides, Florentina emphatically did not wish to be attracted to his lordship. But in spite of her best efforts to deny her feelings, she was deeply ashamed to concede that the prospect of the night to come had stolen her appetite and left her quaking. Not, as ought to be the case, with fear but with a deep sense of longing that made it seem as if time itself was standing still.
“I wonder how his reconciliation with Philippa went?” The dowager glanced at the curtained window. “I had hoped he would call and put my mind at rest on that score. However, I dare say he’s too upset at seeing her to trust himself in company.”
“It must have been very distressing for him if he loved her as much as you suggest.”
“Oh yes, he was very much in love.” The dowager frowned. “But he’s such a dear boy that he’s pretending not to be affected by it in order to protect my feelings.”
“You’ve told me before that Lord Fitzroy had been broadly expected to offer for Miss Dennett.” Florentina followed Christine’s advice and accepted a second glass of wine from a hovering footman. “But I don’t believe you’ve ever explained how she became so intimate with the family in the first place.”
“Well, her own family live in Portsmouth. Her father is Sir Charles Dennett, who owns a shipping line. He has a fleet of clippers.”
“He trades with the Indies?”
“Yes, with some considerable success.” The dowager paused to sip her own wine. “His family background doesn’t match our own, and perhaps we wouldn’t have noticed them in the ordinary way of things. But Sir Charles was ambitious for his children to succeed and used his money to good effect in that respect. His son Bertram was at Eton with Adam and they became close friends.”
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