A Little Deception
Page 1
A Little Deception
A Regency Romantic Intrigue
By
BEVERLEY EIKLI
Nominated Favourite Historical of 2011 by ARRA (Australian Romance Readers Association).
Copyright 2012 Beverley Eikli
All rights reserved
For Dagny and Sophie
Originally published 2009 by Robert Hale (UK)
Re-edited Beverley Eikli 2012
Also by Beverley Eikli
Lady Sarah’s Redemption
Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly
And writing as Beverley Oakley
Rake’s Honour
Lady Lovett’s Little Dilemma
The Cavalier
The Deception............................................................ 3
Chapter One............................................................................................................................. 3
Chapter Two........................................................................................................................... 12
Chapter Three........................................................................................................................ 22
Chapter Four.......................................................................................................................... 28
Chapter Five........................................................................................................................... 35
Chapter Six............................................................................................................................. 42
Chapter Seven........................................................................................................................ 51
Chapter Eight......................................................................................................................... 55
The Consequences................................................. 64
Chapter Nine.......................................................................................................................... 64
Chapter Ten........................................................................................................................... 76
Chapter Eleven....................................................................................................................... 85
Chapter Twelve...................................................................................................................... 99
Chapter Thirteen.................................................................................................................. 106
Chapter Fourteen................................................................................................................. 111
Chapter Fifteen.................................................................................................................... 119
Chapter Sixteen................................................................................................................... 124
Chapter Seventeen.............................................................................................................. 131
Chapter Eighteen................................................................................................................. 140
Chapter Nineteen................................................................................................................ 144
Chapter Twenty.................................................................................................................... 149
Just Desserts........................................................ 153
Chapter Twenty-one............................................................................................................. 153
Chapter Twenty-two............................................................................................................. 159
Chapter Twenty-three.......................................................................................................... 168
Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly Excerpt & Reviews......................................................................... 171
Lady Sarah’s Redemption – Excerpt & Review........................................................................ 174
About the Author................................................................................................................. 176
The Deception
Chapter One
London 1818
‘THE ONLY WAY we can honour Helena’s debt is by giving Lord Rampton the deeds to the plantation, Charles.’ Reining in her frustration, Rose cast a withering look at the comatose young woman upon the bed before transferring her contempt to her brother. She couldn't remember when she’d last been so angry. ‘Clearly, Helena is in no state to petition his lordship for clemency.’
Charles stroked the limp, elegant hand that rested upon his wife’s chest as he knelt at her bedside, his mulish stare focused on the dome of St Paul’s through the dirty windowpane rather than at his sister’s flushed and angry face. A sheen of sweat bathed his pallid brow, hinting at the pressure he was under but still he came up with the usual excuses. ‘Helena’s been unwell but she will soon recover her strength. We can delay tonight’s dinner … play for time,’ he muttered. ‘More time will allow us to explore other options.’ Though still a young man, the lines around his mouth and the furrows across his brow were deeply etched.
He’d been handsome and carefree when he’d married Helena five years before, Rose reflected as she knelt on the threadbare rug to reach beneath the bed for the blue glass vial, now empty, which had rolled there. Sighing, she held it out as she straightened. ‘Helena promised to wean herself off this’ ⎯ she tapped the bottle with fingers noticeably more workworn than those of the West Indies beauty whose gambling and laudanum addictions threatened their futures ⎯ ‘if you promised to take her to England. You fulfilled your part of the bargain. ’ She studied the label, adding with a sigh, ‘Perhaps it’s just as well Helena can’t attend Lord Rampton’s dinner tonight. Who knows how she might conduct herself given the delicacy of the situation.’ She moved to the door, her voice mocking as she dropped the laudanum bottle into her apron pocket. ‘At least I can be relied upon to be decorous and obedient. Perhaps I should accompany you.’
Charles jerked his head up. ‘You can’t possibly go, Rose…though I appreciate your offer.’ He looked more horrified than he had when he’d set eyes on his unconscious wife minutes before, and Rose almost laughed at the black humour of their predicament. Charles had status, Helena had beauty but Rose had wit and brains. Had she been the one orchestrating their precarious lives, she had no doubt they’d be in a vastly better situation. They’d certainly not be in danger of losing their only home.
Still jesting, she tilted her head and challenged with an arch smile, ‘Surely, Charles, you don’t subscribe to the notion that marriage confers some kind of magical status which I do not have, simply as your unmarried sister?’
He did not reply as he tenderly contoured the face of the unconscious woman who’d held him in thrall since the moment she’d fluttered her eyelashes at him so many years before. Meanwhile as Rose prepared to quit the room, her suggestion, preposterous a moment ago, took root and flourished.
She paused, her hand on the door knob. Charles would allow Helena to ruin them all if Rose did not act in their defence. Watching her brother, she said carefully, ‘Lord Rampton is due to set sail for the Continent before the week is up and our visit here is for less than three months. We’ll have returned to the plantation before he’s back in England. He’ll never kno
w I’m not Helena.’ His opposition cemented her determination. Charles was weak and indecisive. Lord Rampton would almost certainly dictate terms that would be to their detriment and Charles would buckle. Suddenly her idea seemed their only salvation.
She moved back into the room and stroked her brother’s arm, her tone wheedling. ‘As you’ve said, I can perform no useful role as your unmarried sister, Charles, but why should you dine with Lord Rampton, alone, when at least I can get the measure of him? It’s what we must do if we’re to get the extension we need to repay Helena’s debt.’
Bending, she whispered in his ear. ‘Time, Charles, is what we need. I’m certain poor Mama and Papa have a few relatives mouldering in the wings who could help. But Lord Rampton is quite within his rights to demand an immediate settlement’ ⎯ she caressed his cheek ⎯ ‘and surely I’d be far more successful at playing on Lord Rampton’s heartstrings than you.’
Rose could see Charles was wavering. His stubborn streak was always the final hurdle to overcome. To give in without a fight compromised the feeling that he was in charge, the young baronet, head of his household: his wife and two sisters.
‘If I went as Helena⎯’
‘No! Good God, Rose, are you out of your mind?’
Rose drew herself up proudly, more determined than ever. Striving to remain calm, she said, ‘Lord Rampton has met none of us and Helena was in masquerade when she lost to this other man who’s transferred the debt to his lordship. How’s Lord Rampton to know the difference when it’s just for one evening? I’m sure I could persuade him to alter the terms—’
‘No, Rose.’ Shrugging off her hand, Charles shook his head emphatically. ‘As Helena’s husband I’m responsible for her debts and as your brother I’m responsible for your welfare. It would not be right to expose you to this … well, we don’t know what kind of man Lord Rampton is. Ruthless. Calculating. Those are just some of the descriptions I’ve heard bandied about my club. I admit it’s because of Helena we’re in danger of losing the plantation but you had nothing to do with’ ⎯ he looked pained ⎯ ‘the sordid business that night.’
‘With due respect, Charles,’ Rose cut in sharply, ‘I’ve had to contend with Helena’s dangerous vices for the past five years and I think I can claim some credit for the fact that we still have a plantation!’ She’d allowed her anger to get the better of her. Charles did not react well to anger. Changing tack, she added softly, ‘I shan’t disgrace you, I promise. I’ll simply be there as Lady Chesterfield instead of Miss Chesterfield. It’s not such a terribly wicked lie.’
***
‘You will not attend Lord Rampton’s dinner dressed like that!’
Edith, the loyal family retainer who had mothered the family for as long as Rose could remember, raked her charge with disapproving eyes before bundling Rose upstairs, pressing her down before her dressing-table. No further description was needed as to what she thought of Rose’s drab grey velvet gown.
‘It’s the best I have,’ argued Rose.
‘And has been since you developed a chest and were out of short clothes. Miss Arabella! There you are! Tell me, what do you think of your sister’s gown? Would you wear it in fine company?’
Arabella, combing out her long, white-gold hair as she perched on the edge of Rose’s bed, regarded her gravely. ‘Of course not, but Rose doesn’t have any fine clothes. If I knew her ankles wouldn’t show I’d lend her something of mine … which would still be preferable to that old rag she has on.’
Watching as Edith went about her task with deft fingers, smoothing her sister’s glossy chestnut hair back from her high forehead, coaxing the curls from a fashionably high top knot, she asked, ‘Does this mean you plan on going about in fine company, after all, Rose? I thought you said the season was a lot of nonsense and you wouldn’t be caught dead at anyone’s “drawing room”?’
‘Your sister only says such things because there’s no money to launch both of you, my girl. And does she look twenty-six with those fine eyes and glowing skin? Why, she’ll always be a beauty.’ Edith looked severely at her younger charge. ‘Just bear in mind, Miss Arabella, that you have your sister to thank for the fact that you’re to have a season at all.’
‘Perhaps Rose could wear something of Helena’s,’ Arabella suggested, chastened.
‘I couldn’t possibly!’
‘Well, you’re exactly the same height as Helena and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, since you’re going in her stead.’
Rose looked grim. ‘That was not what I was worried about.’ An image of Helena with her languid self-possession and love of finery flashed through her mind and for a moment the magnitude of what she was about to do threatened to engulf Rose. Could she carry it off? After all, compared with the worldly Helena she was a greenhorn, an unsophisticated Colonial. Cleverer than Helena, certainly, but by no means as self-assured in the company of men. Nor as beautiful. Without these attributes was she not as good as throwing herself to the lions and making fools of them all in the process?
She took a deep breath and cast all doubts from her mind. It was the only way. She had a role to play, and play it she would. To perfection.
‘One of Helena’s gowns,’ she murmured, thoughtfully. Then, twisting her head to look at Arabella she said, wryly, ‘You’re right, dearest. Find me something … not too revealing. But don’t tell Charles. Helena is still sleeping so I can’t ask her, but it’s for her benefit. Dear Lord,’ she muttered, putting her hand to her chest and stroking the comforting drab grey velvet. It had been so long since she’d been in sophisticated company she’d never been told whether she had a cleavage worth showing, or not.
***
Ashley Delacroix, Viscount Rampton, eyed his dinner guest appreciatively across the table. Babbage had not lied when he had called Lady Chesterfield a beauty. His use of the term ‘exotic’ was, perhaps, a little off the mark. ‘Classic English rose’ was a more apt description; although perhaps Babbage had been referring to the young lady’s unusually sun-kissed complexion and taste in attire, for the gown that barely clothed Lady Chesterfield this evening was considerably less modestly cut than the type of evening gown most English women favoured. Not that Rampton was complaining. It was always a pleasure to dine with a beautiful woman, especially one not too shy to display her ample charms to best advantage. It might explain, too, the reason for her husband not looking very happy, although that could, just as likely, be due to the nature of the business which had brought them together.
Rampton raised his glass to his guests and fixed Lady Chesterfield with an appreciative look as he proposed the toast.
‘To a pleasant evening and the satisfactory completion of our business.’
It was unlike him to mix business with pleasure. Boredom had been to blame. When his friend Babbage had sworn he would repay his loan to Rampton within the sennight, then reneged with the surprising excuse that he was reluctant to press the lady who owed him the necessary means to do so, Rampton had been unsympathetic. But when Babbage had elaborated upon the evening that he and the ‘exotic’ beauty had spent together, Rampton’s curiosity had, despite himself, been aroused. To his surprise he’d found himself absolving Babbage of his debt by taking on Lady Chesterfield’s debt in lieu. For no better reason than that he wanted to see for himself whether this apparently fascinating young woman would enthral him as much as the notoriously difficult-to-impress Babbage.
‘I hope you are enjoying your visit to London, Lady Chesterfield,’ he said, conversationally. ‘My friend, Adrian Babbage–whom you will no doubt recall,’ he added, his smile sly, ‘tells me you have spent your life in the West Indies and this is your first visit to your father’s home. You must still be adjusting to the climate.’
‘I daresay I will not be here long enough to get used to it, Lord Rampton,’ said Rose, coolly. She disliked the way her host’s eyes travelled languorously from her décolletage to her face when he spoke. Certainly they were very fine eyes: a piercing blue, but the superc
ilious arch of the eyebrows disconcerted her. And while his unconcealed admiration was certainly balm to her self-confidence, there was something in their depths that hinted at a whole world of which she knew nothing.
She forced a smile. It was important that he should not suspect any discomfiture in her. Indeed, discomfiture was rare for Rose and it was highly disconcerting to suspect she wouldn’t be feeling this uncomfortable had Lord Rampton not been such an exquisite nonpareil. Indeed, she could never remember having met a gentleman who exuded such potent magnetism—and who was aware of it, she thought grimly.
Thick dark hair swept back from high cheekbones while intense dark blue eyes glittered with unconcealed interest in her above his beautiful straight nose, a find piece of physiognomy which she found herself admiring simply so she wouldn’t be drawn by his mouth.
Yet she couldn’t help herself. That mouth of his was the only part of him that seemed not constructed from marble, for it trembled just a little—from amusement? —and though the suspicion that he found Rose or her predicament amusing should have outraged her, for a moment all Rose could think of was tracing those exquisitely shaped lips with her forefinger before touching her own experimentally against what seemed the only soft part of the man.
She jerked back. Where had such a thought come from? Blushing, she forced languor into her tone. She was, after all, playing Helena, the bored beauty.
‘Once this unsavoury business has been attended to, and my sister—’ she caught herself just in time, ‘—in-law launched, we will return home.’
Fighting the urge to slump and hide as much of herself as possible beneath the table Rose held herself proudly. Self-conscious though she felt in Helena’s outrageously daring, diaphanous silver-and-white evening gown, she knew any attempts at appearing coy or modest would only look contrived and draw further attention to what she wished, heartily, was not quite so obviously on show. She must not look down and frighten herself with the sight of how much bosom was revealed, although the faint breeze that ruffled the curtains and caressed her bare skin was a constant reminder. Edith had assured her that although she looked every inch the seductress, she was not, actually, indecent. It was small consolation.