Rose sat down on the bed, the gown across her knees. ‘No.’
Helena never acted charitably without an ulterior motive. Helena hated Rose. Rose had known this deep within her since the day Helena had become Charles’s wife. She wasn’t certain why. Surely it wasn’t that she was jealous of Rose. Helena was far more beautiful than Rose and Charles doted on Helena, lavishing clothes, jewellery and attention upon his wife while barely catering to Rose and Arabella’s needs.
‘Perhaps it would appear more in character if I told you I’m enjoying being Charles’s sister far more than being his wife.’ Helena’s voice was cold. ‘As his unmarried sister I can flutter my eyelashes at every eligible gentleman who takes my fancy and know I’m driving Charles mad with jealousy.’
The syrupy sweetness of her smile stuck in Rose’s craw. Her first instinct was to leap up, grip Helena’s shoulders and shake her, demanding that she speak of Charles with respect. Taking a deep breath, she straightened. ‘Charles married you, Helena, despite the whispers that were circulating about you,’ she said in a low voice. It took all her self control to maintain her composure. ‘You owe him everything.’ With difficulty she swallowed. ‘Charles loves you more than anyone ever will.’
Helena’s eyes blazed. ‘What is that worth when everything I ever wanted has been torn from me?’ Her bosom heaved. ‘What does it feel like to love Lord Rampton? Well, I loved a man a thousand times more than that, and those whispers, as you so lightly refer to them, became the rumours that were fanned by you, Rose.’
Her words were like a slap in the face. Rose had no idea what she was talking about; only that Helena’s sense of injustice was very real. In a faint voice, she said, ‘I don’t know what you mean. I never meant to cause you any harm—’
‘It no longer matters.’ Angrily, Helena pushed the garment into Rose’s hands before marching to the door. She turned. ‘I married Charles and must make the best of things. A woman’s lot is to make the best of things, isn’t it?’ Her eyes glittered while her mouth twisted in a smile. ‘So you must wear a gown that does you justice so you can make the best of things. You need to keep our dear Lord Rampton sweet so that my little debt doesn’t ruin us all. I’m counting on you, Rose.’
Rose bit her lip, her mind churning over the identify of the gentleman to whom Helena referred. Had she really been responsible for rumours which had ruined Helena’s happiness? If so, she’d had no idea about it at the time.
‘Helena, I’m sorry if—’
Helena raised her hand for silence. ‘It’s in the past, Rose,’ she ground out. ‘But just remember this, ‘every woman must pay for her happiness. It is our punishment.’
***
With disquiet Rose donned the green silk for the ball that evening before Edith arrived to fashion Rose’s thick chestnut-coloured hair into the graceful, flattering style which had won her such approval lately. Why had she never realized the difference clothes and hair made to a woman?
But inevitably this reflection was tainted by the thought that life would soon be very different once she was back in the West Indies. And of her reflections over what Helena had said, though she tried hard to dismiss that as she did most of what Helena said in order to make everyone else feel they were responsible for the bad hand she obviously felt life had dealt her.
No, Rose knew that when they returned to the plantation hard work would take precedence over all. As her mind turned to the next few weeks, the familiar knot of worry lodged in her throat. What was to be done about the debt to Lord Rampton?
Not for one moment could she happily assume her great-aunt would leave her a groat.
Lord Rampton himself refused to discuss the matter. She had tried to broach it on the dance floor but he just laughed that deep, sardonic laugh of his and changed the subject. Then he tightened his grip on her.
It left her confused. He seemed to be reading from a subtext she couldn’t quite understand, though increasingly the thought of tomorrow’s sitting to Mr Felix terrified and excited her. The wanton longings of her body reminded her she must be careful and that she should take comfort in the knowledge that Lord Rampton’s brother and mother would be in attendance. Whatever happened, preserving her reputation and good name was just as important as repaying Helena’s debt.
Later that night, with just an hour before they were due to depart for Lady Barbery’s ball-assembly, Rose met Helena in the passage. Her exotic sister-in-law looked like an exquisite bird of paradise, dressed in celestial blue lutestring with gold trimmings and for a brief moment Rose was filled with envy. Helena never suffered pangs of guilt or momentary loss of countenance. Why, at this very moment, Rose’s insides were churning with fear and indecision as to how she would best negotiation her dealings with Lord Rampton while Helena looked as fresh as a gardenia.
‘Why aren’t you wearing the necklace Lord Rampton gave you?’ Helena’s tone was sharp as her eyes skimmed Rose from head to toe. There was no approval in her look.
‘You heard Edith. What she said was true.’
‘Do you think Edith knows more about the rules of society than you—or I?’
She touched the modest chain that hung at Rose’s throat. ‘I would never have lent you such a beautiful gown if I’d known you’d insult it with such an inferior jewel. Who gave you that?’
Before Rose could express her anger – for Helena knew perfectly well that Charles had given the gold chain to her – her sister-in-law gripped her arm.
‘Come!’ She dragged Rose up the passage to her own room and pushed her on to the bed before rummaging in the drawer of her dressing-table. Rose heard her muttering under her breath before she turned, brandishing a velvet pouch. ‘For one terrible moment I thought Charles might have found it. There!’ she said, triumphantly as out of the pouch tumbled an exquisite confection of gems linked by a gold chain.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘It was given to me.’
‘Charles…?’
‘Of course not!’ Helena’s tone was impatient. ‘You’re not the only one to have admirers.’
‘You should never have accepted it!’ Anger replaced Rose’s fear.
Helena tossed her head and began to pace the room. ‘I wish you and your loyal retainers didn’t share such outmoded scruples,’ she said, before conceding with a sigh, ‘Of course I can’t. If I could, you’d no doubt insist I sell it to repay Lord Rampton… though it wouldn’t go far. But I think you have an obligation to the rest of us to wear Lord Rampton’s diamonds.’
When she brandished the velvet-lined box that had arrived earlier in the day Rose reared back in anger. ‘You heard Edith, how can I possibly wear a gift that—?’ but Helena cut her off, her tone bitter. ‘Oh yes, you have too much honour to accept a token which is nothing to the giver but which would go a long way to ensuring we all retain a roof over our heads.’
Rose heaved in a breath. Again, this argument had its roots in past history.
‘I will not have you accuse me of ruining all our lives once more, just as I supposedly did when I refused Sir Hector’s offer all those years ago.’ Rose thrust the necklace at Helena.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Helena snapped. ‘Do you think I blame you for refusing to sacrifice the rest of your life because your brother is too pathetic to provide properly for the rest of us? This is different. It’s a piece of jewellery, a token of someone’s esteem.’
‘A married woman ought not accept gifts from admirers.’
‘The woman Lord Rampton admires is not married.’
Rose gasped and Helena laughed, saying bitterly. ‘Look at us. You’ve been given a gift that you can flaunt to the world to remind them that we Chesterfields are people of substance. If you don’t wear your diamonds, then I shall wear my gems.’
‘Of course you can’t! What would Charles say?’
‘Do you think me such a fool?’ Helena snorted. ‘Of course I can’t possibly wear the thing, and this—’ again, she touched the simple thin gol
d chain at her neck, ‘is all I have to set off my gown.’ Her bosom rose beneath her tight, lace-edged bodice. ‘All I’ll ever have,’ she said, bitterly. ‘Oh, I know you think I’m extravagant with my silks and laces, but at least I can make the most of my youth with some beautiful things, and I’m fortunate to have such a skilful seamstress … but beautiful jewels will always be beyond my reach. You, however, can wear this tonight. Put it on after Edith has finished attending to you and tell Charles you borrowed it from Aunt Alice. It will raise the tone of your ensemble and surely put our family on a better footing in the eyes of the ton.’ Her shoulders slumped as she ran the back of her hand across the tassel fringing the faded curtains. ‘While it is common knowledge that Arabella comes with little enough of a dowry we don’t want to be distinguished by our penury.’ Rallying, she draped the diamonds around Rose’s throat and fastened the clasp.
Rose turned to the cheval mirror and gasped. The glittering diamonds set off her ensemble more exquisitely than she could ever have foreseen. The string of stones nestling against the creaminess of Rose’s throat became an object of fire and brilliance and Rose felt the confidence of a queen course through her veins.
‘Show Lord Rampton what you’re made of.’ Helena’s whisper tickled her ear. ‘You are worthy of his attentions as a proud and beautiful woman … not a supplicant who depends on his benevolence.’
***
In the large marble-tiled hallway of Lord and Lady Barbery’s London residence the Chesterfields were relieved of their outer wear, before mounting the stairs to the saloon, a magnificent room of stately proportions, decorated in rose and gilt and illuminated by hundreds of wax candles.
When Rose almost immediately spied Lord Rampton beneath a candle sconce on the other side of the room deep in conversation with several soberly dressed gentlemen, her hand went unconsciously to her throat. Bolstered by the confidence of how well she looked, she was able to curtsy and smile with the regal possession of a queen when the viscount acknowledged her with a gracious half-bow.
Compliments rolled off lips while coupes of champagne were procured – and anything else, it seemed, that could be desired – as the three Chesterfield women made their progression through the room. Charles grew weary of being complimented upon his ‘wife’ and plagued by enquiries as to whether the affections of his ‘sister’ had yet been engaged. He’d told more than half a dozen interested gentlemen that she was on the verge of allying herself with a neighbouring landowner in the West Indies. In truth, he greatly feared that he might receive an offer for Helena before the season was over and heartily wished for an end to the charade, if only it could be brought about without the need for embarrassing revelations or discovery. Rose, who had never shown any desire to expand her horizons in fashionable circles, was a changed creature. He would have had to be blind not to have noticed her improvement in looks and the excitement she created wherever she went, he thought sourly, wishing she’d simply come to London to contract a decent marriage. With both his sisters off his hands he and Helena could have returned to the plantation, Helena’s taste for society would have been satisfied and she would surely have shown her gratitude by becoming, henceforth, the docile, loving and accepting wife he had always desired her to be.
Rose drifted from conversation to conversation, wending her way into the heart of the company and steadily closer to Lord Rampton. It was like a game. She knew he was acutely conscious of her. Several times she caught him watching her out of the corner of his eye. Instead of directly accosting her, however, it appeared they were destined literally to bump into one another.
But all her pleasure in the evening was about to come to an abrupt halt.
When several knots of revellers still separated them, Rose was surprised to be addressed in the familiar clipped tones of Lady Barbery, to whom she’d been introduced at the masquerade earlier in the week.
Rose turned, the icy glare directed at her as far removed as possible from the gracious charm of that lady when last they met.
And as Lady Barbery clawed at the diamonds at Rose’s throat, her shrill words sent Rose reeling into a vortex of horror.
For no one had ever called her a thief before.
Chapter Seven
MUTE WITH EMBARRASSMENT, Rose was unable to reply to Lady Barbery’s hectoring questioning as she backed into a corner, the blood pounding in her head as she clutched the diamonds at her throat. ‘It was a gift,’ she managed, glad the gentleman closest to her appeared to be deaf and was addressing his companions in stentorian tones which drowned out Lady Barbery.
Lady Barbery’s nostrils flared. ‘A thief and a liar!’
‘Dear Lady Barbery, what appears to be the trouble?’
Rose froze at his nearness. Lord Rampton’s quiet, authoritative tone was music to her ears.
‘That woman—’ Lady Barbery’s words suggested Rose was beneath contempt, ‘is wearing the diamond necklace given to me by my own husband … my diamond necklace which went missing three days ago.’
‘Perhaps it is a copy,’ murmured Lord Rampton. ‘Imitation is, as you know, the sincerest form of flattery.’
‘And, pray, tell me, my dear Rampton, where is the craftsman who can fashion my necklace down to the last diamond in less than three days? Without the original to work from!’ Lady Barbery sounded in no mood to be mollified.
The only advantage of being in this horrendous situation was that Lord Rampton was pressed tightly against Rose’s side, a barrier to those who would have shown the prurient interest that would spell death to the Chesterfield’s social aspirations.
‘It would appear someone has played a very cruel or wicked joke on Lady Chesterfield.’ Lord Rampton gave Rose’s hand a surreptitious and reassuring squeeze. ‘For I was in her drawing room when she received the gift from an unknown admirer.’
Rose and Lady Barbery gasped and the viscount went on, ‘Perhaps we’re looking for a light-fingered anonymous admirer who did not foresee the consequences of his actions and sought to impress Lady Chesterfield with his devotion. Perhaps the necklace changed hands several times before it was legitimately bought.’
‘Someone must be called to account!’
‘Someone will be.’
Rose was as conscious of the viscount’s resolute tone as his hostess appeared to be. Lady Barbery placed an elegantly gloved hand upon his forearm and purred, ‘You’ll discover the thief, Rampton, won’t you? If someone is wanting to make mischief, it is in all our interests to learn why.’
‘Of course,’ Rampton murmured. ‘Meanwhile I suggest discretion is our ally. Lady Chesterfield can return the necklace in the morning.’
Who was the victim? Rampton wondered a little while later, as he gripped the railings of the small balcony off Lady Barbery’s private rooms and gazed into the darkness. Someone wanted to make mischief but at whose expense? That of Lady Barbery or Lady Chesterfield?
‘You were most gallant this evening, Lord Rampton.’
Startled by the low, husky voice, he turned, unable to place it as that of one of his female friends, as his companion went on, ‘Lady Chesterfield is fortunate to once more find a protector who will defend her.’
Rampton summoned a quelling look to match his tone. ‘What the devil are you doing out here, Miss Chesterfield, alone with me? Go back downstairs at once!’
‘No need to act like an agitated mother hen.’ Her amusement was evident. ‘I’m not a child.’
‘You are not yet presented. You have your reputation to safeguard.’
‘Where I come from debutantes are not as protected as their sisters in England.’
‘If anyone should find us—’
‘You’d have no choice but to marry me,’ his bold companion supplied sweetly. ‘Have no fear on that score, my lord; I’ve no intention of marrying an Englishman when I am simply counting the days until I return to the West Indies.’
Rampton stopped just short of placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. If he
were caught even touching her…! ‘I’ve no desire to be accused of ruining some gently reared young debutante and being saddled with a wife as a matter of honour,’ he muttered.
Discomposed by her chuckle and proximity, he stepped back adding, ‘But what charge is this? One might almost imagine you believed your sister-in-law guilty of the theft of Lady Barbery’s necklace.’
‘Of course she didn’t steal it. Not like a cat burglar, creeping into this house in the middle of the night, or a common light-fingered thief who snatched it from Lady Barbery’s neck when she wasn’t looking?’ The girl laughed again: a deep-throated, sensuous noise which Rampton found hard to reconcile with the debutante by his side.
‘It’s one of my sister-in-law’s famous little games. Her way of relieving boredom.’ Miss Chesterfield gave an eloquent shrug. ‘She means no harm and would have returned it but my sister-in-law considers the West Indies a virtual prison. She’s too delicate for the harsh climate and she despises her husband; so she’s developed her own ways of amusing herself. Of course, poor Charles is at his wits’ end, and will be so grateful that you’ve saved her from yet another scandal.’
She dropped her eyes demurely. ‘At the masquerade the other night she was with her cousin, Oswald, a nasty piece of work, let me tell you!’ She shuddered. ‘But they are in many ways of the same mould. I heard her dare Oswald to steal Lady Barbery’s necklace—’
Rampton snorted. ‘And parade the stolen gems without discovery?’
The girl shrugged. ‘That was not the point. Lady Chesterfield’s dare that Oswald could steal it was matched by his speculation that Lady Chesterfield would wear it … and be championed.’
Rampton stared. Her claim was outrageous.
Miss Chesterfield smiled. ‘Each time my poor sister-in-law goes just that little bit further. It’s like a disease and poor Charles can do nothing about it, short of locking her up.’
A Little Deception Page 9