Not only were they not realized, they were well and truly quashed.
She had woken to find him looking down at her, admiration and desire brightening his gaze.
‘Do you know,’ he’d said, running an appreciative hand along the curves of her body as she lay on her side, ‘that you are the first woman I’ve woken up next to who has filled me with the insatiable desire to repeat in every detail the events of the past eight hours.’ Collapsing on his back and looking ruefully at the ceiling, he murmured, ‘But I must not be a brute. You’re an innocent and must be feeling very tender.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Rose, reaching across to kiss him on his beautifully shaped mouth. ‘Very tender towards you, my love.’
She squealed as he flipped her onto her back.
‘You must know the penalties for your trickery include a great deal of close contact with the man you set out to deceive,’ he chuckled, straddling her.
Rose’s face must have revealed her feelings for he stilled, his hands which had been gently massaging her breasts shimmying up and behind her neck and before she knew it he’d rolled onto his side beside and pulled her against him.
‘You’re a clever woman for knowing before I did exactly what I needed, dear heart,’ he reassured her, kissing her neck, tenderly, while his other hand strayed over her belly.
‘Surely a man who has no intention of being leg-shackled has good reasons for not wanting a wife,’ she whispered. ‘Helena tells me you tire quickly of your mistresses.’
‘A good friend, isn’t she?’ he responded drily. With he sigh, he conceded between kisses, ‘My thirst for novelty does not reflect well on me, I’ll admit.’
‘Will you take a mistress when you tire of me?’ The fear had plagued her since the moment the marriage was a fait accompli. She cupped his face. ‘After all, albeit unwittingly – or at least for noble reasons – I deceived you, Rampton. I just fear for what happens after the novelty of having a wife wears off.’
For once his laugh was not as self-confident as usual. Raising himself on one elbow he looked down at her, his expression serious and troubled. With his forefinger, he gently traced the contours of her nose and cheeks as he said in a low murmur which resonated with sincerity, ‘The reason I have not wanted a wife before now is that I truly believe that wives and mistresses are not a happy mix,’ he told her.
Rose bit her lip and felt a surge of hope at his tone. Conviction burned in the depths of his eyes and the expression he focused upon her sent tendrils of the deepest love and communion curling about her heart.
He kissed each eye in turn, almost reverently, before resuming. ‘My father found it exhausting while my mother became a bitter creature obsessed with finding endorsement of her charms as a result of the disregard she received at home.’ Smiling, he kissed her on the nose. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m delighted that I was led into a union which I heartily believe will satisfy me on all levels. Now, are you satisfied?’ With a wicked grin he seized her by the hips and raised her so that she was lying the length of him. ‘No, there’s no need to tell me in so many words; actions will do just as well.’
And as Rose was entirely satisfied with his response to her fears and the fact that she could not have desired any man more than her husband, she lowered her lips to kiss his nipples, succumbing to the languorous sensation of his hands rhythmically stroking her lower back and buttocks in the prelude to more of the delicious sensations to which she’d been initiated last night.
***
However, though Rampton showed every sign of being entirely satisfied with his new wife, Rose’s meeting with her mother-in-law in the country the following week suggested that every fear about this lady’s feelings towards her were to be realized. She was certainly glad to be bolstered by having Rampton at her side, making clear his obvious pleasure in his sudden and unexpectedly changed circumstances.
‘So glad your health has improved so rapidly, Mama,’ her husband remarked, drily, as he kissed the dowager upon her powdered cheek.
They’d travelled together by carriage, breaking their journey for the night at an inn some hours away, and arriving at Larchwood around noon the following day. The dowager viscountess received them at the top of the shallow stone steps of Rampton’s magnificent home and had, with a great show of fondness embraced Rampton, and with a great deal of reserve, stooped to plant a cool kiss upon her daughter-in-law’s brow.
‘Rampton never told me you were so small,’ she said in greeting, turning to lead them into the house.
‘I’m sure I never neglected to mention any one of her many virtues,’ said Rampton, smoothly, giving Rose’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
He reassured her again when he put his head around the door of her dressing-room where she was seated in front of her looking-glass in her own sumptuous apartments a little later.
‘Mama may appear a gorgon, and I’ll admit she’ll need time to come round. Just remember, my love, no woman would ever have been good enough for her son. Soon she won’t be able to help loving you.’
It didn’t take long for Rose to be quite certain that loving her daughter-in-law was something his mother would never do. Not only was Rose inferior in birth and address to the wife Lady Rampton had desired for her son, she was clearly a fortune hunter with a past mired in deceit and scandal. In the drawing room later that afternoon the older woman’s feelings became clear as Lady Rampton recounted her difficulty in making up a party of ten, which was to serve as Rose’s introduction into local society.
‘I had more refusals than acceptances, I wasn’t sure whether to cancel the whole thing.’ The dowager looked at her son severely, as if to suggest it were his fault for marrying a woman no one wished to be obliged to receive, much less recognize as his wife.
Rampton pretended nothing was amiss as he reached for a spiced biscuit. ‘Lord and Lady Albright?’
‘They accepted, yes.’
‘What about Geoffrey?’
‘He returned from London yesterday, so he has been included,’ his mother replied, referring to the Albrights’ son.
‘You were not obliged, Mother,’ Rampton said in clipped tones, before asking, ‘The Colonel and Mrs Carstairs?’
‘Declined, I’m afraid. As expected. The trouble is,’ his mother went on, refilling his teacup, ‘half the county have drawn their own conclusions about such a hastily conducted marriage.’ She took up her own dainty teacup and added, over its rim, ‘You must have expected this.’
There was an awkward silence. Rose, out of the corner of her eye, saw her husband tense.
‘How could there not be?’ Rose said, smiling. Rampton had been about to defend her, but she must not pit him against his mother. She had not lived five years in the same household with Helena without learning how to defuse a potentially explosive situation. ‘Our courtship was highly irregular and I’d be surprised if I were not branded a scheming fortune hunter.’
‘Who vehemently opposed the notion of marriage to me until I wore her down,’ added Rampton, with a bolstering smile at Rose.
The dowager sniffed. ‘Rampton never could resist a pretty face.’ She glanced up at the enormous portrait that hung above the fireplace. It was of the dowager, painted when she was a young girl. She had been beautiful, if the artist were to be believed, and had obviously been conscious of it, judging by the complacent little smile. She was smiling at Rose just like that now. Only youthful complacency had, with age, turned to malevolent smugness.
‘At least you don’t disgrace the family line with your appearance, though that’s hardly the first consideration.’
‘The first Lady Rampton was mistress to Charles II,’ explained Rampton. ‘Nor can it be forgotten that my own dear mama had the honour of turning down our good King George.’
‘Rampton, this is not a competition,’ said his mother with almost grotesque playfulness. But when she turned her gaze once more upon Rose her eyes were cold and her words held a warning. ‘Rose, I’ve no doubt, is well
aware of her obligations. She knows she’ll have to tread warily to avoid being branded the scheming fortune hunter she has just described herself to be.’
***
Rampton was clearly pleased by Rose’s enthusiasm for going riding that afternoon.
‘Another surprise. I did not know that you could ride,’ he said as they wandered over to the stables.
‘How do you suppose I oversee the estate back at home?’
‘Your home is here now.’ Stopping by the stables he took her wrists, bringing them up to kiss the back of her hands. ‘Everything happened so suddenly, my darling, and I freely admit I was hoist by my own petard and, for a time, felt distinctly aggrieved, but I would not have wanted it to be any different. I needed to be shown what I really wanted. You have no regrets?’
The husky tone of his voice made her insides cleave. She hesitated. Of course she had regrets. How much better if Rampton could have fallen in love with her as plain little Miss Chesterfield and there had been no subterfuge. Scandal was unpleasant and damaging. But neither of them had any choice but to wait for it to subside, as Rampton had assured her it would. He had been endlessly reassuring during the two weeks since he’d waylaid her at the docks.
‘No regrets,’ she reassured him quickly in response to his frown. Then, changing the subject she added, ‘I hope you don’t plan to mount me on some docile little mare with absolutely no spirit.’
‘That’s exactly what I plan to do. Until I’ve satisfied myself you’re not going to break your neck within a month of marriage I’ll decide what’s best for you.’
Rose dropped her voice to a murmur and said, provocatively, ‘Perhaps the neighbours would think that a little drastic in order to rid yourself of the wife you were forced to marry in haste.’
‘Madam, if we were not in public your inflammatory suggestion might be met by a sturdier response.’ Grinning, as the groom led a docile grey mare across the yard, he gave Rose’s bottom a small spank.
She was not expecting it and blushed as the groom raised his eyebrows at her squeal.
‘’Fraid she’s the littlest, most docile one we ’ave, miss. But if you’s afraid of ’orses—’ he said, misinterpreting her response.
‘No need to worry, Briggs,’ replied Rampton, leading Rose across the cobbles. ‘I believe it was you who once remarked I’d as sure a touch with the ladies as I have with the horses. Now Rose, as you can see, this is the horse. Over here is what’s called a mounting block. I shall assist you to get on to this creature’s back but you mustn’t scream. It only looks a long way down.’
Ignoring Brigg’s mumbled response and fierce reddening and his wife’s indignation, Rampton encircled her waist.
‘In answer to your previous question, my love,’ he murmured, his breath tickling her ear, ‘the neighbours will soon be in no doubt as to exactly why I was so eager to wed you, my little vixen.’ He glanced behind to make sure he was unobserved, then skimmed Rose’s shapely contours before hoisting her on to the horse. ‘Because I can’t keep my hands off you.’
She had a better seat than most, he was forced to admit. And he did not mind telling her she looked extremely fetching in her severely cut dark-blue velvet habit and her high crowned riding hat with its curling feather.
Unexpectedly he found himself hoping they would be observed by all and sundry as they traversed the country lanes and tracks. Rose would certainly be seen to advantage here and, despite his casual reassurances to his wife’s concern, he was just as anxious to dispel any speculation that this had not been a marriage of his choosing, for all that had been true at the beginning.
Good God! To think he had nearly thrown away this chance of happiness.
Away from the house and Lady Rampton’s cold disapproval, Rose’s high spirits returned. As soon as they were out of sight of the grounds, trotting sedately along a bridle path that ran through the woods, Rampton dismounted and, holding his arms up to receive her, told her there was something he must show her.
Rose glanced around as his arms tightened about her.
‘What do you wish to show me?’ she asked, for she could see nothing but lush foliage and tall trees.
‘How much I adore you,’ he replied; and for once his voice held no irony, only a deep sincerity that left her in no doubt that she must be the luckiest woman on the planet. A feeling that intensified as he brought his head down and his mouth fixed upon hers in a kiss that stoked up intense, lustful feelings that left her gasping when at last they broke apart.
Breathing heavily, Rampton traced her cheek with his fingertips. ‘Don’t allow Mama to wound you, Rose,’ he told her with an earnestness that made her heart cleave. ‘You’ll win her round though I can assure you, a duke’s daughter would have received little warmer welcome. It’s just the way she is.’
Rose appreciated his attempts to make her feel better. She squeezed his hand and allowed him to help her remount. ‘Thank you,’ she said, although she knew family relations would be a great deal easier had her past been blameless.
Once through the wood they reached open country where they gave their horses their heads and enjoyed as exhilarating a gallop as a docile grey was capable of.
By the time they headed for home Rose was feeling a great deal better; until there came an uncomfortable and somewhat perplexing encounter along the way.
‘I say, the bridegroom returns.’ From around a bend in the rutted lane appeared a tall young man on horseback. Judging by his attire and the way his hair was curled Rose could tell he was what was called a Corinthian. Attuned, to a degree, to her husband’s many moods, Rose was conscious of him stiffening in the saddle.
‘And you, Geoffrey, I hear, managed to slither free of your obligations.’
Rose hid her surprise. It was not often Rampton failed to dress up his disapproval with jest.
‘Not without honour, my dear Rampton,’ replied the young man with a graceful bow from the waist, smiling, despite his hostile reception. ‘If your own wife were not herself such a beauty you might well have benefited from my advice on such matters.’ He nodded at Rose, adding, ‘No disrespect intended, Lady Rampton. Your husband and I are old friends.’ He paused. ‘But as he appears to have forgotten his manners allow me to introduce myself. Your neighbour, Geoffrey Albright, at your service.’ He gave another half-bow in the saddle, his eyes lingering on Rose.
With a curt nod, Rampton prepared to move on. ‘Good day to you, Geoffrey. I believe we expect the pleasure of your company at dinner.’
‘You must dislike him very much,’ Rose remarked glancing back at the young man’s departing figure. ‘Your reception somewhat belied his assertion that you are old friends. How long have you known one another?’
‘All our lives.’
***
With the last-minute cancellation of Mr and Mrs Brierly the dinner party was reduced to eight. Rose learnt this by arriving at the drawing room just before the event in time to hear the dowager mutter, ‘I don’t see why you appear so surprised, let alone put out, Rampton. Frankly, I’m surprised the Brierlys aren’t the only ones to have offered their apologies at the last minute. It’s only because the rest of them thrive on salacious gossip that they can’t bear to refuse an invitation to see the woman who has— Ah, Rose, there you are,’ she broke off as she noticed Rose framed in the doorway. She did not even blush.
‘The woman who has stolen my heart,’ said Rampton, softly, warningly. Sweeping his mother with cold eyes, he moved to Rose and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Rose is the woman I love and that is the reason I married her.’ He looked as though he was making an effort to keep his anger in check and Rose was half-afraid, half-gratified by the expressions that flitted across the dowager’s face: surprise, indignation and … apprehension. No doubt she knew she had gone too far.
‘Rose, my love, shall we greet our guests?’
Despite Rampton’s earlier chilly reception of his old companion, Geoffrey, he was cordial as he greeted him now, this time
in company with the young man’s parents.
Although Geoffrey’s starched shirt points weren’t so high as entirely to obscure his cheekbones, it was apparent by his elaborately tied cravat that Mr Albright aspired to high fashion. He was handsome in an affected way, but Rose far preferred her husband’s understated elegance.
‘I hadn’t thought to see you returned so soon, Geoffrey.’ The dowager Lady Rampton greeted the young man with a certain reserve. ‘Rumour had it you’d be gone another month.’
‘That’s why it was just a rumour,’ he replied, smiling as he bent over her hand. ‘They’re simply buzzing around me at the moment.’
‘Yes, aren’t they,’ she replied drily, and again Rose wondered what was his crime, if that was what it was.
Then the dowager was smiling almost coyly as she quizzed him on his latest exploits. Obviously his crimes did not really matter, thought Rose. People would never snub him by declining his dinner invitations. He was a man.
A man who certainly knew how to charm for not a minute after his frosty reception he was enjoying a tete a tete with his hostess who seemed to be murmuring in a decidedly intimate manner and whose reference to the West Indies had Rose twisting back from her stilted conversation with Geoffrey’s unforthcoming step-father.
‘You look absolutely gorgeous, darling.’
Rampton’s murmured praise as he brushed past her enabled Rose to muster a dazzling smile. She had won over her husband against the odds. Now she must do the same with the neighbours she decided, as they all seated themselves.
Taking comfort in her appearance was a novelty. In the West Indies she had barely made the effort to dress her hair in anything but the most rudimentary twist, nor had she worried about complexion enhancers. What was the point when she owned no fine clothes? Or when there was no one who held the least interest for her?
But while it bolstered her confidence to be so openly admired by her husband and at least several of the gentlemen there, she wished she’d not been seated next to Geoffrey whose bold and piercing looks made her distinctly uncomfortable.
A Little Deception Page 14