A Little Deception

by Beverley Eikli

  ‘Good Lord, Sir Hector, is it really you?’ Sir Charles asked, a smile lighting up his normally hangdog expression. ‘Why, it must be five years. Surely you’ve not been in England all this time?’

  ‘Just stepped off the boat Tuesday last, as I was telling Lord Rampton. Been adventuring since I last saw you. Spice Islands, Americas. Nothing like travel to mend a heart and fire up the constitution.’

  Rampton pressed his new acquaintance to take some brandy with him. He was disappointed when, instead, he found himself alone in the company of his brother-in-law.

  ‘Back in town already, Rampton? Then perhaps you’ve heard the news. I don’t know whether to be pleased for Rose or indignant.’

  It was clear Charles was enjoying Rampton’s suspense, however as Rampton responded with merely a slight raising of one eyebrow, Charles said, ‘She’s just been left a sizeable legacy from a great-aunt. Or half great-aunt. Fact is, I didn’t even know Aunt Gwendolyn existed until I heard that Rose had struck up an acquaintanceship with her a month or two ago.’ The smile left his face as she stared moodily into his whisky glass while Rampton congratulated him.

  ‘Oh, I won’t see a penny of it for her house and an annuity has been willed to Rose, so of course you’ll benefit, Rampton.’ He grunted, shifting uncomfortably when he seemed to become aware of the churlishness of his tone. ‘Fact is, Rose was counting on this some weeks ago, so she could repay you without obligation. Not that she didn’t want to marry you, of course,’ he added, hastily. ‘Still,’ he shrugged, ‘life works in mysterious ways and you’ve been very generous to us, don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Now all that’s needed is a marriage offer from Yarrowby to settle Arabella and then I can take Helena back to the plantation where I know she’d be so much happier.’

  Rampton raised one eyebrow. ‘Has Rose not passed on my cautions to you regarding Yarrowby?’ he asked.

  ‘Cautions?’ Charles looked blank before he went, ‘Not that it matters, I daresay, since Yarrowby who looked set to offer last week in fact has suddenly disappeared without a word. So if it’s cautions regarding the fellow’s address, I’d say he could learn some manners about what it is to let down a hopeful young maiden. I found Arabella in tears twice yesterday and I can’t tell you how wearisome it is to live in a household of discontented women.’

  Rampton stood up, bowing his intention to depart. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry Yarrowby has departed but you might like to quiz Rose on what I have to say about his suitability as a suitor. Good evening, Charles.’

  ***

  Rose had left her mother-in-law’s company to restore her spirits, so the last thing she needed as she rode out and inhaled the crisp morning air, gazing out over the beautiful hills and valleys which her husband owned, was to see Mr Albright, also on horseback, hailing her.

  ‘’Morning, Mr Albright,’ she said, with a decided lack of pleasure as he brought his mount abreast of hers.

  ‘Surveying your newly acquired estates, madam?’ he remarked in that outrageously direct way of his; so insulting.

  ‘I had no idea it was so beautiful.’

  ‘Then I hope you will remain in the country to enjoy it rather than rushing back to town at the first opportunity.’ His tone was insinuating. ‘I was looking forward to furthering our acquaintance … now that we are such close neighbours.’

  Rose tried to look as unwelcoming as she could. He was sticking by her side like a leech.

  ‘Your husband and I used to fish off that stone bridge over there whenever we could get out of our lessons early,’ Geoffrey said, pointing. ‘Not that that was often, for our tutor took fiendish delight in setting us Latin translation which took for ever to finish.’

  ‘You had lessons together?’

  ‘Evidently Lady Rampton felt her son wanted in the way of playmates. As we were both roughly the same age and had no siblings she proposed to my mother that I should take my lessons with Rampton. I daresay I can thank him for opportunities which might not otherwise have come my way.’

  ‘And what use have you made of them, Mr Albright?’

  At her arch look and tone he roared with laughter and then responded, as if he genuinely thought she’d been making a joke, ‘Absolutely right, Lady Rampton, I’ve never done a scrap of good since the day I was born. I am the despair of my poor parents. They even sent me off to the West Indies for a short time, you know. Alas, our paths did not cross, Lady Rampton. Perhaps you’d have seen that the wayward youth I once was needed the strictest of overseers, not some indulgent – and somewhat drink-sodden – brother of my mother.’ His eyes gleamed at Rose as he assessed the effect his words had on her.

  Rose frowned, recalling her father mentioning some lazy ne’er-dowell relative of some acquaintance. Perhaps it had been Geoffrey.

  When at last she was rid of him she stopped in at the kitchens to supervise dinner. Little matter that the dowager would consider it a gross violation, but Rose wanted not only to see the way things were run and, if possible, make improvements. She knew how to run an estate and, after all, she was the new Lady Rampton and her husband had given her carte blanche. Following a heated but, she hoped, profitable exchange with the cook she spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the house. She was determined to acquit herself more than creditably as his wife and hostess and was not afraid of hard work.

  If honour had, despite his efforts to prove to the contrary, forced Rampton to marry her, then she intended that respect, spiced with desire would keep him true.

  Just before retiring to her apartments to change she was handed two letters: one from her Aunt Alice and one from a man of the law of whom she’d never heard.

  ***

  Rampton had barely drawn breath, changed his coat and sponged the dust from his face before going in search of Rose. He’d behaved like an immature schoolboy, misinterpreting her strained behaviour after her first dinner party in her new home. Then he’d rushed off without a word, giving his mother more ammunition against his new wife. The last thing he wanted!

  He found her in her private sitting room, white-faced and trembling.

  ‘My great-aunt Gwendolyn has died,’ she told him.

  He looked at the cream wafer she waved distractedly before her, and then at her face. Her eyes were blank with shock.

  Having galloped as if the devil was after him he’d hoped for a warmer welcome than this. The rapid beating of his heart was not due to exertion only and he ached to enfold her as he murmured the tender rapprochements he’d been rehearsing during most of the journey home.

  But she barely acknowledged either him or his honeyed words. He was unsure whether she expected sympathy. Great-aunt Gwendolyn had been a tartar, from all reports. Charles had said that Rose had barely known her.

  ‘My commiserations,’ he said, feeling unaccountably awkward as he put a comforting arm around Rose who was standing in the centre of the room. She seemed so distant. ‘When is her funeral? I daresay you’re obliged to attend?’

  ‘It would be the least I can do, considering she has just left me a rather fine address in Mayfair, and an annuity for its upkeep.’

  It was more, much more, than he had expected. He also had expected Rose to be delighted. Carefully, he led her to the window seat and sat beside her. Clearly she was in shock. This woman must have meant a great deal to her, after all. He murmured, ‘That was magnanimous of her.’

  ‘No!’ Rose shook off his arm and buried her face in her hands. ‘Why did she choose to die now? Everyone said she was a vindictive old woman. And so she was. To die now … not three weeks ago!’ The wafer which had conveyed the news, now a crushed ball, was flung across the room. Rose stood up and began to pace, hands at her throat, her breathing laboured. ‘Don’t you see?’ she continued. ‘If she had given some indication of her intentions earlier I would never have been forced to continue my deception. I could have paid our debt to you – honourably.’

  She stopped and turned an appealing look towards Rampton and he, who�
��d returned from London in such anticipation of making good after his poor response the night before, felt only the deepest sense of disappointment. He frowned, trying to make full sense of her outburst.

  ‘And thus neither of us would have been trapped into this marriage?’ He rose and put his hands on her shoulders, bringing her face close to hers as she began to protest. Meanwhile, regardless of what his heart was telling him, the fires of lust were as ever being stoked by her mere proximity.

  ‘Prove what you say is true,’ he growled, crushing her against him, groaning as his hands contoured the sway of her back and the pert buttocks and thighs beneath the informal morning dress she was wearing. With a quick glance to reassure him they were alone, Rampton whisked her into his arms and bore her up the stairs and along the corridor to his bedchamber.

  She clung to him. He didn’t look down to see if she were cowed or otherwise. All he wanted was to feel her naked beneath him, to stoke her passions into feelings that echoed his and thus reassure him that her desires for him were mutual.

  She had married London’s prize catch of the season. How dare she not show him the appreciation or give him the reassurance he needed?

  Dumping her on the bed, he kept his eyes on her as she tore off his coat and hessians, then, looming over her before climbing onto the bed he asked, ‘Do you want me?’

  Wordlessly, she nodded, rolling onto her stomach so he could undo the buttons of her gown. Her trembles of sensation as he slid his hands across her satiny skin added to his need for her, but he wanted the reassurances of her words, too.

  He felt her swallow convulsively as he kissed her throat, his hand reaching for the hem of her chemise, raising it, slowly, as he trailed his fingertips the length of her limb, across her heated thigh.

  Still she said nothing, just mutely allowed him the liberty of his exploration. The moistness between her legs should have delighted him, as testimony that she desired this as much as he but there was something hollow in the act.

  With a sigh she received him, moving with him, slowly at first, matching his pace, and all the while he stared into her face, waiting for a sign that he was the only man who could satisfy him until his thoughts became mindlessly concentrated on his own pleasure.

  His climax coincided with the dinner gong. He had no idea if he’d satisfied his young wife for she immediately slid to the floor, her eyes filled with fear as she reached for her gown, pulling it over her head and turning so he could do up the buttons. ‘Beth will be looking for me.’ Her breathing was fast and shallow and he wondered if it was from their exertions or her fear of possible consequences when she added, ‘and we can’t have your mother waiting.’

  He looked over his shoulder as he put on his hessians. ‘Pleasing my mother is more important than pleasing me?’ He’d said it half in jest but she bit her lip as she hesitated, half way to the door. ‘You know I’d do anything to please you, Rampton darling, but your mother has the potential to make my life very … uncomfortable.’

  Her hand lingered on the door knob and she was clearly waiting for some rejoinder. She looked ill at ease and Rampton, who’d thought taking her to bed would be the answer to all his troubled feelings, could only sigh and shake his head.

  ‘Only if you let her, my dear,’ he said, not bothering to hide his exasperation. ‘Now run along or you’ll keep Beth waiting, too, and we can’t have that, can we?’

  As she turned, he called her back. ‘I expect you’ll wish to make arrangements for your earliest possible departure. Tomorrow morning? That should see you there in good time.’

  She looked confused. And hurt. Though why that should be Rampton had no idea.

  ‘I’ll sell it, Rampton. The property might be willed to me, but the proceeds are yours, by rights. The debt—’

  He waved a hand dismissively through the air. ‘Does everything hark back to that goddamned debt? Do what you wish with your new address, my dear. Give it to the orphans’ asylum for all I care. The house and whatever proceeds it may reap you are yours and of no interest to me.’

  Of course, his mother had a different view. Looking mildly less opprobrious at her daughter-in-law, she said, ‘This will go down well with those neighbours who might have attributed baser motives to the way in which you went about persuading Rampton into marriage.’

  ‘Mother!’ Rampton rose to his feet, fiercely protective of Rose who extended her arm towards him saying in mollifying terms, ‘If it’s the truth, as I’m sure it is, you must not blame your mother for saying what I need to guard myself again. Yes,” she smiled at the dowager, ‘my inheritance will help to redress many of the wrongs for which I must take responsibility.’

  ‘It seems you have a more sensible head on your shoulders than I’d thought,’ said the other woman. But now, tell me, I’m curious as to why you said nothing about knowing Mr Albright in the West Indies all those years ago.’

  Rampton, surprised, jerked his head around at Rose who was looking blank. Then she shook her head. ‘I’ve never met him before, though he seemed to think he knew me,’ she said, slowly.

  The dowager frowned. ‘You say you don’t know Geoffrey?’

  ‘She certainly has no reason to like him,’ Rampton muttered.

  ***

  An uncharacteristic confusion of spirits made Rampton restless as Fanshawe, his valet, brushed his russet superfine coat in preparation for dinner.

  Was it true that if Rose had received her bequest from her late Great-Aunt Gwendolyn she’d have continued to resist Rampton? The question chased itself round his brain.

  Had the old woman died a few weeks earlier, as Rose had stated so plainly, she’d have had financial independence.

  Freedom to choose her husband?

  ‘Are you satisfied with the construction of your cravat, sir?’

  Rampton studied his reflection and then the anxious expression of his valet. ‘Perfectly satisfied.’

  He drew himself up. Whisking Rose off to bed before they’d properly discussed matters had been a mistake, though surely he could not have mistaken the signs of her desire. There was no way she could pretend that.

  No, he acknowledged guiltily, the fault lay with him. He was utterly mad with lust for his new wife and too quick to attribute ridiculous explanations as to why she might not appear as eager for his attentions. His poor darling was facing so much that was new and unknown. Of course she wanted to be his wife. It was hardly as if she had some lover in the wings with whom she’d been about to run off the moment her Great-Aunt Gwendolyn’s bequest had come through.

  Fanshawe stood back to admire his handiwork while Rampton focused on dismissing the notion she’d developed a tendre for another gentleman in the short time she had been in England. A tendre which had been denied expression purely on account of her need to insinuate her way into Rampton’s affections. Ridiculous! Catherine had smoothly planted the kernel of doubt in his mind after he’d proudly told her to what lengths Rose had gone in order not to tie him to what he believed were now his matrimonial obligations. It merely demonstrated what a fool Rampton was to believe something for which he had no direct evidence.

  He went down to find Rose so he could speak plainly to her, but found only his mother in the darkened drawing room. The light gave her a headache, she said. He could not remember a time she she’d embraced the sunlight and the outdoors. Or when she’d truly smiled.

  ‘Your new wife has taken herself off for a walk,’ she greeted him as he walked in, detaining him when he would have gone after her, with, ‘Sit, Rampton, we need to talk.’

  Stifling a groan, Rampton lowered himself onto a leather armchair far from the fire and looked enquiringly at her. ‘I trust you have not inveigled me into conversation merely to bring to light some other defect of my new wife,’ he muttered.

  His mother shook her head. ‘To be truthful, she is not the woman I’d have chosen for you but she is agreeable enough. I find I’m not so disposed to dislike her as I’d supposed.’

  Ram
pton chuckled, despite himself. ‘You are so lavish with your praise, mother. Small wonder I’ve grown up so accepting and forgiving of the foibles of those around me.’

  She ignored his irony. ‘I took tea with Mrs Albright this morning and she told me something quite extraordinary.’

  Rampton cocked an eyebrow, ready to pounce in defence of Rose, if necessary. Mrs Albright was a gossip. Still, he was glad his mother chose to share the rumours that might be circulating about his wife if only to be in a better position to quash them.

  ‘Rampton, you remember five years ago when Geoffrey returned home after a year in the West Indies helping his uncle – Mrs Albright’s brother – manage the sugar plantation?’

  Rampton nodded.

  ‘Do you recall that his mother was at her wits’ end because he was so changed? So wild?’

  ‘That’s right. I believe I suggested he might be a poppy-eater. And barely had he been here a month than he got that poor simpleton into trouble and was forced to do the honourable thing. He’s been nursing a grudge ever since.’ He wondered what relevance any of this had to Rose. Perhaps it didn’t.

  His mother clicked her tongue. ‘It turns out that Mrs Albright believes Geoffrey’s anguish was on account of a young woman in the West Indies. A very beautiful young woman who captured Geoffrey’s heart. He was very bitter over the affair. Of course, Geoffrey won’t talk about it other than to say that this young woman returned his love but refused his marriage offer because he hadn’t sufficient funds to keep her in the style to which she intended to become accustomed.’

  Rampton had an inkling as to where this was going. ‘You’re suggesting it might be Rose?’ He shook his head, groaning inwardly. More false rumours to have to counter. ‘Nonsense, it could have been anyone. And Rose denied ever meeting him.’

  His mother picked up her tatting with a sigh. ‘Yes, she did deny it. Yet Mrs Albright says Geoffrey described Sir Charles and Arabella to her when he returned. And’ – she levelled an incisive look upon her son – ‘Rose did seem very uncomfortable about being in his company.’