A Little Deception

by Beverley Eikli

  Rose uttered a mirthless laugh. ‘Such loyalty, Helena,’ she said as she helped her sister-in-law on to the lowered steps. For some reason her high spirits had returned. Rampton loved her and Helena was doing the right thing by Charles.

  The door slammed and Helena leant out, reaching out her hands. ‘Bear me company, Rose,’ she pleaded. ‘I know you’re not dressed for it, but you can stay in the carriage. Please!’

  Rose began to protest. She had told no one she was leaving the house.

  ‘It’s only round the corner. We’ll be back in ten minutes and no one will be any the wiser.’

  No, thought Rose, just as she was weakening. Helena could do this on her own. She needed to. For all their sakes.

  ‘Please, Rose!’ Helena began to cry as she fumbled for the door to try and let herself out. ‘I cannot do it alone. I don’t have your courage, Rose. Come … please? You may scold me all you like during the journey.’

  ‘That’s a rare treat hard to pass up.’ Relenting at last, Rose settled herself opposite.

  ‘You’re always scolding me, anyway,’ said Helena, sourly.

  ‘Only because you’ve not shown my brother the loyalty he deserves from his wife. Anyway, what have you done this time that you must resort to all this cloak and dagger?’

  ‘I’m not telling you. But as for Charles, I have not one ounce of guilt. He promised me the moon and anything else I desired if I’d marry him.’ Helena tossed her head.

  ‘You knew Charles had been in love with you since you were in short skirts. And you knew he wasn’t in funds. It’s only because Sir Hector wouldn’t have you that you crooked your little finger at my brother. Though I can’t imagine why, since clearly a great fortune was your chief requirement.’ Rose remembered the whispers that were circulating at the time. She’d been astonished when Helena accepted Charles with such alacrity.

  ‘Well! Sir Hector made it brutally clear you were the only woman for him. And, Rose, you hardly advanced my case after you rejected him when it would have meant so little to you, and so much to me.’ Helena’s look was black. ‘You couldn’t have done better than Sir Hector. He was so rich! Richer even, than Rampton.’ She glowered out of the window.

  ‘But not nearly as charming.’ Rose smiled.

  A faint twitch of the shoulder and turn of the head indicated Helena’s scorn. ‘What does that signify? You can’t tell me you love him.’ Before Rose could open her mouth to deny this, she added, ‘Well, you can’t tell me you love him any more than you loved poor jilted Sir Hector.’

  Forcing herself to remain calm, Rose asked, levelly. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Why, you and Sir Hector seemed as thick as thieves – until he asked you to marry him. You were always together. I’ve never seen you laugh with Rampton like you used to laugh with Sir Hector.’

  Helena had obviously been too wrapped up in herself to have noticed that last night Rose and Rampton had laughed like lovers. Poor Sir Hector. She’d felt terrible when she’d realised his feelings towards her were not paternal. Nevertheless, the truth was that now she was happier than she could remember. A warm glow suffused her.

  Arabella’s future bridegroom – whoever that might be – was another hurdle to jump, but at least Rose and Rampton had apologized to one another and were of one mind in ensuring the marriage to Yarrowby would not go ahead.

  Returning to Helena’s remark she defended herself, ‘You know very well the reason was because I had known Sir Hector such a long time and had supposed him Papa’s friend – and mine.’ What a shock it had been to realize that he had misconstrued her friendliness. She thought of his unexpected kiss, and shivered.

  Not long afterwards Helena and Charles had married and everyone had said how lucky Charles was. Helena was famed for her beauty … and her numerous admirers, too many to recall.

  There had been one, though, who lodged in her mind. Rose frowned, trying to remember the man Helena had alluded to on several occasions. She had never met him but word was that he had swept Helena off her feet … before sweeping suddenly out of her life.

  She gave Helena an appraising look. ‘Had I married Sir Hector the material gains would have made me as content as you are now with Charles. You were too impatient, Helena. You should have waited for your heart to mend after you were jilted.’

  Helena’s green eyes glittered. ‘I jilted him. Granted he was dashing, but with few prospects. His pay wouldn’t have kept me in silk stockings. We quarrelled and when I realized my mistake he had gone.’ She muttered, ‘Lord knows why I imagined I could live with Charles.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to make the best of it,’ said Rose, adding, as the hackney drew up in a most insalubrious-looking neighbourhood, ‘and I’m glad to see you’ve started.’

  Helena stared, horrified, out of the window. ‘Are you sure … well, just fifty would do.’

  Rose laughed. ‘What, in my reticule at this moment?’ She shook her head. ‘You must think Rampton even more generous than he is.’

  ‘And is he?’ asked Helena, a greedy light in her eye.

  ‘Generous?’ Rose gave a soft, husky laugh. ‘Very!’ As Helena looked on the verge of tears, Rose relented. ‘Wait …’ and Helena, rising from the seat turned.

  ‘The white gown is a favourite and I know you’d planned to wear it on Friday. Don’t give that one to the pawnbroker. I’ll pay the equivalent of what he would.’

  Helena clutched the bag more tightly to her bosom and said in a strangled voice, ‘Thank you, Rose, but no! Now wait here, I won’t be but two minutes.’ She glanced with distaste at the street urchins who had gathered, shooing them away as she held her handkerchief to her nose.

  Wearing a look of utter tragedy, Helena put a dainty foot upon the step. One hand went shakily to her chest while the other gripped the door frame. She turned to Rose as she stepped down, saying proudly, ‘Charles will not be disgraced by his wife on this occasion.’

  It was a performance worthy of Shakespeare, thought Rose, before leaping forward as Helena’s speech was cut short by her strangled cry. Relieved, she saw that her sister-in-law’s fall had been arrested by the attentive jarvey.

  ‘Got any burnt fevvers?’ he asked, smirking as he cradled Helena in his arms.

  ‘Put her in the carriage!’ Rose snapped. ‘That’s right. Let her lie across the back seat.’ Tossing off her own bonnet she replaced it with Helena’s black veiled piece and seized the bag.

  ‘Stay here,’ she commanded the jarvey as she arranged the veil over her face. ‘I daresay I can trust you with the lady. Here,’ she rummaged in her reticule for her smelling salts, ‘wave this under her nose. I shan’t be long. Oh, and here’s something for your trouble.’ The man’s eyes glittered at the sight of the coin; even more as she added, ‘There’ll be another of those if you stay here … and remain discreet about this.’

  Although what was indiscreet about a lady swapping bonnets and taking a stuffed bag into a pawnshop? Many ladies of quality found themselves under the hatches and resorted to such temporary means of delivering themselves from pecuniary embarrassment.

  When Rose saw how the eyes of the wizened old man who emerged from the musty shop interior lit up she nearly turned on her heel and fled, but the thought of Helena languishing in the carriage, unable to complete the necessary errand herself, spurred her on.

  A warm current of fetid air made her nostrils quiver as the old man leaned forward to finger the items she passed across to him.

  ‘Ain’t everyday quality comes visitin’ my premises, for all the ’andsome terms I’d be prepared to offer … knowin’, naturally, ’ow as you’d be back in a twinklin’ to redeem all yer pretty things.’ He gave an insinuating chuckle. ‘I’m sure a fine lady like you’d only needs to smile nicely at her gent’mun and—’

  ‘Just tell me what sum you are prepared to advance me,’ Rose cut him off as the old man fingered the diaphanous dress lovingly.

  ‘No stains or damage. A dress of the fir
st stare, as you young ladies would say, eh?’ He gave another wheezy laugh, setting aside the dress and opening the clasp of the jewel box with shaking fingers. ‘Not much ’ere,’ he said. His tone was accusing as he held up first a pair of paste earrings, then a thin gold chain.

  Bargaining complete, Rose was relieved to be out of there. Perhaps Helena had been expecting more, but Rose had done her best.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE SATISFACTION ROSE gained from her endeavours on Helena’s behalf were short-lived. Helena had retired to bed to nurse a nervous headache and Rose was about to change when Rampton entered her dressing-room after a cursory knock. One glance at his grim countenance and Rose immediately dismissed Beth.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘As expected, Charles isn’t very happy at the new state of affairs …’ He broke off, eyeing with distaste the black bonnet she was removing. ‘Not one of your most becoming, I must say,’ he said before resuming, ‘for of course he will bear the brunt of Yarrowby’s displeasure. I told him new information had come to light which suggested the fellow might not make an ideal husband.’

  Rose sat down at her dressing-table and ran a hand across her forehead. She too now had a nervous headache. She wanted to unburden herself of the events of this morning but had promised Helena to keep the visit to the pawnbroker secret.

  ‘He’ll only judge me harshly,’ Helena had said. ‘And I intend to approach Charles first and then redeem what I can so that no one will be the wiser.’

  So Rose made no remark upon the bonnet and listened as Rampton said, ‘Arabella will probably want to retreat to the country for a little to nurse her wounded heart while this whole business blows over.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, keep your voice down,’ urged Rose. He had paused by the door which he had left half-open.

  He looked at her for a moment before shaking his head as if to clear it. ‘Sorry, my dear. Of course it would not do for the servants to hear of Arabella’s disappointment before she does.’

  ‘Rampton …’ Rose stopped him as he was about to leave. He levelled such an enquiring look at her that she almost did not have the courage to ask, ‘Is something else the matter? Apart from Arabella, I mean?’

  There was a pause before a flicker of warmth returned to his expression.

  ‘Just the pressure of business which, after all, is why I’m in town – and to facilitate the pleasure of my new wife,’ he added, with a brief caress of her cheek. But there was not sufficient humour in his tone to reassure Rose.

  Rose twined an arm behind his neck and pulled his head down. ‘If something is troubling you, my darling, you must tell me,’ she murmured against his lips. Sighing, she gave herself up to the pleasure of feeling his strong heartbeat against her straining breasts as his arms wrapped themselves around her and he pulled her against him. Taken unawares, she tightened her grip and ran the tip of her tongue across the seam of his lips, inviting entry. She’d not anticipated her answering reactions would be so strong. Or his.

  ‘Little vixen,’ he muttered against her mouth, before crushing her closer so she could feel the full force of his desire.

  ‘How so?’ she gasped, when her response had begun as mere coquetry.

  ‘You know very well.’ Busily his fingers worked at the pins in her coiffure until her hair suddenly tumbled down to her waist and he was burying his face in its rippling tresses as he scooped her up.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ she whispered as she clung to him. Her heart hammered with excitement and her limbs felt boneless with desire. He was daring the passage to secret her into his own chamber she realised.

  ‘Somewhere more comfortable and where we won’t be interrupted,’ he growled and she saw the glint of wicked suggestiveness in his eye before her next words were cut short by his mouth upon hers the moment the door closed behind them. Raw need powered through her as he tossed her onto his bed before caging her with his large, well-built body. She arched her neck for kissing, shivering at the trail he blazed along her throat while he deftly removed her shoes and stroked her the length of her highly sensitised thighs.

  She closed her eyes and gloried in the attention, bringing her mind back to conscious thought only when he asked, ‘You have no objection?’

  ‘Only to your obeying the dinner gong,’ she whispered.

  ‘And believe me, you’re going to have such an appetite by the time I’ve finished with you,’ he promised, his eyes boring briefly into hers before his mouth reclaimed hers in a fresh assault that swept away all but her deepest longings to be possessed by the only man who’d ever stirred in her such feelings.

  ***

  Lust can assuage doubts but not dismiss altogether the lingering uncertainties. Rampton acknowledged this as he gazed down at his lovely wife, her hair spread out upon the pillow, licking her lips like the cat who had swallowed the cream.

  But he resisted the impulse to quiz Rose on the matter that had cast him into such gloom before their unexpected coupling. No, her enthusiasm and now her serene gaze made him decide otherwise. How could she be guilty of the wrongdoing alluded to by his unsavoury companion this morning?

  Rampton’s own impending visit in response would prove her innocence although he’d arrived in Rose’s dressing room determined to charge her with the allegations that had been made against her.

  He’d been passing St Paul’s Cathedral, returning from his unpleasant meeting with Charles while happily dwelling on the pleasures he’d enjoyed in his wife’s arms the previous night, when he’d been hailed by the stepson of Rose’s Aunt Alice, a man Rampton knew only vaguely.

  ‘What brings you to these parts? Business, or the need to repent?’ the young blood asked, bounding down the steps, brushing his dark hair back from his high brow.

  There was something so out of place and unacceptably familiar about the question and its delivery that Rampton could not help but repulse him with a frown.

  ‘My apologies, sir, but I’m late for an appointment,’ he said, continuing to walk.

  Despite Rampton’s lack of encouragement the young man took no offence. ‘How did you enjoy last night’s squeeze? Cousin Rose had the right idea, seeking the solitude of the bottom of the garden.’ He matched his footsteps to Rampton’s.

  ‘I turn down here.’ Abruptly, Rampton changed direction while his companion, limpet-like, turned with him, saying, ‘Lady Biddle warned Rose she would take cold, for there is a pond, quite marshy, at the bottom of the garden. It is why the entertainment is held on higher ground. And of course Rose couldn’t see a thing, it was so dark. At least, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Keeping a close eye on her, were you? I had no idea you held her in such affection.’ Rampton’s tone was dry. As was his throat. He knew some slander was about to issue from this uncousinly cousin’s mouth, and he did not want to hear it.

  Whatever Rose might be guilty of, such as Catherine’s necklace, must be relegated to the past. Or dismissed altogether for it defied logic to suppose that Rose would knowingly flaunt a stolen piece merely to win some extreme response from him, as Helena had suggested.

  Oswald’s speculative glances suggested it was only a matter of time before he would come to the point. Rampton steeled himself, not realizing until now how much he wanted Rose to be above suspicion, beyond slander.

  ‘Your neighbour, Mr Albright—’ Undoubtedly Oswald’s abrupt pause was designed to centre tension on the name. ‘I believe you’ve been acquainted with Mr Albright since you were boys together, my lord?’

  Silent, Rampton continued walking. The greasy looking fellow’s manner suggested blackmail but there would be no proof. The necklace incident had taught him that. Rose had enemies. He was now very sure of it.

  Nauseated, he had to stop and support himself against the half-timbered wall of the house that abutted the narrow lane. Geoffrey Albright? Rose claimed she held him in the greatest aversion. She claimed she’d never met him before his mother’s dinner and Rampton believed her.
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  Then why was he now experiencing the most stomach-churning discomfort of his life?

  Oswald clapped a hand upon his shoulder, frowning with feigned concern before saying brightly, ‘Mr Albright, I’m pleased to report, looked after Rose’s interests when she became lost for quite some time at the bottom of the garden. Miss Arabella was distraught and you could not be found.’ He cocked his head. ‘Have no fear, my lord, for my cousin and Mr Albright knew one another in the West Indies, don’t you know? They were once quite close. Or perhaps Rose neglected to mention that.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘A touch of the ague, perhaps, my lord? You don’t look at all the thing. Perhaps we should step into this chophouse and partake of a nuncheon. It’s past the hour but I’ve not eaten and—’

  ‘I’d as leif dine with a toad as with you, sir.’

  Rather than be offended Oswald grinned. Thumbs in his gaudy waistcoat pocket he looked as if he might even crow with triumph. ‘No, well, now you mention it, I haven’t the time to be dawdling, either. Pleasant chatting to you, Rampton. Oh yes, I forgot to mention …’

  With his malicious lizard eyes flicking over Rampton Oswald had proceeded to spew forth an inventory of Rose’s recent exploits such as would see her deported to the Colonies at the very least, before finishing with a cheerful, ‘So sorry time was too pressing for you to partake of a pot of ale with me, Rampton, though if you’d care to put your head in at the Merry Mermaid about four…?’

  Now, as Rampton gazed appreciatively at his wife’s pale, slender limbs and tried to concentrate on her chatter, he weighed up whether to pass on the nature of Oswald’s insinuations before he departed to meet the villain who, her cousin maintained, was in possession of several diamond necklaces which had gone missing the previous night. Oswald’s involvement, the odious creature claimed, was in the name of protecting the family reputation – albeit with handsome recompense from Rampton.

  ‘So, Rampton, darling, I know Arabella is going to be heartbroken but if necessary…I mean, if Yarrowby doesn’t withdraw his offer…I’ll have Polly speak to her.’ Rose smiled up at him, tracing the fleur de lys design of the counterpane with her fingertips while she shifted her hips, sending another spiral of desire powering through him. ‘That way she can’t say it was merely hearsay.’