The ugly fears which had swamped Rampton earlier returned with a vengeance. He clenched his hands so tightly that his glass was in danger of splintering. Breathing heavily, he said, ‘I don’t wish to discuss it!’
Felix blinked. Rampton appeared surprisingly agitated. Could it possibly be true that his brother had decreed Rose’s removal to the country to give him free rein in London with Helena - only to have Geoffrey Albright throw a spanner in the works, as suggested by Arabella who was highly suspicious of Helena’s involvement with their neighbour. Who’d have believed that Rampton’s old friend had played fast and loose with Rampton’s own scheming sister-in-law all those years before in the West Indies?
Disappointed, Felix returned to the safe contemplation of his boots and the merry fire beyond. He was sure Rose was innocent of any wrongdoing despite everything Lady Barbery and the gossips were saying, though what the devil Rampton was about in sending her away, he had no idea. Rampton should be championing Rose. Rampton’s next remark, however, went some way towards restoring his faith. ‘As you can imagine, I’ve been worried about Rose—’
‘Can’t imagine why,’ said Felix. ‘She’s as hale and hearty as I’ve ever seen her.’ Her presence at Larchfield had made his visit home much pleasanter than usual.’ Well, perhaps Arabella’s company was largely responsible for that … and the fact that he couldn’t wait to return.
‘What did the doctor say?’ Rampton shot him a piercing look. How much did Felix know? he wondered. The gossips were apparently having a field day with Rose’s propensity for bold risk-taking – if Catherine were to be believed. His five minutes in her company the previous evening had decided him they must never be alone again. He’d nearly throttled the woman with her inane prattle about the deep water he’d got himself into with this hasty marriage against which she’d so strenuously warned him.
‘He was very encouraging about his patient’s general good health.’ Felix felt it necessary to sound heartening; Rampton was looking very long-mouthed about all this. ‘I’m sure you’ll find her blooming, and quite anxious to see you again.’
‘You think so!’ Rampton was embarrassed to hear the echo of his own hopefulness. He chewed his lip contemplatively. It was difficult to know what to feel at this. Rose had behaved so reprehensively and refused to take responsibility for her actions while she blithely deceived him on so many counts. Could she be suffering some disorder of the brain? Did he want this to be the case so he’d not have to suffer the pangs of wondering what deficiency there was in him that she’d resort to thievery and, God forbid, adultery. Adultery! He could forgive her anything but that.
Felix leant forwards. ‘I say, you wouldn’t have a spot of Spanish bran, would you?’
With a grunt, Rampton shifted in his seat. He was never comfortable these days; he ached to hold Rose again. Life had never felt so complete as it had in the glorious honeymoon period that had followed their marriage.
He rose abruptly. ‘I’m going to Larchfield,’ he said in answer to Felix’s look of surprise. If Rose wouldn’t volunteer her role in Lady Chawdrey’s stolen necklace he’d shame her into it.
After that…?
He disliked the unfamiliar churning in his breast; the accompanying churnings somewhat lower were far more familiar.
Shrugging into his greatcoat after ordering his carriage, he considered how great must be her crimes before he could no longer forgive his wife.
Chapter Eighteen
‘YOU HAVE THE money?’ Helena’s breath felt like the caress of a feather against Oswald’s cheek as she leaned into him. A waltz was playing and couples milled nearby but Helena and Oswald were hidden from view in a small curtained alcove with a large, obtrusive pot plant placed near its entrance.
In the dim light, the blush of her anticipation descended to her décolletage, swallowed up by a froth of lace. He’d once been fool enough to mistake the signs for sexual desire.
Just as he had thought to do her bidding only once.
But Helena was only interested in the fruit of his labour – not the desire of his loins.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, taking advantage of their seclusion to caress her breast. Let her think he wasn’t on to her game, he thought, and take his rewards while he could.
‘Where is it?
Did she not have the finesse to at least pretend? Or was he that repulsive to her?
‘I have it,’ he murmured reassuringly, dropping a line of kisses down her neck.
She pushed him away, irritated. ‘You can’t imagine I’d reward you before you prove you’ve discharged my request?’
The flint he recognized in her eye sent his senses into complete revolt. What was he? An errand boy? One so beneath contempt that she couldn’t bear that he should even touch her? When the terms of their bargain went so far beyond that?
With an effort he reined in his uncertain temper. It would serve no purpose to draw attention to themselves. But as he faced her down he realized that Helena had as much intention of honouring their agreement as she did of returning to the West Indies with her husband.
He caught her to him, roughly covering her mouth with his.
‘You’re hurting me!’
He enjoyed the way she wriggled against him, furious yet afraid to scream. Her outrage as he ran his hands all over her, then pushed against her, making her all too aware of his arousal, was almost worth it.
‘Enjoying yourself, Helena?’ he panted. ‘You like it rough? You certainly aren’t afraid to dish it out, are you?’ His hands, filled with bank notes, thrust into her bodice.
‘There’s your money,’ he grunted.
‘Get away from me!’ she hissed, finally freeing herself. Swinging back after she’d feverishly counted the bills, she burst out, ‘That’s not nearly the agreed sum.’
‘And this is the closest I’ve got to being rewarded.’ His eyes blazed. ‘Do you take me for a fool, Helena?’
‘You’ll be rewarded when you’ve fulfilled the terms of our agreement—’
‘Three times I have thieved for you. Granted, it was a lark the first time and the thought of my just reward creamed the deal. But,’ he gripped her shoulder and shook her, ‘do you really imagine I’ll be satisfied with smouldering looks and empty promises?’
‘You’ll get your rewards when—’
‘When what? I’ve set you up like the bloody Queen of Sheba … only then you’ll be far too good for me!’
‘I just need—’
She was too stupid to see the signs. All she cared about was the money.
***
Helena’s second intimate encounter was far more pleasing to her although her reaction was just as fiery.
‘How dare you act so indiscreetly!’ she demanded after being whisked from the saloon on to a balcony and into a passionate embrace.
‘Because you’re irresistible,’ came the smooth rejoinder. ‘Virgin or virago, you’re equally irresistible … says the only one who’s in a position to judge.’
Helena snorted. ‘Don’t sound so smug. If you hadn’t cast me a lure I couldn’t resist I’d not be married to Charles. Do you know how many times I’ve damned you to hell?’
‘As many times as I have you?’
Leaning with her back against the railing for support she covered her eyes with her hands.
‘This is madness, Geoffrey,’ she whispered. ‘I should hate you for what you’ve done to me. Instead …’ She left the sentence hanging.
Geoffrey’s low, mocking laughter came in place of the comfort for which she’d hoped. ‘You’re making the most of your revenge, Helena. After that – imagine it – domestic bliss!’ He paused. ‘Though I doubt domesticity will suit you.’
Helena shrugged. ‘You and I are destined to be together.’
‘Rather rich, coming from the woman who refused to run away with me?’
‘I was seventeen and you were penniless!’
‘I was a man on the make. You had no faith.’
‘My
father was pushing me to marry.’ Helena’s defence was spirited. ‘I had not the luxury of refusing all offers while you got your life in order, but how long did you wait after we quarrelled? Why, the very next night I packed a bag and went to find you, only you had gone. Anyway, you quickly saddled yourself with a replacement.’
‘Through threats and coercion after that simpleton threw herself at me! Not even the son that was supposed to be the sweetener. Stillborn!’ He swung round adding bitterly, ‘Three stillborn sons! Can you imagine what that does to a man?’ Geoffrey’s thin lip curled. Discontented, he didn’t look nearly as desirable, Helena thought.
She sniffed. ‘Well, my life hardly went to plan either.’
‘No! You just set your cap at Sir Hector, probably the one man in the world who didn’t find you as irresistible as I—’
He stopped abruptly as the door was pushed open several inches. There was loud chattering, then the conversation was broken by the intruder’s abrupt suggestion of ‘punch first’. The door closed.
‘Enough of trysting! Champagne punch, my lovely?’ Geoffrey proffered his arm and with a demure nod of acquiescence Helena placed her gloved hand upon it.
‘Champagne punch to celebrate. Oswald was difficult. However, we will have enough … when the final cache of jewels is delivered to us,’ she sniggered, ‘by the ever-obliging Rose, thanks to her loyal little maid.’
‘You’re sure you trust the girl?’
‘She’s as avaricious a dollard as is required. Besides, Beth cannot read.’ After outlining the plan that promised her freedom, Helena added, ‘Beth is motivated by the sizeable bounty I’ve already advanced for merely delivering the missive. With the doubling of the amount upon completion, I doubt she’ll disappoint. She’s a greedy simpleton.’
Geoffrey laughed. ‘Pity the woman who tries to thwart you, dearest,’ he said. ‘I’ll warrant the wench is motivated much more by fear of you than by material gain.’
***
Dressing had not been such a time of tension for a long while. First Rose discarded the coquelicot that Beth had laid out for her. No, white was much more in keeping with the image she wished to present. Then the expectation that had sustained her drained away and she sagged over her dressing-table. What was the point?
One glance at Rampton’s cold look when he’d materialized so unexpectedly in the Larchfield drawing room told her she had no hope of rekindling the passion they’d once shared. Perhaps the purpose of his visit was to inform her of his liaison with Helena.
‘Are you all right, my lady? Would you like a vinaigrette?’ Beth was unusually solicitous but Rose waved her away saying, ‘Just help me dress. I’ll wear the primrose silk.’
Rampton was waiting to escort her in to dinner. Assiduous in his duties as husband, there was more concern than warmth in his smile. Nor was there opportunity for frank speech with his mother in attendance.
‘Rampton, your wife has been busy,’ the dowager told him tightly, as the first course was cleared away, ‘showing us up. She’s met all the tenants, inspected their living conditions, and plans to start a school so the girls can learn their letters and a little sewing.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Giving them ideas above their station and setting them up for disappointment.’
‘It’s only one morning a week,’ protested Rose. ‘Obviously the girls have to work, too. But for those who can set aside the time, and see value in it, well,’ she blushed and looked defensive, ‘I think it’s helpful.’
‘It would perhaps be more helpful if you kept your husband close.’
The clatter of a knife shifting position as it was carried away sounded in the tense silence. Rose stood abruptly. ‘I have a headache,’ she whispered.
Instantly Rampton was at her side. She felt his hand clasp her elbow, the touch sending a sharp pain of longing to her heart.
‘Mama’s words were unpardonable,’ he muttered as he thrust open the door to her dressing-room, closing it behind them once Beth had scuttled through.
Her legs felt boneless as she sank on to the divan. Watching him carefully she could see the struggle it took him to face her, calmly.
‘Why did you deceive me?’
His words lanced her. She swallowed, turning her head away as the old accusation returned to haunt her as she’d always known it would. She had trapped him into marriage.
‘I never intended matters to get out of hand as they did.’ The words rasped painfully through dry lips.
His expression seemed to contort with pain. Closing the distance between them he gripped her shoulders, bringing his face close to hers.
‘Did you not trust me enough to tell me the truth? You pawned a valuable necklace, Rose. I have the evidence.’
She gasped, rearing up, angrily. ‘I might have trapped you into marriage, Rampton, but I swear I’m telling the truth when I assure you that is the extent of my crimes.’ Foul play was afoot. Her name had been blackened by enemies, she saw exactly how it was. Rampton had been deceived – but this not time, not by her.
‘Helena-’
‘Enough!’ His lip curled as he put her away from him and made for the door.
Rose could not believe it. He was ready to believe Helena above herself? Why, because she’d trapped him? Lured him with that extraordinarily potent allure of hers so that Rampton’s enslavement made him insensible to what he surely must know in his heart of hearts: that Rose was innocent.
Already his hand was on the doorknob when Rose asked, her words sounding amazingly bold to her own ears, ‘Rampton, why did you send me away to the country … without a word of explanation?’
There, let him crush her with an avowal of his passion for Helena. At least it would clear the air.
For a moment he said nothing. Rooted to the spot with his eyes fixed on a painting on the wall, it was a moment before he met her look.
She had expected contrition, sympathy and relief at this opportunity to unburden himself.
Instead his eyes smouldered; but not in the manner she wanted. She trembled. How frighteningly devoid of warmth they were. She was unaware she was holding her breath. Unaware of all but the slow, deliberate approach of her husband.
What would he do to her? What did he want to do to her? Certainly passion kindled in the depths of his eyes – but not passion of a loving nature. She held her ground, refusing to move as her fear grew. She would not put her arms out to ward him off. Or to hold him, which was her first instinct.
His eyes bored into hers. Lightly, he traced a line from her shoulder, down over her right breast. She caught her breath, desire making her light-headed. She dared not speak, much less breathe, lest she spoil it. He did desire her! She felt the joy physically expand her lungs.
And then disappointment sucked the air from them at his next words.
‘Confess, Rose,’ he whispered, his tone ominous as he gripped her wrists. ‘Confess so that I might forgive you.’
She shook off his hand while her thoughts roiled angrily round her head. Confess so you can be with Helena, conscience-free? So this is what it had come to. She swallowed painfully. ‘You will never make me,’ she muttered.
Chapter Nineteen
IN THE MORNING the letter was waiting for her. He must have entered her bedroom while she was sleeping for there it was, propped up on her dressing-table, the beautiful, formal script a chilling foretaste, she knew, of its contents.
‘Later, Beth.’ Rose waved the maid out of the room. She had seen the letter the moment her maid woke her with a copper jug of warm water.
Hastily wrapping a Pomona green silk shawl about her shoulders, Rose sat down at her dressing-table and, with trembling hands, tore open the wafer.
Dear Madam…
She needed to read no further to understand that this was not a love letter.
In just a few sentences Rampton set out the proposed course of both their futures. Futures which held no place for them as a couple. Lust, he wrote, had obviously set the tone for their relationship
which, following their marriage, had become poisoned by its descent into greater deception and disillusionment. The prevailing situation, characterized by lack of love and mutual respect now made their union intolerable to him and so he was offering her an option that, he felt, promised greater future happiness to both. With the money contained in the wooden box beneath the letter, Rose could resume her life in the West Indies. Rampton would be free to spend his time unencumbered in England for the next few months or until such time as he could stomach the idea of joining her in order that she might produce the required heir.
If she left with Beth this morning there was just time for her to reach Southampton where her ship was to draw anchor. He’d procured her a passage and he would appreciate it if she were discreet about her departure.
‘M’lady?’
When Rose did not respond, Beth obviously felt no compunction in imposing her presence upon her mistress, tidying the bottles on her dressing-table, collecting the pins from the floor.
Rose continued to stare unseeing over the top of the looking-glass and through the window. Only when Beth began laying out her primrose twilled silk morning gown was she galvanized into action.
‘My blue travelling dress, if you please.’
‘Are we going somewhere, my lady?’
Rose might have expected more concern in her tone, knowing how much her maid hated travelling, but her future yawned bleak and empty before her.
Once she was dressed she dragged herself to the door, fearful of coming across a member of the household, as if the shame of her eviction was written upon her face.
‘Rose, you missed breakfast and Rampton left early this morning.’ Arabella smiled her greeting from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Urgent business. He said he didn’t want to disturb you. What’s happened?’ She frowned as she took in Rose’s travelling attire.
‘I’m leaving,’ Rose announced, brandishing Rampton’s letter as Arabella followed her into her room. ‘Rampton has decreed it.’
‘You’re over-reacting.’ Arabella looked perplexed. ‘You can’t just go … without confronting Rampton.’
A Little Deception Page 25