by Anne Herries
She frowned as the landlord’s wife came to greet her, curtsying respectfully. ‘Come this way, miss. We are always glad to have his lordship come to stay—’ She clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘There, if Sid didn’t tell me I was to call Lord Clarendon his honour. My tongue runs away with me, so it does—but everyone knows who he is so why not say it openly?’
‘Why not indeed?’
Roxanne felt her cheeks getting warmer. What a fool she was not to have made sure of her facts for a start. He had told her his name was Luke Clarendon and she had assumed his title was plain Mister. He must have been laughing at her behind his hand.
Luke Clarendon was an aristocrat and therefore not to be trusted. Sofia had told her that they were the worst of all and warned her never to lose her heart to a member of the upper classes. ‘If you do, he will use you and then abandon you. Take notice, child, for I know of what I speak.’
Roxanne felt her stomach knot with a mixture of anger and disappointment. For a short time she had begun to think that perhaps Luke really liked her—so why had he not told her he had a title from the start?
He had pretended to trust her, but he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her who he really was. She felt the sting of tears, but blocked them out. There was no sense in crying. She didn’t know Lord Clarendon at all and, after listening to Sofia’s opinion of the aristocracy for years, she was sure she did not wish to. Her friend had warned her that they were all the same: proud, arrogant and ruthless.
‘They know how to be charming and they will smile and tell you they adore you, but underneath they are cold and heartless. They will not marry out of their class—and they toss you to one side when they are finished with you. The English aristocracy are the worst. Some foreign royalty are kinder and more generous. Never trust an English gentleman, Roxanne—particularly if he tells you he will always love you. Just take what you can from him and move on before he does.’
Roxanne kept her anger in check as she followed the innkeeper’s wife along a hall and into a room. It was large and comfortable, well furnished and, with a fire burning in the grate, warm.
‘This is next to his lordship’s chamber,’ she said. ‘He always has the same one when he visits on his way to stay with the earl.’
‘Who is the earl?’
‘Why, his grandfather, of course.’ The woman gave her an odd look. ‘I thought you would know that, miss, being a cousin of his lordship.’
‘Yes, of course. There is more than one earl in the family.’
Her quick answer banished the other woman’s frown. ‘So there will be,’ she replied and laughed, her large bosom shaking. ‘Silly me. Now, is there anything more you need, miss?’
‘May I have my supper here, please? Just something light—and I would love a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, of course you would. You ladies love your pot of tea and bread and butter—but I’ve a nice pie cooking and some chops for his lordship. His lordship is partial to a nice chop or two.’
Roxanne inclined her head. She was so angry that she barely knew how to answer. One part of her mind was telling her to walk out now and make her own way to London. If Harold had not left, he might have taken her a bit further before returning the rig to its owner. Yet if she did that she would not have the chance to tell Lord Clarendon exactly what she thought of him and his lies.
The warmth of the fire was enticing and Roxanne’s feeling of annoyance faded as she moved closer, holding her hands to the flames. There was nothing to stop her moving on alone, because Lord Clarendon was amongst friends and would be properly cared for. Her instincts told her that she might be laying up trouble for herself if she stayed here and yet she was seduced by the thought of a warm bed, the fire and some hot food.
What harm could it do to travel on with him, even if he had not been entirely honest with her?
It was good to be in a house again instead of the cramped conditions in the caravan… Now where had that thought come from?
Try as she might, Roxanne had never been able to remember anything about her previous life. Sofia was convinced she had run away from her home, that she was the child of gentry, but had been in some terrible danger.
‘Something happened to you, my love,’ Sofia had told her. ‘You were frightened and ill. In your fever you spoke of many things, of places you’d seen and people you knew. For weeks you woke crying and screaming, frightened of a dream, but you could never recall it. It is the reason I did not try hard to find your family. If you ran away in such distress there must have been a reason—and I would not give you back to people who might ill treat you.’
Had Roxanne’s family mistreated her? Sofia had burned her clothes, because she said they were not fit for use and could tell them nothing about her past, except that they were of good cloth.
Roxanne shook her head. If her family had wanted her, she would not have been wandering the roads alone and in such a state. It hardly mattered where she had come from. Sofia had been like a mother to her, giving her all the love she instinctively knew had been missing from her previous life. A wave of grief swept over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She dashed them away with her hand, determined not to give into foolishness. Sofia was gone and she must manage alone.
Faced with walking the rest of the way to London alone or travelling in a chaise with a gentleman, who was truly in no condition to ravage her, she thought she must be sensible and choose the latter. If Lord Clarendon tried to seduce her as he recovered his strength, she could leave him and go on alone.
Removing the black-velvet cloak that had been Sofia’s, a relic of the days when she had moved amongst gentlemen of fortune and their mistresses, Roxanne sat on the edge of the bed. Her dress had also belonged to Sofia when she was a young woman; though old-fashioned, it was of good cloth with a low, dipped neckline, in which Roxanne had sewn a frill of soft cream lace for modesty’s sake. Amongst her things was a silver hand mirror that she had inherited from her friend, an ivory comb and a bristle brush. She took them out and then tidied her dark red curls, glancing at herself once before replacing them securely in her bundle.
When she heard the knock at the door, she gave permission to enter, but was surprised when Lord Clarendon walked in.
‘I thought it was the innkeeper’s wife, my lord,’ she said and raised her head defiantly. ‘Why did you not tell me you were the grandson of an earl? I should not have called you Mr Clarendon had I known your title, sir.’
‘It hardly matters. Hartingdon is about to disown me anyway.’
‘Why?’ Roxanne asked. ‘Is he not your grandfather?’
‘He brought me up after my parents died, but I was a nuisance. He did not truly wish for the trouble of a young boy and I was left to the care of servants. When he was forced to discipline me, he was harsh. As soon as I inherited my father’s estate I left Hartingdon and have visited very seldom since—and yet…’
Roxanne sensed his hesitation. ‘You are troubled over something?’
‘Hartingdon is an old man. He fell down in some kind of faint while I was visiting there recently and—to be honest, it distressed me. Had you asked me a week ago if I cared a damn what happened to him, I should have said no but now…’ Luke shook his head and laughed ruefully. ‘I am a fool. His health changes nothing. And if he makes that popinjay Harte his heir…it is not my affair.’
‘Why would he disown you?’ Her clear eyes disconcerted him and he dropped his gaze.
‘He wishes me to marry a suitable young lady, someone with good manners who will not disgrace the family.’
‘Why should he imagine you would marry anyone other than a respectable girl?’
‘Because he has been told that I have a string of mistresses and it is true that I have found pleasure in the arms of whores. I have found them kinder and more generous than young ladies of my acquaintance.’ He frowned. ‘I dare say it was my fault that he was ill.’
‘You are blaming yourself, are you not?’
‘Yes
. I thought he was going to die. It shocked me and I realised I did not wish for it.’
‘You care for him,’ Roxanne said and nodded, looking at him curiously. ‘Why do you not do as he asks and marry a suitable girl?’
‘Because the only ones I know bore me to tears. I would make him happy if I could, for I believe he may not have long to live—but to marry a woman I could not love is a life sentence. Even for his sake I could not do such a thing.’
‘No? I thought men of your class often married for land or money?’
‘If one is in difficulty…’ Luke glared at her. ‘My father was forever having affairs. He broke my mother’s heart. As a consequence they quarrelled and…the chaise he was driving went off the road into a ditch filled with water and they were both killed. I was thrown clear and survived. The last thing I remember of that day was my mother screaming at him, crying because he had broken yet another promise. I would not wish to make any woman that miserable.’
‘How terrible for you. I think I understand why you feel as you do.’ Roxanne frowned. ‘If the earl does not have long, could you not let him believe you mean to marry and then…?’
‘Break it off?’ Luke raised his brows. ‘I should be a fine rogue to dash a young lady’s hopes, should I not? Society would throw me out and I should deserve it.’
‘Yes, it was a foolish idea, though if she knew and it was a business arrangement it might be possible,’ Roxanne said and then changed the subject hurriedly because she had been outspoken. ‘I have asked for my supper to be brought here. Did you want something, sir?’
Luke was staring at her. He looked as if he had been struck by lightning. ‘What did you say—a business arrangement? What exactly did you mean?’
‘It was mere foolishness.’ Roxanne’s cheeks burned. ‘I meant nothing—did you want something of me, sir?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said and looked thoughtful. ‘I came to ask if you would dine with me down in the parlour, but perhaps I shall have my meal brought up to my room, too. You have given me food of another kind, Miss Roxanne—something to chew on for a day or two until I am certain of my own mind.’
Now what did he mean by that? Roxanne would have asked, but her supper arrived and Luke walked away with a nod of the head.
Chapter Three
The sun shone through the small leaded window the next morning, bringing Roxanne from her bed with new energy. She had been up for some minutes when the innkeeper’s wife entered bearing a can of hot water and was grateful for her thoughtfulness.
‘Thank you. I was about to use the water left from last night and this is a kind thought.’
‘His lordship would expect it, miss. Would you like to eat your breakfast here? His lordship is having his in the private parlour. You could join him, if you wish? He has bacon, devilled eggs, kedgeree and also cold roast ham, besides the toast, of course. You could have the same unless there is something else you would like?’
‘If I could have some bread or rolls with honey, that would do very well. I shall come down as soon as I have washed and tidied myself.’
‘Of course, miss. Whatever suits you.’
Roxanne thanked her and she went away. Despite some fears about the future and her present situation, Roxanne had slept well and was feeling refreshed. She was ready and downstairs in a very short time. In the private parlour, Lord Clarendon, as she was trying to think of him, was drinking coffee and reading a newssheet. He looked up as she entered and smiled. She realised not for the first time that he was very attractive and her heart did a funny little skip.
‘Ah, Roxanne, did you sleep well? I trust there were no untoward incidents to disturb you last night?’
‘None at all, sir. I slept perfectly and feel much refreshed this morning.’
‘That is excellent news. I, too, am feeling less strained. I have been thinking about our situation and would like you to consider a suggestion that I believe might suit us both. Am I right in believing that you need to find work almost immediately?’
‘Yes, that is so,’ Roxanne replied and sat down just as the innkeeper brought in some warm soft rolls in a covered dish, also butter and a pot of dark honey. ‘Thank you so much.’
She took a fresh baked roll and spread it with honey. Their host poured her a bowl of fragrant coffee, adding a drop of cream, and then left them alone together. Raising her clear eyes to Luke’s, Roxanne questioned, ‘I am not certain of your meaning?’
‘It is a little difficult to explain. Have you been honest with me, Roxanne? From your story I think you honest and of good character—is there something I should know that you have not told me?’
‘I do not see why you should need to know anything about me, sir.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I will tell you that I have no memory of my life before Sofia found me more than five summers ago. I was in great distress, near to starving and out of my mind with a fever. I had a kerchief with the initials R. P.—and that is why Sofia called me Roxanne—and Peters was the name of a lady I once did some sewing for. It fits and might be my name, but I do not know the truth.’
‘Good grief! So you have no idea who you are?’ He frowned. ‘That could complicate things…’
‘What do you mean? What can my past life mean to you?
‘Perhaps nothing, perhaps much.’ He glared at her. ‘What else have you kept from me?’
Roxanne thought of the ruby but decided she would not tell him everything just yet. ‘I do not see what difference it can make to you.’
‘It is in my mind to do as you suggested last night—but I should not wish for an unpleasant surprise. I do not want an irate brother or employer turning up on my doorstep causing trouble.’
‘I fear you have lost me.’ But she was beginning to feel an odd churning in her stomach and her suspicions were aroused. He could not be suggesting what she thought?
‘You want work as an actress and you assured me that you can play royalty or the aristocracy to perfection. What I need is a make-believe wife, Roxanne, a woman who can play the part of my fiancée, and, if necessary, marry me. The marriage would be annulled later—and you would receive a generous settlement. You could then live your own life, abroad should you wish it—or perhaps a nice house in the country, where you could entertain your friends.’
Roxanne was stunned, speechless at first, and then firm in denial. ‘That is ridiculous, sir. I do not know how you could suggest such a thing. You do not know me—and I do not know you. Even if I agreed, it would be wrong to deceive your grandfather so cruelly.’
Luke frowned. ‘Last night you said it could be a business arrangement. What is different about my proposal?’
‘I meant a young woman of good family who would marry without love for the sake of a home and children—a lady who would be content to remain at home in the country while you lived as you pleased in town. Is that not the way many marriages are arranged?’
‘Yes, of course, but I explained how I felt about that, the distress and misery it can cause. A proper business arrangement, where the lady in question is paid a sum of money and understands her position from the start—that should not cause unhappiness at all, should it?’
‘No, not if the lady was content with the arrangement.’ Roxanne saw the slightly excited, expectant look on his face. ‘I am not a lady, sir. I told you, I do not know who I am—and I have lived with travelling players for some years. I have appeared on various stages about the country and might be recognised.’
‘That might be a drawback, if you had played in London—but I think you have not?’
‘No, I have never played at a large theatre. Sometimes we were employed by a provincial theatre, but often we set up on village greens or in the yard of an inn, as travelling players have for centuries.’
‘Black Bob is not your relation—or your lover?’
‘Certainly not!’ she cried indignantly.
‘Then I see no reason why you should not oblige me.’
‘Do you not?’ Roxanne pr
essed a spotless white napkin to her mouth, then laid it by her plate. ‘I am grateful for the bed and my food, but I think we should part company now. I will find some way of reaching London alone.’
‘You promised you would not abandon me. We still have one more day on the road.’
‘You are perfectly safe now. These people are honest and they know you. Besides, I do not think you are in pain now.’
‘I am not in as much pain as I was, but if I wanted to get down from the chaise on the road I could not do so without assistance. If my idea upsets you, I withdraw it. Last night I thought you willing. I misjudged the matter. Forgive me, but allow me to take you on to London and find you a place to stay and at least an interview with the manager of a theatre.’
‘I see no reason why you should do anything for me. I have done very little to deserve it, sir.’
‘Apart from saving my life twice?’ Luke grinned at her. ‘Say you are not offended, Roxanne. I assure you that my motives are not those of greed or wishing to deceive—except in a kind way.’
‘A kind way?’
‘I should like my grandfather to die with an easy mind. Is that so very terrible?’
‘No, and if the young lady were willing I should not entirely condemn the idea—but I am not a lady. You would be lying to him if you presented me as a lady of good birth.’
‘Supposing I merely said you were a young lady of good character—would that be a lie?’
‘No.’ Roxanne met his searching gaze. ‘I am untouched—if that is what you mean. Sofia kept me safe. She believed I was of a good family and she wanted me to become a lady. She did not wish me to follow in her footsteps—but a lady is born, not made. I could live quietly, perhaps in Bath, as you suggested, but without patronage I should not be accepted.’
‘Supposing I could find a lady who would sponsor you? Supposing you found yourself able to mix in company—would you then consider becoming my fiancée or, if necessary, wife for a short time?’