While Adeline fell into the clutches of the dowagers and tried, in fulfilment of the promise she had made to herself, to answer their questions with submissive patience, Nell found herself face to face with Harry Caversham in the library.
‘Oh,’ she said disdainfully. ‘It’s you.’
‘Profound,’ grinned his lordship, ‘and beyond dispute. But best tell me quickly; are you merely in hiding – or have I stumbled on a tryst?’
‘Neither. I came in here to repair a torn flounce. What’s your excuse?’
‘Oh – I’m avoiding Jack,’ he replied carelessly. And then, ‘What happened, Nell? One of your admirers get carried away by your charms, did he?’
‘No! And I’ll thank you to stop making such – such vulgar insinuations,’ she snapped. ‘If you must know, I caught my heel in my petticoat – not that it’s any business of yours! And why, exactly, are you avoiding Jack?’
Harry laughed. ‘Isn’t it obvious? He knows that I know but doesn’t know what I know. And he wishes he did.’
Nell frowned. ‘I suppose that means you let something slip.’
‘Yes. Well, you would suppose that, wouldn’t you?’ he returned with unabashed good-humour. And then, ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to come and dance with me?’
‘Unfortunately,’ she mourned with relish, ‘I am fully engaged for the entire evening.’
‘Yes,’ said Harry ambiguously. ‘I thought you would be.’
And, turning on his heel, left her to grind her teeth at his retreating back.
It was the Earl of March who unwittingly released Adeline from her ordeal of interrogation by soliciting her hand for the gavotte.
‘Insipid,’ remarked Lady Fitzroy disparagingly, as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘Insipid, provincial and rather plain. One wonders what Rockliffe can have seen in her.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed her friend, Mrs Lowerby. ‘One cannot also help but wonder what dear Lucilla thinks of it all.’
Dolly Cavendish regarded them with mildly exasperated amusement.
‘Since dear Lucilla has been persistently trying to thrust Rock into the arms of Salisbury’s daughter, I imagine what she thinks is fairly obvious,’ she said dryly. ‘And don’t be too quick to dismiss our little Duchess. There is more to her, I feel sure, than meets the eye … for Rock’s taste, as we know, is never less than impeccable.’
Lord March, meanwhile, was finding his companion far from insipid and it was with open reluctance that he relinquished her at length to Mr Ingram.
‘It seems you’ve made a conquest,’ said Jack lightly. And then, with what – for him – was quite remarkable cunning, ‘Another one.’
Adeline looked at him with perfectly-concealed wariness and a good deal of enquiry.
‘I was referring to Harry Caversham,’ he explained. ‘He admires you a good deal.’
‘Does he?’ she asked blankly. ‘Good heavens!’
This was not quite what Jack had expected and neither was it a help. It was also ill-timed since at that moment they were separated by the movement of the dance and he had to wait before adding casually, ‘Of course, Harry has the advantage of knowing you better than the rest of us.’
The aquamarine eyes gathered sudden brilliance and her mouth curved into a disconcertingly splendid smile.
‘But for which – like the rest of you – he’d naturally admire me much less?’
Belatedly aware of his faux pas, Jack coloured and lost himself in a tangle of apologies.
Adeline laughed.
‘Mr Ingram – please! I know exactly what you meant and also what you hoped to achieve by it, so I’m afraid I couldn’t help teasing you a little. And if you really want to question me, you’d do much better to go about it directly, you know. It would come more naturally to you – and I’d respond better.’
Jack stared at her, temporarily bewitched by those luminous dark-fringed eyes. Then, slowly and ruefully, he smiled.
‘You’re right, of course. And I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She pivoted gracefully under his arm and sank down before him in a deep, final curtsy. Then, rising, she said bluntly, ‘The position is very simple. I’m not going to tell you exactly how my marriage came about because I don’t know you well enough. Yet. And Tracy won’t tell you because he’s having fun watching you guess.’
‘Point taken,’ said Jack, his smile broadening. And then, ‘You understand him rather well, don’t you?’
‘I’m learning,’ came the candid reply. ‘But I can always use help.’
Something in her tone touched him and she had his allegiance from that moment. In token of it, he kissed her hand and said, ‘Then – as an old family friend – do you think you might get used to calling me Jack?’
Never so far away that he could not intervene should the need arise, Rockliffe had kept a proprietorial eye on his wife all evening. He had seen her dance with Harry, Jack, Philip and countless others; he’d watched her laugh at something Charles Fox said, blush at something Lord March said and enjoy quite a long conversation with Isabel Vernon. And at around midnight, seeing her about to bestow her hand on Lord Harry for the second time, he decided that enough was enough.
Emerging beside them and looking down into Adeline’s eyes, he said, ‘My dance, I think.’
‘Your mistake, then,’ said Harry promptly. ‘Her Grace is promised to me.’
Rockliffe recognised the provocation and responded to it.
‘Perhaps. But I have a husband’s prerogative. You’ll forgive me, I’m sure.’
‘And if I won’t?’
‘In that case … I might have no choice but to call out that pretty small-sword of yours.’
Harry laughed. ‘Not a chance! If you challenge me, it’ll be pistols at dawn. Amberley says you’re a lousy shot.’
‘Dominic,’ sighed the Duke, ‘thinks virtually everyone a lousy shot.’ He paused, smiling faintly, ‘Well, Harry? The music is starting, you know.’
His lordship grinned and then made Adeline a flourishing bow, ‘He’s a pirate, of course. But my mother always told me to defer to my elders – so I concede.’ And stepped smartly away before Rockliffe could respond.
Her eyes brilliant and brimming with laughter, Adeline let his Grace take her hand and lead her into the dance. She said, ‘Your friends have all been so kind.’
‘Yes. I’ve noticed. What did March say to you?’
‘Lord March?’ she asked, surprised. ‘I’ve talked with so many people, it’s hard to recall. Why?’
‘No particular reason.’ His gaze, no longer smiling and curiously intent, travelled to her mouth and stayed there.
A wave of heat washed through her and she felt her colour rise.
‘Ah,’ said Rockliffe. And then, obscurely, ‘That’s comforting.’
Watching from the edge of the floor, Dolly Cavendish drew a long breath.
‘Well,’ she said, in satisfied tones. ‘At last.’
Gently plying his fan, Mr Fox raised languid brows. ‘What is?’
‘Nothing.’ She smiled. ‘I think I must pay the new Duchess a morning-call.’
It was not until after three in the morning that the last of the carriages rolled away and Rockliffe was left alone with his wife and sister. He looked at Nell, collapsed in a state of happy exhaustion … and smiled at Adeline, whose first instinct had been to take off her shoes. Then, pouring two glasses of wine, he handed her one of them and said, ‘A very successful evening, I think. Did you enjoy it?’
Adeline gazed speechlessly back at him. She had been put on show like a prize heifer and forced to frame tactful answers to impertinent questions. Her nerves, through much of the evening, had been stretched like violin strings and her husband – who had, from time to time, been at his most provoking – was now calmly asking if she had enjoyed it.
‘Yes,’ she heard herself say. ‘Yes. I did.’
‘Surprising, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘But no surprise at all, I hope, to learn t
hat I was extraordinarily proud of you.’
‘Were you?’ asked Adeline, flushing a little. ‘Thank you.’
Rockliffe shook his head very slightly and continued to look at her with an expression she could not interpret. Then, turning his gaze to his sister, he said, ‘If you are going to sleep, Nell, I suggest you do it in bed.’
‘Mm.’ She yawned, swung her feet to the floor and sat up. ‘I’m trying to summon up the energy to move.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Adeline. ‘You weren’t exactly lacking in partners, were you?’
‘No.’ Nell beamed. ‘And you wouldn’t believe how many gentlemen I had to refuse.’
‘Really?’ queried her brother. ‘Then it is a great pity that Jasper Brierley couldn’t have been one of them.’
‘Why?’ Nell was suddenly wide awake. ‘He’s vastly elegant and very amusing.’
‘He is also twice your age, a hardened gamester and something of a rake,’ replied Rockliffe dryly. ‘I should prefer, therefore, that you did not encourage him.’
For a moment, Nell’s expression grew mutinous. Then her face cleared again and, laughing, she rose to plant a kiss on his cheek.
‘Dear Rock. Are you worried I’ll fall victim to Sir Jasper’s fatal charm? You needn’t be, you know. Cassie Delahaye says he’s hanging out for a rich wife and I think it’s very likely true so I wouldn’t dream of taking him seriously.’
‘I rejoice to hear it.’
‘But, on the other hand, he is very distinguished and it will improve my consequence no end if he is seen to admire me. So, if you don’t mind, I shan’t discourage him just yet because I think one has to make the most of one’s opportunities.’ Nell’s smile became a yawn and she moved towards the door. ‘I’m going to bed. It was a lovely evening – and you were splendid, Adeline. Cassie says you’re the most elegant creature she’s ever seen and she wishes she were only half as graceful. Isn’t that nice? Goodnight, darlings.’ And she was gone.
‘Cassie says,’ remarked Rockliffe lazily. ‘The new leitmotif, do you think?’
‘Probably. The question is, which one was Cassie?’
‘The brown-haired child in apple-green satin. Her father is a friend of mine and her mother has both humour and a good deal of sense.’ He smiled. ‘I think we may safely approve of Cassie. Her influence should not be a problem.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Adeline obliquely, ‘what happens when my aunt brings dear Diana to town?’
His brows rose.
‘Why, nothing. Your aunt will not gossip for fear that I may retaliate in kind and thus ruin Diana. It is really very simple, you see – and need in no way concern you.’
‘That’s nice. And what about Cecily Garfield?’
‘Ah. Now she, of course, is less easy to silence. But without corroboration, who is going to believe her?’
‘I see,’ said Adeline, acidly-admiring, ‘that you’ve got it all worked out.’
‘Naturally. Confident to the last. Would you expect anything less?’
*
Later, when he could not go to sleep, he wished the words had been true. But a sense of unease nagged ominously at the back of his mind and would not be ignored.
The root of it was contained in a handful of apparently random facts. Amberley had been plagued by a feeling of having seen Adeline before; Adeline herself, amid an inexplicable wall of silence, had been told only that she was the image of her dead mother; and Charles Fox had been struck by the remarkable likeness Adeline bore to a woman he’d met years ago in Paris. If one was inclined towards a belief in coincidence, one would simply dismiss it. If not, it pointed towards a suspicion so bizarre that one would have to investigate it further.
‘And I,’ thought Rockliffe, with a sigh, ‘am of a suspicious turn of mind. Damn.’
But what if he made enquiries and found himself proved right? It might, he reflected, be better not to know; except that it was generally the things you didn’t know about that tended to drop on you from a great height. And if that happened, it was not he who would be crushed by it – but Adeline.
Adeline. He had begun their marriage simply wanting to make love to her – and that was still true. Since the day at the lake, however, he had become increasingly aware that that, in itself, was no longer enough … that what he wanted now was a good deal more complex and difficult to attain. Recalling, all too vividly, her response to his proposal of marriage, baring his soul to her wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take just yet. Consequently, it seemed that his only viable course was to set aside the fact that she was his wife and court her as he had never courted a woman in his life. Unfortunately, however, after his conversation with Charles Fox, it also appeared that his first and most important task was going to be finding out if her mother wasn’t dead after all.
‘Hell,’ he enunciated delicately, ‘and damnation. I hope … I really hope I’m wrong and the whole thing is just a coincidence. Because, if it’s not, I’m going to have to do something about it. And the obvious question is – what?’
~ * * * ~
THIRTEEN
The polite world accepted Adeline with mixed feelings whilst marvelling at Rockliffe’s sustained attentiveness. Some maintained that this was obviously due to a desire to see his bride securely established in society; others said, with amusement, that he had lost his heart at last. The gentlemen argued lightly over the precise nature of the indefinable quality so many of them found attractive in the new duchess; the ladies, by and large, voted her insipid.
Having paid her promised morning-call and found herself in the company of Mr Fox, Lord March and Serena Delahaye, Dolly Cavendish did not get a chance to speak to her Grace of Rockliffe privately until the evening of Lady Hervey’s soirée. Then, finding herself temporarily alone with Adeline, she said pleasantly, ‘Do you mind if I give you a word of advice?’
‘Not at all,’ came the equally pleasant reply. ‘As long as you won’t mind if I choose not to take it.’
‘There! That’s exactly the point I was about to make.’
‘I don’t think I follow.’
Her ladyship sighed. ‘My dear, you just answered me like the person of character I suspected you to be. I merely wanted to suggest that you do it more often.’
The aquamarine eyes remained perfectly expressionless.
‘Meaning that, at present, I’m hiding my teeth?’
‘Aren’t you? Why else – after ample provocation – haven’t you put the likes of Maria Fitzroy firmly in their places?’
‘Perhaps because I’m reluctant to sink to their level.’
‘Or perhaps because you’ve an over-developed awareness of the vulnerability of your position,’ returned Dolly calmly. ‘It’s up to you, of course. I know a soft answer is supposed to turn away wrath – but, in my experience, you can’t beat a clever one for quelling patronising impertinence. And if it’s Rock you’re worrying about rather than yourself – don’t. He’d flatten them with a look if he heard how they speak to you. Think about it.’ And she drifted away to claim the attention of Lord Carlisle.
Thoughtfully, Adeline watched her go. There was no need, with Dolly, to ponder the question of possible malice … and therefore the only thing worth considering was whether her advice was sound.
‘You look,’ said a voice beside her, ‘as though you’re addressing deeply moral questions. You must’ve been listening to Horry Walpole’s essays.’
‘And what have you been listening to?’ she retorted. ‘The tenor with a posy of violets or Mistress Lichfield’s harp?’
Harry Caversham winced, laughter crinkling his eyes.
‘Is it likely?’
‘No. So perhaps you’ve come for the poetry. Never say that you’re consumed of an ode!’
‘You’d look no-how if I said I was, wouldn’t you?’
‘Less so than you by the time you’ve been asked to read it.’
‘Fiend!’ said Harry amicably. ‘All right. I’ll admit I don’t
usually attend soirées and that I’d have given this one the go-by too, except that I – I hadn’t an invitation I liked better. And, of course, I counted on seeing you here.’
Adeline surveyed him clinically.
‘If I were the credulous type, I daresay I’d be flattered. As it is, I’ll simply tell you that Nell’s gone to the Pantheon in Lady Delahaye’s party.’
There was a short silence. Then Harry said, ‘Do you do that to everyone?’
‘No – but I think I’m about to start. And then we’ll see, won’t we, if I’m still considered insipid?’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘And you won’t be. Not before time, either. Your Uncle Richard has written announcing his imminent arrival in town – along with your aunt and cousins.’
Adeline’s mouth curled and her tone grew noticeably mellow.
‘A family reunion, in fact. How delightful. All we need is Lewis and dear Cecily and it will be just like old times.’
‘Quite. Is Rock worried?’
‘Worried? Don’t be silly. He’s looking forward to it.’
‘God,’ grinned Harry. ‘Now that really is all we need.’
‘We?’
‘Well, of course. It’s my secret too, you know.’
An acidulous glint lit Adeline’s eyes but, before she could reply, Isabel Vernon joined them looking radiant with pleasure.
‘Just the people I’ve been looking for. I have wonderful news. I am an aunt!’
‘Rosalind?’ asked Harry.
‘Yes. A little boy, born the day before yesterday – and both doing well. Isn’t that splendid?’
‘Absolutely splendid,’ he agreed. And then, diffidently, ‘And the baby is … healthy?’
‘Perfectly. Oh – you mean can he see?’ said Isabel, light dawning. ‘Well, of course it’s rather too early to tell – but there’s no reason why he should not. After all, Rosalind wasn’t born blind, was she? Ah - there’s Jack. Do excuse me.’
When she had left them, Adeline looked with careful restraint into his lordship’s blue eyes.
‘The Marchioness of Amberley is blind?’ she asked.
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