A Little Deception (19 page)

‘An apt choice,’ she remarked, with more than a hint of
irony when she saw that Beth had laid out the most daring and revealing of all
the gowns she’d had made in such haste during the three days available: a
low-cut confection of deep-red silk.

Although these were not the words he used, Rampton’s
greeting as he stood awaiting her in the dining room went something along the
same lines. But there was a sly gleam in his eye which banished any suggestion
of disapproval.

‘You’re quite at liberty to tell me to change my dress,’
Rose responded as she slid into her seat at the opposite end of the table, ‘if
you think it sends the wrong message to the servants.’

‘I was thinking what a fine choice it was.’ Tension crackled
between them. He felt it as much as she, she could tell, as they locked
glances.

When the wine was poured and the footman had retreated to
his silent post by the sideboard, Rampton raised his glass. As he was about to
make his toast, a light breeze stirred the curtains and caressed the flesh
exposed by Rose’s evening gown. She shivered.

‘My dear, you’re cold,’ said Rampton, beckoning to the
footman to close the window.

‘No, please. Keep it open,’ said Rose. Her reaction had been
prompted by memories of that first fateful dinner with Lord Rampton when she
had deceived him into thinking she was Helena. What a novel experience it had
been pretending to be a married woman.

And now she was married.

‘What is it?’ Rampton was looking at her anxiously.

Realizing that she was frowning, Rose forced a smile. ‘I was
remembering how I sat here only a couple of months ago …’ She nibbled the
inside of her lip. ‘And how much I enjoyed deceiving you.’ Despite her sly
smile, doubt still gnawed at her. ‘I never expected to marry you.’ She glanced
across at him, wanting his reassurance.

‘Just as long as you enjoy the marriage part as much as you
enjoyed the deception.’ To Rose’s surprise Rampton was on his feet, advancing
upon her while the first course was being cleared. ‘You really are not quite
the thing, are you, my dear?’ he said, his voice solicitous for the benefit of
the servants. His eyes, however, danced wickedly as they travelled from Rose’s
surprised face to her décolletage. ‘That nervous headache has laid you low once
more, hasn’t it, dearest?’

The temerity! Rose thought with delicious wickedness as he
concocted the lie for the benefit of the servants, struggling to hide her delight
as he murmured, ‘Allow me to escort you to your bedchamber.’

Not risking an objection he caged her hand upon his arm
before she had answered, and led her from the table. ‘That will be all,’ he
dismissed the servants, turning as they reached the doorway.

At the foot of the staircase he lowered his face and with
complete disregard for whoever might be watching, kissed her thoroughly upon
the lips. ‘I’ve had enough of charades,’ he declared, as he swept her into his
arms and mounted the stairs, ‘including pretending to enjoy dinner when I’ve
only one thing on my mind.’

ROSE
WASN’T SURE whether she was sorry or otherwise that the Dowager Lady Rampton
was not present to observe her son’s obvious self-satisfaction – and
satisfaction with his new wife – at breakfast the following morning.

Any qualms she’d had regarding her ability to please her
husband in the bedroom as his legal wife, as opposed to the woman he had
obviously intended to take for his mistress, had not been realized.

Not only were they not realized, they were well and truly
quashed.

She had woken to find him looking down at her, admiration
and desire brightening his gaze.

‘Do you know,’ he’d said, running an appreciative hand along
the curves of her body as she lay on her side, ‘that you are the first woman
I’ve woken up next to who has filled me with the insatiable desire to repeat in
every detail the events of the past eight hours.’ Collapsing on his back and
looking ruefully at the ceiling, he murmured, ‘But I must not be a brute.
You’re an innocent and must be feeling very tender.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Rose, reaching across to kiss him on his
beautifully shaped mouth. ‘Very tender towards you, my love.’

She squealed as he flipped her onto her back.

‘You must know the penalties for your trickery include a
great deal of close contact with the man you set out to deceive,’ he chuckled,
straddling her.

Rose’s face must have revealed her feelings for he stilled,
his hands which had been gently massaging her breasts shimmying up and behind
her neck and before she knew it he’d rolled onto his side beside and pulled her
against him.

 
‘You’re a clever
woman for knowing before I did exactly what I needed, dear heart,’ he reassured
her, kissing her neck, tenderly, while his other hand strayed over her belly.

‘Surely a man who has no intention of being leg-shackled has
good reasons for not wanting a wife,’ she whispered. ‘Helena tells me you tire
quickly of your mistresses.’

‘A good friend, isn’t she?’ he responded drily. With he sigh,
he conceded between kisses, ‘My thirst for novelty does not reflect well on me,
I’ll admit.’

‘Will you take a mistress when you tire of me?’ The fear had
plagued her since the moment the marriage was a fait accompli. She cupped his
face. ‘After all, albeit unwittingly – or at least for noble reasons
– I deceived you, Rampton. I just fear for what happens after the novelty
of having a wife wears off.’

For once his laugh was not as self-confident as usual.
Raising himself on one elbow he looked down at her, his expression serious and
troubled. With his forefinger, he gently traced the contours of her nose and
cheeks as he said in a low murmur which resonated with sincerity, ‘The reason I
have not wanted a wife before now is that I truly believe that wives and
mistresses are not a happy mix,’ he told her.

Rose bit her lip and felt a surge of hope at his tone.
Conviction burned in the depths of his eyes and the expression he focused upon
her sent tendrils of the deepest love and communion curling about her heart.

He kissed each eye in turn, almost reverently, before
resuming. ‘My father found it exhausting while my mother became a bitter creature
obsessed with finding endorsement of her charms as a result of the disregard
she received at home.’ Smiling, he kissed her on the nose. ‘To tell you the
truth, I’m delighted that I was led into a union which I heartily believe will
satisfy me on all levels. Now, are
you
satisfied?’ With a wicked grin he seized her by the hips and raised her so that
she was lying the length of him. ‘No, there’s no need to tell me in so many
words; actions will do just as well.’

And as Rose was entirely satisfied with his response to her
fears and the fact that she could not have desired any man more than her
husband, she lowered her lips to kiss his nipples, succumbing to the languorous
sensation of his hands rhythmically stroking her lower back and buttocks in the
prelude to more of the delicious sensations to which she’d been initiated last
night.

***

However, though Rampton showed every sign of being entirely
satisfied with his new wife, Rose’s meeting with her mother-in-law in the
country the following week suggested that every fear about this lady’s feelings
towards her were to be realized. She was certainly glad to be bolstered by
having Rampton at her side, making clear his obvious pleasure in his sudden and
unexpectedly changed circumstances.

‘So glad your health has improved so rapidly, Mama,’ her
husband remarked, drily, as he kissed the dowager upon her powdered cheek.

They’d travelled together by carriage, breaking their
journey for the night at an inn some hours away, and arriving at Larchwood
around noon the following day. The dowager viscountess received them at the top
of the shallow stone steps of Rampton’s magnificent home and had, with a great
show of fondness embraced Rampton, and with a great deal of reserve, stooped to
plant a cool kiss upon her daughter-in-law’s brow.

‘Rampton never told me you were so small,’ she said in
greeting, turning to lead them into the house.

‘I’m sure I never neglected to mention any one of her many
virtues,’ said Rampton, smoothly, giving Rose’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

He reassured her again when he put his head around the door
of her dressing-room where she was seated in front of her looking-glass in her
own sumptuous apartments a little later.

‘Mama may appear a gorgon, and I’ll admit she’ll need time
to come round. Just remember, my love, no woman would ever have been good
enough for her son. Soon she won’t be able to help loving you.’

It didn’t take long for Rose to be quite certain that loving
her daughter-in-law was something his mother would never do. Not only was Rose
inferior in birth and address to the wife Lady Rampton had desired for her son,
she was clearly a fortune hunter with a past mired in deceit and scandal. In
the drawing room later that afternoon the older woman’s feelings became clear
as Lady Rampton recounted her difficulty in making up a party of ten, which was
to serve as Rose’s introduction into local society.

‘I had more refusals than acceptances, I wasn’t sure whether
to cancel the whole thing.’ The dowager looked at her son severely, as if to
suggest it were his fault for marrying a woman no one wished to be obliged to
receive, much less recognize as his wife.

Rampton pretended nothing was amiss as he reached for a
spiced biscuit. ‘Lord and Lady Albright?’

‘They accepted, yes.’

‘What about Geoffrey?’

‘He returned from London yesterday, so he has been
included,’ his mother replied, referring to the Albrights’ son.

‘You were not obliged, Mother,’ Rampton said in clipped
tones, before asking, ‘The Colonel and Mrs Carstairs?’

‘Declined, I’m afraid. As expected. The trouble is,’ his
mother went on, refilling his teacup, ‘half the county have drawn their own
conclusions about such a hastily conducted marriage.’ She took up her own
dainty teacup and added, over its rim, ‘You must have expected this.’

There was an awkward silence. Rose, out of the corner of her
eye, saw her husband tense.

‘How could there not be?’ Rose said, smiling. Rampton had
been about to defend her, but she must not pit him against his mother. She had
not lived five years in the same household with Helena without learning how to
defuse a potentially explosive situation. ‘Our courtship was highly irregular
and I’d be surprised if I were not branded a scheming fortune hunter.’

‘Who vehemently opposed the notion of marriage to me until I
wore her down,’ added Rampton, with a bolstering smile at Rose.

The dowager sniffed. ‘Rampton never could resist a pretty
face.’ She glanced up at the enormous portrait that hung above the fireplace.
It was of the dowager, painted when she was a young girl. She had been
beautiful, if the artist were to be believed, and had obviously been conscious
of it, judging by the complacent little smile. She was smiling at Rose just
like that now. Only youthful complacency had, with age, turned to malevolent
smugness.

‘At least you don’t disgrace the family line with your
appearance, though that’s hardly the first consideration.’

‘The first Lady Rampton was mistress to Charles II,’
explained Rampton. ‘Nor can it be forgotten that my own dear mama had the
honour of turning down our good King George.’

‘Rampton, this is not a competition,’ said his mother with
almost grotesque playfulness. But when she turned her gaze once more upon Rose
her eyes were cold and her words held a warning. ‘Rose, I’ve no doubt, is well
aware of her obligations. She knows she’ll have to tread warily to avoid being
branded the scheming fortune hunter she has just described herself to be.’

***

Rampton was clearly pleased by Rose’s enthusiasm for going
riding that afternoon.

‘Another surprise. I did not know that you could ride,’ he
said as they wandered over to the stables.

‘How do you suppose I oversee the estate back at home?’

‘Your home is here now.’ Stopping by the stables he took her
wrists, bringing them up to kiss the back of her hands. ‘Everything happened so
suddenly, my darling, and I freely admit I was hoist by my own petard and, for
a time, felt distinctly aggrieved, but I would not have wanted it to be any
different. I needed to be shown what I really wanted. You have no regrets?’

The husky tone of his voice made her insides cleave. She
hesitated. Of course she had regrets. How much better if Rampton could have
fallen in love with her as plain little Miss Chesterfield and there had been no
subterfuge. Scandal was unpleasant and damaging. But neither of them had any
choice but to wait for it to subside, as Rampton had assured her it would. He
had been endlessly reassuring during the two weeks since he’d waylaid her at
the docks.

‘No regrets,’ she reassured him quickly in response to his
frown. Then, changing the subject she added, ‘I hope you don’t plan to mount me
on some docile little mare with absolutely no spirit.’