A Little Deception (29 page)

***

Following the scandal caused by their hasty nuptials and the
revelations of Rose’s deception, it had been Rampton’s great wish to show that he’d
not only made a love match but that he was not a man who made hasty decisions
he soon regretted. And nor was he.

He’d married Rose because he loved her with all the love of
which he’d been capable. He still loved her. More than he believed possible.

Nevertheless, as he gazed at the moon and heard the babble
of chatter all around him at Lady Gunther’s alfresco the following evening, he
felt deeply concerned by the mire in which he and Rose seemed currently to be
flailing.

He had married in haste but only as he was so certain he’d
not repent at leisure. Now, while he admitted he’d been wrong in waiting so
long to unmask Yarrowby, he was also disappointed that Rose had not accepted
his strictures to warn off Arabella.

As he bowed in acknowledgement of Lady Barbery’s greeting -
a suggestive
moué
as she slid her
eyes over him - he was once again visited by questions regarding Rose’s
innocence regarding the mystery of his former mistress’s diamond necklace which
she was now fingering ostentatiously.

Who was the mischief maker? He could imagine Helena
concocting a story to make Rose appear the villain. A story he’d discounted
because Rose, through her innocence and desirability had on more than one
occasion made him act like an impulsive schoolboy.

As he watched Rose make her way through the crowd towards
him, a guileless smile upon her lovely face, his jaded reflections fell away.

Male pride must answer for much of his current turmoil, he
decided. Rose had been speaking from the heart when she said she wished she’d
been a financially desirable marriage proposition. The scandal surrounding her
deception would have been mitigated had she been an heiress. No one could have
branded her the scheming fortune hunter his mother, among others, did.

And he should have told her the truth about Yarrowby much
earlier.

As for the necklace…? No, he did not believe Rose guilty of
anything … other than trying to do her best for her family.

As she reached his side a great weight seemed to fall from
his shoulders.

From the moment he had laid eyes upon Rose she had
intoxicated him. As ever, when she was near, he was overwhelmed by the desire
to whisk her away from those with whom he must share her and revel in the
sensual delights he had only truly enjoyed with her.

When Rose complained that he was crushing her as he led her
through the crowds he realized that it was his excuse to get close to her.

But Rose had no objection to being crushed against her
husband’s side. The physical proximity overpowered her with a desire to block
out all the world but themselves. She was furious with him but after much
soul-searching she acknowledged the guilt she bore in the whole, ghastly Yarrowby
affair.

As Rampton would not want gossip that suggested disharmony
between them, Rose decided that this evening was a wonderful opportunity to
flirt with her handsome husband. They had both acknowledged their culpability,
though not in so many words. She should have trusted Rampton and he should not
have allowed the situation to get out of hand, as it assuredly had.

But it was not too late. With the situation regarding
Arabella clarified, if not resolved, Rose was desperate to rekindle the happiness
she’d briefly shared with Rampton.

It started as a game; and she was surprised at the alacrity
with which he joined in.

Soon she was dimpling when he made a remark, laughing at his
witticisms, and on one occasion pretending to brush a crumb from the corner of
his mouth.

The more she threw herself into her role the easier she
found it to be in charity with him, her heart soaring at his unreserved
responses.

It was wonderful to engage in light-hearted banter, to press
against this man who still thrilled her with such clear signs that he desired
her. For tonight she could see, clearly, that he did. And she felt the
answering call like an ache at the very core of her.

They were a popular couple that evening, always part of a
group. Even the most jaded observer must have seen that Lord and Lady Rampton
were mad for each other.

The moment they found themselves alone, however, Rose’s
laughter faded to concern as Rampton gripped her arm and hustled her down an ill-lit
path.

‘What—’ she began to ask as he pushed her against the
sturdy trunk of an elm tree; but her question was cut short as his mouth
covered hers, and his strong arms caught her to him.

She returned his kiss with relief and enthusiasm, revelling in
the feel of him pressed against her. He smelled good: of snuff and
sandalwood and brandy. Twining her fingers through the short dark hair at
the nape of his neck as she sagged into him she felt her troubles drain away.

‘I thought you were doing such a good job play-acting in
front of the guests here tonight that I’d set you a more difficult task,’ he
said, smiling through narrowed eyes as he set her away from him after their
passionate trysting.

‘Did I pass?’

He chuckled. ‘I’m not registering any complaints.’

‘That was not the whole-hearted endorsement I was hoping
for.’ Rose insinuated herself into his arms once more and tilted her face up to
his. ‘Am I allowed to try again?’ She raised her face to his and closed her
eyes in anticipation of more kisses.

‘Rose!’

Rose stiffened in his arms as she heard her brother’s voice.

‘Ignore it,’ whispered Rampton, his arms tightening.

‘I think he’s seen us. Perhaps Arabella is in trouble.’

With a grunt of irritation Rampton released her and within a
moment Charles was beside them.

‘Have you seen Helena?’

Sounding distinctly acidic, Rampton replied, ‘Being fêted by
her admirers. She’s certainly not here.’

Helena gave the lie to his statement by appearing at that
moment, effervescent with excitement and too much champagne punch.

‘What a dreadful squeeze!’ She hiccuped, then laughed
unashamedly. ‘My husband doesn’t know how to keep me in good order, does he?’
she asked, looking directly at Rampton. ‘Not the way you manage to keep Rose in
good order.’

Rose was about to retort when she was addressed by Yarrowby
bringing up the rear, a radiant Arabella clinging to his arm.

‘Where’s Oswald?’ Helena asked abruptly. ‘He assured me he
was going to be here.’

She pouted when Rose said she had no idea, then immediately
berated her husband. ‘It’s a poor escort who can’t even see that his wife’s
glass is empty?’

‘Do you really think—’ Charles began, before her
answering look obviously decided him against arguing. The moment he’d gone,
Helena made her excuses – something about a torn dress – and dashed
off in the opposite direction.

‘The picture of marital harmony,’ remarked Rampton, drily.

Arabella blushed and Yarrowby, bending over her hand
murmured, ‘Your connection is by marriage only, my dear. Your virtue shines
like a halo.’

Rose, nauseated by this remark, murmured to Rampton,‘I’m
going to find Helena. It’s unwise to leave her like this in such a mood.’

He nodded and Rose left the group, sick at the thought of
what she was going to have to eventually tell Arabella.

Beneath a weeping willow Rose was startled when a hand was
laid on her arm and a familiar – but unwelcome – voice, said
softly, ‘’All alone? Why is your errant husband not at your side?’

Rose wished Geoffrey Albright hadn’t discovered her in such
a remote part of the garden. There was no one within sight. Or, fortunately,
hearing.

‘‘I fear Lady Chesterfield may have lost her way,’ she said
curtly as she pulled away and scanned the gloom, which was lit by only a couple
of lanterns.

‘Then let us hope she does not take fright easily. I was
accosted by bats during my lonely perambulation to the bottom of the garden.’

‘Bats? Surely you have friends—’

‘Many,’ he assured her. ‘But one does not always choose to
remain with one’s friends … or one’s husband,’ he added, pointedly.

Somehow Geoffrey did not seem the kind of gentleman to
choose the solitude of the country – much less the bottom of the garden
– over more ostentatious pleasures.

‘Then I’d hate to intrude. If you will excuse me—’

‘Of course,’ said Geoffrey with a smile, taking her hand and
pressing a kiss to her reluctant flesh. ‘I trust I will see you soon at
Larchwood. Now, I suggest you try down that path for your lovely sister-in-law.
I see a lantern twinkling through the trees and I believe I heard voices
carried on the breeze just a few minutes ago.’

But Rose was unsuccessful since Helena had no intention of
being found.

‘Not the prettiest,’ Oswald told her, relaxing against the
back of a wooden bench in a secluded rose arbour. ‘It’s not as if you’re
choosing it to keep … It’ll be keeping you.’ He laughed at his own poor joke.

‘Surely I could wear it just once.’ Wistfully, Helena
fingered the simple chain around her neck.

‘Good God, no!’ Oswald exclaimed. ‘It’ll be out of your
hands by mid morning or else I’m for Newgate. And I don’t intend going alone.’
He watched as Helena unconsciously caressed her own neck, her eyes glittering
in the darkness.

‘What do you intend doing with your newfound fortune?’ He
smiled slyly. ‘Improving the slaves’ quarters?’

‘You don’t suppose I’ll be going home with Charles, do you?’
she asked scornfully, not realizing he was teasing her.

‘The proceeds from just one, or rather, two, diamond
necklaces won’t keep you in style for long, you know,’ he reminded her.
‘Certainly not in the style to which you’ll quickly become accustomed.’

After a split second’s hesitation Helena turned her feline
gaze upon him and said, without any attempt at cajolement, ‘Why, then you’ll get
me another.’

Oswald laughed. ‘No, I won’t. You don’t suppose I’m prepared
to risk my neck out of habit, just to please you.’

‘I’m paying you handsomely for it,’ she reminded him,
sharply.

‘Ah, yes, I was just meditating as to whether your barely
controlled anticipation was for owning the necklace, or the reward you were
contemplating for my benefit.’ Slyly he extended his arm around her neck and
dipped his hand into her bodice. ‘Perhaps I should ask for a down payment
immediately. I’m about to take a great risk for you, after all.’

She swatted him away. ‘Next time I’ll slap your face,’ she
retorted.

‘No, Helena …’ Oswald nuzzled her ear lobe and his fingers
caressed her creamy neck, ‘next time you’ll be writhing beneath me, begging for
more.’

She struggled free, glaring. ‘The bargain is definitely
weighted in your favour.’ She shuddered. ‘Procure me three necklaces. I need
five thousand pounds’ worth, Oswald, or this is as close to me as you’ll ever
get.’

Effectively checked, it was his turn to glare. Then he said
smoothly, ‘It makes no difference. Two are as easy to obtain as one. But my
dear, surely I deserve to know what you intend? Do you really mean to leave
your husband?’

Helena snapped a thin twig beneath her fingers. ‘He’s broken
all his promises. He said that as soon as he got his baronetcy we’d return to
England and he’d buy back the old family estate, and we’d come to Town every
season and he’d buy me all the jewels and clothes I desired.’ She sniffed. ‘But
it was all lies.’

Oswald stood up. ‘Since you’ve made it clear that you have
no interest in how I procure your heart’s desire, I think it’s time to offer
you my apologies, madam, and ascertain the whereabouts of our hostess’s
quarters. My guess is that the ladies flaunt paste while the real thing
languishes under lock and key.’

ROSE
CLOSED HER eyes and sank back into the pillows with a deep sigh. At least there
had been no tearful recriminations. Arabella had simply bowed her pretty head
and whispered that of course she understood her sister must obey her husband.
And no, of course she didn’t resent Rampton, either, since he had obviously
compelling financial commitments himself which she did not understand. After
all, it wasn’t as if the promise of a great house in one of London’s most
fashionable quarters were being withdrawn. What was three years, after all?
There had been a slight misunderstanding; however she was certain – quite
confident – that Yarrowby would be perfectly obliging when he visited Charles
that afternoon with regard to drawing up what had hitherto been only a verbal
agreement.

In her usual good-natured fashion Arabella had tripped out
of Rose’s bedroom on her way to her sitting for Felix, turning with a smile to
announce her excitement at presenting her finished portrait to her
husband-to-be, then adding after a thoughtful pause, ‘Why Rose, I do believe
Felix is almost as charming as Rampton.’

Matters had not reached so much of an impasse with Rampton,
either, that Rose needed to despair. She stretched, luxuriating in the memory
of last night. For many hours during the course of the evening at Lady
Gunther’s alfresco party they had acted the parts of happy lovers. Each had
obviously felt sufficiently negligent in respect of the other that they felt the
need to atone. Certainly, when they had returned home it had been a natural
progression into the bedchamber where proceedings had been … well, far from
unpleasant.