An Impossible Confession (12 page)

‘And Lord Drummond? Is he going, too?’

‘I don’t know, miss. No, wait a moment, he’s walking to the wall a little farther on. I think he’s going to smoke a cigar. Yes, he’s lighting it now.’ The maid looked quickly at her. ‘Please don’t do anything you might regret, miss. Think of your reputation.’

‘I may not have another chance like this, Mary, I have to speak to him.’

‘Miss….’

But Helen had already begun to walk determinedly toward him. He was leaning on the wall, the smoke from his cigar snatched away by the north terrace breeze. Her steps faltered, and she was suddenly less sure of herself. ‘Adam?’ she ventured nervously.

He straightened immediately, turning to look at her. Surprise shone fleetingly in his blue eyes and for a dreadful moment she thought he was going to cut her. Then he gave a slight smile, but it was definitely on the reserved side. ‘Yet another unexpected encounter, fair Helen?’

‘If you wish to acknowledge me. I shall quite understand if you don’t.’

‘How the pendulum swings. I seem to recall that at our last meeting
I
was the one saying something like that.’

‘About our last meeting….’

‘It came to a somewhat abrupt end, did it not? I did wonder if I’d imagined you. Are you a mirage now? Will you suddenly vanish again?’

She colored. ‘I did have a good reason.’

‘I hope so, for to do so without good reason would have been contrary in the extreme.’

‘I didn’t wish to speak to Mr St John. I saw him coming and I hid.’

Slowly he dropped the half-smoked cigar, crushing it with the heel of his Hessian boot before looking at her again. ‘Well, I congratulate you on your excellent taste, for only the most discerning manage to view St John with the dislike he so richly deserves. May I ask you where you hid?’

She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. ‘In the bushes. I heard everything you and he said to each other.’

‘Did you indeed?’ he murmured. ‘I imagine that what you heard made a great many things clear to you.’

‘Yes.’

‘I only have one sister, Helen, and her secret is now yours, as well as St John’s.’

‘I know.’

‘Do I need to ask you to be discreet?’

‘No, sir, you do not, and you wrong me by asking.’

‘Forgive me, but where someone else’s happiness and future wellbeing is concerned, it matters too much to allow the
possibility
of hurt feelings to stand in the way. I’ve gone through a great deal in order to protect my sister, I’ve allowed monstrous harm to be done to my reputation and honor, and I’ve forfeited many friends as a consequence.’

‘I know, and I admire you immensely for it. I feel I should remind you that I believed in your innocence, and told you so,
before
I overheard anything at Hagman’s.’

A smile played about his lips then. ‘So you did,’ he said softly.

Her heart quickened. ‘I – I’ve admired everything about you since we met,’ she said, color touching her cheeks, ‘and if I could prove Mr St John’s guilt, believe me, I would. I think he’s the most despicable serpent I’ve ever come across, but even though my
feelings
are so strong on the matter, I’d never say or do anything that might compromise Lady Bowes-Fenton.’

His smile was warm now. ‘If you’ve admired me, my lovely Helen, let me hasten to say that the feeling is more than mutual, and if I was a little, er, cool when you approached a while ago, it’s because I really don’t know where I am with you. You’re quite the most perplexing creature I’ve ever met, a lady of true mystery.’

She took a hesitant step closer. ‘Adam, there’s much I need to say to you.’

‘I’m fully aware of that.’

‘I just don’t know how to begin, or what you’ll say when you know.’ To her dismay, tears suddenly filled her eyes.

He came to her in quick concern, taking her hands and drawing them both gently to his lips. ‘Please don’t cry, Helen,’ he said softly, looking into her eyes. ‘Just answer me this, is there a Mr Brown after all?’

‘Oh, no,’ she answered quickly.

‘Is there a fiancé?’

‘No.’

‘Is there anyone who has cause to hope?’

‘No.’

He smiled a little. ‘Have you committed vile murder?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Have you stolen the crown jewels?’

She smiled through her tears. ‘No.’

‘Have you committed any crime at all?’

‘No.’

‘Then whatever it is that preys on your mind cannot possibly be very important, not to me, anyway. All that matters is that you’re a free agent, and you are, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She lowered her eyes again.

He studied her. ‘Yes, but?’ he urged. ‘Tell me, Helen.’

‘I – I tried to tell you when last we met, indeed I would have if the horse hadn’t distracted you. Then Mr St John arrived, and….’

‘I’m listening now, Helen. You have my full attention.’ He put a hand to her chin, tilting her lips toward his and kissing her very softly and slowly.

She heard Mary’s dismayed gasp, but took no notice, nor did she take any notice that this was a public place, nothing mattered but the ecstasy of kissing him. Her mouth trembled beneath his, and a fire burned through her veins, making her feel weak with sheer joy as his arms moved around her, pulling her close into a full embrace. Warm desire fluttered deep within her, beguiling and irresistible, and she clung to him, returning the kiss. This was what she was meant for, the only reason she existed now; loving him.

Almost overcome by the sheer force of emotion, she drew away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. He put his hand to her cheek, stroking her warm skin with his thumb. ‘Now then, what is the dire secret that so weighs upon you?’

She looked away. Suddenly the confession was impossible to make, for she knew that the joy she’d just tasted might never be tasted again if he knew who she really was. She’d have to tell him she was Gregory’s sister-in-law, the woman whose name was being so widely connected with that of Ralph St John, and she was terrified that he’d recoil from her forever.

‘Helen?’

‘I….’

‘Yes?’ His thumb still moved deliciously against her cheek, distracting, arousing, and so pleasurable that it drove confession further away than ever.

She looked tearfully at him. ‘I can’t tell you,’ she whispered.

‘But, if it worries you….’

‘I can’t tell you, Adam. Please, don’t ask me why.’

‘If you’re sure,’ he said slowly, evidently puzzled.

‘Quite sure,’ she said, feeling utterly wretched, and ashamed of her own faintness of heart. She should tell him the truth, she should get it over with; but that might mean forfeiting so much.

‘Will you see me again, Helen?’

She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself finally. ‘Yes, Adam, I’d like to very much,’ she said, her voice much more calm.

‘Since I don’t know where you live, and since I suspect you’re
still not yet ready to tell me, perhaps you had better suggest a time and a place.’

The problems crowded in again. She couldn’t just slip away from Bourne End whenever she pleased, and she couldn’t take a chance that another occasion like today would arise. No, she had to think of something else. Inspiration came from nowhere. ‘Are you attending the Farrish House ball?’

‘Yes. I believe that this year my valet has decided I am to be a sultan, or some such eastern gentleman, but since I shall be one among at least half a dozen, perhaps you should tell me how to recognize you.’

‘I shall be the goddess Iris, but maybe there’ll be lots of them too.’

‘Possibly, so let’s agree to meet at a specific place at a specific time. There’s an extremely large long-case clock in the entrance hall of Farrish House, and I promise to be standing by it at exactly midnight. Will that do?’

‘It will do very well, sir.’

‘But let me warn you that I’m not entirely deceived.’

‘Deceived?’

‘You’ve chosen the ball because it means masks, and you will be able to continue concealing your identity, although who from, I’m not quite sure.’

Guilty color touched her cheeks. ‘I cannot deny it,’ she replied.

‘There would be little point,’ he said dryly. ‘Helen, I can’t even begin to guess what secrets you have, but I do know that when you’re ready to tell me about them, I’ll be ready to listen.’

‘I will tell you, but not just yet.’

He smiled, bending his head to kiss her on the lips again. ‘That’s your privilege,’ he said softly. ‘But for the moment, I’m afraid I have to bring this sweet encounter to an end. I’m not here at the castle for my own pleasure, I’m here on War Office business. The Prince Regent has been dragged from the Royal Lodge to attend to matters of state, and I’m charged to assist him. Until the night of the ball,
adieu
, my fair Helen.’

‘
Adieu
,’ she whispered, closing her eyes with a shiver of pleasure as he kissed her again.

Then he’d gone, walking quickly away in the direction of the
royal apartments. She gazed after him, her emotions in conflict again. She’d come so much closer to him, but she hadn’t seized her chance to tell him who she really was. She’d foolishly and weakly put it off, and thus perpetuated the lies she’d started at the Cat and Fiddle. The longer she delayed, the worse it would become, but nothing could be as bad as actually losing him, and when it came to the point, that was all she could think of. She’d thought herself brave enough for the confession, but she’d proved utterly craven.

Mary came to hesitantly touch her arm. ‘We should go, miss.’

‘Yes.’ Helen glanced at her. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mary, I just don’t know what to do.’

‘You have to tell him, miss. If you love him, and wish to be with him in spite of the bad feeling between him and Colonel and Mrs Bourne, then you have no choice but to let him know who you really are.’ The maid’s reply was blunt and uncompromising.

‘And if by confessing, I lose him?’

Mary lowered her eyes. ‘Let’s go back to the landau, miss, it’s a little cold here.’

With a heavy heart, Helen walked with her, back toward the lower ward and the town. From the height of joy, her spirits had plunged into the depths of uncertainty and apprehension. And all because she’d foolishly and misguidedly invented the widowed Mrs Brown; no, that wasn’t entirely true, for if she hadn’t invented Mrs Brown, she wouldn’t have progressed as far as she had. Adam would never have extended warmth to Helen Fairmead.

Now her nerve had deserted her, and she didn’t know if it would return. Suddenly Mary’s suggestion of writing a letter began to seem the only sensible course, if more than a little
unsatisfactory
, but in her present timorous mood it offered at least a morsel of hope.

Neither she nor Mary noticed a small, wiry man slipping stealthily along a little distance behind them, watching their every move, as he had since the moment they’d driven out of Bourne End. He followed them down to the waiting landau, and as it drove away, he crossed the road and entered the narrow side street where earlier Mary had quite rightly felt someone watching. He’d left his horse in a livery stable, and he collected it now, riding
swiftly out of Windsor and passing the landau as he rode across the park in the direction of Ascot. His destination was Bourne End, where the person who’d engaged his services was waiting.

A
s the landau turned in through the lodge gates at Bourne End a little later, the horseman was just leaving, urging his tired mount back toward Windsor. Helen hardly glanced at him, she was still taken up with her problems. She was forced to the wry private admission that she wasn’t unlike Ralph St John in one way, for if he’d plunged in too deep with his gambling debts, she’d plunged in equally as deeply with her fibs. She didn’t want to think about Ralph, but as the landau drew nearer to the house she realized that she wasn’t only going to have to think about him, she was going to have to speak to him again, for his dark blue barouche was at the door.

He was the last person she wished to see, and for a moment she considered instructing Peter to drive away again, but she knew the landau would have been observed from the house. There was nothing for it but to grit her teeth and face him.

Morris was waiting in the hall, his face as solemn as ever. ‘Welcome back, madam. I trust your expedition to Windsor was successful?’

‘Very successful, thank you, Morris. I see Mr St John has called.’

‘He has, madam. He wishes to speak to you, and is waiting out on the drawing room veranda.’

Her heart sank. ‘To speak to me? He hasn’t called on Colonel or Mrs Bourne?’

‘No, madam, he’s called specifically to see you. Colonel Bourne has been engaged in the stableyard since breakfast, and Mrs Bourne is still resting in her rooms. I informed Mr St John that I didn’t know when you would return, but he insisted on waiting.’

She sighed inwardly, for she knew the interview would be very
embarrassing. She glanced at Mary, who was waiting discreetly with the two footmen who’d gone out to unload the packages from the landau. ‘Please take everything to my rooms, I’ll be up directly.’

‘Yes, Miss Fairmead.’

Helen watched the little procession mount the staircase, and wished she was accompanying it. But Ralph St John was waiting, and so reluctantly she turned toward the drawing room.

She entered quietly, so much so that he didn’t hear her from out on the veranda, where he sat at the white-painted wrought iron table, lounging back with his black patent leather shoes resting on the table itself. Today there was much more of the dandy about him, from his lilac coat and silver satin waistcoat to his extremely full Cossack trousers, made of charcoal-gray wool and gathered at the waist and ankles. His muslin neckcloth was unstarched and voluminous, and there were no fewer than three jeweled pins nestling in its folds. His top hat, gloves, and cane lay on the table, and he remained totally unaware of her presence, for he was absorbed in studying a little gold-framed miniature in his hand.

He was so completely preoccupied that Helen’s curiosity was aroused. She paused by the open French window a few feet away from him, one hand resting on Gregory’s telescope, which still stood pointing toward the park. A light breeze stirred through the net curtains, obscuring her view, and she moved to hold them slightly aside in order to see the miniature more clearly.

It was of a young woman in the clothes of the previous century, her long chestnut hair curled and frizzed in a cloud of curls around her head and shoulders. Her long-waisted gown appeared to be made of magenta satin of peculiar brilliance, and there was a black velvet ribbon around her throat, with an oval gold locket suspended from it. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and from the way Ralph gazed at her, Helen knew he was in the habit of often looking at her, whoever she was.

Helen’s brows drew together thoughtfully, for somehow the woman seemed familiar, although no name came to mind.

The moments passed, and Helen knew she’d have to indicate her presence. She cleared her throat and stepped out onto the veranda. ‘Good afternoon, Mr St John, I understand you wish to
speak to me.’

Her voice startled him so much that he dropped the miniature. It fell with a clatter on to the stone-tiled floor, and Helen darted forward with a gasp to retrieve it, thinking that it must be damaged, but to her relief it was unharmed.

Ralph had risen hurriedly to his feet, and now immediately held out his hand for the little likeness. There was something oddly hasty about his manner, something of which she could only be very aware as she slowly handed the miniature back to him. ‘She’s very lovely,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he replied, pushing the miniature quickly into his pocket and avoiding her eyes.

‘Who is she? She looks a little familiar.’

‘I really have no idea who she is. I saw her in a Windsor shop this morning and purchased her.’

The answer took Helen aback. She was sure he wasn’t telling the truth, and that not only did he know the lady’s name, but he’d also possessed the miniature for much longer than a day.

He drew out one of the chairs. ‘Please sit down, Miss Fairmead.’

She obeyed, sitting rather stiffly with her hands clasped in her lap, and then he sat down too, toying with his cane on the table for a moment. ‘Miss Fairmead, about last night….’

‘The matter is forgotten as far as I’m concerned.’

‘But not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been guilty of a gross error of judgment, for I was vain enough to imagine you were bound to agree to a match with me.’ He gave her a disarming smile.

Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this, and the smile might have taken her in had she not seen and heard the real Ralph St John beside Eleanor’s Lake. For whatever devious reason, he was evidently still intent upon her as a bride, and today’s smiles and apologetic words were intended to smooth her ruffled
feathers
and bring her around to what he wanted. He was about to be disappointed. ‘I assure you that the incident is entirely forgotten, sir, and I trust that all is now perfectly clear between us.’

‘On the contrary, things aren’t clear at all, for you are under a severe misapprehension about me.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes, the foolish
faux pas
I made just before dinner last night was
an isolated departure from my usual rule. I was guilty of putting my thoughts into hasty words, words which led me into broaching a subject I had no right to broach. I ask you to forgive me, and allow me to set such a false start aside and begin again.’

‘I forgive you, Mr St John,’ she fibbed, for she’d never forgive him, ‘but there is little point in attempting to start anything again, for you and I are like oil and water, and a match between us would be an absolute disaster.’

‘I realize you don’t like me, Miss Fairmead,’ he persisted, ‘but I’m sure it’s because I’ve approached everything badly. I can really be very amiable indeed, and would appreciate the chance to prove it.’ He gave another disarming smile.

So, he could be amiable, could he? No doubt he could, if it suited his purposes, but he could also be utterly base. Blackmail was a weapon he didn’t shrink from employing, nor did he think it amiss to willfully and despicably manufacture evidence against a friend. If Adam had done something vile, then maybe there could be a modicum of justification for Ralph’s actions, but Adam had no idea in what way he’d offended. She gazed at Ralph, her face expressionless as these thoughts followed one after another through her mind.

‘Miss Fairmead?’

She looked away from him. ‘Will you satisfy my curiosity, sir?’ she inquired.

‘Your curiosity?’

‘Yes. Will you tell me why it is that you think me a suitable bride?’ Her green eyes swung toward him again, cool and opaque.

‘Perhaps I’m more than a little smitten with you,’ he replied easily.

‘Really? Then you became so before you even met me. Be honest with me, sir, for your reasons are very important, are they not? No man contemplates marriage without first giving the matter deep and full consideration. I’m not an heiress, so
marrying
me will not solve your immediate financial problems, which only leaves my family connection. I cannot believe you’d want to marry me simply to become closely related to Gregory and Margaret, and as you are already very much associated with Bourne End, that doesn’t seem to offer an answer either. So why
are you set on me, Mr St John?’

His brown eyes were veiled, and a faint smile played about his sensuous lips. ‘I did not need to meet you, Miss Fairmead, for I’d heard all about you before you left Cheltenham, and as to your not being an heiress,
et cetera, et cetera
, well I think you underestimate your beauty and many sovereign qualities.’

‘And you, sir, underestimate my intelligence,’ she replied astutely.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that I don’t believe a word.’

He lounged back in his chair, his eyes giving nothing away. ‘Miss Fairmead, do I understand that you think I’m acting with foul
ulterior
motive?’

‘With ulterior motive, certainly, but as to the degree of foulness, well, I can only hazard a guess.’

‘And given your low opinion of me, I would imagine your guess would credit said motive with a great deal of foulness.’

She remained eloquently silent.

‘Very well, Miss Fairmead, I admit to having an ulterior motive, but it isn’t foul at all, so would it be at all possible for us to begin again?’

‘You may have an ulterior motive for wishing to continue, sir, but I don’t have any motive at all for wishing to marry you. On the other hand, I have my reasons for
not
wishing to marry you, so I’m afraid my answer has to be a very definite no.’

For a long moment he said nothing, but his eyes ceased to be veiled and became cold with dislike. ‘Then you leave me no choice but to take off the kid gloves. You are a very difficult young woman, Miss Fairmead, given to unbecoming displays of spirit and standing stubbornly between me and what I want. I’m not about to let that continue, my dear. You’re going to do my bidding.’

Her breath caught in disbelieving anger, and she began to rise from her chair to leave, but he leaned across to seize her hand, forcing her to remain where she was.

‘I don’t like you any more than you like me,’ he breathed, ‘but circumstances have forced me into a corner from which I’m
finding
it damnably difficult to wriggle free. Your willful intransigence isn’t going to hold me down!’

‘Let me go, sirrah!’

‘When I’m ready, madam. I’m fully aware of why you’ve formed this aversion for me. It’s because of Drummond, isn’t it?’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t play games, my dear. I was informed all about your
meeting
with him on the way from Cheltenham, so it doesn’t take a genius to realize that he’s regaled you with his whining claims that I’m the villain of the piece, nor does it take great insight to perceive that much more went on at that meeting than you’ve admitted to your sister.’

For a dreadful moment she thought he’d somehow found out about Mrs Brown, but then she knew he hadn’t, he was just surmising. She tried unsuccessfully to wrench her hand away, but he held her too tightly.

‘Let me go!’ she cried. ‘I overheard everything you said by the lake yesterday, that’s why I despise you, and why I know you for the louse you are. Now, please let me go, or I’ll scream for help!’

‘Do that and I shall have no option but to tell Margaret and Gregory all about your romantic and intimate meeting with Drummond today at Windsor Castle. Oh, yes, my dear, I know all about it.’ His eyes were ice-bright, and a confident smile curled his full lips.

Shaken, she could only stare at him.

‘Ah, I see that we are both a little taken aback to realize how our secrets are found out. I should have known you were somewhere nearby yesterday, you couldn’t have vanished like that. And you, my dear, shouldn’t have been so indiscreet today, for then my man wouldn’t have had anything to see when he followed you, would he?’ He pretended to sigh regretfully. ‘Forgive me for having stooped to such vulgar levels, but I was curious about the virulence of your dislike for me, and when Margaret mentioned that you’d encountered Drummond, well, I thought it would be worth while seeing if there was more to it than met the eye. My man was so certain I’d be interested in what he’d witnessed – right in front of the royal apartments, too – that he hastened here to tell me straightaway, rather than wait until I returned to the Golden Key and dear papa tonight. He was right, for I was very interested indeed. You aren’t the sweet Miss Chastity you’re supposed to be,
are you, my dear? I wonder what poor Margaret would say if she was regaled with such shocking facts about her little sister?’

From somewhere she found the steel to look him steadily in the eyes. ‘If you knew all this, sirrah, I’m more surprised than ever that you persisted, right up to a minute or so ago, in promoting a match between us.’

‘Because I needed you to serve a purpose, my dear; indeed, I still need you to serve that purpose. I want your agreement that you will at least consent to a temporary betrothal, one which can be discarded in the very near future.’

Her lips parted in amazement. ‘You can’t really think I’ll agree. I would as soon drink poison.’

‘Then I’m afraid I must resort to threats. To refuse this quite reasonable request of mine will lead not only to the exposure of your sordid little affair with Drummond, but also to the ruin of his sister. Oh, yes, my dear, I’ll play any trump it pleases me to. And if I blow the gaff on Lady Bowes-Fenton, I’ll make damned sure he knows it’s your fault. There’ll be no more cozy little hugs and kisses then, will there?’ Slowly he got up, reaching for his top hat, gloves, and cane. ‘All you have to do is be agreeable for a short while, pretend to consent to our marriage, and you have my word that soon there will be no further need for the betrothal.’

She was numb. He had her in a corner and she knew it. He was relying on her love for Adam, and her desire to at all costs protect the welfare of Adam’s sister. ‘Why – why should I believe in your word, Mr St John?’ she whispered.

He smiled a little. ‘Oh, my dear, you may be certain that in this particular instance, my word is indeed my bond. I now realize that you are the last woman on earth I really want as my bride, but circumstances have trapped me into needing you, and only you. You’ll never be Mrs St John, but it is imperative to me that for the moment society believes that you are going to be. Now then, I’ve done with this conversation; do you agree to my request, or must I take myself off to Gregory and begin my wearisome task of scandalmongering?’