Counterfeit Countess (30 page)

Roker waved his damned piece of paper under John’s nose.

“This says there was not enough time between Smith’s death and the battle for you to have married his widow.”

John raised a brow, never so haughty as in this moment. “Your assiduity does you proud. A shame I cannot say the same of your legitimate work.”

“I have done nothing wrong.”

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“Indeed you have, sir.” John glanced around, caught her eye and Faith knew what he meant to do.

John was about to reveal the secret he had worked so hard to conceal—that the Graywood estate was all but bankrupt. The information would plunge the estates into the doldrums, tell every powerful man and woman in London that the holdings were vulnerable, ripe for exploitation.

He would do this to protect her from the danger of revealing her as a deceitful whore, a woman living in sin, deceiving society and then the man she married. Rather than that, she’d confess. Her fault, all of it. He could not do this for her sake.

She took a breath and opened her mouth. “I—“

The Duke of Wellington, up until that moment a silent bystander, took a part, cutting incisively into her speech and addressing Roker. “You have incorrect information, sir. Indeed, I myself was present at the wedding.”

Faith blinked up at him. Why would he lie?

Rattled but game, Roker came back at him. “There are no records of any wedding, and if one took place then it was bigamous.

Which, as I’m sure your grace is aware, is a crime.”

The duke gave a tight smile, drawing himself to his full, considerable height. “In wartime, records may be sketchy or inaccurate. Not having faced combat, I’m sure you believe everything is carefully arranged.” In the duke’s case, it usually was.

He was always meticulous in his planning, careful to retain records, maps, and all the paperwork. For this, he was prepared to traduce his reputation? “Timing is approximate. It is true little time passed between the death of Lady Graywood’s first husband, and her marriage to her second. As far as she knew, she was widowed twice in the space of a week. I am surprised she survived, much less thrived. She is a courageous woman, followed the troops throughout much of the war, from Spain to Belgium, to bring her husband comfort and companionship. Sir, she married and she is
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married still.” He turned to John, effectively showing Roker and the silent, but wide-eyed David Carlisle his back. “I would appreciate it if you removed these people from my presence. I would appreciate the waltz your charming wife granted me ten minutes ago.”

The dowager, standing within earshot, gave the quartet a signal and they struck up an appropriate tune. Without waiting for her permission, the duke swept her into his arms and on to the floor, straight into a waltz.

“I learned this with John,” she said remembering the night. It helped to go back, to do justice to a man who, while not perfect, had a wonderful sense of adventure that had persuaded her to leave the dour vicarage and venture on the journey that had led to Waterloo.

“John Smith?” he murmured.

“He loved dancing, and he taught me how to laugh.” Her gaze flicked up to her partner, startled at making such a revelation at such a time.

“He was a competent soldier,” the duke replied. “If he were not, I’d have heard of it.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Wellington was known as meticulous, despite his statements of a moment ago. “Did you suspect anything before you arrived tonight, sir?”

He didn’t prevaricate. It wasn’t his way. “Yes, I did. I remembered the commendations after the battle. Your husband was among them. Whatever drew Graywood to admit to the marriage, I believe it was with the best of intentions. I owe him. He was injured in the service of his country, under my command and I did not do enough afterwards to ensure the veracity of the hurried account from the surgeons. As it was, John Smith was buried as Graywood. That will be rectified.”

They executed a turn, and every eye was on them. She forced a smile. “Thank you. But I forced Graywood into the deception. He
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returned to England and discovered he was married. I did wrong, sir.”

“Then you must endeavour to make it right. He is devoted to you. I understood that as soon as he began to talk about you when he visited me. Do nothing to damage that or I will personally see to it you are punished.”

She didn’t doubt it. He spoke too firmly for her to think of any other course of action. If John wanted her gone, she’d go. She didn’t consider anything else.

The dance finished. After ensuring she had a cold glass of wine to refresh and fortify her, Wellington took her back to where John stood on the edge of the dance floor. Of Roker and Carlisle there was no sign. When she glanced around, John took her hand. “You will never see them again. I promise you that.”

She nodded. John smiled at her. “If they are capable of committing such a deception they do not deserve to remain in my service. I have dismissed them both.”

“Good thing too,” Wellington put in.

Without his word, this evening could have turned out very differently. As it was, Roker and Carlisle had planted the seeds of their own destruction. After such a damning statement, nobody would expect John to continue to employ them.

Suddenly, to her utter shock, he went down on one knee before her. “Since it appears that the records of our marriage have disappeared, I have the great fortune to do this again. Faith Smith, will you do me the honour of becoming my bride? Of allowing me to cherish and care for you all the days of my life?”

She didn’t realise she was crying until a tear touched the corner of her mouth, the wet drop startling her into a response. “John, are you sure?” She meant she’d leave if he wanted, but already she knew her doubts did neither of them justice. The wine in her free hand trembled, but she held the glass tightly, the chill seeping through her heated hand.

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He ignored everyone, the cream of military circles, some of the most important people in the land standing silently, waiting for her answer. “Never more certain.”

“Yes, John, I’d like that very much.” She gave a shaky smile.

“Thank you.”

Of course the ball was a huge success. Everyone agreed nothing would cap it and it was labelled the event of the season before the season had properly started. Not even a sad squeeze could overtop it. The news circulated as fast as than a man could leave one gathering and speed to the next. More people arrived, ready to witness the sight of John, Lord Graywood, dancing with his wife all evening. Or the woman soon to become his wife, whichever account one preferred.

Faith needed his support, as the revelations of the evening had overcome her. Not since, as Wellington had put it, she’d been widowed twice in a week had she felt her life spin so much out of control. The dowager, triumphant, pushed her daughters into the arms of the eligible young men crowding in from the clubs.

Dowagers were tutting over in the corners of the room, delightedly whispering behind their fans.

John had eyes only for her. They left before the ball came to a close, John claiming the woman he still insisted on calling his wife was exhausted by the events of the evening.

At the door to her room, he drew her close for a sweet, tender kiss. She leaned her head on his shoulder, let him support her while he took his time licking into her mouth, his hand cupping her cheek, his arm holding her snugly. When she gave a small moan into his mouth, he drew away, gently parting their lips and lifting his head. “Sleep well, my love.”

“You aren’t—you don’t want to...?”

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“More than anything else I can think of, but I don’t wish any opprobrium to come your way. We’re not out of the woods yet, sweetheart. From the moment I officially realised our marriage might be irregular to the time I meet you at the altar, I will not compromise you. I’ll sleep at my club, so we won’t even share the same roof until then.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “I want you. Don’t make me sleep alone.”

“You won’t. Turvey is spending the next two nights with you.

After that, you will spend all your nights with me.
All
of them.” He growled low in his throat and bent to kiss her again. This time he ravaged her mouth with an intensity that left her in no doubt that he wanted her as much as she did him.

He would not relent, instead opening her bedroom door and gently urging her inside. She allowed her maid to undress and wash her, too tired to do anything for herself. Left to her own devices she’d probably have slumped on the bed fully dressed, fine gown and everything.

As it was, John was true to his word, and Turvey spent the following two nights in a truckle bed in Faith’s bedroom while he very publicly entered his club and slept in one of the bedrooms there, returning for breakfast the next day.

By then they knew their fate. John had Roker and Carlisle arrested, pending investigations. Although the scandal had rocked society, it graciously accepted that John’s wealth would cover the immediate debts. His reputation as a businessman and the emergence of a new, wealthy heir persuaded society that the crimes had not depleted the estate of too much of its resources. Its assets and the new business arrangements he was entering into with Edward ensured the future prosperity of the estate.

He would take care of the position he’d been trained for, that of land steward, until he found someone to replace Carlisle. He smiled as he recounted his decision to her over the breakfast table after
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church that Sunday. “I never thought I’d be glad of those miserable summers at Graywood.”

The dowager, still arrayed in deepest mourning, nevertheless appeared calm and more settled. As she should be, since both her daughters had gained small courts of their own and bade fair to find husbands by the end of the season. “They were necessary. I had no idea Carlisle was making those visits uncomfortable for you, but I would have insisted on them in any case.”

“You wanted me to become the steward?”

“My husband considered the possibility. He told me Carlisle might not prove competent for the position. However, in time he seemed to cope. Not the best of stewards, it’s certain, but he managed. Or so I thought.” She paused. “However I must confess Roker totally fooled me.”

“He meant to.” John shook out his napkin and spread it across his lap before a servant could perform the task for him. “Unlike Carlisle, Roker was competent. Too greedy, though, and he wagered money that wasn’t his on risky ventures that never came to fruition.”

“Is that not what you did?” Lady Graywood suggested.

John shook his head. “Not precisely. I never did it with someone else’s money.”

The dowager sniffed. “He will get what he deserves. And with his disgrace dies that rumour.”

“I’m so glad.” She actually appeared so. “I never believed it, you know, and I’ve been refuting it wholeheartedly. Laughing at people who repeated it. Tonight I added that Roker originated the rumour. They will die. Already the news of the Princess’s pregnancy is becoming the latest news.”

Strangely touched, John blinked, reached out and touched her hand. “Thank you. There’s more, and these are things I can’t prove.

But I know them to be true.”

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He waited until she gave a nod, then turned his attention to Faith. “Roker intended for the estate to revert to the Crown. In the ensuing confusion he could conceal his losses and nobody would enquire too deeply. Bad luck and economic depression would account for the poverty of the estate. Carlisle, full of resentment that I should inherit, went along with his plan. I think the scheme occurred to them after Vivian’s wife died without bearing him a child. They knew Stephen would never marry. I was their main concern, as I could marry and provide heirs. Edward had not contacted them after the initial letter, so they tried to obliterate that side of the family in the records. I do have proof. Besides, Carlisle hated me. They paid John Smith to kill me on the field at Waterloo.”

He went on, despite her strangled gasp. “He was behind Cockfosters getting your husband into debt and he used that to persuade him. It must have been a shock when you appeared in London as my widow. But when it became clear you knew nothing, as my widow you were no threat to the estate. Roker also obscured the connection that would have led to Edward Smith. Again, I have proof. As far as he knew, I was dead. It is fortunate that my first letter from Canada went astray, or he would have pursued me. Also fortunate I sent my second to Vivian in Vienna, instead of here because he would have made another attempt to have me killed.”

He curled his lip. “Not man enough to do it for himself.”

“My sons,” her ladyship said. For the first time Faith heard a note of vulnerability in her voice. “You said he paid someone to have you killed. Did he do the same for them?”

John swallowed and met her gaze directly. The dowager’s eyes gleamed with a trace of tears. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Certainly Vivian’s death was an accident. I saw him slip and fall, too far from support to save himself. Stephen, I’m not so sure about. I didn’t see him fall, someone passed between him and me at the crucial moment. The storm was swift and violent, but I
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wouldn’t put it above him to have someone on board, waiting his chance.”

The dowager nodded. “Thank you for telling the truth,” she said quietly, once again in control of her emotions. Faith didn’t know whether to admire the dowager for her complete control, or pity her that she could not share her grief with the people she knew would not condemn her for it.

Shaken, Faith went about her duties quietly that day. She arranged for the sale of the house in Red Lion Square and performed the household tasks that were not so different to the ones she was used to, after all. At one point she lifted the old carpet bag in her room and glanced at her maid. “Have this put in storage, if you please.” It had served her well, but its time was over.