Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception (25 page)

She had succeeded in all the things she’d set out to do.

And done the one thing she had never meant to. She had fallen truly in love with her husband.

W
hen his guests had left him, Adrian stormed back to his sitting room, still furious with the way he had been tricked. Emily had known him from the first moment. And had taunted him with the knowledge the whole time they had been together. How she must have laughed, to hold that from him, just out of reach.

The servants had known as well, for they had known her when she’d brought him home from the tavern. And Hendricks had been complicit in the elaborate scheme, for she could not have managed it without his help. Everyone surrounding him had kept mum on the truth, smirking as he mooned over his own wife, pitying him for the poor blind fool he was.

If they had the time to laugh, then perhaps they did not have enough to occupy their time. He swept
a hand across his desk in the corner, sending pen, inkwell and writing frame all to the floor in a heap. He pulled down the books on the shelves as well, useless things that they were now that he could not see them. He upended the piano stool, and wishing he had discovered enough about the instrument to destroy the thing so that it would never trouble him with memories again. He slammed the lid down over the keys, and his fingers touched the decanter of brandy that had been set on top of it. To a man who did not play, such a thing was little better than a makeshift table.

His fingers closed around the neck of the bottle and he imagined the sound of shattering crystal, and the sight of the brandy, running in fine rivulets down the wall, or dripping amongst the piano strings, and the pungent scent of the spilled liquor …

Then he stopped. It would be better to drink the stuff than to waste a chance at oblivion. No need for a glass …

His arm froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth, and he held it there. How much of the last year had he spent just that way? Blundering about, breaking things and drinking. Time drifting by, and him neither knowing nor caring how it passed. How long had it been since he had given up even trying to care?

His Emily had been waiting at home for him, doing her best. She had said as much, hadn’t she, when she’d told him about her marriage? How she
worried that it had been her fault he’d left. And how frightened she had been at first that he would reject her again. She had been sure that if he ever really knew her, it would be all over between them. He had made it his mission to prove otherwise.

In the end, she had been right. The moment he had learned her identity, he’d sent her away.

She had been quite accepting of his truth when she had learnt it. He had assured her that there was nothing on earth his wife could do to lose his trust, for the fault of their parting had been his, and his alone.

Still holding the brandy, he stooped to the floor, fumbling to pick up the books around his feet. How much damage had he done in his rush to destroy what he could not appreciate? The wreckage around him was the result of another selfish act on his part. Just one of many in the last few years.

But when had he ever learned to be otherwise? He thought of how angry he had been with his father’s foolish disregard for the future of the family. And how angry his father had been, when talking of Grandfather. All of them angry at fate for the hand that they had been dealt.

But while Emily might be cross with him for his treatment of her, she worked to change the things that made her unhappy and made the best of the rest.

She accepted him.

He took a deep breath and walked through the
debris to the door, opening it suddenly on the shadow waiting in the hall.

‘Hendricks.’

‘Yes, milord.’ It was not the usual calm tone of his old friend, but the clipped words of a man simmering with rage.

Adrian cleared his throat, wishing he could call back any of the last fifteen minutes. ‘It seems I have had an embarrassing display of temper.’

‘I can see that.’

‘It will not happen again.’

‘Not to me, at least. I am giving my notice.’

For a moment, he felt the same as he had when his eyes started to fail him. As though everything he’d taken for granted had slipped away. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I am always serious, sir. You comment often on my lack of humour.’

‘It was never an issue, when we met,’ Adrian reminded him. ‘On the Peninsula, you were quite good company.’

‘And you never used to be such a damned fool.’ The blow seemed to come from nowhere as Hendricks kicked the brandy bottle from his hand. It hit the floor with a thump, and Adrian could hear the glug of the liquid spilling from it, and the smell of it soaking into the rug.

‘Perhaps not.’ Adrian stood, straightening to full height and taking a step forwards, knowing that whether he saw it or not, he still towered over his
friend. It would not be wise to let him think he could strike twice. ‘But then I did not have to worry about you lying to me to cement your position with my wife. You have known of this charade from the beginning, haven’t you?’

‘Of course. Because I am not blind.’ Hendricks had added the last to goad him, he was sure.

‘I can think of only one reason that you would go along with such nonsense. Rupert told me, yesterday, that Emily was with child.’

Hendricks gave a hiss of surprise, and stifled an oath.

‘And I assume that the child is yours, and that you rushed her to London so that she might lie with me as well and there would be some assumption of legitimacy.’ Adrian laughed. ‘Why you would think such a thing might work, I have no idea. I do not need my eyesight to count to nine.’

Hendricks swore aloud now, as Adrian had not heard him do since their days in the army. ‘You really are an idiot, Folbroke. And it amazes me that I had not noticed it before now. Do you wish to hear how I found your wife, when I went to her today?’

‘The truth from you would be a welcome change,’ Adrian snapped back.

‘Very well, then. When I saw her this morning, she was nothing like that silly picture you carry of her. The miniature that you have worn to the bone with your fondling is of a rather plain, ordinary young girl. But the woman I saw today was fresh from bed,
and wearing nothing but a blue silk wrapper. She had tied it tight under her breasts in a way that left little to the imagination. And as she sat, the skirt slipped open and I could see her ankles, and the slope of her bare calf.’

Adrian’s hand clenched, wishing that he had the bottle again so that he could strike out at the voice and shut the man’s mouth for good.

‘She took the letters you sent her, and read both of them in quick succession. She sighed over them. She kissed them. She all but made love to the paper while I stood there like an idiot, admiring her body and wishing that just once she might give me an instruction that did not involve running back to you. But nothing has changed. In regards to men other than the Earl of Folbroke, she is every bit as blind as you are to her.’

‘So you know nothing about this supposed child?’

There was a long pause, as though the next words were difficult. ‘She has been faithful to you. From the moment you married. I would stake my life on it. There is no way she can be pregnant.’

‘But at White’s, Rupert said—’

Hendricks cut him off. ‘If you had used the brains you used to have, you would consider the source of the rumour, and remember that your cousin is an even bigger fool than you.’

To the trained ear of someone who had no choice but to listen, there was as much emotion in the last
speech as there had been in the first. Regret, frustration and jealousy of a husband so unworthy of the devotion he had received from his beautiful wife.

Adrian knew the feelings, for he had felt them himself when he’d thought of Emily.

‘You are right,’ Adrian said at last. ‘If there is any truth at all, or any explanation that can be made, I should have asked her for it, rather than trusting the man who wants nothing more than to ensure that I do not have a child. And I think I understand your reasons for leaving me as well.’ For how awkward would it be if Adrian apologised to his wife and they all went back to Derbyshire together. The two of them, living side by side in the same house, both loving the same woman? And all the worse for Hendricks, forced to witness their happiness, and to know that though Adrian was his equal in ability and his inferior in temperament, he had the superior rank, and the unwavering love of his countess.

He put the thoughts of Emily aside for the moment and said, ‘You will have letters of reference, of course. And anything you might need.’

‘I have already written them.’

Adrian laughed. ‘I expected no less from you. You are damned efficient, when you set about to do something.’ He stepped over the bottle on the floor and gripped the man by the hand. ‘I trust that I was effusive in my praise of you. And generous in my severance?’

‘Of course, my lord.’

‘I expected nothing less of me. You have been invaluable as an aide. And you shall always be welcome in my house, as a guest, should you ever wish to return there.’

‘I do not think I will be back for some time,’ Hendricks said. ‘If things go as I expect, you will be too busy for company, at least until after the new year.’

‘Next year, then. The fishing is good in the run at Folbroke. You still fancy trout, do you not?’

‘I do indeed, my lord.’

‘Then you must be sure that the money I give to you in parting is enough so that you might live comfortably on it for twelve months and then visit me as a man of leisure before taking another post. I will not take no for an answer.’

‘Of course, my lord.’ It would have felt deuced odd to touch the man’s face, after all these years. But suddenly, as though there had been a change between them, it was hard to read any truth in Hendricks’s words. Adrian had heard the worry and frustration plain in the man’s voice for so long that the sudden absence of it was like a void in the room. It had been foolish of him to think that there could ever be mockery or cruel deception. ‘Hendricks, I am sorry. I understand that I have not been an easy master …’

‘Lord Folbroke. There is no need—’

He held up a hand to forestall the man’s excuses. ‘It is true. But there will be no more nonsense after today. If you mean to leave me in the hands of my
good wife, I will be an amiable man and not trouble her unnecessarily.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ There was blessed relief in the man’s voice, as though he had given him compensation beyond money in that one little plan.

‘Of course, I shall have to square things away again, after the mess I’ve just made of this interview.’ He dropped out the statement in the most offhand way possible, as though the entire staff had not heard the argument that had just ensued. ‘Eston has taken her back to his town house, I assume?’

‘I believe so, sir. I could send for her, if you wish.’

‘No, that is quite all right. I will go to her.’

‘I will have the carriage brought round.’

‘No.’ An idea had suddenly occurred to him. ‘It is less than a mile from here. And the night is clear, is it not?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Then I shall walk.’

‘I will have a footman accompany you.’

Adrian stood and reached out to grip his old friend’s arm. ‘If you mean to leave me to my own devices, then I will have to learn to do without you.’ Although damned if he knew how. ‘The streets are not crowded. And I remember the way. I will go alone.’

‘Very good, sir.’ There was only a trace of doubt in Hendricks’s voice, which Adrian took to mean that he was not suggesting something beyond the realm
of possibility. It was something he had never tried, of course. But his sight was unlikely to get any better. It was high time he learned to navigate the city. They walked together into the front hall, and instead of Parker coming to aid him, he felt the familiar hands of Hendricks helping him into his topcoat and handing him his hat and gloves. Then the door opened, and he sent Adrian on his way with a pat on the back.

And almost as an afterthought, there came from behind him a soft, ‘Take care of her, Adrian.’

‘I mean to, John.’ Then he walked down the steps to the pavement and set out into what might as well have been a wilderness, for all he knew of it.

F
our steps down, to the street. He felt the edge of the kerb with his cane and stepped a little back from it. And now, a left. It would be two roads down in this direction, he remembered, before turning onto the busier street ahead. He listened closely as he set out, to gauge his surroundings. It was more difficult in darkness than it might have been in the light, for he could not use the rays of the sun to set a direction.

But for this first trip, it was better to be out when the way was not so crowded. He heard a single walker on the other side of the street from him, and remembered that he would have to be cautious of footpads and cutpurses. Though the areas he travelled were good ones, not all that ventured out after dark could be trusted.

He tapped ahead of him with his stick, to make sure there were no obstacles, and set out at a pace that
was slower than normal, but still little different from a stroll. He almost stumbled, as the pavement gave way in another kerb. But then he caught himself and stood, looking both ways for changes in the shadows that obscured his sight, and listening for the sound of horses’ hooves and the rattle of carts or carriages.

When he was sure there was nothing, he made sure his course was straight, stepped forwards, and made an uneventful crossing, gaining the opposite side. He proceeded for a little while longer in the same fashion, before everything began to go wrong.

He could hear the increase of traffic around him as the way became busier. While most passers-by gave him a safe space to walk in, he was occasionally jostled and forced to adjust his pace to those around him. The changes in speed made it harder to keep a straight course, and the corner seemed to come much sooner than he expected. Had he passed two or three streets?