Mesalliance (10 page)

*

Adeline entered
the blue salon [transformed for the evening into a ballroom] as
unobtrusively as possible and with only one purpose in mind – that
of thanking Mistress Pickering. But this, since Lizzie was just
about to take to the floor with Andrew and was not, in any case,
desirous of being thanked, was not easy. Adeline found herself able
to utter no more than a half-sentence before her benefactress cut
in with a laconic, ‘It suits you. I thought it would.’ And dragged
Mr Franklin willy-nilly into the gavotte.

Perplexed but
conscious of a tug of admiration for the girl’s style, Adeline
watched her go. Then Althea was beside her, looking worried.

‘Addie … you
look beautiful,’ she said breathlessly but with sincerity. And
then, ‘I think Di’s planning something dreadful – and I don’t know
what to do.’

Adeline, who
knew as well as anyone the extremes of which Diana was capable,
regarded her cousin with attention. ‘Tell me.’

‘She says I’m
to go to the book-room on the stroke of nine and be sure to have
Cecy with me. I don’t know how she managed it – but I th-think
she’s in there with the Duke. What
can
she be doing?’

‘At a guess,
something exceedingly stupid.’ Adeline scanned the room for
Rockliffe’s unmistakable presence and failed to find it.
Inexplicably, her heart sank. ‘I take it you’ve said nothing to
Cecily?’

‘No. But what
shall I do? It’s almost nine now.’

‘Leave it to
me. Diana’s expecting an audience – and it would be a shame to
disappoint her, wouldn’t it?’

The hour chimed
as she crossed the hall and a sardonic gleam entered Adeline’s eye.
It did not take a genius to imagine what Diana might be hoping to
achieve and it would be a pleasure to put a spoke in her wheel.
Without any hesitation, she swung open the book-room door and went
in.

For the space
of a heart-beat she was granted the sight of Diana apparently
languishing inert in his Grace’s arms before one of her hands moved
to rest lovingly against his cheek and she stood on tiptoe to press
her mouth to his. Rockliffe’s head jerked back and his arms dropped
away from Diana as if scalded. She, however, continued to cling
until he spoke.

‘Unless you’re
a party to this little charade,’ he said bitingly, his gaze locked
with Adeline’s, ‘I’d be grateful if you would shut the damned
door.’

An unsuspected
weight fell from Adeline’s shoulders and she immediately did as he
asked – while, at precisely the same moment, Diana uncoiled herself
from him, crying, ‘Oh my God – Cecy! I never dreamed --’ And
stopped dead as she realised her mistake.

Rockliffe’s
mouth twitched and he raised one brow in silent enquiry.

‘She was
expecting Cecily Garfield,’ explained Adeline, ‘on whose
indiscretion one may always rely. You can close your mouth, Diana.
I’m not a figment of your imagination.’

Diana took an
abrupt step forward and then stopped, as if poised for attack.
Beneath the skilfully applied cosmetics, her face was white with
temper and she said jerkily, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what
you’re talking about. I wasn’t expecting anyone. And you have no
business here.’

‘On the
contrary. I’m here to preserve your reputation and stop you making
a complete fool of yourself. If you had any sense, you’d be
grateful.’

‘Perfectly
true.’ Rockliffe’s tone was grim. ‘I am not so easily trapped,
believe me. And young ladies who depend on these little schemes are
apt to acquire a certain type of reputation.’

‘It’s not
true!’ Diana’s control was slipping and her voice rose accordingly.
‘She’s a lying cat! I was faint and – just for a second – I thought
it was Cecily who’d just come in. She’s always following me about.
And I don’t need
any
kind of schemes in order to be married.
I’m beau-- ’

‘Beautiful,’
drawled Rockliffe. ‘Yes. We know.’

Diana stared at
him out of dangerously narrowed eyes and her hands clenched on her
satin skirts. Then, sweeping round to Adeline, she said furiously,
‘This is your doing! You’ve been saying things, haven’t you? Things
to poison him against me.’

‘I think,’
observed Adeline, ‘that it might be as well if we permitted his
Grace to return to the ballroom so that you can lose your temper in
private.’ And to Rockliffe, ‘Your absence will be noticed. And I
can deal with this.’

He directed a
swift, measuring glance at Diana and then said, ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. She’s
going to make a complete exhibition of herself. It’s what she does.
So it’s best that you go.’

Acknowledging
the sense of this, he said, ‘Very well. But first I think I must
take this opportunity of clarifying a few matters for Mistress
Diana.’ He paused, waiting for the girl to meet his eyes and then
continued blandly, ‘During the course of our brief acquaintance,
you have successively pursued me, coquetted with me, thrown
yourself at my head and attempted to compromise me. I have
responded to none of these and, indeed, have come only to deplore
your upbringing. You are – as you are only too well-aware – an
uncommonly beautiful girl but you are also spoiled, selfish and
rude. Consequently, the chances of you receiving an offer of
marriage from me – regardless of any circumstances you may have
contrived – are, and always were, completely non-existent. I trust
that makes the position plain?’ And without waiting for a reply, he
strolled unhurriedly to the door, delaying only to say urbanely,
‘My compliments on your appearance, Mistress Kendrick. You look
both elegant and charming.’

*

Back in the
ballroom, Rockliffe did his duty by Lizzie Pickering, watched young
Mr Franklin imbibing vast quantities of wine and exchanged a few
words with Harry Caversham on the subject of Nell’s sudden switch
to chill formality. And, throughout it all, his mind was almost
wholly taken up with a picture of Adeline standing framed against
the dark wood of the book-room door. He gave himself a mental shake
and decided that the week he’d spent in this house had damaged his
sanity. There was no other explanation.

It was while he
was soliciting Cecily Garfield’s hand for the next minuet that he
saw Diana come back. She was flushed and there was the merest
suggestion of dishevelment about her person. But it was her face
that drew the Duke’s attention. She looked, he thought, like a cat
who had just killed one bird and was already stalking another. Of
Adeline, there was no sign at all.

He told himself
that there could be no harm in satisfying what was really no more
than idle curiosity. Then, excusing himself from Cecily, he
retraced his steps once more to the book-room. He did not notice
that Richard Horton was watching him whilst simultaneously
preparing to cross-examine his niece. There was, after all, no
reason why he should.

He found
Adeline standing as if carved from stone, her head bent and her
hands resting on the edge of Sir Roland’s desk. Her hair, once so
carefully arranged, was falling loose about her face and the blue
gown bore every appearance of having been so savagely torn that one
sleeve was completely adrift. Rockliffe, who was rarely angry,
experienced a gust of pure temper and, shutting the door with a
snap, exorcised it in a manner equally rare. He swore.

Pushing back
her hair, Adeline raised her head and managed a crooked smile.
‘Just what I was thinking myself. It’s Lizzie’s dress, you
see.’

‘Is it? Then
Lizzie goes up in my estimation.’ He crossed the room and, taking
her shoulders, turned her to face him. It was the closest he had
ever been to her and he was aware of a faint, almost indiscernible
scent of something he didn’t recognise. Doing his best to ignore
it, he said, ‘I need not ask, of course, how this happened. You’d
better get those scratches attended to. The claws of a wild animal
are frequently venomous, I believe.’

She raised her
hands to the torn bodice and discovered that they were shaking.

‘It’s nothing.
I’m perfectly all right. It’s just the gown. I don’t know what to
tell Lizzie.’

‘The
truth?’

‘I can’t.’

‘No? Then allow
me to do it for you.’ He drew a long breath and, releasing his
clasp on her shoulders, perched himself on a corner of the desk.
Sternly forbidding himself to dwell on the interesting view
provided by the ruined dress, he regarded her out of hooded eyes
and said, ‘I suppose you know that your cousin is a candidate for
Bedlam?’

‘She – she’s
always had an awful temper but I’ve never seen her quite so wild.
She was beside herself.’

‘That, my dear,
is glaringly obvious. The question is – why?’

‘Who knows?
Something I said – something you said – possibly even something
Cecily Garfield said.’ The trembling was no longer confined to her
hands and she said irritably, ‘If you want to help, I’d be glad if
you stopped asking pointless questions and tried to find some pins.
I need to get back to my room and I can’t cross the hall looking
like this.’

‘No?’ He
awarded her a swift, audacious smile. And then, ‘No. Perhaps not.
It wouldn’t do for poor Lewis to see what he’s missed, would it?’
And, rising, he began a systematic search through the drawers of
Sir Roland’s desk.

Adeline watched
in silence and tried to re-assemble her composure. She was more
shaken by Diana’s attack than she was prepared to admit and it did
not help that Rockliffe was being so kind. She looked at him now –
magnificent in black brocade heavily laced with silver, his hair
thickly powdered and confined at the nape by narrow velvet ribands.
He was the epitome of sophistication … assured, worldly and far too
attractive for her peace of mind. He was also easily bored, prone
to mischievous whims and often deliberately provoking. And yet,
though she knew all the arguments for keeping him safely at arm’s
length, they apparently were not enough to prevent her trusting
him. She wished she knew why.

‘I make your
uncle my compliments,’ said Rockliffe, producing a small box. ‘I
fear my own escritoire is less well equipped. However … if you will
stand still, I shall attempt the necessary repairs.’

Her brows rose.
‘
You
?’

‘Why not? You
can scarcely to it yourself, after all … and my skill may surprise
you. I am not entirely lacking in versatility, you see.’

Adeline saw.
‘Or practice, it seems.’

His mouth
curled.

‘Or practice,’
he agreed imperturbably. And then, continuing his task of pinning
her sleeve back in position, ‘May I at least ask why Diana was
permitted to emerge unscathed?’

‘What would
you
have done? I was intent only on self-preservation and
not alerting the whole house. I doubt, though, that she’ll do much
dancing tonight.’

‘Oh?’

‘No.’ She met
his eyes and her face was suddenly transformed by a wickedly
slanting smile. ‘I’m afraid I stamped on her foot. Hard.’

Rockliffe stood
very still, his fingers resting against the satin skin of her
shoulder and a coil of her hair brushing his wrist. Again, that
enticing, indefinable scent reached him, sending a clear signal to
every nerve in his body; a signal that, this time, he found himself
unable to completely resist. He said, with commendable restraint,
‘Did you? My congratulations.’ And then broke all his sterling
resolutions to drop a light, fleeting kiss on her lips.

Adeline drew a
sharp, startled breath. But before either of them could speak, a
purring voice from the door said, ‘Well, well - one knows not
whether to be touched or shocked. The only certainty, my dear
Mistress Garfield, is that we intrude.’

It was Richard
Horton, a satisfied smile on his painted face and, beside him,
Cecily Garfield with her eyes on stalks.

‘Hell,’
murmured his Grace softly, ‘and damnation.
Twice in one
evening
?’ And gave way, reluctantly, to ironic amusement.

Able to see the
funny side but unable, as yet, to appreciate it, Adeline had no
more colour to lose.

‘Stop it,’ she
said flatly, ‘and tell him to shut the door.’

‘The
damned
door,’ corrected Rockliffe. He had stopped laughing
but it seemed to her that little devils danced in his eyes. ‘No. I
rather suspect that – this time – that horse has bolted.’

‘Look!’ crowed
Cecily gleefully and with volume over the encroaching strains of a
minuet. ‘Her dress is all torn. What
do
you suppose has been
happening?’

‘Something
which I not only refuse to sully your ears with,’ replied Mr Horton
smoothly, ‘but which, I must confess, astounds me.’

‘How awful! I
can’t
imagine
what Di’s going to say.’

‘Oh – I think
you probably can,’ said Rockliffe sardonically, his mind busy with
the various possibilities. Richard Horton cheated at cards and
could be silenced. But no power on earth was going to silence Lewis
Garfield’s sallow-faced sister; she was enjoying herself too much.
On the other hand, the ramblings of an over-excited schoolgirl did
not particularly concern him. He said, ‘Tell me something, Mr
Horton. Did Diana send you here?’

‘Diana? No.
Though it is true that the poor child seems somewhat … upset.’
Richard paused artistically. ‘But no. I came, one might say, purely
by chance as escort to Mistress Garfield – with whom your Grace was
engaged to dance.’

It sounded
plausible enough but Rockliffe didn’t believe a word of it.

‘He knows,’
said Adeline tonelessly. ‘He’s spoken to Diana and he knows exactly
what happened. But, for reasons of his own, he’s going to encourage
Cecily to think exactly what she’s thinking. Aren’t you,
Uncle?’

‘Whas goin’
on?’ demanded the slurred accents of Andrew Franklin. He had
arrived to lean heavily against the door-jamb behind Cecily. ‘Why’s
everyone in here ‘stead of the ballroom?’