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Authors: Stella Riley

Tags: #romance, #london, #secrets, #scandal, #blackmail, #18th century

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BOOK: Mesalliance
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If Rockliffe
found the tenor of this speech in any way remarkable, he did not
show it but merely said smoothly, ‘It is very unfortunate, of
course. But these small trials, so they say, are sent by the
Almighty to try us.’

‘Quite
possibly.’ Her ladyship’s tone suggested that, if this were the
case, the Almighty would presently receive her views on the
subject. ‘Certainly it seems that there is nothing to be done. I
only wish there were for, of all things, I particularly dislike an
unequal party.’

‘Indeed,’
murmured his Grace. A glint that any of his close friends would
have instantly recognised appeared in his eyes. ‘Indeed. But I
would have thought that a very obvious remedy is already at
hand.’

‘Oh? And what,
pray, is that?’

‘Why… simply to
have your niece join the party,’ came the bland reply. ‘It seems,
if you will permit me to say so, perfectly proper that she should
do so – and, under the circumstances, it would appear to be the
only possible solution.’

He smiled
lazily and Lady Miriam stared at him, for once in her life bereft
of speech. Finally, she said stiffly, ‘Adeline has no taste for
society.’

‘My sister has
no taste for rational conversation,’ responded Rockliffe lightly.
‘It is a fault, however, that I hope to correct.’

Her gaze
sharpened and, for the second time, she sought a suitably quelling
reply. Then, failing to find it, she said lamely, ‘You may be
right. I will consider the matter. It is quite impossible, of
course, to change the arrangements for this evening.’

‘Perish the
thought! But – with no less than five young ladies to be adequately
chaperoned – you will also, I feel sure, consider both the
propriety and the advantages of enlisting Mistress Kendrick’s
assistance with the task,’ he observed sweetly. ‘Beginning,
perhaps, tomorrow?’

He had, of
course, no way of knowing exactly what he’d started.

*

‘I won’t have
it!’ cried Diana petulantly. ‘She’s no notion at all how to behave
in polite company and I don’t want her there spoiling my chances
and making her nasty little remarks. It’s the most stupid idea I
ever heard!’

‘Possibly it
is,’ snapped her mother. ‘But if you have been attending to what
I’ve just said, you’ll realise that the Duke has left me little
choice.’

‘I don’t see
why. It’s none of his business.’

‘No. And I’d as
soon he was given no excuse to make it so,’ came the exasperated
reply. ‘Have you no conception of what we are dealing with here?
Rockliffe has a reputation as a wit and a raconteur. They say he
misses nothing. He also has the power to make or break aspiring
debutantes – or else turn them into a laughing-stock. Is that what
you want?’

‘He wouldn’t.
He
couldn’t
! Not to me.’

‘I’m glad
you’re so sure. Unfortunately, we can’t afford the risk.’

There was a
long silence and then, for the first time, Diana’s bright gaze
moved to rest squarely on her cousin’s still figure.

‘All right,’
she said, with suppressed violence. ‘All right. But if you ever get
in my way … if you ever dare to presume on the fact that you’ve met
the Duke before, I’ll make sure you regret it. Is that
understood?’

‘Perfectly,’
replied Adeline dryly. ‘With you, what else would I expect?’

Furious
cornflower eyes met aquamarine ones filled with detached irony and,
for a brief instant, the years rolled back to the day when,
catching Diana taking a heavy stick to her pony, Adeline had dealt
her own summary justice. Then it was gone and Diana was saying
savagely, ‘Mind your manners – and try to remember that you’re only
here out of charity.’

‘How could I
ever forget?’

‘That will do,’
said Lady Miriam. ‘Adeline – I have told you many times that I
consider your tone unsuitably sarcastic. Diana – I am grieved to
say that your conduct this morning has been somewhat unbecoming and
that you must strive to master your temper. Now … I wish to hear no
more such squabbling. Adeline will dine with us this evening – and
you need not concern yourself in any way, Diana. She knows exactly
what is required of her, do you not, Adeline?’

‘Oh yes. To the
letter.’

‘Good. Then the
matter is settled … except, that is, for the question of what you
will wear.’

‘Well, it’s no
use asking
me
to give her anything because I shan’t!’ stated
Diana. ‘Let her come as she is. I don’t care!’

‘Then you
should or we shall all be made ridiculous,’ replied her mother
tartly, her eyes turning back to encompass her niece. ‘Althea gave
you her straw-coloured taffeta, I believe. That will have to do for
this evening since you have presumably already altered it to fit.
For the future, we must contrive something. Let me think. Yes. You
may have my mulberry brocade. It is a trifle behind the mode but
that is of little consequence. There is also a grey-striped
polonaise which I have never cared for and not worn above twice.
And you, Diana, will produce that green tiffany which turned out to
be not at all the shade we thought and which does not become you in
the least. And that,’ she concluded, ‘should be more than
sufficient. Diana, you may re-join our guests – and remember to be
careful what you say in front of Cecily Garfield. Adeline – come
with me. You may collect the gowns now so that Thérèse can help you
to alter them.’

And, so saying,
she sailed majestically to the door.

*

A brief but
distinct hush fell across the drawing-room when Adeline entered it
that evening, but she had expected that. What she had not expected,
but perhaps should have done, was that it would be broken by Cecily
Garfield saying clearly, ‘My goodness, Di – I thought you were
joking. How perfectly frightful!’

Diana, under
the admonitory gaze of her mother and therefore unable to reply as
she would have liked, contented herself with a speaking glance and
immediately resumed her conversation with Nell. Althea, miserably
embarrassed but too nervous to move, welcomed her cousin as best
she could with a tense smile; and Harry Caversham’s blue eyes
travelled from face to face with growing surprise and distaste. No
one else seemed inclined to acknowledge Adeline’s presence at
all.

No one, that
is, except for his Grace of Rockliffe who strolled urbanely into
the centre of the stage, made Mistress Kendrick the bow for which
he was famous and said with a smile, ‘Good evening. I am delighted
your aunt was able to persuade you to join us for I’d begun to fear
my ill-timed pleasantry of the other day had driven you to avoid
me. Dare I hope that I’m forgiven and that we may now talk over old
times?’

It sounded, on
the face of it, like a graceful apology. Adeline, seeing the glint
in his eyes, knew better.


Devil
,’
she thought. And said, ‘Certainly – if that is your wish. But there
is nothing to forgive. The truth, so far as I’m aware, never hurt
anyone.’

‘Your mistake,
then.’ He was at her side now and able to lower his voice. ‘The
truth can be the sharpest weapon of all … if, of course, one wields
it correctly.’

‘As you do, you
mean?’ she asked. And then, suddenly unable to stop herself,

Why did
you do it
?’

His smile
gathered an element of provocation and he went on as if she hadn’t
spoken.

‘Take, for
example, that gown you are wearing. It is, I presume, one of those
donated to you by Mistress Althea?’

‘Yes. Can’t you
see that I’ve no desire to be part of this farce?’

‘Just so. Now …
candour would compel me to own that you were quite right. It
doesn’t suit you in the least and, in fact, looks quite
appalling.’

‘Thank
you.’

‘You see? A
perfect example of truth. But if I add a grain or two more … that
the gown itself is an over-trimmed disaster and that your cousin –
being a blonde – probably looked worse in it than you do … well,
then the matter becomes rather different.’ Calmly, he flicked open
his snuff-box and appeared to help himself from it. ‘I, myself,’ he
finished reflectively, ‘would dress you in pale blue silk and
silver tissue.’

‘You won’t be
granted the opportunity,’ she returned coldly. ‘I suppose you
realise the trouble you’re causing? Yes – of course you do. It’s
the only reason I’m here, isn’t it? To dilute the monotony for you
by forcing everybody to associate with the poor relation who ought,
by rights, to be kept decently out of sight.’

‘In part, yes.
But you are overlooking something.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you
possess the inestimable advantage of being neither dull nor
vulgar.’

The air in her
lungs evaporated and she silently damned him for it.

‘Dear me,’ she
said satirically. ‘You can’t conceive how flattered I am.’

Rockliffe
laughed, causing Lord Harry’s brows to fly up and Diana to clench
unladylike fists. Nearer to hand and equally unladylike, Adeline
experienced a strong desire to box his ears.

‘Don’t be,’ he
said. ‘Everything is relative, after all. And try not to look so
murderous. Your aunt is about to descend. I wonder who … ah. Yes.
The so-cultivated and charming Mr Garfield. You have my sympathy.
He will not, I think, amuse you.’

‘Well of course
he won’t,’ came the waspish, low-voiced reply. ‘He’s so aware of
his own consequence, he’s unlikely even to
speak
to me.’

‘No, no. For
where I lead – how can he fail to follow?’ murmured the Duke
wickedly. And turned, smiling, to face Lady Miriam.

He was, as it
transpired, quite right. For though Lewis Garfield was by no means
pleased to be seated by a Poor Relation, he knew that it would not
do for him to appear higher in the instep than Rockliffe himself.
He therefore condescended to address Mistress Kendrick from time to
time – and, in doing so, discovered her an admirable audience. It
was not, obviously, as satisfactory as being placed beside the Lady
Elinor; but Adeline’s contemplative gaze and monosyllabic answers
were a vast improvement on Lizzie Pickering’s forceful tones and
wandering attention. And she had, he suddenly noticed, a remarkably
beautiful neck.

A poor head for
claret combined with the very natural assumption that dowerless
females past their first blush cannot afford to be choosy, caused
him to lay his hand on her thigh. Instantly, the blue-green eyes
impaled him with something not quite a smile.

‘Remove it,’
said Adeline quietly. ‘Now.’

He did so and
felt his colour rise.

The
cutting-edge vanished as swiftly as it had come and she said,
‘Merely a misapprehension, I am sure … and one soon forgotten, sir.
Now … you were delighting me with a description of your Venetian
mirrors, were you not?’

And Mr Garfield
found himself following her lead with a good deal less than his
usual assurance whilst wondering just how positively he had been
repudiated. Or indeed, by the time several glasses of port had
joined the claret, whether he had been repudiated at all.

Back in the
drawing-room, meanwhile, talk amongst the younger ladies had
naturally gravitated to the forthcoming ball – now only five days
distant and thus looming large on their horizons. Cecily informed
the interested that she intended to dazzle the company with her
mother’s rubies; Nell admitted a desperate desire to have her hair
powdered for the occasion – something Rockliffe had previously
always vetoed; and Diana regaled them all with a detailed
description of her ball-gown – newly arrived from the mantua-makers
and made of ivory satin, looped up over a petticoat of gold
lace.

‘Such stuff!’
Having prowled restlessly about the room throughout most of this,
Lizzie Pickering came eventually to roost beside Adeline. ‘All this
fuss over a dozen or so couples standing up in the blue salon after
the furniture’s been pushed back. I’ve no patience with it – and
nor have you, I shouldn’t think.’

Adeline looked
at her consideringly. So far as she could recall, it was the first
time they had ever spoken. She said, ‘Perhaps not. But it’s rather
different for me, isn’t it?’

‘Yes – but
that’s not what I meant,’ came the blunt reply. ‘Andrew told me you
once mended his spaniel’s leg after it got caught in snare. Is that
true?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well
they
wouldn’t dirty their hands. All Diana and Cecily care
for is which of them will catch a husband first. Di thinks she’ll
win because she’s beautiful – and Cecy things
she
will
because she’s an heiress. It’s a race. Have you ever heard anything
so silly?’ She grinned suddenly. ‘It’s a wonder they’re not laying
bets on it.’

‘And if they
were?’

‘I’d put my
money on Diana. I never met anyone so selfish or stubborn in my
life. Not that I think she’ll get Rockliffe. From what I’ve seen of
him, he’s got more sense. Did you know he’s offered to buy that
temperamental black from Sir Roland? It’s almost enough to persuade
me to make a push for him myself.’

‘Rockliffe,’
asked Adeline, with a hint of humour, ‘or The Trojan?’

‘Both.’ Without
warning, Lizzie arose again and stood frowning at the small
portrait adorning the wall above Adeline’s head. ‘I’ve a blue satin
gown that my sister Amelia had made for me but I prefer my old
green taffeta because it’s more comfortable and doesn’t make me
look quite so freckled. I thought … it occurred to me that the blue
might look well on you and that perhaps you’d care to borrow it.
For the ball, I mean.’ She turned as if to go and then added
abruptly, ‘It’s new or I wouldn’t suggest it – so I hope you’re not
offended.’ And stalked back across the room to sit beside
Althea.

Adeline was
still trying to account for this surprising behaviour when the door
opened to admit the gentlemen … and her Uncle Richard was before
her.

BOOK: Mesalliance
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