Notorious Deception (3 page)

Diana's gaze shifted to the massive hearth, where the large fire blazed. Then her eyes drifted over the fireplace to the place where a huge painting depicting a hunting scene was hung. Something about the artwork seemed oddly familiar, and almost unwillingly Diana rose to her feet and strolled across the room, her eyes never leaving the painting.

“Giles,” she said calmly, pointing at a mounted rider in the foreground. He sat regally upon his black stallion, one arm raised in triumph as he held a limp fox aloft. His eyes seem to be bearing down arrogantly at her, as if mocking her.

“I beg your pardon?” Derek asked.

“Giles,” she repeated simply, her finger reaching up to trace the likeness. “This is a picture of my late husband.”

Derek moved closer to gain a better view of the painting. “Yes, that is him,” he confirmed with a sigh. Turning toward the south wall to another painting he added, “I believe Giles commissioned this work after Thomas Lawrence completed that portrait of Henriette and Rosalind.”

Diana also turned so she could view the second painting in question. Her eyes beheld a strangely quiet Henriette in a stiff, formal pose. Diana gasped loudly as she noticed Henriette held a young girl in her arms.

“A child,” she said in a strangled voice. “They had a child?”

A look of alarm crossed the earl's face. “I presume you do not have any children, madam, since you have not previously mentioned any?”

“No, no children. Whenever I broached the subject of children, Giles became exceedingly cross.” Diana continued to stare at the portrait, unable to lift her gaze from the sweet-faced baby. “She is very pretty. Did you say her name is Rosalind? How old is she?”

“Rosalind just celebrated her second birthday this past February,” the earl replied.

“I see,” Diana said in a flat tone. “When did Giles marry Henriette?”

“Early summer, 1815,” Tristan said. “In June. Theirs was the last large society wedding before the Battle of Waterloo. Derek and I used to jest there was a connection between the wedding and the battle.”

Diana let out a deep sigh and brought her hand up to rub her temples. It was all too difficult to comprehend. Her head pounded with tension and confusion. “Can you please explain to me what my position is? I married Giles first, but produced no issue. Am I his legal wife?”

“I have no idea,” the earl answered honestly,

“Nor do I,” Tristan said. “I suppose the best thing to do is to make some very discrete legal inquires.”

“Do you have your marriage lines with you?” Derek asked.

“Of course not,” Diana said. “They are not among the usual items I carry on my person. And I was certainly not aware it would be necessary for me to prove my identity.”

“There is no need to worry about that now,” Tristan interjected. “There will be plenty of time to sort all of this out later.”

Diana shook her head in dismay and moved closer to the picture of Henriette and baby Rosalind.

Derek pulled Tristan off to the side and asked, “What are we going to do with her?”

“I'll take her,” Tristan said.

“What!” Derek exclaimed. “What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?”

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at Derek's indignant expression and broke into a smile. “Don't look so worried, Derek,” Tristan teased. “I'll take her back to my house. Caroline is in town with me; she will be glad of the company. Unless you prefer that Diana stay here with you and Henriette.”

“Good Lord, no,” Derek quickly countered. “It would be a great help if you could keep an eye on her while I have this outlandish story of hers checked out. This could still turn out to be an elaborate hoax, Tris.”

“It could,” Tristan reluctantly agreed. “But I strongly doubt it, my friend.”

Diana finally turned her eyes away from the portrait and glanced over at the earl and Tristan where they were quietly speaking together on the far side of the room. She was too emotionally spent to get annoyed at their rude behavior. What could it matter now? The past four years of her life had been a lie. Giles had tricked her father. And used her. And most likely would have continued to do so if he had not died so suddenly. Diana felt sick to her stomach.

It was true that her marriage had been a far cry from a happy one, but being the Countess of Harrowby was an intricate part of her identity. It was decidedly unsettling to learn she had been living a lie these past years.

Diana's mind whirled. Much of Giles's strange behavior and unusual attitudes toward her finally seemed to have a reasonable explanation. He had been leading a double life. Though Giles had never gone so far as to profess love for Diana, she had believed that he at one time had held her in regard and respect. She realized that belief must have been a lie too. She had merely been a means to an end.

Diana had always known that Giles had married her for her fortune; he had never hidden that fact from her. But she wondered if she had even been legally married at all.

She bit her lip tightly, feeling the tears prick her eyes. It would certainly not help matters any if she broke down into sobs. Above all else, she must contain her emotions and keep a clear head. With a deep sense of foreboding, Diana felt the nightmare she found herself embroiled in had merely begun.

When Diana saw Tristan and the earl approaching her out of the corner of her eye, she squared her shoulders. It had been difficult enough discovering Giles's betrayal, but her humiliation was intensified having these two men witness her disgrace. She drew together the last shreds of her pride and faced them.

“We thought under the circumstances, madam,” the earl began, “you would be more comfortable staying at Tristan's home, which is only a few blocks from here. Unless you have made other arrangements?”

“I have made no other arrangements,” Diana responded quietly. “But I cannot possibly impose on you, sir. If you would be so kind as to recommend a respectable establishment, I will be on my way.” The last thing Diana wanted at this point was charity, although she was not certain she had enough coin in her purse to pay for decent lodgings.

“Nonsense,” Tristan insisted. “I wouldn't hear of it. My wife, Caroline, will be delighted to have company.”

“It would be best,” the earl quickly agreed. “I shall tell Dobbs to have your carriage brought around.”

The eager note in the earl's voice piqued Diana. He was very anxious to be rid of her. She thrust her chin up and stared hard into his blue eyes. “I do not have a carriage, my lord.”

“Don't have a carriage?” Derek repeated. “How the devil did you get here?”

“In a hired vehicle,” Diana said, bristling. “I set out in my own coach from Cornwall, but I am afraid the vehicle was not up to the long, arduous ride. We broke an axle on the fourth day out and my coachman, Richards, was injured. I left him, along with my traveling trunk and my maid, Amy, who is his wife, at a posting inn in Salisbury, and I continued the journey on my own. Upon my arrival in town I was left at the yard of the Bull and Mouth in Piccadilly, where I engaged the services of a cab.”

“You traveled from Salisbury to London on a mail coach, without the benefit of a maid or a traveling companion?” the earl inquired in disbelief.

Diana shrugged her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated by the incredulous looks she was receiving from both the earl and Tristan. “I had no other choice. I could hardly abandon Richards with his broken leg. His need of Amy's services was simply greater than my own.”

“Oh,” Derek muttered uncertainly.

“We have no need of a carriage on any account,” Tristan said. “The rain has finally let up, and if we leave right now, we should arrive at my house before it begins to shower again.”

The matter decided, Derek rang for Dobbs. The butler appeared soon thereafter, his eyes deliberately avoiding Derek, who knew he would have to discipline the butler at the first opportunity. It was obvious from Dobb's overall demeanor that he was aware that he had acted with great impropriety concerning Diana. Derek sighed heavily. He sensed the household servants were wary of him, and many felt he did not deserve the title he had recently acquired. Though Giles had hardly been a kind employer, the staff was still loyal to him and, to some extent, Henriette. Derek knew that the staff still regarded him as an interloper.

Derek bid his farewells to Tristan and Diana in the privacy of the drawing room, deciding to spare them all a public good-bye in front of the curious servants. He could only imagine what tales were circulating through the servants' hall at that very moment. Damn nuisance.

Once alone, Derek stared moodily at the hunting picture of Giles, his dislike for his cousin intensifying. Even as boys they had not been on friendly terms. Their fathers, who were brothers, were not in any way close, and Giles always enjoyed taunting the younger Derek about his lack of title and wealth. As he grew to manhood, Giles had become even more of a bully, but Derek was not intimidated by his older cousin. Derek's father purchased a commission in the army for his only child, and Derek spent several years on the Peninsula fighting the French. After Derek had faced the horrors of war, he found that Giles's petty barbs were indeed inconsequential.

Derek's thoughts then focused on Diana Rutledge. He was still not entirely convinced of the truth of her tale. It was not his nature to easily trust, especially where women were concerned. Yet he had to admit, Tristan had made a valid point. Who could possibly make up such a bizarre story—and for what possible gain? It seemed unthinkable that such a lovely woman had been treated so shabbily by a member of his family. But as Derek once again looked at Giles's likeness, his anger intensified.

Derek finished his brandy with a flourish and left the room in search of Dobbs. He intended to give the servant a severe dressing down for his disgraceful behavior concerning Diana. It was a task he decided he would enjoy since, of all the servants in the house, Dobbs, in a sneaky and underhanded way, displayed the most disdain for the new earl. Derek, in turn, distrusted the butler immensely. As soon as he could produce a replacement, Dobbs would get sacked, Derek decided, walking toward the servants' quarters. He would not tolerate such insubordination under his own roof.

 

Diana enjoyed the feel of the cool air on her face as she walked down the street with Tristan at her side, his firm grip on her elbow guiding her along. The crisp air was refreshing and somehow cleansing to her spirit. She had only a vague recollection of bidding the earl a rather hasty good-bye, watching Tristan take her satchel from the curious footman, and leaving the house. With each step she took away from the house, she felt her confidence renewing itself, as her memories gradually faded into the background. Slowly, her mind began functioning again, and she started plotting her next course.

“Here we are,” Tristan announced as they stopped before the large stone steps of his elegantly appointed house. He looked down at Diana expectantly.

“I do thank you, sir, for all of your kindness today,” Diana said clearly. “But I cannot impose on your good nature any longer. If you would kindly hail a conveyance for me, I shall be on my way.”

“Where will you go?” Tristan asked softly.

“I'm not precisely sure, sir,” Diana admitted honestly. “But I am confident I shall find respectable lodgings before nightfall.”

“Nonsense, and please call me Tristan. If you will allow me, I shall call you Diana.” He once again firmly grasped her elbow and propelled her up the stone steps. “Now, Diana, I could not, in good conscience, abandon you. For one thing, it is beginning to rain again. And for another, Derek would skin me alive if I lost track of you.”

At the mention of the earl, Diana's calmness erupted into anger. “It is hardly any concern of the earl's where I choose to spend the night. He has made it abundantly clear he does not believe my story. I feel certain he has no interest in what happens to me. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the earl would vastly prefer I disappeared from the face of the earth and was never heard from again.”

Tristan flashed Diana a brilliant smile, but did not comment.

“And I also find it difficult to believe, Tristan,” Diana said, her voice growing stronger with each word, “that you are in any way afraid of the earl.”

“Oh, but in that instance you are wrong,” he said quickly, as a young footman opened the door and Tristan led her into the house. “I have known Derek for more years than I care to recall. We fought side by side against the French, and I have witnessed firsthand his skill with both saber and pistol. He is not a man easily dismissed or deterred.”

“The earl would never come to blows with a friend over an inconsequential woman,” Diana responded.

Tristan turned to her in surprise at her correct assumption. She had a keen mind and she was astutely observant, he thought. How then had Giles managed so easily to dupe her? Tristan was prevented from further considering the matter by the sudden appearance of his wife, Caroline, on the staircase.

Caroline paused a moment on the staircase, her hand tightly clutching the oak banister, her lovely face unreadable as she called out her greeting.

“Good afternoon, Tristan,” Caroline said in a level voice. “Back so soon. And how is Derek faring today?”

“He sends his regards, Caroline,” Tristan responded evenly, feeling a sudden unpleasant tension grip his chest as he watched his wife descend the staircase. “I've brought a houseguest, Caroline.”

“How nice,” Caroline said calmly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she stood before Diana and her husband. “Are you a friend of Derek's?”

Diana turned questioning eyes to Tristan, clearly seeking guidance.

“A relative,” Tristan stated firmly. “This is Diana Rutledge. Diana, my wife Caroline.”

Caroline favored Diana with a slight, cool smile, but quickly turned her attention back to her husband. “Was there no room for Miss Rutledge at the earl's residence?”

Tristan cast his wife a chilling stare, surprised at her rudeness and irritated by her unfounded jealousy. Caroline's moods had become so unpredictable lately that he was unsure how best to handle her. He had every intention of explaining the entire situation to Caroline, but he refused to do so in front of a collection of curious servants. Annoyed at her churlish behavior, Tristan turned away from his wife, refusing to answer her question.

“Diana will be staying with us while she is in town,” Tristan declared in a firm voice.

“'Tis a bit late, but if you wish, I shall instruct the servants to bring tea for you and your guest, Tristan,” Caroline said briskly.

“I do not care for anything, thank you,” Diana said, speaking for the first time.

Tristan nodded in understanding. “You must be exhausted, Diana. Mrs. Roget, our housekeeper, will show you to your room.”

He signaled to the short, plump woman who hovered at the end of the vast entrance hall. She quickly came forward and bobbed a small curtsy.

Diana thanked him again, noting with alarm the increased tension between husband and wife. She felt a momentary pause of regret, knowing she was the catalyst for it, but she felt too emotionally drained to try to rectify the problem. If Tristan did not thoroughly explain her bizarre situation to his wife this evening, Diana decided she would do so herself in the morning before she left. Satisfying her conscience with that notion, Diana wearily followed the housekeeper up the long staircase.

Silently, the housekeeper led her down the short hallway and opened the door to a corner bedchamber. Two maids were busy placing fresh linens on the large four-poster bed in the center of the room, and a young footman was dragging a copper bathtub before the blazing fire. Diana noted her satchel had been placed conveniently near the bed by another footman.

“Shall I have a tray sent up while you wait for your bath to be ready, madam?” Mrs. Roget asked.

“That would be wonderful,” Diana responded, thinking she would enjoy a cup of hot tea in privacy. She crossed the room and sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair near the window, gazing down at the garden below as the servants bustled about the room. A pretty young maid placed a large tea tray on the table in front of her. Diana wanly smiled her thanks.

Within minutes the maids left, and Diana sipped her tea while absently staring at the stark trees, their buds just hinting at the splendor the warmer weather would produce.

“May I assist you with your bath, madam?” Mrs. Roget asked after the footman poured the last of the steaming water into the tub.

“That will not be necessary, Mrs. Roget,” Diana responded, rising to her feet.

“Don't hesitate to ring if you need any further assistance, madam,” Mrs. Roget said before she left the room.

Diana moved slowly about the chamber, her hands automatically undoing the long line of buttons down the front of her gown. She dipped her hand into the bathwater, testing the temperature, and she admired the luxurious size of the bathtub. The slight dampness of her dress and hair permeated her flesh, making Diana suddenly realize how cold she felt. Intent upon soaking herself in the warm comfort of the tub, Diana moved her fingers faster, releasing the fastenings of her undergarments and hastily pushing them off.

Once naked, she slipped languidly into the hot water, shivering slightly until her body accepted the heat and finally relaxed. She stretched her legs out, letting her aching muscles float on the water's surface. Heaving a tremendous sigh, Diana looked into the crackling flames of the nearby fire and felt the first tears begin to trickle down her face. Then suddenly, the floodgates broke, and she gripped the sides of the tub tightly with her hands as the hard, bitter tears fell.

Tears of regret, tears of anger, tears of betrayal—all the pain and anguish came rushing forth, the wrenching sobs shaking her body, and the salty tears cleansing her deep, raw wounds.

When Diana was finally able to regain control of her emotions, she realized how cold the bathwater had become. She plunged her face into the cooling water and picked up the small bar of lavender-scented soap. Quickly she washed and then dunked her long tresses into the water. She scrubbed her scalp hard and reached over to a nearby bucket, which held clean water to rinse her hair. That too had turned cold, but Diana welcomed its reviving chill.

Once out of the tub, she quickly dried herself and donned her long-sleeved, high-necked flannel nightgown. Its familiar warmth was comforting and she wrapped her arms around herself. She sat before the fire in the brocade striped rosewood chair, alternating between brushing her hair and eating the assortment of sandwiches and pastries Mrs. Roget had thoughtfully included on her tea tray.

When her long hair was finally dry, Diana tied it back with a small yellow ribbon she pulled from her satchel and then climbed onto the bed. She sat down wearily on the soft feather mattress, pulling the deep blue satin comforter up over her legs. Twisting around, Diana piled two of the pillows on top of each other and lazily stretched out on her back, her tired eyes coming to rest on the ornate silk bed trimmings on the canopy above her.