Notorious Deception (5 page)

Though his love for Charity had been of a short duration, it had had a profound and lasting effect on Derek's attitude toward women. He vowed that he would never again allow himself to be so easily taken in by a pretty face. He now avoided any entanglements with unmarried women of society and instead confined his relationships with women who were willing to engage in brief sexual liaisons.

Although reluctant to enter into marriage, Derek placed duty and honor above all things. Since he had assumed the title, it was his responsibility to provide an heir. He planned on doing that at the appropriate time, already deciding the qualities he would seek in a mate. She would be plain, but fair, young, no more than 18 years old, of a sweet temperament, and, he hoped, fertile.

Once the obligation of producing an heir had been fulfilled, Derek was fully prepared to conduct his life separately from his wife. He would always treat his wife with the utmost respect and dignity. She could retire to the family estate in the country, where he would make periodic obligatory visits. In his mind, the marriage was to be very proper and civilized. That he might be missing something essential in his life was not an idea Derek would consider. Experience had taught him the need to be prudent and avoid the unpredictable entanglements of love.

Derek felt Tristan's blue eyes upon him, and he cast his friend a measured glance. “I'm afraid I am becoming melancholy,” he said mockingly. “Forgive me. You are right, of course, Tris. Charity is merely a name attached to an unfortunate incident in my past. And she should be treated accordingly. I need to focus my attentions on the mysterious Diana Rutledge or whatever her real name is. Drink up, old boy. I've a sudden urge to have a chat with our little adventuress.”

 

“What the devil are you doing in here?” A sharp female voice pulled Diana out of her blissful state of sleep, and she awoke groggily. She sat up in her chair, stretching her stiff, aching muscles.

“I am sorry,” Diana replied in a small voice. “I must have fallen asleep when I stopped reading. Although I do enjoy Lord Byron's poetry, I must confess it generally does have this effect on me.”

Caroline, sitting primly on the edge of her bed, narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Diana. “Do you mean to say that it was you reading to me this afternoon? Not my sister-in-law Alyssa?”

“I stayed with you today,” Diana said, watching Caroline intently. “Mrs. Roget thought it best you were not left alone.”

Caroline turned her head away. “I am perfectly fine now,” she said briskly. “Thank you for your concern.”

Diana acknowledged the other woman's remarks with a slight nod of her head. She had the uncanny sense that Tristan's wife was not at all the shrew she appeared to be, but it was obvious she was uncomfortable in Diana's company. Diana was spared from making any additional comments by a sudden knock on the door.

“Come,” Caroline called out.

“Lord Tristan is home,” the young maid said when she entered the room. “And he is requesting that madam join him in the front salon at once.”

At the mention of Tristan, Caroline's entire face lit up, and she smiled a genuine smile. “Inform him that I shall be down directly, Gwen.”

“Oh, no.” The maid blushed with confusion. “Not you my lady.” She lifted her finger and pointed directly at Diana. “The other madam.”

Caroline's eyes widened in shock and she dropped her gaze dejectedly to her lap. Her hands shook visibly as she systematically ran her fingers over the wrinkles on the skirt of her gown.

“Leave us, Gwen,” Caroline eventually whispered.

Once they were alone, Caroline turned to Diana. “You may inform my husband that I will not be down for dinner this evening,” she stated in an icy tone.

“Nonsense,” Diana insisted, determined to put an end to all the misunderstandings. For whatever reason, Caroline had decided that Diana represented a threat to her, and Diana wanted to dispose of that incorrect notion at once. She had no intention of allowing Caroline to spend the evening alone, brooding in her room. “You will come down to the front salon with me. Since your maid is off this afternoon, I shall be pleased to assist you in changing your gown. ”

Caroline stared hard at Diana. “Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked in a low voice.

“May I speak bluntly?” Diana asked, and before Caroline could respond, she said, “I am well aware that my presence here has caused a problem between you and your husband, and for that I am truly sorry. Tristan has been nothing but kind to me, and I would not want to repay that kindness by upsetting you. I have no idea why I have been summoned downstairs, but I see no reason why you cannot be present. In order to avoid any additional misunderstandings, I think it would be best if you accompany me. Don't you agree?”

Caroline showed her astonishment at Diana's remarks. “Tristan told me a wild tale about you last night,” Caroline said. “I didn't believe a word of it.”

“Neither would I, if I were in your place,” Diana said, not in the least bit offended. “I am hoping your husband has uncovered some information that can help me sort out the mess my life has suddenly become.”

Without further comment, Caroline rose from the bed. Diana breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she had won Caroline over, at least temporarily. With Diana's able assistance, Caroline changed her gown relatively quickly. After taking one last look in the mirror over her dressing table, Caroline left the bedchamber, Diana trailing behind.

Diana saw the surprise register on Tristan's face as she and Caroline entered the salon side by side. After a moment's hesitation, he strode across the room, meeting them halfway, an utterly charming smile on his handsome face. He brought his wife's hand to his lips in a soft, seductive manner, and Diana felt like an intruder as she witnessed his welcome. Caroline's breathing quickened noticeably when Tristan caressingly held her hand, but she greeted her husband cautiously.

Diana muttered a hasty and nearly incoherent greeting. She moved to the far side of the room to allow Tristan and Caroline a few moments of privacy. No matter what difficulties the couple faced, it was obvious that they loved each other deeply.

Self-consciously, Diana stepped away from the embracing couple, colliding directly with a large, unmovable object. At first Diana assumed she had backed into a piece of furniture, but when she turned around, she gasped loudly with surprise. Standing directly in front of her, with his magnificent cold, blue eyes sparkling down at her, was the Earl of Harrowby. And he was not smiling.

The earl took a step forward, placing himself even closer to Diana. She felt her cheeks become warm, and she was instantly aware of a queer excitement charging the air. She favored the earl with a nervous smile and an almost inaudible greeting, unconsciously taking several steps back from him.

The earl's proximity was unnerving. Diana felt the power he exuded with his very stance, his every movement, and she found herself frightened by the intensity of her reaction to him. He fairly took her breath away, Diana admitted to herself. She did not remember him being so broad of shoulder, so lean and muscular. Of their own volition, her eyes drifted down the length of him, and she admired the way his golden buckskins tightly hugged his muscular legs. He smelled good, Diana realized with surprise, like leather and spices and fresh air.

The earl coughed and flecked a bit of imaginary dust from his immaculate coat of navy-blue superfine.

The earl's cough ended Diana's scrutiny. Stiffening her spine, she returned his stare boldly, refusing to be intimidated by his forbidding demeanor. He met her gaze directly, a mere hint of amusement lurking in the depth of his eyes.

“Good evening, madam,” Derek said.

“My lord,” Diana replied, dipping a graceful curtsy. For an instant, she thought he might take her hand, and she fought down a rising sense of panic at the idea of touching him. “I was not expecting to see you this evening. ”

“Oh,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “I hope you are not distressed by my presence, madam. We do have unfinished business that demands our attention.”

Neither his tone nor his manner suggested he was overly concerned about Diana's feelings. She disliked his condescending attitude and felt no compulsion to hide that fact. She eyed him irritably.

“Then I sincerely hope, my lord,” Diana stated, in a voice dripping with insincere sweetness, “that our business will be swiftly concluded, so you may take your leave. I would not, in any way, wish to inconvenience you.”

She could see she had sparked his ire, but before he could answer her, Tristan intervened. “Would you prefer we left the two of you alone to conclude your business?”

Both Derek and Diana turned to Tristan at the same time, answering in unison, “No!”

Regaining her composure first, Diana responded in a calmer voice. “I would prefer that both you and

Caroline stay, Tristan.” She turned to the earl and said in a challenging tone, “That is unless you have any objections, my lord?”

“Of course I have no objection, Diana,” Derek said in a smooth, charming voice.

Diana raised her chin disapprovingly at his caressing voice and familiar use of her given name, but she held her tongue.

“Come, let us all sit down and be comfortable,” Caroline said. “Tristan, pour some drinks for everyone. Sherry for Diana and myself please.”

Diana deliberately avoided the matching gold brocade love seats, heading directly for a small, gilt-edged chair near the fire. She folded her hands demurely in her lap, waiting soundlessly while Tristan poured and served the drinks. After completing his duties as host, Tristan sat on the settee next to Caroline. The earl, Diana noted with irritation, chose to remain standing.

“Let us begin,” Derek said commandingly. The earl took a long sip of his drink and began talking. “As I have already informed Tristan, I spent the better part of last night and this morning searching through my cousin's papers. I found no reference to you, madam.” He glared pointedly at Diana, and she unflinchingly met his stare.

“That is hardly surprising, my lord,” Diana countered, “given the fact that we have now established Giles had two wives simultaneously. I strongly doubt he kept a copy of our marriage lines in an unsecured location.”

“Perhaps,” Derek conceded. “Would you be so kind as to tell me, Diana, the name of your London solicitor?”

Diana gave him a puzzled look and shrugged her shoulders. It seemed an odd question, but not one she was adverse to answering. “Mr. Thomas Bartlett handled all the affairs of my late father. I have not required the use of his services since my father's death. He would, however, be the man I would call upon if needed.”

“What about Mr. Jonathan Marlow?” the earl inquired.

Diana paused for a few moments, trying to place the name. Shaking her head, she replied slowly, “I am not acquainted with a Mr. Marlow.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, of course.”

The earl paced back and forth in front of her, his handsome features filled with suspicion. Pulling a piece of paper from his inside breast coat pocket, he presented it to Diana with a flourish.

“It appears, madam,” he said in a scornful tone, “that you have made your first and last mistake. The current owner of the Red Boar Inn conducted the purchase of the tavern with the solicitor of the previous owner. The solicitor in question was Jonathan Marlow. And the previous owner, if my eyes do not deceive me, was you, madam.”

Diana reached for the paper silently, eyeing the earl dubiously. She quickly scanned the contents of the deed and read the signature. Her lips curled up slightly in a mocking grin. “'Tis a very interesting document, my lord,” she remarked cynically. “But I am afraid I must inform you, it is not worth the paper it is written upon.” Diana leaned back in her chair and took a dainty sip of her sherry.

“I received that document from the owner himself, madam. This property was among those you demanded the deeds for. As you can plainly see, I am merely fulfilling your request. I have produced the appropriate deed for you. The problem is, however, that you no longer own the establishment.”

“That is not my signature,” Diana stated in a flat, emotionless voice. “And I have never heard of Mr. Jonathan Marlow until this very moment.”

When the earl threw up his hands in exasperation, Tristan intervened. Coming forward, he reached for the deed in Diana's outstretched hand. “May I?” he asked, and at her nod, he took the paper from her. “Are there any other documents available so we may compare the signatures?”

Diana turned her head up sharply at Tristan. The earl's mistrust was to be expected, but somehow she thought Tristan was on her side. He gave her an apologetic smile and said, “It is the only way we can exonerate you, Diana.”

The earl reached into his breast coat pocket, pulling forth the rest of the papers Diana had given him yesterday. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw he still had her marriage contract in his possession.

“Check the signature on the marriage contract,” she said smugly.

Tristan brought the documents over to the Sheraton writing table in the corner of the room. He turned up the wick on the lamp, casting a bright light on the papers. The earl raised a skeptical eyebrow at Diana, who sat motionless in her chair; then he followed Tristan over to the desk.

Caroline also walked over to the desk, wanting to examine the evidence herself. Tristan cleared his throat twice and said in a voice filled with regret, “I am afraid, Diana, the signatures do appear to be one and the same.”

Diana snorted in disgust and rose from her chair. She strode over to the desk and stood before her three adversaries, her hands on her hips. “Naturally the signatures appear the same. I imagine Giles hired the very best forger he could find. And yet I am forced to conclude they were in a rush when this particular document was forged, since there is a discrepancy. Look closely at the names. Can you not see it?”

The three heads turned back to stare at the documents. “I've found it,” Caroline called out excitedly. “There it is. The second name. On the deed for the tavern the name reads Diana Maria, but on the marriage contract it is signed Diana Marisa.”

“Thank you, Caroline,” Diana remarked in a stiff voice. “I am glad at least someone is willing to examine closely the evidence before passing judgment.” She stared at the two men, waiting expectantly.

Tristan colored slightly, but apologized readily. “You are right, of course, Diana. We should not have been so hasty.” He turned to the earl.

“I do hope you will accept my apology also, madam,” Derek said, keeping his tone level and his expression impassive.

“I ask only that you treat me with a fair and open mind, my lord,” Diana said gracefully.

“I feel it is appropriate to drop the subject for now,” Caroline said. “I'm sure Cook has prepared a marvelous supper for us this evening. I insist you stay and dine with us, Derek. Or do you have other plans?”

“Nothing that cannot be changed, Caroline,” he replied smoothly. “I would be honored to join you for dinner.”

Diana gazed at the earl from beneath her lowered lids, annoyed with her heart's involuntary skip of pleasure when he consented to stay for dinner. She tried to convince herself she wanted him to stay only because she needed to know what his next move was to be. Yet as he gallantly extended his muscular arm to escort her into dinner, Diana knew she was not being completely honest with herself.

Dinner turned out to be a far more pleasant experience than Diana could have imagined. Caroline was an accomplished hostess, and she kept a lively flow of chatter going through each course and put everyone at ease. The food was as delicious as Caroline had predicted, from the cream of watercress soup to the roast leg of lamb with tarragon sauce and the rich hazelnut cake with chocolate sauce.

Diana had never before dined in such elegant surroundings. The table fairly sparkled with the fine cut of the crystal, heavy sterling silver flatware, and gold-edged china. Even the creamy white tablecloth was lovely, with its fine Venetian lace edge. The candles on the table and sideboard glowed romantically, casting an unreal atmosphere in the large, formal dining room. Liveried servants stood a discrete distance behind each diner, rushing forward unobtrusively to refill a wineglass or to offer up another tasty morsel of food. Although raised among considerable wealth, Diana was unaccustomed to such luxury, and she found that she enjoyed it tremendously.

The conversation during dinner centered on harmless bits of gossip and amusing wartime escapades of Tristan and the earl, watered down, Diana had no doubt, for her and Caroline's benefit. Diana listened mostly, relaxing amid the warmth and established comradery of the others, occasionally interjecting an astute comment or observation.

 

Diana's quick wit and agile tongue were not lost on Derek. Why was she so damn likable? he wondered. And stunning, he thought, absently tapping his fingers on his wineglass. Surely her hair had not been so golden yesterday, nor her skin so smooth and porcelain-like, with just a pale hint of roses brushing her high cheekbones. Despite her rather plain black mourning gown, Derek could still see and admire her full breasts and slender waist. He could only imagine how lovely she would look properly dressed with her creamy shoulders and breasts rising above the bodice of a low-cut evening dress.

“Don't you agree, Derek?” Tristan said, interrupting Derek's thoughts.

Shifting in his chair, Derek turned toward Tristan, uncomfortable at being caught unawares.

“Sorry, Tris,,” Derek apologized with an artful grin. “I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that.”

“Help me out,” Tristan said, raising his voice a bit. “Caroline is beginning another long discourse on Lord Byron's exalted talent, and Diana is clearly being too polite to disagree.”

“I am certainly not being too polite, Tristan,” Diana said, wagging her fork at him. “I find Byron's poetry to be stimulating, a bit fanciful, yet totally engaging. I derive a great deal of pleasure from his work.”

Caroline spoke up before the men had an opportunity to comment. “You see, Tris. Diana agrees with me. We spent a perfectly delightful afternoon together, reading Byron's poetry.” Caroline's eyes twinkled mischievously at Diana, who grinned directly at her.

Derek was aware of the current of conspiracy between the two women, and when he caught Diana's eye, she gave him a broad wink. He was momentarily caught off guard, but after a brief hesitation, he smiled at her.

“I believe, Caroline,” Derek said in a soft drawl, “it is not so much your admiration for Byron's poetry that Tris and I take exception to, but your regard for him. He continually proves he is not a man worthy of such regard.”

“Oh, really, Derek,” Caroline retorted hotly. “Since when have you become such a prude? Byron is merely a man who craves excitement and pleasure. He enjoys amusing women and a few fellows around the decanter. What is so wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all, Caroline,” Derek agreed, with a charming smile. “Except the excitement and pleasure is often perverse, the women usually married, and the decanter bought on credit.”

“Well, I still find him amusing and I am proud to call him my friend,” Caroline insisted.

“He should be honored, my dear lady,” Derek responded with kindness, not wanting to upset Caroline. She had always been blind to Byron's faults, no matter what Tristan had told her over the years.

“Tell me, Caroline,” Diana said, “are you also acquainted with Mary Shelley? I recently read her novel,
Frankenstein,
and found it most fascinating.”

Caroline shook her head. “I am not familiar with either the author or her work. Have you read this book, Derek?” She grinned impishly at him, showing she held no anger toward him over his criticism of her beloved Byron.

“I also must confess I am unfamiliar with the work,” Derek responded smoothly. “Tris?”

“I do believe I recall the story,” Tristan said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Is it not the tale of a man destroyed by the huge, unlovable, lonely creature he has created?”