One Night of Scandal (16 page)

Both reason and observation were against Lord Richard Kestrel. Deb had heard of his conquests and seen him flirt with a great many ladies. For all his fine words, she suspected that he had tried to fix her interest in order to discover more about the Midwinter spy. All in all, he was not to be trusted, no matter what her instincts told her. And he was not a marrying man. Since Deb considered herself not to be a marrying woman, this should not have mattered, and yet, unaccountably, it did. Her feelings had been made starkly plain on the subject when Lily Benedict had cornered her at Lady Sally’s soirée a few days before and helpfully whispered that
did she know
that Lord Richard Kestrel had once been engaged to a lady who had found him in the arms of a Cyprian on the night of their betrothal ball…

‘Malicious cat!’ Deb said now, aloud. Even so, she knew that Lord Richard was a man one might flirt with or even take as a lover, but that marriage would be out of the question. And she told herself that she had no desire to enter that state again after her experience with Neil. She knew exactly how unfaithful, unreliable and downright cruel a
man could be and she would not put herself in that position again.

She was about to pick up her quill with renewed energy to frame her letter to Lord Scandal when there was a commotion in the corridor outside and Olivia erupted into the room. Her face was flushed pink, her eyes bright, her hat tilted askew on her flyaway curls. For a moment it was almost like looking at a mirror image of Deb herself. Deb got up, smiling, and then she saw the expression in her sister’s eyes and her smile turned to a frown of concern as her insides turned to ice. Something was dreadfully wrong.

‘Liv?’ she said. ‘What has happened? What’s the matter?’

And then Olivia did something that Deb had never seen her do in her entire life. She burst into tears.

‘I am sorry, I am so very sorry…’ It was ten minutes later and Olivia was finally able to speak again, although not in any coherent way. Her words were making no sense to Deborah at all.

‘I cannot help it. I cannot stop crying!’ Olivia gulped. ‘Oh, Deb, you would not believe what has happened this morning…I simply
have
to tell someone. I cannot bear it any longer!’

She stopped and looked at Deb with tear-drenched eyes, as though daring her sister to contradict her. Deb waited. Olivia took a deep breath.

‘Ross was making love to me,’ she said. ‘Ross was making love to me and I was thinking about decorating the ceiling. The ceiling, Deb! I was entirely engrossed. So Ross stopped and looked at me and I realised what had happened and how angry he was, and I felt ill—quite
sick
with fear and misery—and Ross stormed off and I believe this is the end for us, the absolute end, Deb—’

‘Wait!’ Deb besought. She noticed that Olivia’s nose was
running, so she rummaged around in her sleeve but could not find a handkerchief. Instead she was obliged to give her sister the small cambric cloth from the table instead. Olivia blew her nose heartily and did not even notice the unorthodox nature of the handkerchief.

‘Wait,’ Deb said again, as her sister dabbed at her reddened eyes and seemed about to burst into renewed speech. ‘Give yourself time to draw breath.’

Olivia sighed and Deb looked at her curiously. She was very shocked by Olivia’s outburst, for she would never have believed her sister capable of such strong feeling. She was also fascinated to see that Olivia did not cry in a pretty way at all. Somehow she had expected her sister to look pale and interesting with tear-wet eyes. Instead, Olivia’s nose had turned red and appeared twice its normal size. Deb felt a great rush of affection for her. She slid along the sofa and put an arm around her.

‘Now then, Olivia,’ she said calmly, ‘I am afraid that you will have to explain yourself more clearly. What it all this about Ross and the ceiling?’

‘I told you,’ Olivia sniffed. ‘Ross was making love to me and I was not paying attention.’

‘You mean actually making love, or…?’ Deb waved her hands about vaguely.

Olivia looked irritated. ‘Actually making love as opposed to—what, Deb?’

‘As opposed to kissing, or…’ Deb shrugged, trying to look knowledgeable. She hoped that her exceptionally limited knowledge of the ways of the world would not let her down here.

‘Yes,’ Olivia sounded ruffled. ‘
Making love
, Deb! Please do not interrupt me again!’

‘I am sorry,’ Deb said. ‘Do go on.’

‘Whilst Ross was busy, I was lying there, gazing at the
ceiling,’ Olivia said, clearly unable to stop talking even had she wanted to do so, ‘and I noticed a hairline crack in the trellis work painted above the bed, so I started to plan how I might have it mended…’

‘Oh, dear,’ Deb said.

Her sister cast her a sideways look. ‘Indeed. So I was intending to call a decorator from London, and really I was quite carried away by my plans, and after a little while I suddenly returned to the present and realised that Ross had paused in what he was doing—’

‘How long?’ Deb asked.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Olivia wrinkled up her reddened nose.

‘How long do you think your mind was on other matters?’

‘Ten minutes?’ Olivia guessed. ‘Perhaps fifteen?’ Her voice faded. She looked stricken. ‘I cannot be certain. Once Ross starts, you see, he can sometimes go on for quite a while because he likes to—’

‘Please do not tell me the intimate details!’ Deb spoke hastily. ‘I would never be able to look Ross in the eye again.’

Olivia gave a watery giggle. ‘No, I suppose you would not. Oh, dear, I am being very indiscreet. I do not seem to be able to help myself!’

‘Never mind that,’ Deb said. ‘You have been discreet enough in the past six years. I expect it will do you good to be indiscreet for a change.’ She frowned. ‘Olivia, there is something I must ask. When Ross makes love to you, do you not join in at all?’

Now it was Olivia’s turn to frown. She looked at Deb in a puzzled way. Deb looked back.

After a moment Olivia said uncertainly, ‘Mama never said anything about joining in. Is one supposed to?’

Deb’s frown deepened still further. She fidgeted and
avoided her sister’s bewildered gaze. ‘I think one is. I mean, I do not know. I thought that
you
would know…’

‘I don’t know,’ Olivia said, her forehead wrinkling. ‘I do not know anything about the way one is supposed to behave in the marriage bed. That is what I have been telling you, Deb. I feel completely stupid.’

They looked at each other again and then Olivia clapped a hand to her mouth. Above it, her eyes were very bright but with laughter this time, not tears.

‘Oh, how funny! I cannot believe that we are both so utterly without a clue…’

‘At least you had the benefit of Mama’s talk about the duties of a wife,’ Deb pointed out. ‘I never had that. I ran away and so she did not have time to warn me about what to expect.’

‘Mama never said anything about participating,’ Olivia said, torn between incomprehension and laughter. ‘It was all about gowns and menus—’

‘Menus?’
Deb stared. ‘How on earth could that possibly be relevant?’

Olivia smothered another snort of amusement. ‘That was Mama’s suggestion of a topic to think about whilst your husband was busy. The only other mention she made was of how untidy naked men look…’ She gave an unladylike guffaw. ‘Which they do, of course, all dangling bits and—’

‘Liv!’ Deb blushed scarlet. She put both hands over her ears. ‘Oh! You are shocking me!’

‘Isn’t it splendid?’ Olivia said, giggling. ‘Do you want to hear what happened after I realised that Ross had stopped?’

‘No!’ Deb shrieked.

‘Well, I shall tell you anyway! We looked at one another and then Ross offered to find me a magazine to help pass the time!’

Deb could not help herself. Her natural curiosity over
came her scruples. ‘Was he still…I mean, were you still…conjoined at this point?’

‘Yes!’ Olivia shrieked with laughter. ‘But after that he dwindled away…’

Deb could not help but give a snort of laughter herself and, once she had started, she could not stop. The sisters fell into each other’s arms, still laughing uproariously, and hugged each other hard.

‘I was so upset!’ Olivia gasped, between huge guffaws. ‘And now I find it so terribly amusing! Is it not strange…?’

There was gentle tap at the door. The sisters fell apart, Deb pressing a hand to her side. ‘Oh! Do not make me laugh any more. It hurts!’

Clarissa Aintree put her head around the door with an enquiring look. ‘Is everything quite all right, girls?’

‘Oh, yes thank you, Clarrie!’ Olivia said, gulping. ‘Everything is very fine! Would you care to join us for tea?’

‘I would not dream of intruding,’ Mrs Aintree said, her blue eyes twinkling, ‘but I will send in a pot.’

She closed the door softly behind her. Olivia wiped her eyes on the tablecloth and looked at Deb. She sobered slightly.

‘I am sorry, Deb,’ she said, ‘That was very funny and you have made me feel much better, but it was monstrous thoughtless of me to raise this subject with you. Forgive me?’

Deb shook her head slightly. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said, but she knew her face betrayed her.

Now that her hysterics had subsided, the familiar mix of blame and misery returned like a shadow to her mind. Mrs Deborah Stratton…She had no real claim to the name, nor to the status that her supposed widowhood gave her. She had never been properly married.

She knew why Olivia felt guilty. Her sister had assumed
that she would understand about her difficulties in the marriage bed and Deb
did
and that was the precise problem. Very few people knew that Neil Stratton had already been married when he had eloped with Lord Walton’s younger daughter. With good fortune, no one would ever find out. And yet Deb felt haunted by the truth and even more troubled by her seduction at the hands of so skilled and callous a man.

It had been Olivia who, in the painful weeks after Deb had discovered herself betrayed, had pointed out to her gently and beautifully that Deb should never consider herself dishonoured because she had given herself to Neil in good faith, thinking him her husband. Deb had wept for days, knowing that Olivia spoke a logical truth, but also knowing that it made no difference to her feelings. She blamed herself. If only she had not been so impetuous, so quick to be persuaded into an elopement, so foolish in thinking that what she was doing was romantic…It had never crossed her mind that Neil might be a fortune hunter intent on catching a larger dowry than the one he had originally married. She had aided her own downfall by playing into his hands and, if anyone ever discovered the truth, she would be ruined.

She had not been married to Neil Stratton when she had made love with him, even though she had thought herself to be his true wife at the time. It was only after his death that Deb had discovered about Neil’s wife and child, and she was left feeling used and tainted, both by her faith in his love for her and by his casual taking of her body. She could not see how she could ever conquer the feeling of dishonour. She could not see how she could ever trust a man again.

Olivia was watching her and put out a sympathetic hand. ‘Oh, Deb, I am sorry…’

‘Do not be.’ Deb gave her sister a quick smile. ‘It was a long time ago. These days, I scarce think on it. And at least I know that
you
understand why I could not contemplate marriage, no matter how Papa presses me…’

Olivia looked stubborn. ‘With someone else it might be different.’

Deb shook her head. ‘No, no marriage.’ She cleared her throat, anxious to push her worries back into the dark corner where they belonged. ‘I thought we were talking about you, Liv, not about my difficulties in that respect.’

‘I think that we have done quite enough talking on that subject,’ Olivia said, trying to regain her previous composure. ‘It is not in the least genteel of me to divulge so much intimate detail. I cannot think what possessed me.’

‘Yes,’ Deb said, ‘but since you have done, what is to be done about Ross, Liv? You cannot carry on like this.’

Olivia blushed slightly. ‘No, we cannot. I suppose that I must talk to Ross and try to build up some sort of understanding with him. And next time that he comes to my room I will try to…to join in…’

‘Do you want to?’

Olivia blushed harder. ‘I can try. It might be quite nice.’ She looked up at Deb, a smile still lurking in her eyes. ‘I do not wish to spend the rest of my married life in a passionless desert,’ she said. ‘And after all, Ross is quite an attractive man.’

‘He is prodigiously attractive,’ Deb said drily.

‘Yes. And I would not wish someone else to think so and offer to console him. It is not that I dislike him, Deb.’ Olivia frowned. ‘It seems that there is a huge gulf between us that we do not understand how to bridge. The only problem is that Ross swore he would not trouble me again.’

There was a pause whilst the maid bustled in with tea, but once the door was closed again, Deb jumped to her feet.

‘If you truly wish to attract Ross, then I have just the thing for you,’ she said. ‘I received a letter from Rachel Newlyn this morning—’

Olivia’s face lit up. ‘Oh, how is she?’

‘Very well,’ Deb said. She gave Olivia a dry look. ‘I think that she may be enjoying married life rather more than you or I did!’

Olivia giggled. ‘Would you not, with Cory Newlyn? He is devastatingly attractive…’ Olivia waved her hands around descriptively.

‘I know,’ Deb said meaningfully.

She passed her sister the letter and went across to the desk in the corner on the room. Rachel’s parcel was still there, where Deb had unwrapped and left it earlier in the morning.

Olivia read aloud: ‘I am sending a pot of balm for Lord Marney’s collection of rare breeds, for I hear from your sister that the pigs have a skin complaint—’

‘No, not that bit,’ Deb said hastily as Olivia gave her a curious look. ‘The next paragraph.’

‘I am also sending a pot of my own rose-scented face cream, made from a recipe discovered by Mama in an ancient Egyptian text. It is certainly extremely good for the complexion, but I have to counsel you not to use it unless you wish to attract a great deal of masculine attention!’ She paused and raised her eyebrows.