Читать книгу His Countess For A Week - Sarah Mallory - Страница 13

It was not the answer Ran had been expecting. She did not look old enough to be married, let alone a widow. A closer look at her face made him reconsider. She would be one-or two-and-twenty, he guessed. She was very pale; there were dark smudges beneath her eyes and faint lines of strain around them. Young she might be, but he could believe she had known grief.

‘You think Lady Meon is responsible?’

‘No. Possibly. George was staying here with friends, you see. Before he died. From what he told me, when he was sick, I suspect, I believe something happened here.’

‘Why did you not write to the lady and ask her?’

She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. ‘If my suspicions are correct, I doubt Lady Meon would have told me anything if I had approached her as Mrs Roffey.’

‘You decided you might have more success as a countess.’ When she did not respond he continued. ‘How long have you been masquerading as my wife?’

‘Just over two weeks.’ She added, as if in mitigation, ‘But only here in Devonshire and until this evening I had met only Lady Meon. Then she invited me to her party and I thought I might learn something.’

Loud voices came from the passage beyond the door. A burst of laughter and heavy footsteps.

She looked at him, her green eyes wide with alarm. ‘Will you tell them I am an impostor?’

‘Not here,’ he said, getting up. ‘Not tonight.’

Ran noted the slight lessening of tension in her dainty form.

‘I am most grateful, thank you.’

‘I will send for your cloak and order the carriage.’

That startled her.

‘But I cannot go now,’ she protested. ‘I have accepted Lady Meon’s invitation to stay the night!’

A grin tugged at his mouth. ‘Our hostess would hardly expect me to leave without you, but if you would rather I stayed, we could continue this charade until the morning.’

He let the words hang, watching with unholy amusement as the implication of his words sank in. She blushed furiously.

‘No, of course I do not want that!’ She rose and shook out her skirts. ‘I came in my own carriage. I will go and find my maid and we shall follow you.’

‘Oh, no, I do not intend to let you slip away from me. We shall return to the salon together and find our hostess. And then, my lady, I am taking you back to Beaumount. Your maid can pack your bags and follow later.’

Arabella wanted to protest, but she knew it would be useless. He was still smiling, but there was an implacable look in his eyes. She must capitulate. For now.

‘Very well. I will go with you, Lord Westray.’

‘How formal that sounds.’ He grimaced. ‘Very well, then. Let us take leave of our hostess.’

Arabella paused for a heartbeat. It was a risk to go off with this man, she knew that, but what choice did she have? She could confess everything and throw herself on the mercy of her hostess, but instinct told her not to trust Ursula Meon.

Did she trust the Earl of Westray? She looked at him again and realised that she did. She felt her world shift slightly, as if something momentous had occurred. It was irrational, illogical, but looking into his sea-blue eyes, she felt a connection, as if he would understand her. Nonsense, of course. Her thoughts were confused. She was still shaken, not yet recovered from her faint.

He held out his arm. ‘Madam, shall we go?’

Taking a deep breath, she put her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her back to the salon.

The party had grown rowdier in their absence and they entered to a confusion of chatter and laughter. The noise died as they walked in and Arabella felt as if every eye was turned towards her. She could not help clutching more tightly at the Earl’s arm. He put his hand over her fingers and squeezed them.

‘Do not be afraid to lean on me, my dear. I have you safe now.’

Arabella knew the caressing tone was as much for the benefit of the gathered company as for her. Lady Meon had flown out of her chair and was beside them, begging the Earl to bring his lady closer to the fire, asking if she could fetch her anything.

‘You might send for my carriage, madam,’ replied the Earl. ‘I would like to take my wife home.’

Home. Wife.

The words sent a chill through Arabella, dispelling the feeling of unreality that had possessed her since meeting the Earl. Common sense told her it was better to stay here, in company, rather than to leave with a stranger. To ride in a darkened coach with him and then to enter Beaumount. His house. As his wife. That would be foolhardy in the extreme. She needed time to think.

‘Oh, but I am so much better now, my lord,’ she said brightly. ‘Indeed, I am mortified that I should be so silly as to faint off. I beg your pardon and hope you will forgive me. I should dearly like to remain here for a little longer yet, at least until after supper—’

‘Alas, my love, I do not think that would be wise,’ the Earl interrupted her smoothly. ‘Lady Meon will understand, I am sure, that I want to have you to myself tonight.’

Arabella flushed at the inference, but she was also angered by the teasing note in his voice. It made her long to hit him.

‘Of course I understand, my lord.’ Lady Meon gave Arabella’s arm a playful tap with her fan. ‘You naughty puss, to tease him so, when I am sure you are just as eager to be away.’

The ladies were all smiling and nodding—one of the gentlemen even laughed. Arabella found herself blushing again, but she was not giving up just yet.

‘Naturally, I should like to be at home,’ she said sweetly, ‘and yet I think it would be better if I remained here, quietly, for a little while. Perhaps I might take a cup of tea before I leave.’ She turned her head to look up at the Earl and gave him a false, glittering smile. ‘That would also give my lord the opportunity to become acquainted with our new neighbours.’

His eyes gleamed appreciatively, acknowledging she had outmanoeuvred him.

‘As you wish, my dear, we shall stay a little longer.’

The tea tray was summoned and the Earl guided Arabella to a chair. She sat down, fanning herself, and watched through half-closed eyes as Lady Meon and her guests vied for Lord Westray’s attention.

There was no doubting their eagerness to become acquainted with the new Earl. Over the course of the evening she had learned that in recent times the Westray family had made little use of Beaumount. Everyone was aware of the present Earl’s history, but it made no odds to them. It was more important to be on good terms with their exalted neighbour than to worry about his past.

‘Do you intend to make this a long visit to Devonshire, my lord?’ asked Lady Trewen, wife of the local squire.

‘I hardly know, ma’am. A week, perhaps.’

‘There is good sport, sir, if you are a hunting man,’ declared her husband. ‘Plenty of fish and fowl to be had. And of course, fox and stag hunting. If you haven’t brought your own horses, I’d be happy to mount you on one of mine. I believe I have a couple that would be up to your weight.’

The Earl inclined his head. ‘Thank you, but I doubt we shall be in the area long enough for that. I have business in London that requires my attention.’

‘And your good lady is pining for society, I don’t doubt,’ said a bewhiskered gentleman. ‘You should come back in the spring or summer, my lord. Lady Meon’s house parties would be very much in your line, I am sure. Any number of young bucks from town come down, and lords and ladies, too. Ain’t that so, ma’am?’ He gave another hearty laugh. ‘Then my lady doesn’t have to rely upon country dwellers like ourselves to fill her drawing room!’

Lady Meon smiled and shook her head at him. ‘It is always a pleasure to invite my neighbours here, Mr Lettaford.’

Beneath her drooping lids, Arabella watched the exchange. The bonhomie was slightly forced. She had the impression the local families were not welcome at the Meon House parties and they resented it. She sat up a little and reached for the cup of tea that had been placed on the table at her elbow.

‘Goodness, ma’am,’ she exclaimed, ‘do people come all the way from London for your parties?’

‘It is not such a long way, Lady Westray,’ replied Mrs Lettaford, bridling in defence of her home. ‘There is a good road as far as Plymouth, because of the mail, and the roads around here are not as bad as some in the county. I am sure there would no inconvenience at all in travelling to the capital.’

‘Not that we have had any call to make the journey,’ added her husband. ‘We can find everything we need in Tavistock, or if not there, then in Plymouth.’

Mrs Lettaford glared at him before giving an angry titter. ‘Now, now, sir, Lord and Lady Westray will think we are all rustics living here.’

‘I can assure His Lordship that is not the case at all,’ purred Lady Meon, quick to soothe the ruffled feathers of her guests. ‘And it is true the road from London is a good one. My brother often comes to stay, but I confess we rarely entertain our neighbours when he is here.’ She gave a placatory smile. ‘He often brings his young friends, you see, who enjoy the break away from the constant social whirl of the capital. This is something of a repairing lease for them. We keep very much to ourselves, nothing very exciting at all.’

Arabella remembered George telling her much the same thing.

‘It is only a few close friends, my sweet,’ he had said. ‘It will be all cards and sport, neither of which interest you. You had much better remain in Lincolnshire, for you would not enjoy their company and there will be no other wives to chatter with. You would be bored within a day. Imagine then how I would feel, knowing you were not happy.’

In vain had she pleaded with him. He had merely pinched her cheek, told her he knew best and gone off, leaving her with his parents at Revesby Hall. If only she had insisted. If only.

She looked up to find the Earl was watching her.

‘You look tired,’ he murmured. ‘If you have finished your tea, my dear, perhaps we should take our leave?’

Arabella suddenly did feel fatigued. She could think of no reason to stay longer and she rose from her chair. When she suggested she would slip upstairs to fetch her cloak, Lady Meon said quickly she would send a servant to fetch it.

‘I need to tell my maid what has occurred,’ Arabella protested, but the Earl shook his head at her.

‘I am sure my lady’s footman can explain everything.’ He glanced a question at their hostess, who nodded. He continued smoothly, ‘You must not exert yourself any more than necessary. As your husband, I must insist, my dear.’

His smile was gentle, but she saw the gleam of laughter in his eyes and fumed in silence until the footman came back with her fur-lined cloak. The Earl took leave of the company, saying all that was proper, and Lady Meon insisted upon accompanying them to the door. As they crossed the hall, she gave a little laugh and touched the Earl’s arm.

‘My parties here are not quite as uneventful as I made out, my lord, I assure you.’

The lady spoke very quietly and Arabella had to strain to hear.

‘I would not for the world wish to offend my neighbours,’ Lady Meon continued, ‘but as you have seen, they are not the sort one would wish to make known to more...er...worldly friends. They would be shocked by our late nights and deep play, so it is best that they do not come. However, if you should be at Beaumount the next time I have house guests, be assured you would be most welcome.’ Arabella did not miss the slight pause before her final words. ‘And your dear lady, of course.’

‘I thank you, madam,’ he replied easily. ‘We should be glad to join you. On our next visit.’

They had reached the door and Arabella could see a dusty travelling coach waiting on the drive. Another moment and she would be alone with the Earl in that confined, dark interior.

Don’t go, Arabella. Say something, now!

There was still time. She might throw herself upon Lady Meon’s mercy, but something held her back. The Earl had taken her hand, but his touch was light, supportive rather than keeping her a prisoner. Perhaps it was foolish, but Arabella trusted him far more than she trusted her hostess. She swallowed down her nerves and managed to mutter a word of thanks before he escorted her down the steps and into the waiting carriage.

Arabella pressed herself into one corner, clutching her cloak tightly about her. To her relief, Lord Westray made no attempt to question her, or even to touch her, for the short journey back to Beaumount. They travelled in silence, and when they arrived, he helped her down and pulled her hand firmly on to his arm to guide her up the steps and into the house.

Meavy opened the door and did not appear in the least surprised to see them. He beamed, bowed, and when His Lordship declared they would take refreshments before retiring, he sent a footman running to light the candles in the drawing room and to build up the fire.

To Arabella’s stretched nerves, the period since leaving Meon House and arriving at Beaumount had seemed interminable, yet it had not been long enough for her to gather her thoughts. It had been madness to come back here with the Earl. As they made their way to the drawing room, questions raced through her head. What was she going to do? What was she going to tell him?

The servant withdrew, closing the door behind him. Arabella walked across to the fire to warm her hands. The Earl poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.

‘Apart from meeting you, madam, I have to say I found nothing untoward at Meon House tonight. The lady’s guests appeared to be respectable people.’

‘I am sure they are,’ she replied. ‘It would seem Lady Meon is at pains to keep her neighbours and her house guests apart. No one would admit it outright, of course, but more than one of the ladies gave the impression that they disapproved of the house parties at Meon House.’

‘Unsurprising, if they were not invited,’ he remarked. ‘I suggest you sit down and tell me what this is all about.’

She subsided into a chair. Time to decide what to tell him, and how much.

The Earl sat down facing her and said, as if reading her thoughts, ‘It would be best if you told me everything.’

‘I did not know you were in England.’

‘I arrived in Portsmouth a few days ago. Not many people know yet that I am in the country.’

She was about to ask another question, but he caught her eye, the warning in his own very clear. He would not allow her to digress. She took a deep breath.

‘At the end of June, my husband, George, returned from a visit to Devonshire, where he had been staying with friends. He was very ill and he died within weeks. He was in a bad way, raving that he had been ill-used. Robbed and poisoned. I thought at the time that he was delirious, but later, I discovered that he had spent thousands of guineas in a matter of months. You see, the marriage settlement had been drawn up in such a way that upon my husband’s death, the money invested in Funds reverted to me. I knew exactly how much it had been upon our marriage and I was shocked to see how it was depleted.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘George was young and...and impressionable. I think he fell in with a bad crowd who tried to take all his money, but I do not know who they are. All I know is that he had been invited to stay at Meon House.’

‘One moment.’ He stopped her, frowning. ‘Why did he not take you with him?’

‘We had only just married.’

‘I would have thought that all the more reason to be together.’

She blushed, partly out of guilt because she had thought that, too.

‘It was only a small party, a few friends meeting up for gambling and a little sport. I should not have enjoyed it.’ George had told her as much, had he not? And he knew best; she had never questioned that. She said now, with a touch of defiance, ‘He was obliged to go because he had promised his friends, but I know he would have preferred to stay at home with me. He told me so.’

What George had not told her was that Meon House had no master. It had been an unpleasant surprise for her to discover its mistress was a widow. Even worse that she was a lively and attractive widow. Arabella had wondered more than once since arriving at Beaumount if jealousy was clouding her judgement of Lady Meon.

The Earl was speaking again and she dragged her thoughts back.

‘Do you believe it was these friends who took your husband’s money?’

‘Someone took it! From what he told me, before he died, Lady Meon lures unwary young gentlemen to her remote house and—and fleeces them.’ She frowned. ‘She most likely drugs them, too, so they know not what they are doing.’

‘That is a serious accusation. If it is true.’

‘I know. That is why I need to find some proof!’

‘And why you set yourself up as Lady Westray.’

‘Yes. I had read in the newspaper that the old Earl had died and that his heir was in the Antipodes and not expected to return for some time. By chance I noticed that one of the Earl’s properties was near Tavistock. It took only a little further investigation to show it was very close to Meon House.’

‘How convenient for you.’

She raised her head and continued with a hint of defiance.

‘I was determined to discover the truth and this was the perfect opportunity. Having lived in Lincolnshire my entire life, I thought it would be safe enough to masquerade as someone else. No one would know me.’ She added quickly, ‘Please do not blame anyone in your household for being taken in by my deception, my lord. I was very convincing.’

‘What exactly did you do?’

‘I turned up at the door. Told them your letter must have gone astray and that you would be following me to Devon shortly.’

He gave a shout of laughter. ‘The devil you did!’

She lifted her chin higher. ‘I gave Meavy a purse when I arrived, to cover any expenses I incurred while staying here, since you had not yet made arrangements with the bank. That helped to convince him I was genuine.’

‘I am obliged to you, madam.’

‘I assure you my funds are more than sufficient to cover anything I choose to do. I have merely made use of your house and your name.’

‘Merely made use of them!’

‘You were not using them, at the time,’ she retorted. ‘I had no idea you would choose just this moment to return to England, and even if I had known,’ she continued, with spirit, ‘I would not have expected you to come first to the least important of your properties!’

‘And you would still have carried out this charade? By heaven, madam, you are a cool one!’

‘I want to discover what happened to my husband! I have explained why I needed to come here. Why should you think it so odd?’

With a hiss of exasperation, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘For one thing, it is a hare-brained idea,’ he exclaimed, pacing the floor. ‘And for another, it is damned dangerous. Was there no one you could talk to about this? Relatives, friends?’

‘I have no family of my own. As for friends, there is no one I would trust.’

‘Why did you not tell your husband’s family?’

‘Sir Adam Roffey has a weak heart. Angina. He was laid low by his son’s death and I did not wish to add to his worries.’

He bent a frowning gaze upon her. ‘Do the Roffeys have any idea what you are about?’

She shook her head. ‘They think I am staying with an old school friend. They will not be anxious because I have Ruth, my maid, with me.’

‘The devil you have. Of all the foolish starts! How old are you?’

She put up her chin. ‘Two-and-twenty.’

‘And you said yourself you have never before been out of Lincolnshire.’

‘What has that to say to anything?’

‘You can know very little of the world. Whereas I...’ he stopped and raked one hand through his hair ‘...I know too much of it.’

‘I am well aware of that!’ she flashed back. ‘For all your title, you are no less a felon!’

His eyes darkened. She braced herself for a furious response, but he merely shrugged.

‘I cannot deny it. But that is all the more reason you should not be here. You should never have embarked upon such a foolhardy scheme, alone and unprotected.’

Arabella suddenly felt exhausted. George had been her world since childhood. Could no one understand that? Tears were not far away and she looked up at him, saying wretchedly, ‘What else have I to live for?’

Ran saw those emerald eyes shimmering with tears and thought she must have loved her husband very much. Something clutched at his heart and he turned away to resume his pacing.

He said, ‘Have you learned anything that might help you?’

‘Very little,’ she confessed. ‘I want to know who else was at Meon House when George was a guest there. I had hoped, tonight...’

He heard a sniff and glanced around to see her surreptitiously wiping her eyes. He paced a little more, trying to convince himself that the plan in his head was every bit as hare-brained as the one she had described.

‘Very well.’ He stopped in front of her. ‘Let us continue this masquerade for a little longer.’

She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I will help you. A short note to Lady Meon tomorrow should repair any damage tonight’s little fracas may have caused and we will work on the acquaintance until the lady divulges a little more information.’

‘No!’ She was on her feet now, staring at him as if he had run mad. ‘I cannot stay here.’

‘Why not? You have been content to do so thus far.’

‘That was different!’

‘How was it different?’ He uttered the challenge, preferring her anger to the desolation he had heard in that one sniff.

She glared at him. ‘You were not here.’

‘And now I am.’ He smiled. ‘Which will make your presence here all the more plausible.’ He saw her look of horror and added, ‘By Gad, madam, I am not suggesting we should be man and wife in anything other than name, but it will be necessary to live under one roof! I have already ascertained that Beaumount has separate rooms for the Earl and his Countess, so only your maid and my man need be taken into our confidence—’

‘But you are a—a criminal,’ she interrupted him, retreating behind her chair. ‘Perhaps even a murderer!’

Ran stopped, all desire to laugh gone.

‘You should have considered that before you began this charade,’ he threw back at her. ‘Let me allay your fears, if I can. My biggest crime was to be a damned young fool! I was sentenced to be transported for fourteen years and, having survived the voyage, I was prepared to serve my time and to make a fresh life for myself on the other side of the world. Circumstances, in the form of a pardon and the death of the old Earl, conspired to bring me back to England.’

‘But it cannot be long before people know you are in England,’ she argued. ‘Word will soon get out that you have no wife.’

‘By the time that information reaches Devon I hope we shall be finished here. You will disappear and no one need ever discover your true identity.’

‘But what of your staff?’ There was a note of desperation in her voice. ‘What must be their feelings when they know you have duped them?’

‘I did not dupe them, my lady! I have merely...’ he waved one hand ‘...not corrected the misapprehension.’

‘Now you are playing with words, my lord!’

‘Very well,’ he said, goaded. ‘They will believe you were my mistress. What of it? Is that not the sort of behaviour expected of great lords?’ He shrugged. ‘I shall no doubt feel obliged to apologise for playing such a trick, but I pay them well enough. The matter will soon be forgotten.’

‘Not by me!’

She was staring defiantly at him, her head up, eyes blazing, and suddenly he did not want her to think him the sort of master to disregard the feelings of his staff. He did not want her to think ill of him at all.

He said, ‘I do not like this subterfuge any more than you, but what’s done is done. We may as well continue with it.’

The words sounded gruff, uncaring, and she continued to stare at him with angry disapproval. Damnation! Did she not realise he was trying to help her? If there had been dark deeds at Meon House then who knew what dangers might await such an innocent if he left her to continue her enquiries alone. He issued his ultimatum.

‘So, you must make your choice, madam. You can either accept my help, or you give up your investigation and go home.’

Arabella glared at the Earl. Since leaving Lincolnshire she had been aware of how vulnerable she was, how alone. True, she had Ruth. The loyal maid had been with her since she was a baby, but if there was real danger, then she was putting Ruth at risk, too. Lord Westray might well be able to help her obtain the information she required. If one could forget his past.

It occurred to her that she found it only too easy to ignore the fact that he was a convict, but she was merely being charitable. Wasn’t she? All the guests at Meon House had had no difficulty in accepting the new Earl, even with his tainted history. Although they were not pretending to be his spouse. She swallowed.

‘Very well, sir. I will accept your help.’ She hesitated. ‘I am very grateful to you.’

Some of his stiffness disappeared and she saw the glimmer of a smile.

‘No, you are not at all grateful. You would like to tell me to go to the devil.’

Her own anger seeped away. ‘That would be very uncivil, would it not? In your own house.’

‘It would indeed.’ His smile fully appeared now. ‘Off you go to bed. We will discuss this further in the morning.’

She managed a faint smile herself and with a soft ‘Goodnight’ she left the room, forcing herself not to run.

When she reached her bedchamber, Ruth was pacing up and down.

‘Oh, thank heaven!’ She took her mistress by the shoulders and turned her towards the light, subjecting her to a close and critical inspection. ‘What happened? What has he done to you?’

‘Nothing, Ruth. I have come to no harm at all.’

The maid gave a loud sigh and plumped down on a chair. ‘I don’t mind telling you, when I heard that the Earl of Westray had turned up and was bringing you back here I was that worried! I fear we are undone, Miss Arabella.’

‘Nonsense. This is a slight setback, Ruth, nothing more.’

‘Has he not exposed you as an impostor?’

A small bubble of laughter fizzed inside her. She said airily, ‘On the contrary. He has agreed to help us.’

The maid looked anything but reassured by this news. She frowned.

‘And what does His Lordship want in return?’

Arabella could not deny she had asked herself the same question, but she was not prepared to speculate about that just yet.

‘I have promised him nothing,’ she said at last. ‘Now, help me to undress, Ruth. I need to sleep!’

A short time later Arabella was alone in her room, in her bed, with just the bedside candle burning. She lay back against the plump pillows, gazing up at the intricately carved tester as she thought about the new Lord Westray. She did not know what to make of him. He did not appear outraged at her deception, merely amused. Perhaps in comparison to his own dark deeds this pretence was a trifle, but when she had mentioned his past he had flinched as if she had touched an open wound.

She wished she knew just what he had done, that she had made more enquiries into his past, but at the time it had seemed unimportant; the new Earl was half a world away.

How old could he have been when he was convicted? She did not think he was yet thirty, so he would have been almost a boy, one-or two-and-twenty, perhaps. The lines around his eyes and mouth indicated more than mere laughter. Dissipation, perhaps. Or hardship. His hands, she had noted, were not soft, but calloused from tough, physical work.

How had he survived? What deprivation had he suffered? He had received a full pardon for his crimes, but the life he had led for the past six years must have left its scars. And she was in his house, posing as his wife. Strangely the thought did not worry her. She was not afraid of the new Earl, but perhaps she should be.

Arabella slipped out of bed and crossed to the connecting door leading to the Earl’s chambers. The key was in the lock and she turned it, giving a little nod when she heard the satisfying click. It was best not to take any chances.