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Authors: Stella Riley

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

Mesalliance (27 page)

BOOK: Mesalliance
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Sick with
confusion and paper-white, Adeline forced herself to cling
tenaciously to her point. ‘It is – it may be a possibility – though
I don’t think so. If … if I was not her husband’s child, surely she
would have taken me with her?’

He shrugged
again. ‘Who can say? Perhaps she wasn’t sure herself; perhaps she
wasn’t cruel enough to deprive poor Tom of you as well; perhaps it
wasn’t so easy to disappear with a babe in arms. Sadly, we shall
never know.’

‘But it’s all
supposition. It is
not
– as you said last night – a
fact.’

‘Perhaps not.
But the melancholy truth is that, given a shred of doubt, people
are apt to believe the worst. That no-one can
prove
you
illegitimate will be immaterial. All that will count, should this
story become common knowledge, is that your birth is …questionable.
And birth, dearest Adeline, matters.’ He eyed her consideringly.
‘Doors will be closed to you – and that will naturally affect
Rockliffe. I would
so
enjoy watching him cope with
that.’

Unaware that
she did so, Adeline came to her feet and let the letter fall
unheeded to the floor. She said, ‘You are threatening to tell the
world? Is that what all this is about?’

‘Not quite, my
dear. Not quite.’ Still entirely at his ease, Richard bent to
retrieve the letter and then rose to face her. ‘I don’t need to
tell the world. Or not yet. For the moment, all I need do is tell
Rockliffe. Think about it. I’m sure you’ll soon work it out. And
when you have, we can speak again.’

And without
troubling to take his leave, he sauntered blithely from the
room.

For a long time
after he had gone, Adeline remained where she was, standing alone
amidst the wreckage of her emotions. It seemed that her brief taste
of security was over and her hopes of happiness no more than dust.
In the space of twelve hours, Richard Horton had turned light into
dark and sweet anticipation into dread. All she could think of now
was that Tracy was coming home … and she did not know how she was
going to face him.

*

Sir Jasper
Brierley was just on the point of entering his favourite
coffee-house when he espied Lady Elinor Wynstanton, accompanied
only by her maid, emerging from Madame Tissot’s exclusive hat-shop.
It was, he decided, too fortuitous a chance to be missed; and when
he observed the distinctly wistful droop to her ladyship’s mouth,
his eye brightened still further. So the child was feeling
hard-done-by, was she? Better and better. She was all the more
likely to soak up his blandishments.

For years, Sir
Jasper had lived without visible means of support and on the brink
of insolvency. He was actually quite good at it and even derived a
certain satisfaction from fooling his creditors. Unfortunately,
however, his debts were accumulating to the point where he might
find himself forced to flee the country rather than face Newgate …
which was not a pretty prospect and one which, for some weeks now,
had been spoiling his ability to sleep at night. The result was
that he was reluctantly contemplating matrimony; and, with his
customary sense of self-preservation, he had taken the precaution
of making sure he had two strings to his bow.

One was the
widow of a wealthy cloth merchant from Bermondsey; a cosy enough
armful and already in possession of a fortune – but undeniably
vulgar. The other was Lady Nell – with whom he had always known he
would have to play a very far-sighted game indeed if he were not to
spend the next seven years living on her expectations. It was a
delicate situation all round … and Sir Jasper found it
stimulating.

Nell greeted
him with unconcealed pleasure and said impulsively, ‘Oh – you can’t
imagine how glad I am to see you! I’ve had a perfectly horrid
morning and now, to cap it all, Madame has trimmed my new hat with
quite the wrong shade of pink so I shan’t be able to wear it this
afternoon after all.’

‘How
provoking,’ murmured Sir Jasper soothingly. He drew her hand
through his arm and, leaving her maid to follow, began to stroll
down Bond Street. ‘But I suspect, you know, that it is something
more than a mere hat that has dimmed those incomparable eyes.’

Nell looked up
at him, coloured and then looked away again, once more on the verge
of tears.

‘You – you are
very perceptive, sir,’ she whispered. ‘It’s simply that I … I
passed a very uncomfortable evening last night at Ranelagh.’

‘That is most
understandable. Ranelagh is grown very tedious these days. Quite
passé
. Indeed, in my humble opinion, it is only fit for
children and the
bourgeoisie
… though I imagine it is still
possible to enjoy it if one has the good fortune to be in the right
company. But somehow, I sense that you were not.’

‘No,’ agreed
Nell, a fraction more cheerfully. ‘I wasn’t.’

‘Just so.’ Sir
Jasper gazed down at her with just a hint of regret in his smile.
‘Do you know … it is no doubt reprehensible of me and certainly out
of the question … but I should so much like to escort you to a
Covent Garden masquerade. I think you would enjoy it very
much.’

Nell’s eyes
grew round. ‘But aren’t they vastly improper affairs?’

‘My dear Lady
Elinor!’ He laughed softly. ‘They are all the rage amongst the …
how shall I put it? … amongst the less
staid
persons of
fashion. For naturally one retains one’s mask at all times and so,
even if the proceedings are a trifle less decorous than one would
find in the Pantheon, what possible harm can come of it?’

‘None,’ said
Nell thoughtfully. ‘It sounds rather entertaining.’

‘It is.’ He
allowed just the right degree of ruefulness to inform his voice.
‘But it was wrong of me to mention it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you
would not, I fear, be permitted to attend such a function.’

Nell tilted her
chin to a militant angle.

‘I don’t see
why not. I’m not a child, after all. When Rock comes home, I’ll
speak to him about it. And I hope – when we
do
go – that I
shall see
you
there.’

Sir Jasper –
who knew it would be a cold day in hell before Rockliffe let his
sister attend a Covent Garden romp – stopped walking and raised her
hand to his lips.

‘You must know
by now that your slightest wish is my command. And, in this case, I
wouldn’t miss it for worlds.’

*

Adeline had not
intended to attend Lady Linton’s drum that evening and still had
not the least wish to do so. However, since the idea of waiting at
home for Tracy sent her nerves into spasm and it also seemed
unwise, just at present, to send Nell under the chaperonage of Lady
Delahaye, she was moved to change her mind. She therefore allowed
Jeanne to dress her in her new lilac silk and, for the first time
in her life, sought a remedy for her pallor in the rouge-pot. Then,
in a mood of mutually observed civility, she and Nell set off for
Clarges Street.

Under normal
circumstances, Adeline would merely have considered the party a
little dull. As it was, the strain of making light conversation
over the turmoil in her mind rendered it one of the worst evenings
of her life. She was still no closer to deciding what – if anything
– to say to Tracy; and that, plus the shock of learning that her
mother might not be dead after all and that her father might be a
Frenchman called Michel du Plessis, seemed a load too heavy to
bear. The only bright spot was that neither the Franklins nor Mr
Horton were present.

Nell, for
different reasons, was glad of that too and, throwing her heart and
soul into appearing cheerful, she wasted no time in apologising to
Cassie for her lacklustre behaviour of the previous evening.

‘It’s just that
I didn’t feel terribly well,’ she lied breezily. ‘I don’t think the
crab patties agreed with me.’

Cassie’s brow
cleared as if by magic.

‘Oh – I’m so
glad! I mean, I’m sorry you felt ill, of course … but I was rather
afraid that I’d annoyed you in some way.’

‘Annoyed me?
Goodness, no! How could you possibly have done so?’

‘Well … I
wasn’t sure, but I thought that perhaps it had something to do with
Lord Harry,’ confided Cassie truthfully. And then, laughing, ‘I
really should have known better, shouldn’t I?’

‘Yes,’ agreed
Nell brightly. ‘Indeed you should.’

The evening was
well-advanced by the time Harry Caversham arrived and caused Nell’s
heart to perform the hitherto unknown feat of leaping into her
mouth. Her fingers tightened painfully on her fan and she stared
across the room as though seeing him for the first time. Then he
met her gaze and, quirking one mobile brow, continued to hold it.
Nell smiled, blushed and found she had completely lost track of
what Lady Linton was saying to her.

Seconds later
he was at her side and begging his hostess’s pardon for his
lateness with all his usual audacious charm. Her ladyship, who was
Isabel Vernon’s mother and a creature of eccentric vagueness,
listened for a while and then said kindly, ‘Yes, Harry. I
understand perfectly. But you really need some new excuses, you
know. The ones you have are becoming threadbare through constant
use.’ And she drifted amiably away.

Harry and Nell
were left looking at each other. Finally, he grinned and said
laconically, ‘Well? Do you think it’s time we agreed a truce?’

‘I – I didn’t
know we were at war.’

‘Didn’t you?’
The blue eyes brimmed with laughter. ‘Then perhaps we weren’t. I
don’t suppose there’s much point in my asking if you’d care to
dance?’

And that, Nell
suddenly realised, was generous of him. She swallowed and said,
‘Yes. Yes, there is. And I’m sorry I’ve been behaving so rudely.
The truth is that I thought that you and Rock had come to – to a
s-sort of agreement. About me, that is. And I didn’t want to be …
manipulated.’

She felt
pardonably pleased with the last word. Harry looked mildly
stunned.

‘Are you
saying,’ he asked at length, ‘that you suspected Rock of offering
me your hand- or me of asking for it – without finding it necessary
to consult you?’

Put like that,
she realised how unlikely it sounded.

‘Yes. But it
isn’t true, is it?’

‘I should
damned well say it’s not! It’s the most outrageous idea I ever
heard. What do you take me for? Another Jasper Brierley?’

‘That’s not
fair,’ she said feebly. ‘It’s just that I’ve always known it would
suit Rock to have me married. And then, when we were staying in
Oxfordshire and he was so insistent about my being polite to you,
it began to seem that he – that you – oh,
I
don’t know! I
can see now how stupid it was – but that’s what I thought.’

Harry’s
expression relaxed and the familiar gleam crept back into his
eyes.

‘At least now
you’ve seen your mistake – so I suppose that’s something. And
perhaps I can best set your mind completely at rest by
categorically stating that, if and when I wish to be married, the
lady concerned will be the first to know of it. Better?’

‘Oh yes.’ Even
to her own ears, Nell’s voice sounded hollow. ‘Much better.’

‘Good,’ said
Harry cheerfully. ‘So now, at last, perhaps you and I can try being
simple friends. What do you think?’

*

Simple friends.
Driving home in the company of a silent Adeline, Nell wondered why
those two words should be so curiously depressing. She was still
wondering it when they entered Wynstanton House to be told that his
Grace had returned; and then something in Adeline’s face pierced
her self-absorption and made her decide that, if something peculiar
was brewing between her brother and his wife, she herself would
prefer to be well out of the way.

Adeline
responded mechanically to Nell’s “goodnight” and then, as calmly as
she was able, asked the butler where the Duke might be found.

‘I believe,
your Grace,’ said that stately person expressionlessly, ‘that his
Grace has retired.’

‘I see. Thank
you, Symonds.’
And thank God, too
, she thought.
It will
be easier
tomorrow
.

Wearily, she
climbed the stairs. Soft candlelight spilled over her as she paused
in the doorway of her boudoir to brace herself for one final
performance in front of Jeanne. Then, closing the door behind her,
she moved on into the room … and stopped as if she had walked into
a wall.

Rockliffe sat
by the hearth, watching her. His face was in shadow but she could
see that he had discarded his coat and held an untouched glass of
wine in one tapering, white hand. Adeline’s throat closed with
shock and her brain froze. She did not know how long she stood
there, mutely staring. It could only have been seconds; it felt
like an eternity.

‘You look
startled,’ he said. ‘Did you not guess that you would find me
here?’

‘I – no.’ Her
mouth was dry as dust and it hurt to breathe. ‘Symonds said you had
retired.’

‘Without first
seeing you? How could you think it?’ His voice was warm …
half-teasing, half-not. He set down the glass and came smoothly to
his feet. ‘And it seemed unlikely that you would stay very late at
the Lintons. In my experience, no one ever does.’

She managed a
smile of sorts.

‘It
was
a somewhat insipid party.’

‘They usually
are.’ Leaving the fire, he moved unhurriedly towards her. ‘Which is
why I rather hoped you might have chosen not to go.’

‘I – I had to.’
Without thinking about it, Adeline turned away to her
dressing-table and began stripping off rings and bracelets with
shaking hands. ‘Nell and Cassie had a small falling-out at Ranelagh
last evening so it didn’t seem a good idea to send Nell to the
Linton’s with Lady Delahaye as I’d originally intended.’ Reaching
up to unfasten the pearls around her neck, she caught sight of his
face in the mirror and her fingers fumbled clumsily with the catch
which wouldn’t open. ‘Of course, they’ve made it up now – so I
could probably have stayed at home after all.’

BOOK: Mesalliance
10.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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