Again that deliciously husky laugh.
‘You have my word on it,’ she replied, unstoppering a decanter and carefully filling a glass. ‘Lawson would die sooner than permit such an atrocity.’
‘Quite right,’ approved the Marquis. ‘I saw immediately that he was a man of rare discernment.’
She turned and one dark eyebrow lifted mischievously as she held out the glass.
‘Naturally. He let you in, didn’t he?’
It was his lordship’s turn to laugh.
‘True – though I imagine it must have been touch and go,’ he said, crossing to her side. And then, ‘I can only apologise for my disreputable appearance and confess that I feel lamentably out of place.’
Her smile was replaced by a look of doubt. ‘I’m sorry?’
Amberley felt vaguely baffled. Her composure was remarkable, her manner refreshingly natural and she seemed anything but a fool – so why was she pretending not to understand his meaning?
‘Well, it’s true that I’m not exactly dripping on your carpet,’ he said lightly, ‘but Chard’s bullet-hole and a short spell on the box of my chaise haven’t done much for the state of my coat.’
‘You drove your coach here?’ she asked blankly.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes, he noticed, were neither blue nor black but actually an exquisite shade he could only describe as violet.
They widened suddenly and, instead of handing him the glass, she set it down again with a little snap. ‘And you’re wet! Oh, I do beg your pardon – you must be desperately wishing to change your clothes. Lawson should have told me.’
She sounded mortified and Amberley, who was beginning to feel as though some vital point had eluded him, said weakly, ‘It is really of very little moment, I assure you – merely that I’m not fit to grace your parlour.’
Something must have given him away for he heard tiny sound as the breath caught in her throat and then she said quickly, ‘I’m sorry. You see, I so rarely meet people who don’t know that I tend to forget … ‘ She stopped, but only for an instant and lifted her chin a fraction. ‘If your appearance has caused you embarrassment on my account, you may disregard it. I am blind.’
The Marquis experienced an unpleasant lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach, as if the ground had opened up under his feet. Just for a second, his brain refused to function – and then a dozen muddled thoughts jostled each other; that it was a tragedy in someone so young; that her words suggested an isolation that was little short of criminal; and that, for all her careless tone, it must have been damnably hard for her to tell him.
He stared at her helplessly, instinct warning that his first words were critical. Then, with a hard-won indifference, he said, ‘Are you? I’m sorry. It is by no means apparent.’
The suggestion of tension left her shoulders and she gave a tiny shrug.
‘Practice – though, of course it only works here where I know every piece of furniture intimately.’ She stretched out her hand, felt delicately for the glass and held it out to him. ‘Please drink your wine and I’ll have Lawson see your luggage is taken upstairs so you can change.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘You can’t possibly go to the Pheasant, you know. Lawson will tell you that the food is dreadful and they water the brandy – though I’m not at all sure how he knows. But you’ll be much more comfortable here – and I expect you will wish to look in on your coachman later.’
Amberley found himself smiling in response and then trying to come to terms with the fact that she couldn’t see him. ‘It’s extremely generous of you – and, if you are quite certain that it won’t inconvenience you, I should be pleased to stay.’
‘It’s no trouble – indeed, you will be doing me a favour for I rarely have company,’ she informed him with cheerful unconcern. ‘Will dinner in an hour suit you?’
‘Well that depends,’ he replied, the humour back in his voice.
‘Upon what?’
‘Upon whether I can overcome my scruples and dine with a lady to whom I have not been introduced.’
A dimple peeped roguishly beside her mouth. ‘A difficult problem, sir.’
‘But not, I hope, insurmountable.’ He paused and then added persuasively, ‘Madam, I’m very hungry.’
Her lips parted on a ripple of laughter and she swept him a graceful curtsy.
‘Very well, sir. I beg leave to present Mistress Rosalind Vernon of Oakleigh Manor.’
Setting down the glass, his lordship took her hand in his and, bowing very low, raised it to his lips. ‘Mistress Vernon – the Marquis of Amberley is delighted to make your acquaintance and entirely at your service.’
She flushed a little but said teasingly, ‘My goodness – are you really a Marquis? I had no idea I was in such noble company.’
‘I expect that’s because I was very badly brought up,’ he apologised untruthfully. And then, his tone utterly commonplace, ‘I wonder what I’ve said to put you out of countenance?’
The flush deepened. ‘Why nothing. It’s just … do gentlemen usually kiss ladies’ hands when they’re introduced? I don’t know, you see.’
Just for an instant, an emotion not unlike anger held Amberley in its grip but he banished it and said regretfully, ‘I’m afraid I can’t speak for gentlemen – but noblemen do it all the time.’
*
Rosalind was seated at her dressing table, striving to conquer a childish desire to change her gown when Mrs Reed, otherwise known to the household as Nurse, bustled into the room with the news that the doctor’s gig had that minute arrived at the door. ‘And though I’ve made all ready for him, I can’t stay above a minute for I daresay he’ll be needing me.’
A tiny smile touched Rosalind’s mouth and she said innocently, ‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t have left the sickroom?’
‘Oh yes, I should!’ averred Mrs Reed grimly. ‘Mr Lawson says you’ve asked this so-called Marquis to stay and that I’ll admit you couldn’t well avoid. But whatever was you about, Miss Rosalind, to ask him to dine with you?’
Miss Rosalind yielded to the promptings of her particular devil.
‘Well, he said he was hungry – and so am I, come to that. On the other hand,’ she continued dubiously, ‘he also told me he’d been badly brought up. Do you think that means he eats peas with a knife?’
Mrs Reed snorted. ‘No, I do not and neither do you – so give over with your play-acting. What worries me is that you didn’t ought to dine unchaperoned with any man – let alone with a brass-faced gypsy as says he’s a lord.’
This description proved too much for Rosalind’s gravity. ‘Oh Nurse! How unkind – and when you haven’t even seen him yet.’
‘Well I have,’ replied Mrs Reed, not without satisfaction. ‘He came up to see how his coachman did – and a fine sight he looked too, with his neckcloth gone and his good coat ruined! That valet of his – who’s got more sense than you’d expect – was downright ashamed of him. And all his precious lordship could do was laugh. Not that he laughed when he saw the state of that poor man’s shoulder,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘Seemed quite upset about it for a minute or two – but that was the only proper feeling he showed, mark you.’
Rosalind toyed idly with a carved tortoiseshell comb. ‘How old is he do you think?’
‘Turned thirty at least. Old enough to know better than think he can get round me with a saucy smile and a hug.’
‘He didn’t!’ breathed Rosalind, awe-struck. ‘That was brave of him.’
Pleased but unwilling to show it, Mrs Reed ignored this piece of provocation and said coaxingly, ‘Be a good girl and eat your dinner up here in your room.’
Rosalind stood up, smiling oddly.
‘I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-two years old and well and truly on the shelf – so I don’t need a chaperone,’ she announced with characteristic candour but no hint of bitterness. ‘And that being so, I intend to dine downstairs with Lord Amberley.’
Mrs Reed followed her to the door, torn between her duty to he
r patient and anxiety for her nurseling. ‘You may be two-and-twenty but you’ve no more idea than a week-old kitten when it comes to the snares of the ungodly.’
Rosalind chuckled. ‘And you think the Marquis is one of them?’
‘Mark my words,’ came the dark reply, ‘he’s a philanderer. I know the signs.’
‘Do you?’ Rosalind was impressed. ‘I wish I dared ask you what they are – and better still, how it is you can recognise them. Indeed, Nurse – I’m surprised at you. I never knew you were a Woman with a Past.’
Watching her float serenely down the stairs, Mrs Reed contemplated with mixed feelings the knowledge that the light of her life was possessed of a new glow. ‘As if somebody had lit a candle in her,’ she thought. And then, swallowing savagely, ‘And if it’s you, your honey-tongued lordship, you’d better not do anything to put it out again. Because if you cause my lamb even a minute’s upset, I’ll cut out your heart and fry it!’
*
Unaware of the dark thoughts being directed at him, the Marquis repaired his appearance without finding it necessary to summon his valet. He brushed and re-tied his hair, exchanged the ruined blue coat for a full-skirted one of black velvet laced with silver and worn over a silver embroidered vest and replaced his boots with silver-buckled shoes. Then, having descended the stairs and entered the room to which Lawson directed him, he found his hostess ensconced beside the fire, patiently awaiting him - and never, he thought, could a jewel have been placed in so perfect a setting. For a moment, he remained where he was, words of apology for his tardiness forgotten, as he breathed in the scent of pot-pourri and simply stared.
The room bore every appearance of having been specially furnished to form a bower for her. The walls were hung with amber brocade only a shade lighter than her gown and the colour was echoed in the richly textured carpet, where it was interwoven with tones of amethyst and violet. Curtains of violet damask were closed across windows flanked on one side by an ebony escritoire and on the other by a delicately inlaid harpsichord. There were shelves full of books, a frame holding a half-worked tapestry and a large, gilt cage housing a brightly-coloured but decidedly sulky-looking parrot. A group of seventeenth-century miniatures hung over a lacquered cabinet containing a collection of Chelsea figurines; and from above the mantel, a dark-haired child laughed down from her frame with a vividness that was almost uncanny.
His lordship’s gaze travelled from the painted face to the one of flesh and bone seated below it and was startled to find that it was turned in his direction and alight with teasing amusement.
‘Well, sir – do you like my room?’ she asked.
For an instant, the resemblance between child and woman was so strong that the Marquis was stunned into silence. Then he said simply, ‘It’s charming. And it suits you,’ – before realisation dawned and he smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry. You knew I was there, of course.’
‘Yes.’ Mercifully, she did not seem offended and was even half-laughing. ‘I heard you cross the hall – and no one else in this house wears heeled shoes. But let me guess … you were comparing me with myself; and finding me lacking, I should think.’
‘Yes and no – in that order,’ he replied, crossing the room to her side. Suddenly everything became crystal clear and the doubts which had beset him upstairs vanished. In any other woman her remark would have been an open invitation to a compliment or a flirtation – but in Mistress Vernon, it was neither. Her tone was one of prosaic amusement but her words, whether she realised it or not – and he rather thought she didn’t – were a sort of test. An odd gleam lurked in his eyes and he went on deliberately, ‘You may not be able to see your face but you must surely have been told how beautiful it is.’
The blood rose swiftly beneath her skin and he heard her catch her breath.
‘Well? Am I not right?’
‘Yes.’ Her face grew pensive. ‘And so, I suppose, was Nurse. But indeed I didn’t mean you to – to – ‘
‘I know.’ But you did think I’d skirt round your blindness, didn’t you? was his instinctive thought. ‘I gather Nurse is the redoubtable lady I encountered above stairs?’
‘Yes.’ The dimple peeped and was gone. ‘She says you are a philanderer.’
There was a brief, incredulous pause before Amberley gave way to appreciative laughter.
‘Merci du compliment! That has given me my own again, hasn’t it?’
‘I thought so,’ agreed Rosalind sweetly.
Neither was aware of Lawson’s presence in the doorway until he coughed discreetly.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Rosalind,’ he said with an air of gentle reproof that accorded ill with the benevolence in his eyes, ‘but dinner has been ready for a full half hour and Mrs Thorne is becoming a trifle distraught over the beef.’
This intelligence was all that was needed to overset Rosalind’s gravity.
‘Oh d-dear. Is she?’
Perceiving the need to intervene, the Marquis said pleasantly, ‘My fault, I’m afraid. I stopped to consult with the doctor and was rather late in coming down. Please convey my most sincere apologies to … Mrs Thorne, I think you said?’
‘Certainly, my lord.’ Lawson bowed and withdrew, leaving them to follow.
Amberley took Rosalind’s hand and laid it on his sleeve. ‘That was handsome of me, wasn’t it?’ he remarked virtuously as he led her into the hall.
‘No – merely truthful. You were shockingly late and, what’s more, I wouldn’t be surprised if you used speaking to Dr Dench as a pretext for showing Nurse your fine velvet coat in an effort to improve your standing.’
His lordship grinned. ‘How did you guess? After all, I have my reputation to consider.’
‘As a Marquis?’
‘As a philanderer.’
When they were seated in the green and gold dining parlour and the door had closed upon them, Rosalind said resignedly, ‘I suppose I should have known you had formed a partiality for Nurse when she told me that you’d been hugging her.’
The Marquis heaved a sigh of relief and said fervently, ‘As long as that’s all she told you.’
‘You mean there’s more?’ The violet eyes were wide with demure wonder, slowly changing to liquid sympathy. ‘But I doubt if your case is hopeful, sir. I distinctly recall hearing her describe you as – as “a brass-faced gypsy as says he’s a lord!”’
Amberley narrowly avoided choking on a mouthful of ham.
‘But that,’ he pointed out swiftly, ‘was before she saw me dressed to kill. I’ll warrant she’s now prepared to admit that I am a lord – though certainly brass-faced.’
Mistress Vernon laid down her knife and said unsteadily, ‘Don’t. Are you never serious?’
‘Less often, perhaps, than I should be,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Are you?’
‘Me?’ She gave a tiny crooked smile. ‘More often than I should like.’
He sensed a wealth of things left unsaid and wondered why it should touch him; but their acquaintance was too slight and he was too wise to probe, so he passed it off by launching into an account of the accident that had brought him to her gates and finished by telling her what he had learned from the doctor.
‘He says – and I believe him – that Chard shouldn’t be moved for at least a week. And, though I hardly like to ask it of you – ‘
‘Then don’t,’ she responded decisively. ‘There’s no need, for he is most welcome to remain here. Indeed, I doubt if you could persuade Nurse to let him go for she dearly loves an invalid.’
‘There. I knew I should have driven myself,’ said the Marquis, vexed.
The soft mouth quivered. ‘You could always develop a fever.’
‘If the doctor is to be believed, I may have to.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘It’s snowing thick and fast,’ he explained, a faint frown creasing his brow, ‘and if it continues to do so, you may find it isn’t only Chard who is forcibly quartered on you.’
‘Oh,’ said Ros
alind again, but in a very different tone.
There was no mistaking the pleasure in that single syllable and the Marquis knew a crazy impulse to admit that his own first thought, after only ten minutes in her company, had been much the same. He repressed it, forcing himself to recognise that the feeling that he’d known her all his life was only an illusion – and that there were, in any case, other considerations. At this point, he reflected wryly, a cautious man would immediately remove himself to the inn while there was still some chance of doing so. But he was not cautious and, furthermore, to do so might well cut him off from Chard for several days and would undoubtedly put a stop to his determination to allow Saunders to get some rest by sitting with the coachman himself for a part of the night. And then, of course, the snow might stop after all.
At the heart of his lordship’s nature and constituting a large part of his charm, lay a streak of recklessness that he could never entirely subdue. So while one part of him said, ‘Careful, my friend. This one could take you out of your depth,’ the other was saying, ‘Risk it.’ Inclination leaned to the latter but, for once, he could not quite bring himself to follow it; and the sensation was unfamiliar.
Rosalind was also undergoing a novel experience; that of guarding her tongue. She wanted to urge him to stay, to confess that - as far as she was concerned - it could snow for a month. But a small voice at the back of her mind warned her that this was somehow wrong. So she contented herself with politely informing him that he would be welcome to stay should the need arise and then, when he did not reply, said rapidly, ‘But of course you can’t wish to do so – and doubtless you are expected.’
Quick to catch the faint note of wistfulness, Amberley cursed himself for his silence and simultaneously reached a decision.
‘It’s not that,’ he said crisply. ‘The truth is that I’m becoming increasingly aware that I shouldn’t be here at all.’
‘Oh dear. Are we back to Nurse again?’
‘No. I’m perfectly serious. What the devil are your family about to permit you to live alone in this fashion?’
The disapproval in his tone brought forth a characteristically literal reply.
Parfit Knight Page 4
