‘Oh – at least a dozen and all of them exceedingly dull, I assure you. My agent – who must by now be wondering what’s become of me – has such a catalogue of matters requiring my attention that I’ll be lucky to escape him in less than a week. But escape him I must for I have a number of engagements in London that I can’t break. My only hope is that Henshaw will be so relieved to find me alive and well that he’ll spare me some of the trivia and forgive both my tardiness and my long stay abroad – for which he’s doubtless been preparing a lengthy scold. He has the poorest opinion of absentee landlords.’
Rosalind digested this budget of information in silence. Then, raising one sardonic brow, she said, ‘My goodness – you do sound cheerful!’
The Marquis was somewhat taken aback. ‘Why should I not?’
‘How should I know?’ came the astringent retort. ‘Any more than I know why you’ve spent a good part of the day sounding as though someone has read your death sentence. The only thing I am certain of is that neither one is anything to do with the forthcoming delights you’ve just described.’
A reluctant smile touched the corners of Amberley’s mouth. He should, he supposed, have remembered Rosalind’s disconcerting facility for flashes of rare insight; but it was too late now and he would simply have to brazen it out.
‘I merely hoped to charm a smile out of you,’ he said mildly. ‘You looked so serious – and I was coxcomb enough to hope that it was because you like saying goodbye as little as I do. As for the rest, it was no more than the truth.’
‘Oh stop it!’ Rosalind stood up and swept round to the back of the sofa in an irritable rustle of taffeta. ‘If you don’t want to tell me what is on your mind or why you’ve suddenly decided to leave, all you need do is say so. It’s entirely your own affair, after all. But for heaven’s sake, don’t answer me with a mouthful of social pleasantries and meaningless excuses that wouldn’t deceive a child. I may be blind – but I’m not an imbecile.’
There was a catastrophic silence.
Then, white to the lips, the Marquis came slowly to his feet and said quietly, ‘I know it – and can only apologise for my clumsiness.’ He paused but she neither spoke nor turned to face him and so he went on, ‘Since I leave at first light and wouldn’t dream of disturbing you at such an ungodly hour, I’d like to say now – though no words can fully express the depth of my obligation to you – that I am very much your servant. Now and always.’ Then, with a deep bow, he walked swiftly to the door.
‘Don’t go!’ As if released from a spell, Rosalind turned after him. Her face was as white as his own. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it. You’re right to be angry – but please don’t go like this.’
He stopped as though a chasm had opened at his feet and looked back into beseeching violet eyes. Then, without even knowing what he did, he walked back across the room and took her hands. ‘I’m not angry. It’s alright.’
She shook her head. ‘No. It isn’t. Not when you’ve been so kind and never once … ‘
‘Hush.’ His fingers tightened on hers as he resisted the impulse to put his arms around her. ‘You’ve said you didn’t mean it. That’s enough.’
For Rosalind, it was one of those moments when the scales of disadvantage weighed heavily. She sensed his scrutiny and, because she couldn’t return it, knew a strong urge to hide her face – preferably against his shoulder. Instead, she managed a crooked smile and said huskily, ‘I shall miss you.’
‘And I you.’ An odd expression lit the grey-green eyes and then, prompted by he knew not what, Amberley heard himself say, ‘Goodbye is such a very final word and I don’t greatly care for it. I think that I would rather say au revoir.’
Her breath caught and the blood returned to her skin.
‘You mean that you … you’ll come back?’
‘Not that, perhaps.’ The pleasant voice was curiously remote. ‘But I promise that we will meet again. One day.’ And, bending his head over her hands, he kissed each of them in turn as if sealing a bond.
*
He was half-way to Amberley before he even began to suspect what had made him offer that rash promise and the explanation, when it finally dawned on him, was so startling that he momentarily let his hands drop and almost put the chaise in the ditch. He recovered in a flash but his mind continued to dwell on things far removed from his driving and, by the time he swung his team in at his own gates, he had arrived at one inescapable conclusion. If he were not to send himself mad by thinking round and round in circles, he had to talk to someone and, for once, seek advice. And there was really only one possible candidate.
He entered his house like a whirlwind and emitted a feu de joie of orders that successfully set it by the ears. Chard was to be put to bed; Saunders was to unpack only the small valise and see the rest of his baggage transferred to the curricle; Henshaw was to be summoned to the library and told that his lordship would see both him and his papers within the hour. Then the Marquis mortally offended his housekeeper by refusing all offers of sustenance and strode briskly off to the hot-house to give certain explicit instructions to his gardener.
Mr Henshaw waited his turn with gloomy resignation and had his forebodings swiftly realised. His lordship was brief and to the point.
‘I apologise for my belated arrival and hope it hasn’t seriously inconvenienced you. The reasons for it were beyond my control – but I’m afraid that I’m now going to compound the fault of my own volition.’ He smiled a little and went smoothly on. ‘I can give you what remains of today and tomorrow morning – and then I must leave again. So I suggest we deal with the most urgent business first and anything that requires my signature. The rest must either be postponed until I can return or left to your discretion – whichever you think best. You don’t need to be told that I have the fullest confidence in your abilities’
‘No, my lord,’ agreed the agent dryly. ‘And you do not need to be told that, though I’m honoured by your trust, it’s not what I want of you.’
‘Quite,’ replied Amberley pleasantly. ‘But be of good cheer. I’m not going to France this time.’
‘I am glad to hear it, my lord. May I ask where you are going?’
‘Certainly.’ His lordship shrugged, faintly amused. ‘I’m going to Richmond.’
~ * * * ~
SEVEN
‘Dominique, mon cher – I thought you were still at Amberley.’ Small, silver-blonde and eternally elegant, Eloise Ballantyne, Dowager Marchioness of Amberley clasped her son’s hands and raised her cheek for his kiss. ‘Or is it that you haven’t yet been there, bad one?’
‘You malign me,’ complained his lordship calmly. He led her back to the fire and then turned away, stretching out his fingers to the blaze. ‘Of course I’ve been.’
‘Ah. But for how long?’
‘Approximately twenty-four hours.’
Eloise threw up her hands. ‘Vaurien! Henshaw will have a fit, I know it! And me, I shall have a fit also if he writes to me any more of things I know nothing. All winter long he has done so and it is enough, enfin! You are home now and nothing more will I do.’ She sat down and fixed a thoughtful green gaze on her son’s back. ‘However … I think perhaps I am a little glad that you did not, after all, go last week for the snow was truly terrible. You would have been stranded en route.’
The Marquis dropped one arm to his side and rested the other against the carved mantel.
‘I was.’
‘Plait-il?’
One booted foot moved restlessly along the fender. ‘I set out the day after I saw you last but didn’t reach Amberley till yesterday. I was held up just north of Ware.’
‘Of where?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘It is not grammatical and I do not know unless you tell me. Also – held up by what? La neige?’
‘No – by highwaymen. And -- ‘
Eloise sat up. ‘Highwaymen? Vraiment? But that is exciting, no?’
‘You would inevitably think so,’ he said, reflecting how typical h
er response was. ‘But no, it wasn’t particularly exciting. Chard was shot and I was forced to seek shelter for him. Then the snow came.’
For the first time since he had arrived, Eloise saw his face in full light and was alarmed by it. She said, ‘You stayed at an auberge?’
‘No. There was none to hand. We stayed at a house – Oakleigh Manor. Until yesterday.’
‘And Chard, le pauvre? How is he?’
‘I left him at Amberley to complete his recovery. He’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.’ The Marquis sat down, frowning abstractedly at his hands. Then he said abruptly, ‘Maman –I’ve fallen in love and I don’t know what to do for I don’t think I can ever tell her.’
‘Ah.’ The Dowager drew a long breath and her wide, clear gaze became suddenly very focussed. ‘Why can you not?’
‘Because she’s blind,’ came the blunt reply in a voice that cracked. ‘She’s been blind for twelve years and it’s my fault.’
There was a long silence and Eloise sat, straight-backed, staring into haunted grey-green eyes so like her own. She said, ‘I think, mon fils, that you had better tell me it all from the beginning.’
He nodded wearily. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘No matter. We have time. And it’s what you came for, n’est-ce-pas?’
So the tale was told in a tone that was level and empty of expression but with occasional pauses that were their own betrayal. Carefully, meticulously, his lordship went through it all, missing nothing; and finally he came to the thought that had struck him so forcibly on the way to the estate the previous day.
‘We had grown so close without even noticing it and she was always so unaffected that I just assumed it was only I who felt more than friendship. And while I thought that, it seemed best to leave her – hard though it was. Only now I’m not so sure any more. I can’t help wondering if she has not come to … care more than she yet knows.’
Not unnaturally, looking at her handsome, charming son, Eloise thought that this was more than likely but she considered it quite unnecessary to say so. Instead, she asked lightly, ‘Is she pretty?’
‘She’s beautiful – but that’s not it. She’s intelligent and brave and vital … and something more that I can’t explain.’ He smiled, almost in the usual way and then said simply, ‘I only know that she touches my heart in a way I didn’t believe possible.’
The Dowager’s eyes had become very bright. She said gently, ‘A week is a very short time, Dominique. And you know, do you not, how important it is that you are sure? Less, I think for your own sake, than for hers. Everything you have said tells me how vulnerable she is.’
The Marquis dropped on one knee beside her chair and folded her thin, shapely hands in his. ‘I know – and I was never more sure of anything in my life. If you could meet her, you would understand.’
She shook her head. ‘It is not necessary. You are not a child – and certainement you are no fool. So if you have truly thought, then I am satisfied.’
‘Vraiment?’
‘Vraiment,’ nodded Eloise, smiling a little. ‘But this does not solve the matter. It is necessary to be practical – so you may begin by pouring us both a glass of port while I think what is best to be done.’ Silently, she watched him do as she asked, her brow creased in thought. ‘She must be very lonely, la petite. And more so now, perhaps – now you have shown her a little of what she is missing. Me, I do not think she should be left alone.’
‘She might as well be walled up,’ remarked his lordship savagely as he handed her the glass. ‘And since her fool of a brother can’t see it for himself, I’ve a good mind to tell him so.’
‘Yes. I think that you should – but not, mon cher, in those exact words,’ replied Eloise slowly. ‘Since already you have antagonised him, you will need to be très diplomatique if you are not to make things worse. No one likes to have their family duty pointed out by a stranger and really, Dominique, it was a stupidity to upset him in the first place.’
‘I realise that now,’ sighed his lordship ruefully. ‘But I promise to try very hard to be charm personified in future.’
‘Bien. It will do you so much good,’ she said flatly. ‘You are too much inclined to let the world think what it will and there are times when it is a very great bêtise. This Lord Philippe does not know you and I do not think he can be blamed for thinking what it is he thinks. So you must show him his mistake. You will have to be very polite.’
‘I’m always polite,’ said the Marquis, hurt.
The Dowager’s eyes twinkled. ‘Yes – but you laugh and it is not always well-received. Me, I know for you are laughing now. And that is not the way to persuade Milord Philippe to bring his sister to London.’
The grey-green eyes widened a little, ‘Bravo, maman. Now why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Because you are not a woman.’
He grinned. ‘God be praised. Very well. And if I do so persuade him?’
‘Then la petite will gain a little experience and meet other gentlemen besides yourself. And when she has had time to do this, you will have to decide what it is you do. Quant a ça, I cannot advise you – but this I will say. If she is all you think and if she loves you, then she will not allow anything – no matter how dreadful – to come between you. She will only care that you love her. If she lets what you have to tell her matter, it is because she does not care for you enough. And this you must understand and be prepared to accept. D’accord?’
There was a long silence and then, ‘D’accord,’ he replied with a wry smile. ‘And – as always – I am glad that I came.’
*
At about the time that the Marquis took his leave of his mother to drive to London, Captain Lord Philip Vernon had just sat down to breakfast in his house in Jermyn Street and was sifting idly through his correspondence in between mouthfuls of ham. It did not, at first glance, appear very interesting; the usual selection of bills, including his tailor’s modest demand for a totally immodest sum; a number of gilt-edged invitation cards to a variety of functions from a Venetian breakfast to a masked ball; two requests to subscribe to charity … and a letter.
Philip eyed this last with mild surprise and, since he had not the remotest idea who it was from, pushed the rest aside and opened it. When he saw Lady Warriston’s signature he very nearly threw it in the fire unread – but some latent instinct for disaster warned against this and, sighing, he began the by no means simple task of deciphering her ladyship’s tightly cramped script.
Half a dozen lines down the page he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the woman had written either under an uncommon degree of agitation or whilst drunk – and that she was as tedious on paper as she was in person. Certainly her protestations of having no wish to interfere but knowing her Christian duty were entirely wasted on Philip. But the hub of the matter, when he came to it, changed all that and, caught unawares with a tankard of ale at his lips, Philip choked, spluttered and dissolved into a fit of coughing just as Robert Dacre strolled unceremoniously into the room.
The Honourable Robert regarded him dispassionately and remarked, by way of greeting, that bills always struck in his gullet too – which was why he never read them over a meal.
‘Not a bill,’ croaked Philip, rather flushed and gasping for air. ‘It’s a damned silly letter!’
‘Oh.’ Robert was not demonstrably interested. ‘Well never mind that now, Ver. I came to see if you’d care to drive out with me. There’s a curricle and pair I’d thought to buy.’
‘No,’ said Philip tersely. ‘If I go anywhere today, it will be to Oakleigh to find out what the devil’s going on there.’ He dropped the letter on the table and gave it a derisive flick. ‘Either Emily Warriston has lost her wits or for the past week my sister has been cosily closeted with the Marquis of Amberley.’
Mr Dacre was suddenly all ears. ‘Amberley? How come?’
His lordship shrugged impatiently. ‘I don’t know – some farrago about a corpse and six feet of snow.
She says, if you please, that she and her daughter called at Oakleigh on Friday and found Rose and Amberley “on terms of the plainest intimacy” – which, even if it’s true – and knowing that bloody woman, I doubt it is – is a damned impertinence.’
A tiny nagging fear was growing in Robert’s brain but he was unable to resist the opportunity of indulging in a little subtle malice. ‘Oh quite – and I daresay there’s nothing in it for all Amberley’s such a shocking flirt.’
‘Is he?’
‘So I’ve heard. There have been any number of girls who expected him to offer for them – all of ‘em disappointed. And one – a Mistress Irwin – was made a complete fool of when he paid her the most marked attentions and then ran off to Paris with – with someone else.’ Rather pleased with this skilful blend of fact and fiction, he went on carelessly, ‘I suppose he’s something of a rake – but there’s nothing in that. After all, who isn’t?’
Lord Philip fixed him with a level blue stare. ‘I’m not. And I don’t find it any recommendation. Do you?’
‘God, no!’ scoffed Robert airily. ‘I’ve never been much in the petticoat line myself. But it’s not generally frowned on so long as one is discreet. And Amberley is. At least, he’s only been out once, as far as I know – and that was years ago.’
‘You seem to know a great deal about him.’
‘Only what anyone could tell you.’
‘Really?’ Philip raised an ironic brow. ‘Then he can’t be all that discreet, can he? And if I find he’s been trifling with Rosalind, he’ll have the chance of a second meeting. With me.’ He paused consideringly. ‘And even if he’s behaved with perfect propriety, I fancy he still has some explaining to do. Any gentleman should know better than spend a week with an unchaperoned girl and I’d like to know what prevented him from going to an inn – not to mention what made him stop at Oakleigh in the first place. It all seems damned peculiar to me.’
Robert found himself in a slight quandary. He had three thousand very good reasons for wishing his future brother-in-law to remain on less than friendly terms with Amberley but he suddenly realised that if he went too far in pursuit of this goal, he might well precipitate the kind of revelation that must at all costs be avoided. He decided to temporise a little.
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