Parfit Knight

by Riley, Stella

  ‘Well, Amberley’s always been a law unto himself – but I shouldn’t worry about it, I expect it’s all harmless enough. Besides, he only singles out the real diamonds and your sister is blind, isn’t she?’ His tone put Rosalind’s sightlessness into the same category as squints, buck-teeth and pimples.

  An expression of dislike crept into Philip’s sapphire gaze. ‘You haven’t met her, have you?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Because, if you had, you’d know better,’ came the inimical response. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be at Oakleigh in time for dinner and I naturally want to call on Isabel before I leave.’

  This cavalier dismissal put a spark of resentment into Robert’s eye but he forced himself to accept it with apparent good-humour. Captain Lord Philip was quite rich enough to make it worth the effort.

  ‘There’s no need for you to see Bella. I can explain it all to her for you.’

  ‘Thank you. But since I had promised to escort both Isabel and your mother to Bedford House tonight, I think the least I can do is to offer my apologies in person,’ said Philip coolly. ‘And I should be obliged if you will treat this matter with the strictest confidence. I don’t wish my sister to become the object of club-room speculation.’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Robert stiffly. ‘But in that case, you’ll have to refrain from challenging Amberley, won’t you?’ On which Parthian shot, he took his leave.

  Philip discovered that he was becoming more than a little tired of Mr Dacre – a fact which owed more to that single, slighting reference to Rosalind than to the three thousand guinea loan which he was well aware he had little hope of ever seeing again. But just now he had more important matters to consider and he promptly forgot his betrothed’s tedious brother in a flurry of preparations for his journey.

  An hour later he was on the point of leaving for Viscount Linton’s residence in Clarges Street when a phaeton drew up outside his door and its driver tossed the reins into the hands of his groom and jumped lightly down on to the flagway. Lord Philip stood frozen at the top of the steps and stared.

  ‘You!’ he said incredulously.

  ‘Ah.’ Amberley surveyed him thoughtfully. ‘I have the strangest presentiment that someone’s been telling tales. Dearest Letty’s weasely mama, at a guess.’

  In spite of himself, Philip’s mouth relaxed a little. ‘Yes. She doesn’t like you.’

  ‘No? Then that makes it entirely mutual.’ The Marquis paused and then said gently, ‘They say the east wind brings on rheumatism and one can’t be too careful at my advanced age. Do you think we might go inside?’

  Unsure of how to take this, Philip flushed and led the way wordlessly into the house. As at their first meeting, Amberley had managed to set him at a disadvantage and Philip, irritated that he’d allowed that description of Lady Warriston to arouse a brief feeling of kinship, suspected him of doing it on purpose.

  In fact, he did the Marquis an injustice for Amberley had no such intention. It was merely that the prospect of constructive action enabled him to resume his normal manner and the amusement in his voice was in no way meant as mockery. He simply assumed that, like his sister, Philip’s sense of humour was lively enough to banish constraint and put them on a tolerably amicable footing. That Philip had other reasons to mistrust him never crossed his mind and, because of it, the quagmire of misunderstanding was destined to deepen with every step.

  He followed Lord Philip into the drawing room and subjected him to a reflective stare as the tall, blue-coated figure with its powdered head was replaced in his mind’s eye by an anxious, dark-haired fourteen-year-old. Philip tolerated the uncomfortably penetrating gaze for as long as he thought necessary and then said, ‘Will you not be seated, my lord?’

  ‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘You are remarkably like your sister.’

  Philip bowed slightly but his mouth was again set in uncompromising lines and he said nothing.

  Taking this failure philosophically, Amberley came to the point.

  ‘I’m here – amongst other things – to tender my thanks for the hospitality of your house. I am only sorry that I was forced to accept it without your knowledge.’

  ‘Forced?’ Philip shot him a sharp glance. ‘How so?’

  ‘You don’t know? No – you wouldn’t, of course. Doubtless Lady Warriston had other things she was desperate to tell you.’

  ‘Quite. Though she did mention something about a corpse on the road.’

  ‘My fault, I’m afraid. But did she also mention,’ asked his lordship pleasantly, ‘that the last mortal act of this corpse was to hold up my carriage and shoot my coachman? For that, you see, was the reason for my presence in your home. It was dark and snowing heavily and my man would almost certainly have bled to death if I’d attempted to reach Hadham Cross.’

  ‘I see.’ Of course the fellow would have to be a damned hero and go about shooting footpads, thought Philip unreasonably. ‘But you stayed at Oakleigh.’

  Conquering his dislike of self-justification, Amberley said briefly, ‘That first night I was thankful to do so. Thereafter I had no choice.’

  ‘Because of the snow?’

  ‘Precisely.’ Grey-green eyes held blue with unexpected austerity. ‘I can all too easily imagine the tenor of Lady Warriston’s letter – but I hope I don’t need to tell you that your sister received no disrespect at my hands. I was as fully alive to the impropriety of the situation as you could possibly wish.’ He paused and gave a sudden and very infectious smile. ‘And Lawson was pleased to approve – which I hope will be as big a comfort to you as it was to me.’

  Philip resisted the impulse to grin back. He was prepared to accept that if Lawson had been satisfied with Amberley’s conduct then it must indeed have been exemplary; but there were still too many other things weighing against him.

  ‘On the other hand,’ continued the Marquis imperturbably, ‘I can see that you have every right to be worried. Mistress Vernon’s position is – forgive me – as irregular as it is unhappy.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ snapped Philip, startled.

  ‘You sound surprised – but it must surely have occurred to you before,’ said Amberley with raised brows. ‘A week ago I’d merely have said that she should not be living alone save for a parcel of servants, however devoted they may be; now I’m of the opinion that … ‘ He paused as if choosing his words.

  ‘Oh don’t stop there,’ said Philip sarcastically. ‘I’m fascinated, I assure you.’

  ‘I was about to say that I’m of the opinion that the problem is more complex than the mere lack of a chaperone. I perfectly appreciate the circumstances that have prevented you from spending much time at Oakleigh – but have you ever really tried to imagine what her life there is like?’

  ‘I don’t need to imagine it!’ came the indignant reply. ‘I know what it’s like – and much better than you. She has every comfort. And though naturally I’m aware that it isn’t exactly ideal – ‘

  ‘It’s far from ideal. And material comfort has absolutely nothing to do with it. Oh – I don’t doubt that you love her and I know that her entire household staff does – but it isn’t enough. To be frank, Lord Philip, your sister is in a cage and I think it’s time she was set free. Don’t you?’

  ‘What I think is that you haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’ retorted Philip, thoroughly nettled. ‘What the devil gives you the right to come here telling me how to look after my own sister when less than ten days ago you’d never clapped eyes on her?’

  There was a long silence. Finally, smiling oddly, Amberley said, ‘My apologies. I’m doing it rather badly, aren’t I? Perhaps it will help you to bear with me if I say that I mean well. For I do, you know.’

  For the second time in half an hour, Philip suffered the irritating sensation of having been put in the wrong.

  ‘I daresay you do,’ he said grudgingly, ‘but I can’t see what difference it makes. There is nothing to discus
s.’

  The grey-green eyes grew suddenly hard.

  ‘You are mistaken. Your sister is beautiful, intelligent and twenty-two years old and she is wasting her days being civil to Letty Warriston and her like or waiting for the rector’s daughter to come and read to her. She’s immured in what is little more than a luxurious prison with no one to talk to but servants and a temperamental parrot. And if you think that’s good enough, you must be bloody insensitive.’

  Philip came abruptly to his feet, eyes blazing and voice tight with temper.

  ‘I think, my lord, you have said more than enough.’

  Lithe as a cat, the Marquis also stood up. ‘I doubt it very much.’

  Philip opened his mouth and then closed it again as if he couldn’t trust himself to speak. Then, drawing a long, unsteady breath, he said frigidly, ‘Very well – finish it. I’m sure you have some startlingly original suggestion you would like to make.’

  ‘You over-estimate me,’ replied Amberley coolly. ‘I merely wondered why you don’t bring her to London and introduce her to society.’

  Philip gaped at him and then gave a brief, scornful laugh.

  ‘Now I know you’re raving. You must be if you think that a viable solution.’

  ‘And why do you think it isn’t?’

  ‘Because, Lord Amberley – although it seems to have escaped your attention – my sister is blind.’

  ‘I know that. So?’

  ‘What do you mean – so? Isn’t it obvious? Away from Oakleigh she couldn’t stir a step without someone to guide her. And how the hell do you think she’d cope with balls and routs and all the rest of it?’

  ‘I think she’d surprise you,’ came the calm reply. ‘And as for needing to be guided – I don’t imagine there would be any shortage of volunteers.’

  ‘Oh wonderful! That’s all I need!’ said Philip in exasperation. ‘Rose may be two-and-twenty but she’s no more idea of how to deal with that kind of attention than a – ‘

  ‘Then it’s time she learned. Or are you going to let her die an old maid simply because you’re not prepared to put up with a little inconvenience?’ asked the Marquis, walking to the door. ‘If so, she is indeed unfortunate.’

  Philip flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘Are you saying that I’m selfish?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Amberley turned slowly to eye him with an air of dispassionate appraisal. ‘What I’m saying is that you should ask yourself if you are. My own opinion, for what it’s worth, is that you want what’s best for her but are so completely hide-bound by convention that you’ll never achieve it. Or not unless you cultivate a little imagination. Your servant, sir.’ And with a swift, elegant bow, he turned on his heel and went out.

  Philip was left prey to a multitude of heated and very mixed emotions, foremost amongst which was a desire to knock Lord Amberley’s teeth down his throat; a desire that was only strengthened by the infuriating suspicion that much of what the Marquis had said might actually be true. Captain Lord Philip swore long and fluently to the empty room and then flung out of the house to pour all his pent-up grievances into the gentle, understanding ears of his bride-to-be.

  Isabel Dacre, a diminutive brunette with large, pansy-brown eyes, listened in responsive but increasingly baffled silence and then, when his lordship finally paused for breath, said quietly, ‘I’m sorry – but I don’t quite see what’s upsetting you so. Not unless you think that the Marquis might be right.’

  This was too near the bone. ‘That’s not the point. Rosalind’s nothing to do with him and he had no right to say any of the things he said!’

  ‘But surely someone had to say them? Otherwise it might never have … ‘ She stopped, belatedly recognising the lack of tact in this remark.

  Philip eyed her with smouldering resentment.

  ‘Otherwise it might not have occurred to me? Is that what you were going to say? I thank you! No doubt you’d also like to tell me that I’m stupid or selfish – or both!’

  ‘Oh no,’ replied Isabel lightly. ‘I’m not so uncivil.’

  Philip stared back at her, unable to believe that he had heard aright for nothing in his previous experience of Mistress Dacre had ever suggested her capable of such a riposte.

  And Isabel smiled serenely back at him, a gleam of mingled amusement and satisfaction in her dark eyes as she wondered what had become of the oppressively polite young gentleman she had been betrothed to.

  Much of Philip’s rage deserted him and he sat down, saying in a much more moderate tone, ‘I beg your pardon. But I don’t like the fellow and he’s set me all on edge.’

  ‘Yes. I’d noticed that,’ she responded placidly. ‘Why don’t you like him?’

  ‘Because I watched him win three thousand guineas from your brother at a time when he knew perfectly well that Robert was too drunk to know what he was doing,’ said Philip. And then, ruefully, ‘Oh Lord! I suppose I shouldn’t have told you that.’

  ‘Why not?’ Although Isabel had turned a little pale, she did not seem shocked. ‘Robert is always playing deeper than he should. The only thing I can’t understand is how he managed to pay such a sum – for if he’d asked Papa the whole house would have known about it.’

  Philip coloured a little and made a pretence of arranging the folds of lace at his wrist.

  ‘Oh no.’ The brown eyes flew suddenly wide. ‘You lent it to him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ He looked up, rather taken aback at the flatness of her tone. ‘Did I do wrong?’

  It was Isabel’s turn to flush. ‘Not wrong, no. It was … it was very kind of you. But I … oh dear, I would so much rather that you had not! You will never get it back, you know and it only encourages him. He will come to you again and again and – I know I shouldn’t say so, but he is quite foolishly extravagant and I know of no reason why you should be saddled with the cost of it.’

  ‘Do you not?’ asked Philip very directly.

  ‘No! You can’t have supposed that I wished you to frank Robert?’

  ‘I didn’t suppose it. But naturally I wondered if you did. How could I not? He is your brother, after all.’

  ‘Yes. But … th-though I’m not aware of the precise terms,’ she said haltingly, ‘I do realise that you must already have been more than generous or Papa wouldn’t have … ‘ She tailed off uncertainly and then, making a brave effort, met his lordship’s gaze and said simply, ‘You know how it is with us.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Philip with an almost imperceptible note of chagrin. ‘And since – if you’ll forgive my bluntness – that is why you accepted me, I can surely be pardoned for thinking that you expected me to assist Robert.’

  This was a bit more than Isabel had bargained for and her composure vanished into a confused morass of half-sentences behind which lay a foolhardy urge to ask why – if his lordship wanted more than a complaisant wife – he had offered for her. But that was something that even one’s feckless Mama would not approve of and, worse, one might not like his lordship’s reply. On the whole, reflected Isabel miserably, it was a lot safer to say nothing, so she relapsed into silence and stared fixedly down at her hands.

  Suddenly as embarrassed as she, Philip was regretting his impetuous words but had no idea how he might take them back. He got to his feet saying jerkily, ‘I’m sorry. I had no right to say that. In fact, the whole topic is grossly improper so it’s probably just as well that I have to go. Please present my apologies to your mama and say that I am sorry not to have been able to deliver them in person.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Isabel colourlessly, rising from her seat. ‘And pray give my regards to your sister. Shall you bring her back with you, do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know – though it seems unlikely. It’s a preposterous scheme and I daresay Rosalind will think so too.’

  ‘But you will ask her?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘Don’t tell me you think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘Actually, I do. I know
that I wouldn’t like to live alone – and I can see. It must be a lot worse for her. Perhaps you’re right and she won’t want to come but I think she ought to be given the chance to choose. And,’ she added deviously, ‘you wouldn’t like to think of Lord Amberley visiting her again at Oakleigh – which he might do since he seems to feel so strongly about it.’

  His lordship’s brow darkened again. ‘I’ll take good care that he doesn’t. If Rose stays in the country, then she’ll have to have a chaperone. And that,’ he concluded, ‘should settle my lord Marquis once and for all.’

  For a long time after he had gone, Isabel remained deep in thought and even a fitting at her mantua-maker failed to occupy more than half of her mind. The path ahead, it seemed, was fraught with pitfalls – for how, even if the opportunity should arise, did one explain that one had been fortunate enough to have duty go hand in hand with inclination? That the wealthy and eligible husband of her father’s choice and the dashing young cavalry officer whose dark good-looks troubled her thoughts were one and the same? There came a point, Isabel realised pessimistically, when the chances of saying so and being believed would be negligible. Not that one could say so unless one received some small indication that such tidings would be welcome and, until today, his lordship had behaved with a degree of formality that was almost depressing. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was Robert blithely making things worse.

  It was not until late afternoon that she saw her elder brother and, before she could so much as open her mouth, he dragged her outside to admire his latest acquisition.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded gleefully. ‘What do you think?’

  Isabel surveyed the smart racing-curricle and its pair of gleaming greys with a sinking heart. ‘I think it looks very expensive. I also think that you and I had better have a little chat – in my room where we can be private.’