Most astonishing of all was the fact that the Lintons should have produced such a daughter. Her ladyship’s vague charm in no way concealed the fact that she was both frivolous and impractical – while, equally feckless, Lord Linton covered his basically weak character with bluff good-humour or blustering irritability, depending on the circumstance. As for the Honourable Robert, Rosalind thought that he had unfortunately inherited the worst traits of both parents and was selfish, spineless and totally lacking in self-control.
She reached this conclusion on the occasion of a family dinner in Clarges Street when Robert abandoned all pretensions to good manners and slammed petulantly out of the house for no better reason than a vaunted desire to sit beside Rosalind instead of the extremely shy cousin assigned to him by his mama. This display left the Viscount in a state of ineffectual fury, his lady visibly unmoved and his daughter embarrassed. Lord Philip was thoroughly uncomfortable but managed to avoid showing it and Rosalind was frankly relieved. She had no patience with spoiled young men prone to tantrums and rather feared that, if Robert had stayed, she might have said so.
Robert, never one to know when to let well alone, re-joined the party later that evening at Devonshire House and set about trying to persuade Rosalind that no one understood him.
‘You had much better address all this to your mother,’ she told him flatly. ‘Although I’m inclined to think an apology might be more to the point. You were very rude, you know.’
Robert coloured slightly but, because Rosalind was both rich and pretty, he put a curb on his tongue and said ruefully, ‘I didn’t mean to be – and of course I shall make my peace with Mama. It’s just that she should have known how it would be for I only agreed to be present at all because I knew you would be there.’
Rosalind raised a sardonic brow. ‘Really? I thought you were just reluctant to waste your time on a mere cousin.’
He laughed self-consciously. ‘Partly, perhaps. I’m afraid Jane bores me.’
‘And I don’t? How nice. You can’t imagine how flattered I am.’
This shaft missed its mark altogether.
‘Then I’m forgiven?’ he asked, with a hint of practised boyish charm.
The dark head tilted fractionally away from him.
‘Perhaps,’ said Rosalind absently. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘A dangerous admission, my dear,’ said a smooth voice from behind her. ‘Think if you must – but never admit to it.’
Robert started and then frowned with annoyance as Rosalind turned, smiling, to the newcomer. ‘The advice of experience, your Grace?’
‘Certainly.’ Rockliffe took her hand and raised it lightly to his lips. ‘With me, you know, it generally is.’
Robert was not amused. ‘Another dangerous admission, surely?’ he suggested waspishly.
‘Not at all – merely a statement of fact.’ A mocking gleam lurked in the Duke’s eyes. ‘And the difference, you might say, between buying Fitzroy’s breakdowns and … er… not buying them.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ demanded Robert. ‘Those greys are well-matched and beautiful steppers. Everyone says so.’
‘True. And in the park they will do very well indeed,’ Rockliffe replied. ‘But not, I think, on the road to Newmarket for they are not a racing pair. No stamina.’
‘I think I should tell your Grace,’ said Robert gratingly, ‘that I bought those horses.’
The smile grew and instantly Robert realised his error.
‘Dear me! Did you indeed?’ said his Grace, patently unsurprised. And then, encouragingly, ‘But you will know better next time, won’t you?’
Rosalind shuddered and waited for the storm to break. Strangely, it did not do so.
Instead, in a voice shaking with temper, Robert said, ‘I’m engaged to race Seaforth on Friday. Perhaps, when I’ve beaten him, you’d like to match me with a pair of your own?’
‘Nothing is impossible,’ replied his Grace wearily. ‘But some things are … let us say, unlikely. However, you may ask me again - if, of course, you beat Seaforth. And in the meantime, I see Mistress Hawley is striving to attract your attention.’
‘Or yours,’ retorted Robert, wishing he dared slap that sardonic face.
‘Oh no,’ came the gentle reply. ‘I am not so favoured. Do not, I beg, allow us to detain you.’
Which left Mr Dacre with nothing to do but take a typically ungracious leave.
‘He is extremely tedious,’ remarked the Duke, watching him go. ‘You should be very pleased with me.’
‘Well, I am,’ Rosalind owned, ‘but I think perhaps you were a little unkind. After all, I don’t suppose a pair of match greys are precisely cheap – even ones with no stamina.’
‘No. They were not cheap … and neither was the curricle I saw them pulling up Salt Hill yesterday.’
Three weeks acquaintance with the Duke had taught Rosalind quite a lot and formality had been abandoned at some stage during their second meeting. She said, ‘So you did know what you were saying. I thought as much.’
‘Well, of course. I’m never tactless by accident. But what I don’t know is how the Honourable Robert paid for his turn-out.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t ask him,’ she responded dryly. And then, ‘Does it matter?’
Rockliffe lifted his glass and gazed pensively across the room. ‘It might. Are you thinking it’s no concern of mine?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah … well, I hope you’re right,’ he said cryptically and, restoring the glass to his pocket, proceeded to take snuff from an onyx box. ‘Tell me – how lies the land between Amberley and your brother these days?’
‘The same as ever. Furrowed and thorny. Or so I imagine.’
‘Imagine? Is it possible you don’t know?’
‘No I don’t.’ The dimple peeped and she said innocently, ‘I hoped you might tell me. Mr Ingram says you are omniscient.’
Amusement tugged at Rockliffe’s mouth but he subdued it and said lazily, ‘I have that reputation. Although I’m beginning to fear that I may be slipping.’
‘And that,’ remarked Rosalind cheerfully, ‘means that you still haven’t discovered how Lord Amberley and I came to be acquainted. What a shame. I wonder why he won’t tell you?’
‘Like the peace of God, the workings of Amberley’s mind frequently pass all understanding,’ drawled the Duke. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I might if I were granted the opportunity. But I don’t think we’ve exchanged above half a dozen sentences since the Crewe assembly. Do you think he’s afraid of Philip?’
Caught unawares, his Grace was betrayed into a choke of laughter.
‘No, my child, I don’t. And neither do you. But it’s an enchanting thought.’
Rosalind sighed. ‘Do you know if he intends to come here tonight?’
‘He is here already,’ Rockliffe informed her negligently. ‘In fact, for the past five minutes I’ve been wondering just what he and the blushing Mistress Isabel are finding to discuss so privately. And I think … ‘ He paused, wickedly. ‘I rather think that Lord Philip is wondering exactly the same thing.’
This was perfectly true but, had Philip been privileged to know it, Isabel’s blushes owed nothing to any gallantry on Lord Amberley’s part. She had promised Robert not to tell Philip that the Marquis had refused payment – but the Marquis himself already knew so there could be no harm in remedying Robert’s omissions by thanking him. After weeks of summoning her courage, she finally got the chance to try – and was finding it difficult.
As soon as he realised what she was saying, Amberley stemmed the tide with a movement of one tapering hand and said, ‘Mistress Dacre – there is no need for you to thank me. What I did was not done for the convenience of your brother but to suit my own peculiar code of ethics. I don’t know exactly how you came by this information and I wish very much that you had not done so – but, greatly though I appreciate your thought, I would much prefer not to discuss it.’
Already a little pink, Isabel flushed afresh.
‘Yes. I – I guessed you would say that,’ she replied, her voice very low. ‘And I do respect your feelings. But I wanted you to know that – that we’re not all as ungrateful as Robert.’
The Marquis experienced a twinge of remorse.
‘I do know it and must beg your pardon if I seemed churlish. Did I?’
Isabel looked up into ruefully gleaming grey-green eyes and was lost.
‘Not at all. I don’t think you could,’ she said naively. ‘And naturally I shan’t speak of it again – of Robert, I mean.’
‘Naturally,’ Amberley agreed with strenuous gravity. ‘And do you think I may rely similarly on Lord Philip’s discretion?’
‘I’m sorry?’ she asked blankly.
‘Perhaps I am at fault. I assumed his lordship was the source of your knowledge.’
‘Oh no! Philip doesn’t - ‘ And stopped, aghast at what she’d said.
There was a long pause, while the Marquis surveyed her meditatively. Then, ‘So Lord Philip thinks I took the money, does he?’ he mused, half to himself. ‘Well, well … that explains a lot.’
‘You must be wondering why I haven’t told him,’ began Isabel wretchedly. ‘But indeed I – ‘
‘My dear, odd though it may seem, I’m very glad that you haven’t – and I applaud your restraint, for I feel sure it can’t have been easy,’ said the Marquis lightly. He smiled suddenly. ‘But I’m forever in your debt. It’s extremely comforting to know that Lord Philip’s dislike of me isn’t as personal as I’d begun to think it.’
Clutching her fan so hard she heard one of the sticks snap, Isabel said, ‘That’s all very well – but now you know the truth, I have to tell Philip as well. I promised Robert I wouldn’t, although I didn’t want to. But this – this changes things. You must see that.’
‘Actually, I don’t.’
‘No?’
‘No. I’m glad you told me – even though you didn’t mean to. I’ll be even more glad if you can continue keeping it from his lordship.’
Isabel could find no sense in this whatsoever. ‘But why?’
He shrugged. ‘I have my reasons – odd though they may be. Will you do as I ask?’
And because he was still smiling at her and she didn’t know how to refuse, Isabel said, ‘If that is truly what you want – then of course.’
Throughout his conversation with Mistress Dacre, Amberley had been acutely conscious of the fact that, not only was Rockliffe the sole recipient of Rosalind’s attention but that they had the air of old friends. It was like salt in a wound and, when Isabel was claimed by her partner for the gavotte, the Marquis shrugged all his resolutions aside and strode purposefully across the room. There was quite definitely a limit, he thought irritably, to the amount of experience Rosalind needed in order to form a rod of assize; and he was damned if he was going to stand idly by while that devil Rock stole a march on him.
‘Good evening, Mistress Vernon,’ he said pleasantly. ‘It suddenly occurred to me that you must be missing your parrot.’
‘Broody?’ Rosalind frowned, a little puzzled. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because,’ replied the Marquis, grinning down at the Duke, ‘I can see that you’ve adopted a popinjay in his place.’
Provocative grey-green eyes met deceptively lazy black ones and locked, as Rosalind gave a gurgle of laughter.
‘This fellow,’ announced Rockliffe calmly, ‘is a person of no discrimination. He is also, untruthful, unreliable and no gentleman.’
‘And his Grace,’ countered Amberley smoothly, ‘is just about to desert you for the card-room.’
Rosalind turned her head to smile enquiringly at Rockliffe. ‘Are you?’
‘It seems unlikely,’ he replied. And raising one quizzical brow at the Marquis, ‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’ Still looking his friend in the eye, Lord Amberley committed unhesitating perjury. ‘Jack demands your presence and I promised that he should have it.’
His Grace sighed and came unhurriedly to his feet.
‘I scent a ruse – and a deplorably unoriginal one at that. But I suppose I must be certain before I call out that pretty small-sword of yours.’ He turned to Rosalind. ‘It’s common piracy, of course – but what can one do?’
‘Careful, Rock!’ Amberley’s voice brimmed with mischief. ‘As the challenged party, I’d have the choice of weapons – and I’d choose pistols, you know.’
‘Yes.’ The Duke eyed him with anguished resignation. ‘Yes. You probably would. So unsubtle!’ He took Rosalind’s hand and held it for a good deal longer than was necessary. ‘Au revoir, mademoiselle. One does one’s poor best, you understand – but there are some things that even I cannot remedy. I leave him to you – regretfully.’ And, with an elaborate bow, he kissed her fingers and cast Amberley a glance of perfectly amicable mockery before strolling away in the direction of the card-room.
The Marquis moved towards his vacated chair. ‘May I sit down?’
Rosalind suddenly discovered that she felt distinctly nettled.
‘Of course. If you think it’s worth your while.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, I didn’t think you would be staying,’ she explained dulcetly.
His lordship sat. ‘Why should I not?’
‘I don’t know – but you usually manage to think of something. Unlike his Grace, I find your ingenuity quite startling.’
Laugher stirred in Amberley’s eyes. ‘No you don’t. You think I’m the snake who lured you away from Oakleigh only to ignore you.’
The dimple quivered and was gone. ‘And aren’t you?’
‘Very probably – but not in the way that you mean it or for the reasons you may think,’ came the cryptic reply. ‘And, in all conscience, you have to admit that you haven’t exactly needed me to swell the throng. The town is awash with your admirers.’
‘Even if that were true, it isn’t the point,’ said Rosalind severely. ‘You know perfectly well that I’ve only three true friends; Isabel, his Grace of Rockliffe – and yourself.’
The Marquis derived little pleasure from the knowledge that she regarded him as a friend – and none at all from ranking equally with the Duke. He said, ‘Do you see much of Rock?’ And then could have bitten his tongue out.
If Rosalind noticed his slip, she gave no sign of it.
‘Well, everything is relative, of course – but I suppose you might say so. He calls in Jermyn Street from time to time and last week he took me for a drive. Oh – and he’s invited Philip and Isabel and I to share his box at the Opera. I’m looking forward to that.’
‘I see.’ Clever Rock – I wish I’d thought of that one. ‘And how does Lord Philip view all this?’
Long, silky lashes veiled the violet eyes. ‘With fortitude. It’s to be Iphigénie en Aulide and he doesn’t care for Gluck.’
Just at that moment, Gluck was not all Lord Philip didn’t care for. After twenty minutes spent trying to corner his uncommonly elusive fiancée, he did so only to discover that she was behaving unusually like her mother.
‘At last!’ he said, manoeuvring her into an alcove. ‘Now – what the devil was that fellow saying to you?’
Isabel regarded him innocently. ‘What fellow? Monsieur de Fontenac?’
‘No – Monsier le Marquis.’
Light dawned. ‘Oh – Amberley.’
Philip’s temper began to rise. ‘Yes – Amberley. What was he saying to you?’
‘Saying to me?’ she repeated vaguely. ‘Why nothing very remarkable. He asked if we were going to the Queensbury rout. Or no – that might have been Mr Consett.’ She paused doubtfully, a tiny frown creasing her brow. Then it cleared and she said happily, ‘But no – I was right the first time. It was Mr Consett who talked about Mrs Clive.’
If Lord Philip had been in the habit of grinding his teeth he might have done so then. As it was, goaded, he said, ‘Well, perhaps you’ll explain just
what there was in that to make you blush like a poppy?’
‘Surely, my lord,’ she asked, about to use of her fan and then remembering she’d broken it, ‘you don’t expect me to repeat it to you?’
‘Yes. I do.’
The brown eyes widened and filled with shocked reproof.
‘But I couldn’t possibly! I hesitate to say it, but you must know as well as I do that … that some of Mr Consett’s tales are rather warm!’
There was glacial silence. Then, ‘In which case,’ retorted Philip with relish, ‘you shouldn’t have been listening to them. Do I take it that Lord Amberley’s conversation was also … rather warm?’
Isabel lifted a limpid gaze to meet his lordship’s thoroughly annoyed blue one.
‘Oh no,’ she replied sweetly. ‘Lord Amberley is all courtesy – and extremely charming. I like him very much.’
Something he took for anger passed like a red-hot wire through Philip’s chest and his mouth set in a grim line.
‘Do you?’ he asked frigidly. ‘Then it seems I am answered, doesn’t it?’
~ * * * ~
ELEVEN
March passed, cold and blusteringly equinoctial, and gave way to rainbow-hued April – and still the Marquis pursued, in a desultory fashion, his policy of vigilant laisser-faire. And then, towards the end of the month and quite without warning, something occurred to change his mind.
It began at the Cocoa-Tree where he and the Honourable Jack Ingram passed a pleasant hour at picquet before being joined by the Duke of Rockliffe who, it appeared had won a thousand guineas at écarté, lost them again at Hazard and subsequently decided that gaming was a tedious pastime.
Sighing, Jack pushed the cards aside and ordered a bottle of canary.
‘If, by that, you mean you wish you’d stuck to écarté,’ he said good-naturedly, ‘I entirely agree with you.’
Parfit Knight Page 14
